Montana de Oro

I took an unexpectedly tootling  road to Montana de Oro.  It made Crooked Island Road of my childhood look like child's play.  Here is one of the lovely views I encountered on the curvy way.

Here is one of the paths to the ocean at Montana de Oro.

Okay, just a reminder for my East Coast friends, the beaches around here aren't warm.  The water is cold, and only tourists wear bathing suits.  I was not the only one dressed like this. Surfers wear wetsuits, and I don't know how they stand the cold with their hands and feet sticking out.

I walked a couple of miles along the coast and then climbed up the base of the cliff into a cleft and enjoyed myself, pulling out my notebook and writing for a while.

From where I sat the ocean looked navy blue -- mostly it was a bright teal.

I wanted so badly to climb to the top of this rock, and I was a good girl-- traveling by herself -- and restrained myself, so the kind people playing on the shore wouldn't have to take me to the emergency room.

This beach didn't have sand -- just stones that made a magical noise when the surf turned them over and over.

There was a whole hillside covered in orange nasturtium.

I didn't go on this trail because of the bobcat.

Don't feel too sorry for me.  I ate my dinner here by Morro Bay.  You can see the fog bank coming in.

Cambria

My friends left on Thursday,  and on Friday, I decided it was time to see the ocean.  I coupled my trip with a visit to a farmer's market.  I was a bit early for the market and walked the streets of the quaint little town lined with artist studios and antique shops.  I came across this bench and smiled -- if you have never read the poem "Endymoin" by Keats it is transporting truth.

I talked with the artist who created a rotating bronze sculpture for quite a while.  He has wandered and gone without for the state of his art, and he looks at it as all joy.  The sculpture is called "Always moving forward." He was so excited about my journey.

These first two photos are of the view I chanced upon when I was looking for a spot to eat my lunch: carrot ginger soup that I bought at the farmer's market. Unfortunately, I did not take a picture of the smiling girl who makes the soup or of the octogenarians who sold me two delicious avocados -- the grandmother picked them out special for me.

 There was  a lovely path along the coast with stretches of open space.

I encountered a few creatures along the path. The birds were not as easily photographed as this snake whose head was nicely hidden in a hole (no head, no biting).

I especially liked the hint of orange on the cliffs from the ground cover (which I believe is an invasive species).

I ended the evening with an amazing guitar concert at a small recording studio that I chanced upon when I went to the post office earlier in the day.  Hauntingly beautiful music by Robert Longley.

Destination

I arrived at my destination on Tuesday and have not posted for enjoying spending time with my friends.  They left for their India adventure early this morning and 14 hours later are still traveling.  So I am back to blogging. Before they left, Kegan and I played a mean game of air hockey.  He is a formidable opponent. He and Aidan and I played around with my calligraphy supplies.

Here are all three boys (Aidan, Riley, and Kegan) with their space creation.

After my friends left this morning, I continued to love up on their three cats.  Hobbes is the most out of joint for their leaving.  He followed me around this morning and even helped me make the bed.

Since I woke up early this morning to see my friends off, I took an afternoon nap, and Buttercup and Gus decided to join me.  I think we will get along just fine. I was looking forward to Gus begging for dinner -- I think he is feeling a bit shy.  Jenn, I waited and waited, but no leg rubbing, no persistent glances.

The house where I am staying is lovely.  I am especially enjoying the light in the homeschool room where I have my art supplies spread out on a long table.  And I am so excited about the vegetable garden in the backyard: tomatoes, cucumber, zucchini, winter squash, watermelon, herbs, and more!!!

Tonight, I cut a fist-full of lavender to bring inside.  Then I spent some time drawing listening to Mozart.  The high ceilings have such a nice effect on sound.

California and American Wildflowers

Arriving in CA took me a bit by surprise.  No signs saying 35 miles to CA. None.  And speed limit signs:  you can go 30 miles or more without seeing one.  And police:  I think of them as sharks; they like to pull out behind me for fun to watch me cringe. 

I drove from 8:45 to 4:00 and time passed with amazing alacrity.  What a change from my first day driving, when I was oh-so-tired and when I watched the miles pass, one by painful one.

Here are some shots of the hotel I am staying at tonight.  Love the color scheme.

I am only 3 hours from my destination, though today, day 14 of my trip, was the first time I hit stop-and-go traffic.  I went 3 miles in 20 minutes.  A bit hard to complain.  And I got to stop to watch a train cross the road which was reminiscent of my childhood (though there aren't cabooses to guess the color of any more).

Since I took very few pictures today . . . here is a smattering of the wildflowers I photographed along the way.

The Word of the Desert

This morning, I was on the road by 8:00.  I stopped at Lake Powell – Glen Canyon.  I climbed down the red eddying rock to the lake and gave myself a bit of scare wondering whether or not I would be able to find my way back.  (There were other people around – no real worries).  The lake was clear to the bottom and October sky blue.

The wind has not stopped blowing since I crossed into Arizona.  If you forget that the wind is blowing, you will think your alignment it way off.  Is it always like this? 

 

Along the way, I stopped here and was still for a long while drinking in the rock, the shades of color, and the sounds.  The swallows forgot I was there and swooped right beside me.  They look to be playing hawk, catching the thermals. Then they take on sprint speed for their insect dives.  

Next, I drove down to the south entrance of the Grand Canyon.  I think you need to be an artist to take a good picture of the Canyon.  It is hard for the eye and mind to comprehend the depth and breadth, never mind the camera with its lack of peripheral vision and depth perception. How does one trick it into seeing what is there?

I managed to avoid the crowds.

Languages I heard at the Canyon:

French

German

Vietnamese

Korean

Spanish

Japanese

Russian

Swedish?

Croatian

Australian English

British English

I have come to an understanding with Arizona – the desert of Arizona.  It speaks a word that reminds me of asceticism and pulls me into meditation.  It is a word that I don’t really want to hear right now, and all the same it is good.  The desert is more forthright with its call to stillness.  The Canyon is easily underestimated and holds its cards close to its chest.  It can bewilder you with its beauty and hide its true self like a coy woman.

On a lighter note . . .

What I like about Arizona . . .

Dogs sleeping in front of hotels.

Goats – unpenned – grazing on the side of the highway.

The red-orange earth.

Asceticism.

What I don’t like about Arizona  . . .

           Does anyone live here?

           The questionable chance of surviving if my car broke down.

           Commercialism (I wonder if there are more tourist shops than people).

           Speed traps (no I didn’t get a ticket -- it just appears that this is a major means of state income).

Time for bed.