A Short Stay in San Francisco

So, having decided that I am categorically not a city girl, my stay in San Francisco was to be brief. I had a friend from Vermont who had recently traversed the United States in almost 3 days... trying to show me up... he landed in San Fran, so I wanted to meet up and see a piece of Vermont in this bustling city.

So, I meet T at Haight/Ashbury. It was great. That's a fun area. Lots of homeless, freaks and miserable there, but at least this was a city-city, and those kinds of people are expected.

I can't stay, I'm done with the madness and need to head back into the forests. I spent one night on a couch and watched T do some surfing the next morning. Well, 'morning.' I have no idea what time it really was.

Nice, T.

Cool scene. Too cold for me, too expensive for wetsuits, and I'm too ready to head North.

San Francisco: You make my stomach weak and my body tilt slightly to the left. Cool.

Now, as I'm leaving, and headed into the woods, I have one regret. Where the hell are the seals? You could hear them barking at the marina from the main streets of Santa Cruz in the middle of the night... But ask a GPS to take you to the Marina and you get waves and volleyball. So, bummed about this, and looking over an astonishing view of the Pacific (Golden Gate Park, I believe?), I hear one of those slimy buggers barking below! Can't see a darned thing...maybe a shadow... so I take two pictures anyhow. Turns out...

Santa Cruz and the Redwoods

I'm making my way past Monterrey Bay and headed to Santa Cruz, first to see what the hub-bubs about, second to meet up with an old high school buddy. Third, fourth and fifth, to meet his funky friends, see his funky band and sleep on his funky couch.

No, it was a fine couch.


Santa Cruz was a great little Californian City, with the same problems as all the rest: too many people, too many transients. And I didn't have a problem with Cali Trannies until I came here - In Santa Cruz, their signs aren't funny, they really don't try hard, and they clutter the main streets of downtown - making family outings uncomfortable if not impossible.

I've been sure to call them "transients" or "trannies" because they aren't like the homeless or hobos you sometimes see scattered along the Northeast. At least, they're not like the ones I've seen. You could draw some similarities between these beach bums and the bums of Burlington, I suppose. But no one wants to be wandering in winter months; at least not where winter means something more than scattered rain showers.

Midway during my visit to Santa Cruz I needed to escape into the redwoods. Which, thankfully, was not too dificult. I'm glad I don't have an RV - those windy mountain roads with "Log Truck" warning signs are spooky in the Suby alone, forget anything in tow.

There was, of course, another run-in with raccoons. All signs will warn you of this. And I typically keep my trash well-stowed. But for this evening, while I was strumming the guitar in my driver seat, door open, small trash bag on the ground by my left foot, three of those little buggers charge me. I wave the neck of the guitar at the brutes, and two of them stare at me while the other grabs the bag and runs. I almost felt like giving up - I'd literally have to jab at them to get the goods back, and lord knows what kind of bite (or what kind of rabies) they have... but then I imagine the mess they're going to make, and the person who's going to clean it up in the morning (me), so I grab a stick and chase after them. And, amazingly, I got the bag back. Later on that night one wondered back up to my site and looked at me for a while, maybe four feet away, so I yelled some cursewords, he got offended, gave me the finger and took off.

Wait, what?

So, feeling rested and rejuvenated, I came down from the woods the next morning and showed back up on my friends' couch. Good people there. A long haired biker hippy with short hair (it happens), a bouncy surfer-teacher type, my buddy the keyboard-harmonica-accordion maestro (Mylodican?), and some awesome heart-felt chicas who were a blast to dance with. Went to one of my buddy's shows; they play some excellent music. It was a sea of hippies, of course, but the band was jamming on motown classics, so it's good stuff for anyone, really.

So, it was great to catch up with an old High School buddy, but what's more is his job. Not his job, really, but the location. University of California, Santa Cruz. Oh My God. What a campus. I had to cross a footbridge over a ravine to get to the library from the parking lot, no joke. While driving around the campus roads I saw more deer than people - which is astonishing, considering the amount of people.

So far, I'd just gotten a peak of the Redwoods, from Big Sur to Santa Cruz... I've decided I'm definitely not a city girl, so tromping around Redwood National Park is on my list. And not my "objects to buy from WalMart so they don't give you a hard time" list. Have we talked about WalMart? Oh boy. That'll be a later discussion...

Goodbye, Santa Cruz! I'm gonna make up reasons to take higher ed classes just so I can walk that campus again!

The Real California

So, I messed up. Instead of taking the Pacific Coast Highway, I failed to merge and ended up traveling back through the wine country on 101. When I got to Monterrey, I doubled back and traveled southward toward Big Sur and the Pfeiffer State Park. I was not disappointed.

I think I've failed to mentioned that, on my last day in Santa Barbara, my dear [new] friend Laurel had scribbled out about 5 pages of notes for my journey northward. It was pretty much an essay of unforgettable sights and hot springs. God bless'er.

Silly me, I hadn't looked too closely at the notes yet, but I did remember her mention 'Big Sur,' and fate brought me the rest of the way.

(squish)

After a[nother] glorious sunset, I finally found a campground I could afford, situated quite pleasantly in the redwood forest. Julia Pfeiffer State Park Campground was closed due to some 2007 fires. Again, fate.

So after signing in, and giving my preliminary "put me away from other people because I am going to play the guitar - badly," I settled down at my site and started poking at a fire. Hours later, the hippy behind the registration desk shows up at my car and invites me to his cabin to play guitar badly together. Bored, and craving some socializing, I follow the fellow. Bad music ensued, and he convinced me to find Pfeiffer Beach with him in the morning. Okay, whatever; unsure if I'll ditch out or not, I head back to my car and sleep.

Eventually I decided to follow the hippy. He seemed harmless enough, and I couldn't exactly sneak out of the campground - I slept in, of course, and still needed to shower. And he'd already come-a-knockin' on my window that A.M.

I tell ya, I learned something that day. Following hippies can be quite the worthwhile adventure:

(hippie)

(small, sketchy little break. awesome height, questionable landing...)

(natural bridge)

(purple sanded paradise)

(why we follow hippies)

(more hippies!)

(the view from above)

Then we were joined by even more hippies! What a life. And to add to the glory, it was such a gorgeous day, almost too hot; at this point I'm totally psyched. This is a wonderful place, with good people - this is how I always imagined California. Well, Northern California.

Obviously I'm happy I went back to check out "Big Sur" and all of its nooks. As it turns out, Pfeiffer Beach is the first item on Laurel's list of sights. And now I know why.

The walk back to the car was similarly fantastic, as the sun was just beginning to creep towards the sea:

California is finally starting to live up to the legend.

Then what happened?

After Santa Monica, I traveled up to Santa Barbara. I took the 'PCH,' (as the trannies had warmly referred to it), and it was just gorgeous. I left at a stupid time. It was a little after 4. So there was some pretty bad traffic for the first hours. BUT, it was also a great time, because I got to see yet another spectacular sunset over the Santa Monica Mountains and wide Pacific shores.

I caught this picture, and I simply love it; it looks like a mistake, but it illustrates very nicely how I feel about California:

California is beautiful, that's for sure; the only thing that detracts from said beauty?
All the damn people:

People are everywhere. Wall-to-wall. I know it's a sweeping generalization of the few areas I've traveled through - and let us not forget the desert - but it was incredible.

Although, to their credit, California is home to some of the nicest drivers I've ever been priviledged to drive alongside. The streeets are terrifying, sure, waaaaay too narrow for two lanes; but the people were great! How surprising! Everyone is waving me in, giving me room, giving others room; it was a nice change from the rest of the country.

So, I had a contact in Santa Barbara - yay! But the first day-in I couldn't handle anymore damned cities, so I drove straight through downtown and headed into the mountains. Played guitar all night. That was wonderful. The next morning I went to check out downtown - even entered my first outdoor mall; and promptly exited. Some thrift shopping aside (and a late start to begin with!) I go to meet my friend at her apartment, around 4:30/5:00 PM.

Parking on the street, I notice lots of people looking above and beyond me into the Montecito hills. Well, I'm sure you've heard the rest. Oprah's neighbors and all that. I know I should have busted out the tri-pod, but it was all so exciting. Here's the best I came up with:


You could see the flames licking up the sides of the mountain - and off camera, above and to the right, the moon glowed orange behind the smokey clouds.

• Glown orange? Glowed? That's some crappy English, someone please correct it for me...

My contact in Santa Barbara, nice lady by the name of Laurel, was great for me to find. A fellow traveler, she'd seen many sights in her days abroad, and had some wonderful recommendations. By the end of my stay, she had basically wrote me out an essay of places to go, things to see, and hot springs to dip in on my way up California. Unfortunately for me, I was not inclined to travel 4 hours to Yosemite when there was still so much left to see of the coast - but I did follow a couple of her leads with magnificent results!!!

Back to the fires - oh, wow, was the air terrible the next day! I had to get the hell out, and actually headed south to recapture some of the areas I overlooked on the nighttime ride up. Ventura and Oxnard, mostly. Just to go thrift shopping, really. There's this great place called the Buffalo Exchange, dotted across the West Coast, so I've been scouring the Goodwills on my ride to find some awesome items to trade in for even awesomer items. Spellcheck doesn't seem to mind that one...

Anyhow, something powerful is driving my heel, and I'm constantly feeling the need to up-and-out. I want to love California - it's everything I ever thought it'd be - but there's just too much going on. I am categorically not a city person. I guess. But I'll keep trying. Meanwhile, Santa Barbara is not the place for me. So I've got to go check out some of Laurel's recommendations...


Thanks, Laurel! That was a helluvalotof fun!

Oh, and let's not forget wine country! She took me out-and-about the Santa Barbara countryside to see the vineyards and communities found in the movie Sideways. These photos are dedicated to my buddy Dietrich, who had to cross the Atlantic Ocean to feel grapes between his toes.

LA County

Santa Monica was great. Not because I partied with the stars, or because I was discovered in Hollywood. I didn't venture East any further than Westwood; I set my GPS to enable Highways as an avoidance, and kept myself and my Suby far away from the 16-lane insanity that is Los Angeles driving.

No, Santa Monica was great because I could finally relax, in the madness but away from the madness. Mostly, I slept and watched bad television. And that was everything it could be and more! You can easily imagine how fulfilling this would be, after two months of over-stimulated trucking, day in and day out.

Don't I look healthy? I lost a lot of money to a Whole Foods that was just at the end of the block. It was time to splurge... oh man, I ate good. Let's take the time to acknowledge why I was so relaxed, and able to spend money: My wonderful Uncle Jack. He let me stay at his beautiful little apartment off Marine St., and since he was in NYC for the month of November, no one was around to tell me to wake up. It actually would have been awesome if he were there, and could show me his favorite places and all that, but sleep was great too. Thank you Uncle Jack! You rock.

Of course, I did pry myself off the comfortable couch to go see Santa Monica's main street, the Venice Pier, and of course the Venice Boardwalk. Actually, the first day I hit-up the Venice Pier (or maybe they hit me up - $5 for parking...) I'd thought I'd "been to Venice." You had your Surfers, Skateboarders, tourists, and I thought I saw a muscle man on roller blades. More importantly, as I leaned out over the Pier I saw a whole pod of dolphins swim by, about 20 yards away from the nearest surfers. Or maybe they were porpoises...

After some further research online, I discovered that no, no I hadn't been to Venice Beach yet. So, not having anything better to do, and being real curious about the rollerblading-turban-wearing-guitar-player, I set out to see it.

And I'm glad I did, I actually went back for more the next day...

So, the walk down Venice Beach... First, you're accosted by rap-star hopefuls, who play you their CD and are more than willing to accept donations in exchange for their music. Not a huge rap fan, it didn't sound too terrible - no more terrible than what you've got playing on the 'MtV'. Next, you're supposed to get some cheap sunglasses. I really wanted to get me some of them alien-looking peepers, but settled for the more useful polarized pair. On recommendation from a friend, I had purchased a pair of these beauts when I was leaving New York state, but I think they got crushed somewhere on the East Coast and were darn-near useless come the drive West, when the sunsets were their most vicious...

After the cheap sunglasses, you check out the vendors. And you walk. And you walk. And you dodge some more rap-star hopefuls. You read some of the funnier Hobo signs, but mostly you keep your eyes forward. There are street performers, a muscle man who kinda just walks around with a medicine-type ball, and yes, the fellow with the Turban went whizzing by with his guitar blaring. Some of the street performers truly earned their keep:


There was one drum-circle group, with a super-crazy guy waving his arms around and challenging the board-walkers. "Children First, Women Second" he repeated, only the "Children First" part kept getting lost, and for a while I thought he was a sexist jerk.

Guess which one he was?

I ended up sitting down with a group of alright-looking transients and chatting them up. Most of them I figured was just like me - drive out to California, and... well, that's it. Sleep on the beach. A few of these guys had cars, one even had a VW Passat and a blackberry. I was very confused until he explained that he had a PO Box. And a laptop. So he could pay bills.

A Transient paying bills. Wow.

A few of the kids were electricians, getting money whenever they could find jobs (which I'm sure was proving more difficult in this recession). All of them seemed to be there on purpose. The VW Tranny insisted that his own presence there was "by design." I wonder how many trannies this applies to. For all the people who drive to California and never leave, how many end up with steady jobs, and how many would prefer not to? Why tie yourself down to a monthly rent when showers are available on the beach, and you could sleep under the stars every night?

It's certainly not the life for me, but I could certainly understand it.

The sunset that night was amazing; this shot was taken an hour before, then I stowed my equipment and went out for a game of hack-y-sack with the trannies.

Of course, right when I was Kodak-free, the most beautiful of sunsets I'd ever seen hit the water and mountain range behind me. So, like I usually do for missed opportunities, I justified it: that sunset was for me, for then, and that's all, and I'm lucky enough to have caught it in the first place.

The Blue Pacific

I've made contact! Finally, I arrived in Dana Point, California. The waters of the Pacific are freezing, so I didn't get to jump-right-in and enjoy, but, driving around Orange County, I can totally understand why people pay millions of dollars for homes on mudslides. It's still the desert, I can tell, but it has been painted over as some grand get-away. I look forward to forests, but in the meantime, I'm headed to Santa Monica for some rest, and to get an idea of LA County.

Squirrel! ...big squirrel...

Going Nuts in Joshua Tree

Back in the desert - I hate the desert. I can survive here, but I could not thrive here. A long day of beautiful roads winding and turning their way into the flats; and I finally get to the California line.

And do you know what they do there? They stop all traffic, right at the border, and ask if I have nuts. No, sir, I do not. (You are not getting my Georgia Pecans, you bastards!)

I understand the peril of native species at the hands of the introduced variety, and I promise to be very careful with my nuts, and burn them if they start to go downhill... but I will NOT hand them over, they cost a pretty penny and sleep-loss when I was back in the South.

So anyway, welcome to California; first stop, Joshua Tree.

$25 entrance fee, $15 camping fee, and at the end, next to the sign that says "keep dehydrated!" $.25 for water. All for this:


Which is nice, I guess. But I'm totally done with the desert.

Oh, there were also big piles of rocks that look like someone had dumped them there. Gotta love geologic history!

And some pretty-ness. I guess. For the desert.

Life in Prescott...

...might have easily been a drunken' blur. It's a party town, yessir, with cowboys, natives, hippies and even those saloon-style swinging doors. But the air was crisp, it smelled like Fall, and for some reason, that little college reminded me of Green Mountain and Poultney. I did walk a bit of Whiskey Row at night, and stayed at a little campground a few miles above.

Other tasks for Prescott:

• Went to the house my grandparents built overlooking Thumb Butte. I'd been there before - over a decade ago.But still remember gazing out that back window, waiting for a cougar or a coyote to walk out...I couldn't tell you if one ever did, my back then my imagination was much more powerful than my memory, and you wouldn't believe what I "remember" seeing. It may have involved a ninja turtle. That's right.
  
• Find a Geocache and deliver a TB. For the dorks who know what I'm talking about, you're a dork. For those who don't, apparently you're known as a "muggle", and in all honesty I don't know which is worse.
• Find a Geocache. Yes, this one gets an honorary second mention. These things were terribly, terribly hard to find. BUT, in looking for the cache, I found this:which makes it all worthwhile, right? NO! Thank God I finally found one, I would've torn my hair out by the end of the day! Well, no, but it was darned frustrating.
  
• Decide whether to attend the McCain speech being held in the court. I decided against it (thinking I'd rather be in Cali when Obama wins), but this is not the first time I've faced this kind of political decision - the candidates were following me everywhere! Nashville, in particular, I left a day before... the first debate? the VP debate? I don't know. Anyway, when these things happen, you see this:And then this:
  

(Hippies...)

I'll leave you with what I saw as I left Prescott:

And back to the desert I go...

Mi Familia

So, in Arizona, after Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon, I'm headed down to Tempe to see some kin. And to meet some new additions to the family! It had been maybe 5 years since I've seen these folk, and of course it was great catching up - a lot happens in 5 years!

There was rest, relaxation, and little kids. Now, I know the latter often negates the former, but in my case it didn't - hanging out with the youngins was fun and seriously upflifting. Well, for me - for the little ones, I don't know, it might have been a little intense. Or, at least it seemed that way. One of them was seriously wierded out - he kept running away from me on his trike, going so far and so fast, that he'd eventually run up against the door.


And then, just generally hiding from me, but just a bit curious, he gives me the peek-around from within his room:

In the end, we definitely made friends though.

This was also an excellent break, first because I could hang out with the kids, and more than tha, I got to hang out with the kids during Halloween. Awesome neighborhoods in Tempe! Good people abound.

I've got no good Halloween pictures, but I did dress up as a trucker from Virginia, so give that time to resonate. (Sorry Stevie, totally borrowed your accent for that one... But I think I did it justice!)

Very nice to see family and take a break from the road, and a thousand thank-you's to Uncle Mike for making sure my vehicle was sound, and resolving my navigational dilemma. It was lovely to see you all, and I look forward to the next go-round!

Meanwhile, I'm off to Prescott College to see what life would have been like if I transferred for a Semester...