morning finds me by the pacific. waves crashing on cool sandy beaches. surfer boys in hoodies. a chill in the air. a nice break from the arid scorch of yesterday. relaxing. breakfast. i have become addicted to peanut butter. i think it's a comfort thing. like the forrest. i'm regressing to my childhood. playing with my dog in the woods at swarthmore college. coming inside just long enough to eat my lunch. pb&j. i love it. and it's cheap. double yay.
stephanie wont be back until sunday so i've got my sights on the pacific coast highway (pch). big sur is the destination. i want to camp in the redwoods and weave along the coastline. ocean to the left. blue skies above. hair in braids. windows down. music up. madonna. like a prayer. oh god i think i'm falling out of the sky i close my eyes. heaven help me. this is california. you can keep los angeles.
the road winds up the long coast. i am reminded how far i am from you all. an entirely different ocean. cliffs drop below me. crashing waves against sturdy rock surface. blue. and blue. and blue. so many different shades. barking seals are tiny below but their sounds carry up the cliffside like they are next to my car. shifting. switch backs. vistas. bluffs. fog here. sun. headed farther up the coast. it's saturday and the park has recently reopened from the wildfire damage. fingers crossed i can get a campsite in big sur without a reservation. i try three, and all are full. but the state park sounds promising. i am ushered forward in line. a young man confirms availability. and i get to drive through and pick my site. i decide on twenty-two. my lucky number. and report back my findings. the ranger takes my information. plate number. north carolina. he asks me where abouts. he graduated from uncw. small world. he asks why i'm so far from home and when i explain my travel urges and desires to photograph everything the light touches he apologizes for big sur's tremendous lack of photo appeal. with a smile. he recommends pfeiffer beach. two miles up the road. after 6:30pm the guard will be gone so there is no charge. sunset over rock cliffs. ansel adams drift wood memories.
i set up camp and change my clothes. i've decided to walk. i need some exercise after being cooped up in the car. i confirm the directions to the beach with wil[mington]. he says it's far. two miles. apparently distance is relative. i'm excited about the walk. the chance to stretch my legs. and he's peering over the guard booth looking me from top to bottom. no doubt taking note of what i'm wearing in the event he has to file a missing person's report. he nods approval. there's that smile again. i am a sucker.
i find the narrow road down to the beach. the sun is getting low. marley and i need to hurry to catch the setting. the orange and purple and reflection back. we run. full sprint. two miles. marley lagging behind. he doesn't understand the time constraint. and i get frustrated with his lolly-gagging. half tired. half curious of new smells. i urge him forward. the road opens onto the beach. through a tunnel of trees, looks eerie from the beach. a dark cave. ominous. rocks jut out of the crashing waves. a handful of photographers align their shots. tripods. perfectly still. but i'm off to the shore line. bending. twisting. kneeling. down in the sand. color. water. rocks. reflection. i am grateful for the tip. this place is beautiful. and i nod to the other photographers as we pass each other. content with our pocket size memories. a good days work.
i sit on the beach and cool down from my run. giving marley dog the time to rest that i promised him. the sun dips down. gone. the dusky haze slips into blackness. i zip up my jacket and turn on my headlamp. excited about my warm, stretched muscles and looking forward to a shower and dinner. the road is much darker now. totally dark. and the two mile incline seems much longer and lonlier on the way back to camp. cars pass and wave their goodbyes. marley and i walk in the silence left behind. the faint smell of pine in the air.
a van approaches from ahead. slows at my side. window down, music playing softly. he speaks. hey there miss mann, from charlotte. you need a ride? i smile when i place the voice. my forest ranger friend. i laugh, standing there, halfway up the road. awwww, were you worried about me? you didn't come back, he said. yes. i was worried about you. marley lept up against the van and nosed through the driver side window. his nod of approval. we made room in the back of the van for marley. crowded in with surfboards and clothes. i climb into the passenger seat and we head back to camp. we talk easily. sharing stories from our summer. how we ended up out here from uncw. our interest in colorado. he teaches snowboarding in beaver creek. he recommends i look into resort photography. he prefers beaver creek but his old boss now works at telluride. connections. we exchange information. talking for a while before i realize we had never exchanged first names. it's weird what really matters. we carried on like old friends for so long without so much as an introduction.
he dropped me at my campsite. and we sat there in a strange moment. odd but comfortable. but then i turned quickly, and in one smooth motion, hopped out, grabbed marley and shut the door. standing silently alongside the van. he sat there and starred at me for a long pause. neither of us spoke. just silence. until he finally turned the wheels and reversed out of the site. pausing again. arm raised out the window to wave as he disappeared onto the dark road. i could have...but he didn't...but it was nice anyway. i needed a friend. and i found one. far from home, all alone in the woods. it's weird. it's good. i will probably never see him again. and that's okay.
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