When I was young-ish, it occurred to me that, if La Brea means "the tar," then The La Brea Tar Pits means "the the tar tar pits." Yes, I was an obnoxious child. Google reveals that many other people have made the same point. 
When I was about seven my dad was stationed out at Edwards Air Force Base, and I remember visiting the La Brea Tar Pits. I really wanted to roll down this hill around the museum, and was quite distressed when Mom wouldn't let me. When I saw the hill I had to get a picture. (It seems smaller than I remembered.)
Kate enjoyed the "bone museum," as she called it, but was much more interested in the gift shop.
Elizabeth gets a ride with Grandma.
Barb says it stinks.
The big "pits" are all fenced off, but there are a few places around the grounds where you can find tar seeping up through the grass here and there. There's even a spot where it seeps up through the sidewalk at the intersection just outside the grounds. Peter said it's called the "sidewalk pit."
It was awfully hot. When we first got there and parked out on the street, I was putting on Kate's hat and got down on one knee to tie it on. Moments later, I realized that the sidewalk was burning my knee through the fabric of my pants. Yikes! Perhaps you really could fry an egg on it.
3 comments:
That's a great hill for rolling. Not that I know anyone who would do that, let alone take pictures...
NIce presentation, Helena. Yup, it was hot and stinky, but I'm glad we went.
Love, Mom
When we went to CA last year, I let my kids roll down that hill. Kaleb INSISTED on going too, only he sort of scooted instead, ad ended up with this big angry scrape across his entire back. Like road rash, only from grass. Grass rash. Wheeee, that was FUN! ;)
Post a Comment