Lifestyle
On Highway 78, I watched the valleys awaken in vibrant blooms — a dramatic springtime show
In early spring, the California mountain town of Julian sits suspended between seasons. At more than 4,000 feet, up in the Cuyamaca Mountains, it rests among coastal live oak woodlands and Coulter pine forests. Snow sometimes dusts the surrounding slopes, melting by afternoon into damp earth as manzanita and mountain lilac begin to flower. Along Main Street, the mingled scents of woodsmoke and apple pie drift from storefronts.
It is here that my journey along State Route 78 begins, following its long eastward descent from the mountain forest into the stark badlands of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, then skirting the southern edge of the Salton Sea, crossing the Algodones Dunes and continuing toward the Colorado River — a 140-mile corridor spanning one of the most dramatic ecological transitions across public lands in the American Southwest.
This road trip continues a series exploring California’s overlooked scenic highways, inspired in part by artist Earl Thollander’s “Back Roads of California,” whose sketches and travel notes celebrated a slower way of seeing. After tracing Highway 127 along the edge of Death Valley, the journey now shifts south.
Julian Cafe and Bakery, the start of the trip off Route 78.
(Josh Jackson)
Within minutes of leaving town, the pavement twists downward through tight turns and steep grades as the mountain air begins to warm, the vegetation giving way to chaparral and scattered juniper, then to the stark silhouettes of ocotillo and Mojave yucca. By the time it reaches the Pacific Crest Trail crossing 12 miles east of Julian, travelers have already descended nearly 2,000 feet.
Here, the highway passes quietly into Anza-Borrego, homeland of the Kumeyaay, Cahuilla and Cupeño peoples. At nearly 650,000 acres — just smaller than Yosemite — the park unfolds as a vast mosaic of mountains, badlands and open desert valleys extending far beyond the reach of the pavement.
Wildflowers along the route.
(Josh Jackson)
Bri Fordem, executive director of the Anza-Borrego Foundation, said the landscape reveals itself slowly to first-time visitors. “I think a lot of people drive right by it and go, ‘Oh yeah, there’s a desert there,’” she said. “But when you stop and you go a little slower and take a closer look, a whole world opens up.”
That invitation begins at mile 18, where the Yaqui Pass Road turnoff leads northeast toward the desert basin and the gateway community of Borrego Springs. The 2.8-mile Borrego Palm Canyon Trail offers one of the park’s most accessible routes into the desert’s interior. Cholla gardens and brittlebush rise from pale alluvial slopes, and a seasonal stream leads to one of California’s few native fan palm oases.
In wet winters, the valleys beyond town awaken in color as sand verbena, desert sunflower, evening primrose and pincushion gather in brief, luminous blooms across the desert floor. The Anza-Borrego Foundation tracks these seasonal displays and offers guidance on how to witness them responsibly.
The short detour returns to Highway 78 along Borrego Springs Road, where the pavement drops abruptly through the Texas Dip near mile 27 — a stark, cinematic wash where scenes from the closing sequence of “One Battle After Another” were filmed. Wandering through the wash, the mind drifts not to the film but to the flash floods that move through this channel after heavy rains, sudden torrents cutting and reshaping the valley floor in a matter of hours.
Ocotillo plants rise up from the desert floor in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.
(Josh Jackson)
The sun hangs in the middle of the sky as I drive toward one of the most rapidly changing shorelines in California. From almost any vantage point, the Salton Sea appears lifeless — a gray expanse rimmed with salt and windblown dust. But at its southern terminus, that impression begins to shift. The basin gathers into shallow wetlands where movement returns to the landscape.
Sixty miles from Julian, I turn onto Bannister Road and bump north along a gravel track for three miles into the basin, to a parking lot 164 feet below sea level. The lot sits within Unit 1 of the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge. A short walk along an irrigation canal leads to a weathered observation deck rising two stories above a patchwork of saturated flats where saltgrass, iodine bush and cattail take root. Here, the Pacific Flyway compresses into a living mosaic of wings, water and soil. Each spring, hundreds of thousands of birds gather here to feed and rest before lifting north again, following migratory paths far older than the farms and highways that now define the valley.
The wetlands near the Salton Sea provide a vital habitat for birds.
(Josh Jackson)
The place overwhelms the senses: a wash of emerald against open sky, thousands of snow geese honking in chorus, orange-crowned warblers and Abert’s towhees singing in the trees, and the persistent tang of salt in the air.
I meet three birders standing quietly on the platform, scanning the horizon through binoculars and recounting the 73 avian species they had tallied over the last two days — burrowing owls, American avocets, sandhill cranes and black-necked stilts among them. For 30 minutes we watch a northern harrier on the hunt, dive-bombing blue-winged and cinnamon teal, though he always comes up empty. Between scans of the horizon, we bond over “Listers,” the 2025 documentary that turns obsessive birdwatching into both comedy and a tale of devotion.
A burrowing owl stands in the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge.
(Josh Jackson)
Leaving the refuge, the vibrant color palette and moisture give way to muted browns and the returning austerity of desert air. By mile 97, the road rises to the Hugh T. Osborne Overlook, where the landscape shifts once again, opening into a vast ocean of sand.
The Algodones Dunes stretch toward the horizon in pale, wind-sculpted ridges, a narrow ribbon of shifting terrain running south into Mexico. The highway passes directly through their center.
From the overlook, the road reads as a line dividing two expressions of the same dune system. To the south lie the Bureau of Land Management’s Imperial Sand Dunes, where dune buggies and motorcycles trace arcs across bare slopes. North of the pavement, the North Algodones Dunes Wilderness holds a quieter terrain, where sunflower, ephedra and honey mesquite anchor the sand in subtle defiance of the wind.
A person walks along the Algodones Dunes.
(Josh Jackson)
Here the road becomes a boundary between different ways of moving through — and loving — the same landscape: speed and stillness, noise and silence, crowds and solitude.
By late afternoon, the final miles carry me east toward the Colorado River, where it meanders past willow and cottonwood. The light softened toward sunset, an evening echo of the same violet sky that hovered over Julian at the start of the day. After 140 miles, my road trip had come to an end. Yet as I pitched my tent that night, the motion of the landscapes lingered in mind.
The Colorado continued its long course south. Snow geese lifted north from refuge marshes. Wind reshaped the dunes, erasing the day’s tracks. Wildflowers that had briefly lit the desert floor would soon fade as heat gathered strength. The road ended, but the living systems it crossed moved steadily onward, already turning toward the next season.
Road trip planner: State Route 78
Highway 78 illustrated map.
(Illustrated map by Noah Smith)
The route: Julian to Palo Verde.
Distance: 140 miles (one way).
Drive time: 3 hours straight through; allow a full day for stops.
Best time to go: October through April. Summer temperatures frequently exceed 110 degrees.
Fuel and essentials:
- Julian (Mile 0): Gas station, Julian Market and Deli, lots of restaurants.
- Borrego Springs (Mile 18): Gas station, groceries, cafes.
- Brawley (Mile 74): Gas station, restaurants.
Eat and drink:
Camping:
Lodging:
Hike and explore:
Safety notes:
- Water: Carry at least 1 gallon per person per day.
- Connectivity: Cell service is dependable along the route.
- Wildlife: Watch for bighorn sheep and coyotes on the road, especially at dawn and dusk.
Wildflowers along Highway 78.
(Josh Jackson)
Pedro Pascal in The Mandalorian And Grogu.
Lucasfilm Ltd.
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Lucasfilm Ltd.
The Mandalorian has made the jetpack-assisted leap to the big screen with the new movie Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu. The laconic bounty hunter (Pedro Pascal) and his cute sidekick Grogu are hired by the good guys to do a job for some bad guys. You know what you’re gonna get – creatures, droids, easter eggs, and lots of fights. But, after three seasons on Disney+, will folks go out to the theaters to watch something they’ve gotten to know on their couches?
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When Steven Lewis volunteered to co-chair a renovation committee in 2022 for his Pacific Palisades synagogue, he had no idea that the project would become his emotional anchor when his home burned three years later.
“It was something positive that I could focus on,” Lewis said. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past year and a half without this project.”
For the record:
10:26 a.m. May 20, 2026A previous version of this story stated the homes of two Kehillat Israel rabbis had burned in the fire. Three rabbis lost their homes.
On Friday, the synagogue reopened after being closed since Jan. 7, 2025, following the devastating fire. Kehillat Israel didn’t burn but suffered significant smoke damage. What had begun years ago as a revitalization project added a layer of remediation. It’s now one of the first religious spaces to reopen in the Pacific Palisades since the fire swept through the neighborhood where more than 70% of its members lived.
Lewis and his family are among the 230 Kehillat Israel (KI) families who lost their homes in the Palisades fire, including the congregation’s three rabbis, with an additional 250 families who were displaced. Most, including Lewis, are in various stages of grappling with insurance, permits and construction, whether they have to rebuild from the ground up or salvage their homes by remediating damage caused by toxic smoke.
Roughly 480 Kehillat Israel families lost their homes or were displaced after the Palisades fire. The temple’s reopening was a nourishing moment for a grief-stricken community.
(Robin Aronson Photography)
As part of its opening reception, the synagogue hosted Shabbat services. The 400-person capacity sanctuary was stuffed. Neighbors embraced and caught up in the courtyard and social hall, kids zoomed around with friends, and, when it was time for services to begin, attendees clamored in a clump of joyful chaos as they attempted to enter the newly remodeled sanctuary. Services were full of singing and speeches as congregants filled the rows, lined the walls, and spilled into the aisles. With a full band accompanying the Reconstructionist congregation’s services, the tone was one of joy, reunion and celebration.
“It was a monumental moment, which we were so grateful for,” said Meredith Kaplan, a multigenerational temple member who lost her home in the fire. “But it also just felt so normal and good. Back in the synagogue, almost, in a weird way, like no time had passed.”
A new ark, which houses the temple’s Torahs, was dedicated to the ebullient Cantor Chayim Frenkel and his wife Marcy Frenkel.
Cantor Chayim Frenkel and daughter Mandi Frenkel sing together in front of the new Torah ark.
(Robin Aronson Photography)
“The Torahs are always the first things we rescue from the sanctuary when there are fires,” said Frenkel, who has been with the synagogue for 40 years. “Knowing that our story is safe and surrounded by this beautiful design, and to have it dedicated in honor of me and my wife, Marcy, is extremely powerful.”
The clergy specifically placed the handles of the tall ark at the bottom, so that even preschoolers would be able to open it. As the congregation stood before the ark within the bowl-shaped sanctuary for the first time since the fires, Rabbi Amy Bernstein performed the blessing used to dedicate the first Jewish temple in Jerusalem 3,000 years prior.
“May it be a place where all who enter find inspiration, affirmation and connection,” Bernstein said.
While many faith institutions had to close because of the Palisades and Eaton fires, Kehillat Israel was uniquely positioned to be among the first to reopen. At least 14 sanctuaries burned to the ground last January.
In 2022, the temple staff began a limited revitalization project. Handles were falling off and fabrics were showing their wear since a major remodel 31 years prior. Technology needs had also long been eclipsed; Kehillat Israel has been live-streaming its services since the pandemic. So the committee hired architects and builders, made plans, got permits, and — crucially — raised funds all prior to the Palisades fire. The plan was to retain the beloved sanctuary’s original design, while making technical and some aesthetic upgrades. Originally slated for completion in fall 2024, project delays allowed KI to start work on the building quickly after the fire — albeit with the new work of smoke damage remediation — and the decision to stay faithful to the sanctuary’s look became even more salient. For many, it was one of the last few remaining familiar spaces.
Hugs and selfies abounded at Shabbat services.
(Robin Aronson Photography)
Other synagogues, churches and mosques are on the path to rebuilding, but they are facing the same hurdles as many of their congregants and members, and then some. L.A. City Councilmember Traci Park, who represents the Palisades, says she has been working closely with faith institutions, but that insurance disputes and fundraising have been a challenge.
“Their ability to rebuild is very much tied to their active membership,” said Park, who attended the reopening. “But their own members have lost their homes and are mired in their own uncertainty and financial challenges.”
Despite differences in rebuilding efforts, the faith community celebrated the win of a congregation, even if it was not theirs. Rabbi Daniel Sher, also of Kehillat Israel, said he received texts from rabbis across the city encouraging him to bask in the moment. Rabbi Bernstein is close friends with Rev. Grace Park of the Palisades Presbyterian Church, which burned in the fire, and they are excited about what this reopening means for forging ties between their congregations in ways only the fire made possible.
“It sounds cliche, but the walls between our communities literally burned to the ground,” Bernstein said. “We are both aware that we’d like to start doing more things together — not just for Grace’s congregation and my congregation — but bringing people of the Palisades, or those who want to come to the Palisades, together.”
The congregation gathers for a Shabbat meal, packing a temple hall.
(Robin Aronson Photography)
The synagogue’s reopening signals that the wheels of Palisades recovery are in motion. Carole and David White, who lost their Palisades townhome, had been eagerly anticipating the reopening services.
“It means the world,” said Carole White. “It’s truly one day at a time, and some days are better than others.”
“And today is a good one,” said David White. “It’s the closest we’ve been to coming home.”
Rose Byrne poses at a 2025 press conference in Berlin for If I Had Legs I’d Kick You.
Andreas Rentz/Getty Images Europe
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Andreas Rentz/Getty Images Europe
Rose Byrne is one of the few actors to receive both an Oscar and a Tony nomination in the same year — the former for the film If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, and the latter for Fallen Angels on Broadway.
If I Had Legs was an intense indie film about a mother falling apart as she struggles to keep up with ever-increasing caregiving demands for her ill daughter. Byrne, who previously starred in blockbuster comedies like Neighbors and Bridesmaids, was praised for showing her range. Now, she’s returning to comedy in the revival of Noël Coward’s 1925 play about two wealthy women who find out a man they were each previously involved with is coming to town.
Kelli O’Hara, Mark Consuelos and Rose Byrne star in the Broadway revival of Fallen Angels.
Joan Marcus/Polk & Co.
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Joan Marcus/Polk & Co.
“I had long wanted to do a true comedic piece onstage, like it’s one of my dreams,” Byrne says of Fallen Angels. “We are trying to reach the back row, so physically, … I felt like I was screaming when I first got up [there], because we’re not wearing mics either.”
Byrne’s Fallen Angels character gets progressively drunk — and increasingly loud — throughout the play. She credits Coward’s “brilliant” writing and stage directions with guiding her performance.
“The language he used, the sort of linguistic gymnastics and the extraordinary vocabulary of Noël Coward is a delight,” she says. “I never tire of sitting backstage and I’m constantly rediscovering the words that he peppers throughout.”
Interview highlights
On her role in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You
Mary Bronstein wrote this incendiary screenplay and I just did not want to mess it up. It was such a creative opportunity. … We hit it off and had a real experience, one of those experiences in life that, creatively, has kind of changed me.
[The film] defies generalization or description, because it’s sort of like a fever dream, in a way. It has gallows humor in there. There’s horror tropes in the film, too. I think Mary Bronstein [who also directed the film] really broke the mold with the tone of the film, in many ways. She … tapped into the monster within and the fear of being a parent and the horror of being a parent, and some of the joy too, but obviously she’s in a really extraordinarily difficult situation, this woman. I still can’t believe the film got as far as it did, just because it was a small independent film.
If I Had Legs I’d Kick You was a small independent movie, says Byrne, “I still can’t believe the film got as far as it did.”
A24
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A24
On the constant beeping of medical equipment in the background of If I Had Legs
These noises get magnified and actually Mary Bronstein made those louder, just a bit, like the clock on the wall, the beeping of the machine, all those things were louder because they are in [the main character’s] point of view. And it is as a parent, those things become overstimulating. It’s relentless and, [Bronstein] wanted to capture that claustrophobia.
On why viewers don’t get to see the daughter or know what her illness is
The conceit of not seeing the daughter, and Mary has spoken to this many times, but [it’s] sort of a two-prong thing in that I don’t think Linda, my character, can see her daughter at this point. She’s so drowning and beginning this real descent into her mental health crisis. … Also for the audience to have that choice taken away to not see the daughter, you’re forced to reckon with the mother. Because as soon as you put a child on screen, your empathy, as it should, goes to the child. They’re so vulnerable, and immediately your concern will go to them, and so she takes that choice away from the viewer. So you are forced to be in the perspective of the mother.
On parenting after spending the day on set
Kids are so in-the-moment and grounding and — in the best way — they’re not particularly interested if you’ve had a hard day. But it’s so wonderful because you immediately snap into your role as mom, the greatest role, the most challenging, the most fun. And so for me, it’s church and state … leave it at work. I mean, obviously there were days when I was more exhausted or tired or [it’s] harder to let things go. But children are the great equalizer, as a parent.
On the thrill of filming the 2011 film Bridesmaids
We had such a fun time. It was a great group of actresses. I couldn’t believe I was there. … It’s already extraordinary to have that many scenes with just women. I’ve had that once since then when I did Mrs. America , [a] show for FX about the second wave of feminism. … But this was really, really special. And we had no idea that it would go on to become such a beloved movie and all of that. But the shooting of it was wonderful. It was an education in the brilliance of these comedic actresses and the performances. … It changed my life in so many ways. It really did. … The improv stuff, it’s just like a skillset that is still I marvel … they make it look effortless.
Therese Madden and Thea Chaloner produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.
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