Comments (2) 
Weekend Wandering.
By HB, March 21, 2008 3:29 pm
When I woke up Saturday morning, I could hear the surf pounding the shore outside the window. The sun was shining and there were beautiful clouds – and there were also Girl Scouts. They started shrieking “Dolphin! Dolphin!” So apparently there was a dolphin. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there were mermaids and rainbows and unicorns too – it was that kind of morning.
Idyllic in every way. Except for the shower. There was luke-warm water for about 5 seconds, and then… ice. Freezing ice cold water. It made me think of Groundhog Day:
“Hey ma! Don’t you have any hot water in this place?”
“Oh no… there wouldn’t be today.”
After eating “breakfast” (Weston ate a container of feta from the “free food” shelf, and I had milk duds and a caffeine-free diet Coke), we walked around the grounds, and found a path to take us down to the place where the river meets the sea. The beach was full of seashells and foam, and a cool rock arch.
After we left Point Montara, we headed to Santa Cruz. We ate some mediocre Greek fast food, (and I had a mediocre diet Coke), and it started to hail. Big, huge hailballs. Up and down the street people were poking their heads out, walking just outside their doors and sticking their hands out to catch the hail.
We left Santa Cruz and drove down through Monterey, on our way to Julia Pfeiffer State Park on Highway 1. About a month ago, we drove the opposite way on Highway 1 to get home from Cambria, but by the time we got to Julia Pfeiffer, it was dark. We wanted to go back in the light – and see the waterfall. (Another place where the river meets the sea.)
That night, we found a campsite in Big Sur, set up a tent, made a campfire, and warmed up burritos from Trader Joe’s. This may be the first time I have camped without some kind of a “group” – the first time I had to make any kind of camping arrangements on my own. I successfully negotiated picking out a campsite, paying the fee in the little envelope, buying the supplies I had forgotten to bring, building a campfire, and putting up and taking down a tent. I didn’t do it alone or anything… but I was still proud of myself.
In the early morning, we heard an enormous cracking sound, and then a loud BANG. When we got up, we saw that two large tree branches had fallen – and impaled themselves 6-8 inches in the ground. Right next to our campfire. On the way out, we told the park ranger about the fallen branches. She said, “Yeah… they’re trees.” I said, “So… do they ever fall on tents?” “Sometimes,” she said. “So… what happens?” “It’s an act of God.” And that’s all she would say.
I don’t know if I agree. Sure, God can knock down tree branches if he wants to, but I don’t think every fallen tree branch is some kind of personal message from the Almighty… I think He created trees, and then they do their thing. Kind of like we create our children… and then they live their lives.
After leaving Big Sur, we found an unmarked trail along the highway. We stopped and parked, and walked down the path. We crossed a river, went through a tunnel, and on the other side we found ourselves… here.
We climbed down to some rocks, and we were able to sit RIGHT next to the ocean, which was surging and crashing with all the force and power of its immensity and the gravity of the earth, hurtling itself through space.
We drove home happy, stopping along the way whenever we saw something we liked. We ate dinner in Monterey, where a sea otter swam up right past the window. All in all, I’d give the weekend an A+++. (Would go again).
The air feels cool and fresh.
By admin, March 15, 2008 12:54 am
Here, in the room where I’m typing this. Weston is sitting on the bed across from me, playing the guitar. I am listening to him play, in the quiet, and I feel happy. We just got back to the hostel – we took a trip to Longs to buy earplugs, in case anyone else in the room snores. We also bought milk duds, swedish fish, nerds rope, zours, and pink peeps. Weston bought peeps for me. He loves me more than he hates peeps.
We are at the point Montara lighthouse hostel, right up against the ocean, on Highway 1. I got up early today so I could go to work, finish the projects I needed to finish, and leave early. I was planning on leaving early to go out of town, but ended up leaving work even earlier in order to sing at a funeral. Weston and I (and another friend) were asked to sing together. The family requested the song Some Day, which I had never heard, but I found really moving. It makes me think about the fact that this man is now… somewhere else. He’s not nowhere. He’s just… not here anymore. And even though none of us know what it’s like, we’ll all have to go through it some day… every one. Ready or not.
Themocracy