Thursday, July 31, 2014

July 13th: BIG. SUR.

I stopped writing again. It's a habit of mine. More of a habit than writing, in fact, or at least as much of one.
I sure do miss VanLife. The story deserves an ending. Full chronicalization, or as full as I'm capable of (with some help in the memory department. It was a full year ago by now, after all.)

When I think about the experience, it feels so special and surreal and distant and alluring it's almost causes stomach problems. All the feelings, you know? The body doesn't know how to filter em right.

Without a doubt, one of the most picturesque, moving, inspiring times of my entire life were the two days we spent driving up the Pacific Coast Highway. Take a look for yourself:
The above picture is of Hearst Castle (if you can make it out). Hearst is the mean rich man Citizen Kane is based off of. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Randolph_Hearst)

After we spotted the castle from afar (what a magical journey, eh?) I saw a sign declaring "Elephant Seal Viewing Area". Assuming it was a long shot to actually spot any, I pulled into the parking area and we walked towards the water. A pedestrean bridge had been built directly above where this community hangs out. These amazing, disgusting, fascinating, wonderful creatures were ALL OVA THE PLACE. This, specifically, is one of the most magical sights of my life. They make sounds like a large draining bathtub with gurgles and bubbles and burps, and they often attack and attempt to molest each other. It was wonderful. All the biggest meanest males attempted to horrifically force themselves onto one specific dainty female (perhaps a regular seal, not the elephant variety) and we got to watch as she slowly slithered, rested, was chased, scooted across the sand, the blubbery men as quickly worn out as she... eventually she fought her way through the entire crowd and swam to safety. The horrible beauty of the world, this time with a happy ending.
      

This day was intense. Not just with beauty, but the thrill of fear. Real fear of a real scary road in a real big van once it starts to get real dark with no real lights at all. The anticipatory fear was so real I almost didn't want to take the road. What a silly mistake that would have been. Don't listen to The Fear, see.
BUT. If we hadn't found our pre-researched sleeping mountain pull off before it got dark, the fear woulda kicked in real heavy. As it was, we found the tiny poorly marked dirt road that went DIRECTLY UP a mountain. Straight up and down, was this dirt and rock filled path. VERY. SCARY. Luckily, we were only the second vehicle to find it that night so the second pull off parking spot was ours. Our very own ditch half way up the side of a giant mountain with seals barking in the ocean directly below us. It was the most intoxicatingly terrifying night of my life. The wind gently rocked our Scuttlebuss to sleep... thankfully it did not rock it off the cliff into the ocean. We slept to the soundtrack of barking seals a mere cliff side away. 
Many more cars drove up this path through the night, the poor devils needing the climb the steep path farther and farther until they found a shoulder of their own. What would happen once all the shoulder slots were full, we wondered? Turning around and getting back down the dark, steep path was a dangerous prospect. But everyone seemed to put themselves somewhere, as we saw no descents. The next morning we slowly (and not without anxious stuttering whimpers) drove back down to the coastal highway and continued The Good Times. That. Is. A. ROAD.








At one point we saw a young couple hitchhiking as we were pulling into the next sight seeing locale. KG wanted to accept their request, but we wanted to see the beautiful sight in the pictures below you before even considering it. They were looking to leave (I think going the opposite direction) and I am often wary and untrusting of humans, as The Man has trained me to be. So we ignored their thumbs and parked the van. As we were walking to the see the sights we soon saw, KG said we should consider accepting their request in the spirit of our adventure if they were still without help after our stroll. Mayyyyybe. 
Not only were they no longer standing roadside, there was a giant puddle of pee next to our van. Frustration expression due to our lack of assistance, or a great vehicle choice for blocking the vaguely illegal call of nature in the "public" "wild"? You decide.


We decided to venture up to the fancy restaurant with famous views at the northern edge of the Big Sur coast. It was impressively expensive, so we opted for the average coffee with stunning sights on the side. 
Oh, and potatoes.


Imma be back, Big Sur. Imma be back.