Big Sur: big problems, cosmic resolutions.

After having spent a few days with friends and family (well, my sister Terry at least) I flew back to San Francisco feeling homesick and, well, sort of confused. I’m the type of person that questions every decision I make – after I make it. Sure, I think about it before hand – weigh options, consider alternatives, justify possible actions, flip a coin, ask the trees… I can’t just skip down the path I choose and accept the fate I encounter with out going back to the beginning of that path and wonder “what if I made a left?”. Well, I’m a month and a week into my trip and I’m questioning my decision. Factors, variables, parameters, pluses and minuses, waking up with a head full of questions, no answers, and a list of things I gotta get done. My ideal of a fancy free trip fueled by spent veggie oil is turning into more of a grueling gulag of grease, fixing things, cleaning, working, and figuring out my next day and night. Daily routine is everything but, and yet, seemingly always the same.

Where am I gonna get oil? Where’m I gonna sleep tonight? Oh – that road looks good! No wait, that turn-out – secluded, sort of. Gotta clean out the hydro cell system, ship back the inverter (it died again - this time caught on fire!), connect the new pump, figure out a better on board filtration system, re-install the battery isolator. That damn glove compartment box keeps popping open! Get more water. Laundry. Oh, it’s time to work again - find a coffee shop.
“Mind if I sit here and work for a few hours?"
"No, not at all."
"Cool. I'll take a mocha - double decaf please...
any good local spots that are day hikes...?”
“Does the state beach have showers...?”
"Any good local greasy spoons - ya know, fried foods...?"

I left Oakland on Tuesday morning (9/23/08), headed for the coast and Big Sur – hopefully get there by Thursday. I find some oil Monday night at a Japanese Restaurant, but couldn’t get to it since the restaurant staff parked in front of the 55 gallon barrel. “Come back tomorrow,” the owner said...7am the next day and the oil is gone! Shit!!! The regular pickup must have grabbed it late last night. My veg. is on empty, but I think I have enough to get to Half Moon Bay. Let’s see… I think I can, I think I can.... Made it!

Half moon seems like a nice little town. The road into town is lined with organic farms and farm stands, a very welcome sight! Gave me a little boost as I drove into town… I spent the week working during the day in the Half Moon Bay Coffee Company, chatting with the owner about politics and travel, enjoying the delicious mint mochas, and trying to figure out where I’m headed next. Go to the beach to listen to the ocean at dusk for clues, communing with the beach for guidance, waxing poetic with the moon hanging low and the sun setting:

I wonder how many people are staring out into the sea like me, and with me
at this moment in time, 6:59, Pacific Standard Time?
The force of the retracting wave, as it pulls away from the beach,
prevents the next wave from getting up, and crashing into me.
I feel more secure with the ebbing tide, with this brief moment of silence in time,
as the waves build up, and the next rush comes in.
It’s almost eerie how there’s a sort of placidness to the ocean in a brief moment.
Can’t see the true brute force of the ocean from where I am
but I can see the channels dug into the bluff walls behind me. Strength.
The skyline beckons all with eyes to view its peach hue.
Clouds call out “follow my tail, rise up with me!”
“Follow me into the sky; into the sunset; into the mountains. Away with me!”
A random tennis ball on the beach reminds me of human filings,
the build up and release, the day to day mundane trappings.
That which I pull myself away from.
Allow my brain to take a rest, walk on the beach,
feel the sand, get closer to the ground, feel the earth.
Use the feathers in my hand, that I’ve picked up in my travels,
to fly myself away, to release myself for brief moments,
to enjoy my time while I’m here, where millions of others have walked before.
Recognize the feelings I’m trolling through… I’ve felt before… and so too have many others.
Another man with a cell phone tinkers, pushing buttons, taking pictures,
listening to pre-recorded messages from his past as I record mine.
Somewhere there’s some odd chaotic, mathematic reasoning behind all of this.
All that I’m experiencing. Right now though, I just don’t understand
and my mind rolls back to the tasks at hand:
Trying, searching, wondering, failing…
Thinking, designing, engineering, succeeding.
Is this trip a beginning of a life anew; a new experience?
Or an ending of a life I’ve failed in? Fail to understand completely.
Possibilities which are possibly both realities:
closing one door and opening another.
And as I walk through it, this beach walk reminds me of a past experience of myself,
that I hate, that I carry with me, that I want to drop off into the ocean…
An answer: The sign reads “Sunset at 7:04 tonight - Move your vehicle or it will be towed,
and there will be no exceptions!” Seems like it’s time to move on…

Wednesday night (9/24/08) I pull about 20 gallons of oil from a Taqueria, though the oil looks shady, I think to myself "SWEET!!" I decide to forgo pumping directly into my tank, bypass my filter, and pump into 5 gallon containers – I’ll filter it into my tank tomorrow. I have time. Oil obtained. Rest.

Fuck. Why won’t this oil filter out!?? Damn Taqueria oil! I knew it looked too thick! - Two new filters and many hours of frustration and nothing to show for it. $50 on parts at Ace hardware - try making my own filter out of sheets and bug screen and see what happens... Nothing happens. Nothing. This oil is shit. Give up. Get rid of it. Find another source. Get outta here, man! Get back on the road. You’re stuck in a rut, man. Move on! ...Feel paralyzed… move your legs, get in the driver’s seat. GO!

After convincing myself to keep moving south to Big Sur I realized that stagnation, for me, is a buzz kill. I can’t sit in one town for more than a couple days. If I do, I start feeling familiar with the surroundings… settling in, sort of. I need to see things shift, time and place, the excitement of all anew. I feel frenetic. Keep rollin’. Head down to Santa Cruz and see what happens… at least I got maybe two gallons of that shit oil pumped into my tank... at least... shit oil. shit!

Santa Cruz, Thursday night (9/25/08), I’m starting to think I’m gonna be stranded in Santa Cruz for the weekend, or have to spend $100 on diesel to get to Big Sur and back up the coast. Take a deep breath. Try to find more oil. Call every place in town. No dice. Get some food, ice, and chill... Sleep on it.

Friday (9/26/08)– a day off from work! Nice. Get some stuff done on the van. Figure out new filtration, try to deal with the solar inverter, the isolator, the hydro cell - bite off more than I can chew... Add a T pipe and a stop valve to the pump hose so I can redirect oil into jugs when I want too, as well as directly into the filter. Nice - it works perfectly…. Another $65, but worth it. Add the receipt to the pile. Bessie is an expensive companion.
Hop down to the Natural Bridges State Beach and grab a shower... ah.

Friday night: Try a new method of getting oil: Wait until 9pm when cell phone calls are free, use "the Google" and search for Chinese and Japanese restaurants, call until at least 3 of them say I can pick up… Shogun Japanese, Mei Garden, and China Express – all yes! Pick up 20 gallons at Mei Garden, dump the Taqueria oil in their vat and ROLL TO BIG SUR!!! My emotional state picks up like a plane taking off! Whoooooosh! I’m off…

Saturday (9/27/08): My last week on the road has been a combination of contemplation and stress about fuel and the van. I realized today as I hiked through Andrew Molera State Park that the Universe is listening and no amount of pushing and struggling is gonna move those stars into alignment. Wait for it… it’ll happen. Be patient. Be smart. Be mindful. Be thankful.

Ah, the coast is beautiful. The waves speak to me in slushy rhythms that sing to my soul. I feel at one with the ocean, the flotsam and jetsam on the beach, the battered rocks that line the coast. I could sit here until I’m washed away with the tide. Or… until I get hungry!

Big Sur is a wash. No back country trails are open at ANY of the state parks! – all burned out from fire. No hot springs to be seen now! Can’t even get into the Henry Miller Library! – concert took it over (Peggy Young – Neil’s daughter) and no tickets to be had. Where's the silver lining? Patience…

Sunday (9/28/09): Wake up with positive intention. Make the sun shine. Move into the light. Forget the hiking trails – bike! Biking along I find an ecstatic dance! I dance for two hours with one other person, the woman holding the dance - She and I lose ourselves in our bodies. A Rumi poem tops the experience – so apropos! A small hike to end the day and then the bike ride back to Bessie. Night - stumble onto a fascinating hangout called the “Spirit Garden” behind a bakery/restaurant – a performance! 3 musicians playing multiple instruments – tabla, flute, didgeridoo, jaw harp, nguni, thumb piano – a feast of world music! Sip hot cider and lose myself in music next to an open fire. How sweet! Top the night off with a bath in hot springs at a local spa called Esalen at 1am in the morning - only time they let the general public in, by reservation, for $20... and it was worth it. What a day! Amazing what a positive mind can do!

Monday (9/29/08): Short hike in the morning, work for the day and head out of Big Sur back north, and decide to give the Big Sur Roadhouse a try for some oil... Bingo! Wendy and Kevin, the new owners (of three weeks), are thrilled to recycle the grease and lead me to their drum. 30 gallons, an awesome burger and fries, some great conversation, and I'm back on the road north, full in my belly and Bessies! Next week’s plan forms... Back up the coast is the blurry blueprint. Head north – Northern California, Oregon, Washington, Canada… keep moving – and fast. It’s getting’ cold out there!

Pictures: Ken and Stacy's wedding, Half Moon Bay, the road to Big Sur, Andrew Molera State Park, Big Sur, "Spirit Garden", the performance...

Peace and love.