Escaping the gloom
So, we were going to go far far away this fin de semana, but a series of unfortunate events colluded to keep us from travelling thusly. So Friday Isabella got her play date and we watched the newest Dreamworks movie, which, if you can forgive yourself for enjoying crassly American stupidity, was actually rather amusing. We went to dinner with Saad, Rashda and Izza, and another couple, their programmer friends, and man... nice people, but... computer geeks have no life! How unfair of me, I know, maybe it was just these particular ones. I'll concede to that. As I said, they were very nice people, but unabashedly admitted to having never lived anywhere but Santa Barbara (including going to UCSB) and having only been out of the country twice. Hate me for my snobbery, please, but shoot me if I ever turn into anything quite so sedentary. I mean it.
So Saturday was free and nowhere to go. We almost went to the Channel Islands, and M. was about to reserve camping passes when I had another of my famous panic attacks. I don't know why, but I just did not want to go there, this after we have been talking about going for weeks. Life is a mystery. In fact something is definitely wrong with me, I didn't want to get out of bed, I just wanted to sleep or cry or both, for no particular reason. No good. Ok. So I dragged myself to the shower (a surefire way to change my mood) and upon emergence I said, "let's just get in the car and drive north." We went out for breakfast; then it was agreed, but it had to be my car. And packs were packed - all was quiet on the western front. Due north. Isabella was hungry when we were just at San Luis Obispo, that's when things went south... Nothing could be agreed upon, impatience reared its usual ugly head and to top it off there was a Christian band playing their music in front of the mission offering free food, in the hopes of luring some unsuspecting victims, I would imagine...
We left San Luis behind and switched (serendipitously so, because this was not the plan, wait, there was no plan) to the 1, the fog had long since burned off, or had never been this far north, and the views were spectacular.
Of course, it being Memorial Day weekend and all, there were no vacant campsite in any of the state parks. What were we thinking? Clearly not at all, but on the East coast there is always an over abundance of places to camp, so it never occurred to me that there would be any lack. Beginner's luck is not always good. So we just kept driving. Now we came to a pull off on the side of the road somewhere just near a spot called "Gorda by the Sea," Lovely. But it was getting on seven and I flat out refused to hike two miles up the mountain with five-year-old in tow in the hopes of finding a spot to camp. This did not make me a very popular person among the adult population of the car. Now, I don't claim to be a fearless mountain warrior, but this was so not about being lazy, I didn't know the trail and two miles up hill would have put us in the deep forest at dusk, with no good lighting. Yes, it was more about lack of insanity. In fact this is always a good indicator that my depression is in check, because I actually have a shred of self (or baby) preservation left. So for the next hour we fumed at one another, and came to the conclusion that we would finally separate. We worked out the details, and discussed the possibilities, and suddenly it was if a huge weight had been lifted and we actually started being nice to one another again. We ended up in Monterey, at a horrificly over-priced motel ($218), the last in the city we were told, but what did we expect on a holiday weekend? The exciting part, of course was the in-room jacuzzi with deck and rustic fireplace. We made full use of it, multiple times before leaving at 10 the next morning.
So of course the next morning M. says to me, after calming me from my midnight nightmare (I dreamed that I received a phone call in real time telling me that my parents had both died in a car crash, but the scary part was that it was one of those dreams that you really think are real). "I don't think I can leave you, what would you do by yourself?" I think I would manage, but who knows. Probably a moot point.
So the first stop was Monterey, Cannery Row:
And after that we wandered about a bit, listening to the street performers, one of whom was singing, uncannily, a little ditty by Pink Floyd that I hadn't heard in years but has recently popped into my unconscious. I remember taking photos of these very same murals when I came here to California for the first time in 1997. Never did I imagine I would have one of these the next time around:
Gorgeous day for exploring indeed.
And then we meandered back south to Carmel, for a brief stop at the Mission, which had a very particular inner ceiling, one I haven't seen before.
This place was idyllic, and here I felt like I was catching someone in the act. The perfect scene I imagine, of the cyclist in absentia.
Amazing colors, I felt like I was in México, oh wait, once upon a time this was México, before we stole it, and after, of course the Spaniards stole it from the natives and imposed their religion, but... um, we won't go there today.
Finally we drove back through Big Sur, and found our little trail in the Padres, this time with several more hours of daylight. We hitched ourselves up and started up the path, which was a good hard grade for the first quarter to a half mile before levelling off a bit. Man, I am out of shape, I mean even without the 25 pounds or so of backpack, I would have been hurting. M. kept haranguing me about how I didn't look like I was enjoying myself, and I kept saying that if he left me alone I would be enjoying myself much more... then of course there was another mile and a half or so of hiking along a ridge. In a brief respite we found ourself on flat ground in the forest and Isabella had a fit because she wanted to camp then and there, but we forged ahead, and eventually we made it to Spruce camp, and we even found a little spot for the tent, that had previously been inhabited by humans, having left the little rock ring of a fire pit. I didn't do so badly though every time M. stopped short in front of me, saying "look!" and pointing down the sheer drop to certain death I had to hold my breath and look up the mountain so as to not succumb to vertigo.
We pitched my handy dandy companion (the very selfsame tent that did Badlands, Devil's Rock and Yellowstone with me and Kirsten the summer of 97).
Now, one might think that you can't have good sex in a two person tent with three people. One would be right. Although, I hesitate to think about what that might be like if the third person were someone other than the perennial five-year-old companion... it has been far too long to think about those days. Sigh. Insomnia followed me to the mountains and despite feeling physically tired, I could not turn off my brain. Damn that thing, never can seem to.
Reflecting in the morning when M. and I. went to the river and I finished packing up. We hiked back up and out of the canyon, to another impressive display of nature's finest colors, the yellow and violet hues calling, and the birthday taste of honeysuckle on my tongue (in Pennsylvania, June was the month of these flowers, some things will never escape us, we really do come from somewhere even if we can never go back home).
Almost at the bottom we veered back in to a waterfall that, according to the California native who has been coming to this very spot for seventeen years, is a once in a 100-200 year phenomenon, due to the heavy winter rainfall. It was beautiful and it was worth scaling the rocks to get these pictures.
And of course, M. took these:
.
At the very end of the hike back down, after the icy swim and the petrific playground, my leg muscles, exhausted from the descent, gave way about a hundred feet from the trail head and I thank myself for the years of sports because I know how to take a fall. Only a gauged hand and a stoned knee. I can savor my bruises all week!
So, we got to the car do find that the lights had been left on overnight. Dead battery. Again. Not my fault this time, menos mal. Luck was with us and couple of friendly hikers gave us a jump, but then we stopped about oh, a mile down, because I couldn't find my phone (which was under me, but totally useless at this point because there was no service there.) M. decided to take one last photo and he turned to tell me to turn off the car. Bad move. It hadn't charged enough and made a half-hearted sputtering sound, not nearly enough to roll over the motor. No reception, nobody stopping despite the elevated hood and the looks of desperation. Finally a couple with their window open pulled over and was offering to drive one of us down to the nearest town, when lo... down the hill came, as if by magic, a AAA truck ready to help. Needless to say we didn't stop for a good long while.
The last moment of Memorial day magic, as we were finally heading home, passing Punta Piedra I saw two elephant seals arching up in a mating dance of dominance. We pulled over to find a beach full of over three hundred of them sunning themselves. I. says "look there's a mama and a papa." and I say, "no, mi amor, no ves, están peleando..." "por eso," (exactly her point) "ahí está mamá y ahí está papá." At least someone tells the truth.
So Saturday was free and nowhere to go. We almost went to the Channel Islands, and M. was about to reserve camping passes when I had another of my famous panic attacks. I don't know why, but I just did not want to go there, this after we have been talking about going for weeks. Life is a mystery. In fact something is definitely wrong with me, I didn't want to get out of bed, I just wanted to sleep or cry or both, for no particular reason. No good. Ok. So I dragged myself to the shower (a surefire way to change my mood) and upon emergence I said, "let's just get in the car and drive north." We went out for breakfast; then it was agreed, but it had to be my car. And packs were packed - all was quiet on the western front. Due north. Isabella was hungry when we were just at San Luis Obispo, that's when things went south... Nothing could be agreed upon, impatience reared its usual ugly head and to top it off there was a Christian band playing their music in front of the mission offering free food, in the hopes of luring some unsuspecting victims, I would imagine...
We left San Luis behind and switched (serendipitously so, because this was not the plan, wait, there was no plan) to the 1, the fog had long since burned off, or had never been this far north, and the views were spectacular.
Of course, it being Memorial Day weekend and all, there were no vacant campsite in any of the state parks. What were we thinking? Clearly not at all, but on the East coast there is always an over abundance of places to camp, so it never occurred to me that there would be any lack. Beginner's luck is not always good. So we just kept driving. Now we came to a pull off on the side of the road somewhere just near a spot called "Gorda by the Sea," Lovely. But it was getting on seven and I flat out refused to hike two miles up the mountain with five-year-old in tow in the hopes of finding a spot to camp. This did not make me a very popular person among the adult population of the car. Now, I don't claim to be a fearless mountain warrior, but this was so not about being lazy, I didn't know the trail and two miles up hill would have put us in the deep forest at dusk, with no good lighting. Yes, it was more about lack of insanity. In fact this is always a good indicator that my depression is in check, because I actually have a shred of self (or baby) preservation left. So for the next hour we fumed at one another, and came to the conclusion that we would finally separate. We worked out the details, and discussed the possibilities, and suddenly it was if a huge weight had been lifted and we actually started being nice to one another again. We ended up in Monterey, at a horrificly over-priced motel ($218), the last in the city we were told, but what did we expect on a holiday weekend? The exciting part, of course was the in-room jacuzzi with deck and rustic fireplace. We made full use of it, multiple times before leaving at 10 the next morning.
So of course the next morning M. says to me, after calming me from my midnight nightmare (I dreamed that I received a phone call in real time telling me that my parents had both died in a car crash, but the scary part was that it was one of those dreams that you really think are real). "I don't think I can leave you, what would you do by yourself?" I think I would manage, but who knows. Probably a moot point.
So the first stop was Monterey, Cannery Row:
And after that we wandered about a bit, listening to the street performers, one of whom was singing, uncannily, a little ditty by Pink Floyd that I hadn't heard in years but has recently popped into my unconscious. I remember taking photos of these very same murals when I came here to California for the first time in 1997. Never did I imagine I would have one of these the next time around:
Gorgeous day for exploring indeed.
And then we meandered back south to Carmel, for a brief stop at the Mission, which had a very particular inner ceiling, one I haven't seen before.
This place was idyllic, and here I felt like I was catching someone in the act. The perfect scene I imagine, of the cyclist in absentia.
Amazing colors, I felt like I was in México, oh wait, once upon a time this was México, before we stole it, and after, of course the Spaniards stole it from the natives and imposed their religion, but... um, we won't go there today.
Finally we drove back through Big Sur, and found our little trail in the Padres, this time with several more hours of daylight. We hitched ourselves up and started up the path, which was a good hard grade for the first quarter to a half mile before levelling off a bit. Man, I am out of shape, I mean even without the 25 pounds or so of backpack, I would have been hurting. M. kept haranguing me about how I didn't look like I was enjoying myself, and I kept saying that if he left me alone I would be enjoying myself much more... then of course there was another mile and a half or so of hiking along a ridge. In a brief respite we found ourself on flat ground in the forest and Isabella had a fit because she wanted to camp then and there, but we forged ahead, and eventually we made it to Spruce camp, and we even found a little spot for the tent, that had previously been inhabited by humans, having left the little rock ring of a fire pit. I didn't do so badly though every time M. stopped short in front of me, saying "look!" and pointing down the sheer drop to certain death I had to hold my breath and look up the mountain so as to not succumb to vertigo.
We pitched my handy dandy companion (the very selfsame tent that did Badlands, Devil's Rock and Yellowstone with me and Kirsten the summer of 97).
Now, one might think that you can't have good sex in a two person tent with three people. One would be right. Although, I hesitate to think about what that might be like if the third person were someone other than the perennial five-year-old companion... it has been far too long to think about those days. Sigh. Insomnia followed me to the mountains and despite feeling physically tired, I could not turn off my brain. Damn that thing, never can seem to.
Reflecting in the morning when M. and I. went to the river and I finished packing up. We hiked back up and out of the canyon, to another impressive display of nature's finest colors, the yellow and violet hues calling, and the birthday taste of honeysuckle on my tongue (in Pennsylvania, June was the month of these flowers, some things will never escape us, we really do come from somewhere even if we can never go back home).
Almost at the bottom we veered back in to a waterfall that, according to the California native who has been coming to this very spot for seventeen years, is a once in a 100-200 year phenomenon, due to the heavy winter rainfall. It was beautiful and it was worth scaling the rocks to get these pictures.
And of course, M. took these:
.At the very end of the hike back down, after the icy swim and the petrific playground, my leg muscles, exhausted from the descent, gave way about a hundred feet from the trail head and I thank myself for the years of sports because I know how to take a fall. Only a gauged hand and a stoned knee. I can savor my bruises all week!
So, we got to the car do find that the lights had been left on overnight. Dead battery. Again. Not my fault this time, menos mal. Luck was with us and couple of friendly hikers gave us a jump, but then we stopped about oh, a mile down, because I couldn't find my phone (which was under me, but totally useless at this point because there was no service there.) M. decided to take one last photo and he turned to tell me to turn off the car. Bad move. It hadn't charged enough and made a half-hearted sputtering sound, not nearly enough to roll over the motor. No reception, nobody stopping despite the elevated hood and the looks of desperation. Finally a couple with their window open pulled over and was offering to drive one of us down to the nearest town, when lo... down the hill came, as if by magic, a AAA truck ready to help. Needless to say we didn't stop for a good long while.
The last moment of Memorial day magic, as we were finally heading home, passing Punta Piedra I saw two elephant seals arching up in a mating dance of dominance. We pulled over to find a beach full of over three hundred of them sunning themselves. I. says "look there's a mama and a papa." and I say, "no, mi amor, no ves, están peleando..." "por eso," (exactly her point) "ahí está mamá y ahí está papá." At least someone tells the truth.
posted by ilana at 3:51 p.m.
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