DISCLAIMER
This is a sometimes raw, always brutally honest, and personal perspective account of my travels & the people I've met; NOT another cliche' travel journal. While pondering the word "perspective," please also remember: I am neither a travel writer nor engaging in public relations. Those seeking tourist reviews, happy talk, or support for any dime-store religion or ideology should leave... right now. This will be a HUGE disappointment, and offending you is quite literally the least of my concern. Comments are encouraged, but are necessarily moderated for the time being. As the movie said: "While agreement is not required, thinking for one's self is." Please check the agenda at the door... and enjoy!
A famous singer once said that when you start explaining yourself, you’re fucked. Another wise man also said, “Hope floats, but so does bullshit!”
With the help of friends over the last couple of months, I’ve come to several conclusions. Counter to our claims, truth & honesty are NOT highly regarded! Most would prefer insulating their image and feeling good at any cost—reality be damned. People go to remarkable mental, verbal, and physical extremes to avoid any challenge to often fictitious personal narrative. Protecting these narratives has inadvertently become the dominant theme of the past year.
Monday was quiet, and understandably a bit difficult. As I began to reflect over the previous few days, a cold realization set in about how I had gotten here, and the ensuing isolation and introspection called into question many things. I reflected back to just 4-days earlier, and how everything had felt “right.” NOTHING felt “right” now. I was severely disillusioned, and seriously questioned my both my motivation to, and purpose for, traveling this way. Powerful ideas were bubbling beneath the surface, but for the first time in memory, I honestly wasn’t sure that I cared. I eyeballed Greyhound and Amtrak as easy escapes and access to a much wanted reset button; had either had a terminal in Monterey, there’s no question that’s exactly what I would have done!
Of course, it was Karen!
How she found us I have no idea, but what was exceedingly clear was Rael's reaction to the sight of her van. He resembled a child meeting his mother at the airport! He seemed as though he had seen a friend, one who’d gone missing years before, emerge from a volcano! Or, that Santa Claus had arrived on Christmas morning. Based on his reaction the night before (“
I’m sooo glad to be out of that fucking van!”), it was not the reaction one would expect. Watching him scamper like a Dune Deer across the sand and toward her van, after Saturday’s repeated declarations, snapped things clearly into focus. He was presumably going to see what she wanted but I had seen enough to know what HE wanted.
Sunday the 21
st started off well! Rael and I sat on our little dune, had a rather extravagant oatmeal breakfast, a few belts from my near-empty little bottle of rum, and chatted around the distant perimeter of our metaphysical ideas. Rael’s professed theological beliefs reminded me of my own. In many ways he appeared quite spiritual, yet wary of religion. But, with the “glad to be out of that van” and “get one more meal out of her” comments still top-of-mind, I remembered reading a few Facebook comments from people he’d met along the way-- ones religious in nature. I wondered: was he again playing The Chameleon
now, or had he maybe played
them? The tricky thing about uncovering Chameleons in the wild is that you’re left deciding for yourself what their real colors are. I’d soon be left with no doubt whatsoever…
"I'm a man (a man) without conviction
I'm a man (a man) who doesn't know
How to sell (to sell) a contradiction
You come and go, you come and go"
-Culture Club
Friday night was more of what I expected from this quick layover in Cambria, while it also introduced the theme for the immediate future. With Nick (’08) and Rael (Slab City), this was the never-before-seen opportunity of melding two of my distinctly separate experiences into a third, and I was curious to see what conversations, thoughts, and ideas spawned from the three of us.
I finally exhaled Thursday night and slept like a corpse. The Sierra Designs tarp shelter performed admirably on its first night of active duty, keeping the dew and Pacific moisture off of me and the backpack while providing the privacy and space not offered in a bivy alone. For the gearheads, the Origami is a lightweight, floorless tarp shelter utilizing five equilateral triangles and a telescoping pole/ walking stick/ guy line as a center support. It looks like a little teepee. The Origami can be set up in countless configurations depending on terrain and doesn’t weigh much, so I envision it as both a compliment to the bivy
and as a replacement for a full tent.
Pulling into San Simeon Beach State Park, memories came rushing back. The nostalgia was as thick as the persistent fog in seeing spots that have scorched themselves into my psyche; places only seen in my own photographs for the last couple of years. It had been less than two-years, but the Odyssey as I now know it began with
Pat in San Luis Obispo, and literally took off after mending my blisters in
this very place. Meeting Rael here seemed fitting as a kick-off to whatever adventures lie ahead in 2010. The few minutes before seeing Rael felt a great deal like "coming home."
I originally contacted Melody via her Craigslist ad around the first of March. She was to be moving from Austin to Portland, stopping in Taos to see friends, then continuing on toward San Francisco. I had also been in chatting with Rael since Slab City, and discovered that he was in fact still on hiatus from his walk, and would be heading to the coast toward San Francisco instead of Yosemite due to climate concerns! It would be a bit warmer along the central California coast, and a good time to see some of the southern portions of Hwy. 1. Between the two, it was obvious that this was an alternative to a dreaded trip east and a partial repeat of 2008's West Coast Run- one of my favorite's to date. It would also presumably provide an opportunity to dig deeper into some of the
"Camel Ideas". This
could be quite cool indeed...
Wednesday's plan:
1- Chris and I awaken at 6am
2- Coffee at the Oasis Club
3- Catch one of the two early buses going south from Niland to Brawley
4- Hitch east to Blythe, CA and I-10 toward Phoenix
Surprisingly, it didn't stray far off course, with one colossal unforeseen exception. Azrael (Rael) was also up before the sun and joined us at the Oasis for coffee. I was surprised at how many Slabbers turned out, before remembering that most sacked out by 8 or 9! As had been the case daily since Sunday, the Oasis clenched on to us. Before I knew it, it was 9:00 and it would be at least midday before we caught a bus.
Since 2008, there have been surprisingly few significant slip-ups when it comes to following that "Voice." I've been fortunate enough to catch myself at the last moment, or rescued by serendipity and subtle nudges from others. This was not to be the case this week. Mistakes would be made. They were significant. They were valuable. They were mine. All mine. If, while at Slab City, I had been focused and not creating my own doubt-induced
Quixotisms, the next several days would look far differently than they shall instead lay out before you!
Chris and I intended to meet Kevin early, but our late night made for a late morning. We hung around our spot in the desert before seeing Kevin return and making our way to his camper to say hi and start the day.
Kevin's a rare entity: one that should talk
more! He's a wealth of information. This Monday morning: what type of vehicle one can acquire cheaply, gets decent gas mileage, and has sufficient space for a full-winter Slabbing or living inside while moving from place-to-place. During our stay, Kevin playfully suggested,
several times, that we take one of his two remaining pit bull mix puppies. He had 4-other dogs who double as security for both people and coyotes... the later of which are heard every night. Kevin also had possibly the largest domestic cat I have ever seen, weighing in at 29-pounds, and serving as
Head Mouser.
