Translating to words the sea and tall-tree talk

In Rincon I thought for a sec about going to the beach.  I had a conversation with Konan the night before about surf breaks and it only seemed right.  Everything in me wanted tires on road though and already the 101 was making that certain kind of only-on-101-noise.

The gas station on the right was cheaper by a cent but the cashier in the other one had the night before won me over.  An ESL student with a middle eastern way of averting his eyes which I knew was meant as a form of respect.  The night before I'd asked do you carry tasty cakes and he said, "Excuse me, ma'am, I am only learning english, please repeat the question." We talked about his commitment to learning english and I authentically tried to assure him how successful he already was.  His humility I could actually feel in my heart.  Even though he worked, as he told me, graveyard shift, I still went back to his store in the morning for gas.

I knew there'd be grace then: walking out to my car, in my hand a jug of water and some rugged gloves that were only 2 bucks for later when I camped.   Next to my car a van, the old hippy kind, with a Dead sticker on it.  A guy my age-ish or a little younger came towards me then.  He had the sparkle in his eye and was inside his heart.  I relaxed and smiled big and warm, already had my wallet out…Think you could spare a few bucks he said and then, we're trying to get to San Diego by the night.  I nodded and said a prayer and gave thanks for beneficent road blessings for us both and handed him some cash.

I took the 101north until I saw a sign for Morrow Bay then took that west.  In Morrow Bay it led me down a little access road, it being the magic which by now was back and I had to let it ease through my body in a mild, sweet way a little at a time.  But for sure it led me down this little road with beachfront motels and so I made note, Morrow Bay I will be back.

At the south end of Big Sur I found Sebastian's General Store just past the Piedras Blancas and the Lighthouse of the same name.  Originally my plan had been to get warm lunch there then get north to Kirk Creek.  But in the parking lot it was the feeling of noooo not yet in a soft movement that felt like gentle wind.  So on I went.

I am glad I did that big stretch of the 1.  Big Sur is the only stretch of California coastline on which I'd never travelled.  But then as I got more north I realized wow that isn't true.  In the 90's when my dad lived in San Jose he brought us down that route--me and Sean my brother.  This was probably 1992.

I was saddened by Big Sur because of the invasive fragmite all over the sides of the hill.  As an indicator of the ecosystem a parasite like that, among so much splotches of otherwise bald land, well it told me her health is not well.  I was expecting so much more…green.  Only in the center is there deep green quiet and that stretch lasts only a few miles or so.  I thought more than once, well Kel you're spoiled because you lived on the Oregon coast.  Then realized it's why people keep the magic up there such a secret, it's own private host.  Kirk was all reserved and the other campsites too. I was deeply content already just with my drive and really wanted, needed big trees so anyhow so I turned right in Carmel--which means towards inland--and got a room for $50 when I got to Salinas.

Salinas is mostly Mexican which anyway next to the wealth of Carmel made me feel more at home.  I got tacos and watched the Ravens win on cable.  From there, next morning I got on 1 again and took it towards Santa Cruz.   I got to Big Basin and lost my cell again, which made me happy because it was the final piece of grace towards the silence that I need.

This morning all I could see was no shower with the crisp yum of redwoods still in my hair and curled up some place with poetry and coffee.  So I set out knowing that was it, magic vision flowing like it oughta or useta or is anyway again, and now on the other side of those coastal ranges I landed in the town of Saratoga in a wood floored cafe that roasts their own beans.  I had the most blazin burrito for breakfast even though it was already close to noon.  In this valley where around me the redwoods sing the sound you need absolute quiet to hear--well, yes.  Cozy is the word.

Writing now and will scootch to the corner in a second for a over-stuffed couch and poems and the real work, which is translating to words the sea and tall-tree talk.

Humboldt in the morning, with soul-fam.

As it should be, for Giving Thanks.