Day 0 – Destination Germany

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts, Travels

United Airlines in Arizona

Well, here I am at the airport at 11:00 on a Monday morning, on my way to Denver, where I’ll be catching a plane this evening to Frankfurt, Germany. I’ll land in Frankfurt at 11:30 a.m. local time, which is 2:30 a.m. in Phoenix, Arizona. This is my first time in an airport in two years, and from the look of things, life is back to normal, aside from the masks.

My Uber driver showed up early, which ensured I got to the airport on time. Once at the check-in kiosk and having scanned my passport, I needed an airline rep to verify my documents. I was asked for my COVID test results, which pushed my launch buttons. I insisted that Germany recently changed the policy, and exceptions were made. Luckily, before I could transition to panic, the assistant spotted the exceptions button and verified my CDC vaccination document. Phew.

Because my TSA/KTN/Pre-check paperwork was still good, I was able to avoid the seriously long security line and breezed through that part of the gauntlet. As usual, I’m under stress as I do not look forward to the boarding process because I worry that my bag won’t fit in an overhead bin if I arrive at my seat late. And what do I do with all this extra time? Eat? Hmm, airport food. My options were slim, but I knew that.

Obviously, I turned to writing, but now that I have the easy, obligatory rundown of what transpired after I left home this morning, I’m floundering to find anything very meaningful to note here. I’m transfixed by what I’ve committed to and pretty much only see Germany on the horizon. I should note that it’s strangely quiet in the terminal, though there are a lot of people here, probably due to the masks that are muffling conversations. Maybe my mind is being muffled by this face covering? I know coffee will kick-start me.

The bar with bar food is the only option for a bite to eat at this terminal. It filled the lunch requirement, and having arrived at the airport so early, I endured the long line at Starbucks for the main reason for wandering away from the waiting area. Before I know it our row numbers are called to board our plane, and we are soon in the air, heading out of the desert.

While I’m flying with a full complement of software toys to occupy myself, the brevity of the flight has me reluctant to try digging into something that will take a bit of time to find flow with. So, why am I back at this writing stuff if the flow is so difficult to find? Because I don’t know what else to do in my narrow little seat. I know, I should have brought videos! No, that would absolve me from trying to discover an inkling of something to say beyond this low-hanging fruit of complaint.

Just barely at altitude, we are almost 30 minutes into our flight then in another 30 minutes, we’ll begin our descent. The beverage carts are out, and we’ve been reminded countless times that our masks are required at all times unless we are taking sips of our drink or eating.

If I were a betting man, I’d wager that the majority of my tensions here in the air are attributable to the total disdain I hold for those around me. Honestly, though, I hold no real insight into who these half-lives are; I’m only making assumptions based on some 50 years of looking people in the face and waiting for things to fall out. They confirm my bias or lend me new biases to assign to their character type, if that’s even really possible. After writing this out, I might tend to think I need a therapist to resolve all of this deep-seated animosity, except in the back of my puny brain, I know that life’s too short and that snap decisions must be made so I can protect the little bit of gray matter that still functions in this old man’s withering brain.

Sweet Jeezus, a passenger on my right, is in the third cycle of disinfecting herself and everything around her. Take a drink and immediately swab her face with an alcohol wipe. Stuff that infected wipe into the Ziploc bag she brought along just for the ritual. Then, in a flash, the enlightenment I didn’t know I really wanted: watch videos so you can tune everyone else around you out of existence. That’s the key: people watch TV to erase their existence and deny that anyone else might be intruding into whatever bit of awareness hasn’t died yet. Hence, zombie movies are popular as a kind of documentary of what, to me, looks like what happens when too much awareness has been kept alive.

Time to turn to the toilet, as isn’t that an essential consideration for flying? With a serious concentration on clearing my bowels before I left Arizona, I was successful in evacuating the old pooper at home. That’s right, in the comfort of my home, I was able to find excretory relief. This is important, as a man of 230 pounds who can’t imagine reaching down between my fat thighs to shove my hand into that tiny hole of a cold steel toilet I have to crap in and find my ass to clean it. I can’t really imagine how anyone has ever done that; hence, you can read this as my admission that I’ve never dropped a number 2 at 35,000 feet. Others are even more anxious than I am when it comes to evacuation while aloft, as I’ve seen much evidence left by the man who, knowing that women also have to use these facilities, failed to lift the seat and, in a moment of turbulence simply pissed willy-nilly all over the seat and much of the floor.

I should have more to share about my digestive process while flying, and just as I think I’m at a loss to offer more, I realize that many a reader might be able to relate to the situation that after a long-distance flight, the chocolate starfish on my backside seems to seal shut for approximately two days until it overcomes the trauma that might have required it to release in a space far too intimate for those who were broken during our formative potty-training years. Yep, I’m butthole and shit stink shy of ever enjoying whatever pleasure might exist by letting go of any mounting pressure while flying. For all the crap that flows from my mouth, I can imagine many people I’ve known wondering how somebody who lets so much fall from his maw should not take pride in pooping on a plane. Obviously, not one of my superpowers.

Approaching the time to descend into Denver.

And before I know it I’m on Lufthansa flight LH447 direct to Frankfurt, Germany. The flight will take 9 hours 45 minutes and already I’m relaxed as I’m surrounded by travelers going home to Sweden, Turkey, Germany, and other points I’ve not ascertained. Talked with a young American lady who is studying abroad and shared her difficulties of jumping through flaming hoops to get into Germany at this time. Even my entry is not a guaranteed deal, as I’ll have to convince the authorities that I have valid family reasons for coming to Europe. Hopefully, with the digital images of documents that show Caroline and I are married, Jutta’s number at her assisted living facility, and Klaus as the last resort to verify things, I’ll breeze through the gauntlet of challenges.

My flight has wifi, and my seat has an outlet, so I’m all set to remain busy getting these writings into my blog so Caroline might try keeping up with the onslaught of words that are about to start falling into her eyeballs and mind. For the moment, there are no photos to accompany the previous 1,800 words I drolled on with, but hopefully, as we fly along, I’ll take some photos that will likely look very similar to other photos I’ve taken from the air while heading towards Europe. Time to close this down for a few while we move towards take-off.

Quick note: we are 8,096km from Frankfurt, and the time of flight has been updated to 8 hours 45 minutes.

Airplane Food

Search harder, John; there must be something in that noggin I’ve not repeated 427 times already, but that’s all I’m finding as we skirt at a hair over 1,000 km/h above the surface of the earth. We just passed 10,000 meters in elevation and entered the bitter cold world of -54 Celsius. Dinner service is about to begin, which feels early, but it’s 5:30 p.m. in Phoenix and 6:30 in Denver, so I guess this is as good a time as any to sup. The wifi is not on yet, as I’m guessing they want to get everyone through dinner and drinks before people zone out in entertainment land. Just then, my memory tells me that I have cashews in my bag. Time for a pre-dinner snack.

I wonder, does Caroline miss me yet? We’ve already chatted 30 times and Skyped on video after I boarded my flight to Germany. I know she misses me, and I miss her. It would be pointless to go on and on about our situation, but that’s never stopped me from beating dead horses all over this blog. So I’ll reiterate this: I MISS CAROLINE. Ooh…the dinner cart is being dragged by.

Dinner was exactly what you might have expected: meh, but the brie was nice.

Seven hours forty-eight minutes to Frankfurt. My face was having a steam bath, but at least I was able to bum a surgical mask from another passenger that allowed me to exit the N95, which was seriously hotter. Fabric masks are not permitted, and passengers were informed that they’d be denied boarding if they didn’t put on one of the two types allowed.

Hazy View of the Sky

I’d like to grab a photo outside, but I’m on the left of the craft and have the sun pummeling me if I dare have my shade open; plus, it’s so hazy I’d have little to show you. Here, I’ll prove it.

Maybe I should have brought a book? I’d decided against it as, knowing me, I’d struggle to keep up processing photos and trying to capture the day in words. I managed to pack everything I’d need for 36 days in one carry-on bag; there was little room for much else. I even fit my pillow in my luggage.

Somehow, my thoughts drift to the idea that if I could just get on wifi and say hello to Caroline, I could relax into writing something more compelling than the mundane moment by moment blather I’m droning on about. Just because I’m aware of this shortcoming doesn’t mean I’m going to fight it and not continue this thread of nothingness, though.

The shades are closed and night has fallen on us here in our seats as the sun continues blazing outside our aircraft. Also continuing to blaze along are the vocal cords of infants who’ve been wailing for a good two hours. Slowly, they are starting to fade as, hopefully, the dimmed ambiance of the cabin and white noise will lull them to sleep. As for me, I’m trying to make it another two or three hours, so I might get three or four hours of sleep before stepping into mid-day after we land.

Just as I thought, following dinner, we were able to get online. For 17 Euros, I have a limited connection, and it wasn’t worth the $20 I’m paying. For 29 Euros or $34, I am promised a faster connection, but I’m reluctant to test those waters. Anyway, besides chatting the same thing over and over to Caroline, I don’t really want a connection to the larger world.

While the kids continue nattering away, with the loudest one finally done screaming, I’m getting sleepy, or so I’m trying to convince myself. Just then, the screaming Swedish baby starts up again, and her stressed-out mom heads for the back of the plane sans infant. I think the parent’s nerves are growing raw. Soon, my own nerves are going to fray. This baby is nearly relentless.

Late Night Over The Earth

We are under five hours from Frankfurt, and I’m getting nervous I won’t get a bit of sleep, though I’ve tried. I know I can muscle through tomorrow, but I’ll be spongy-brained. Hah, I can hear anyone who’s read this far thinking, “Dude, you already are spongy-brained.” I have tons of legroom as I’m in a seat behind a divider to business class, and no one is sitting next to me. I also don’t have any way of directing air at myself, and with this mask on, I’m overheating. I’m not inclined to take it off and test the system as stewards walk by regularly inspecting us for compliance. The Germans are not messing around as far as air travel is concerned.

The Swedish family is finally resting, as is the entire plane. I wish I knew how others were able to just go to sleep on command even though their body clock is likely saying, “Yo, it’s too early for this.”

Obviously, staring blankly at this screen won’t get me any restorative sleep, so once again, I’ll close up the laptop and try my best to get some sleep. Maybe with my shoes off, I’ll feel sleepier? Whatever.

Johns New Socks

There’s that place somewhere during a long-haul flight where one loses track of time. While trying to drift into sleep but keenly aware of a cramped body trying to find comfort in a near-vertical position, made more difficult by the tug of rubber bands from the mandatory mask behind my ears that seem to slice ever so slightly into flesh. But somehow, something sleep-like was had, and though it was fleeting, we tried to convince ourselves that we were now rested. How long had I slept well? It won’t be until you are face to face with a passport control officer that you realize how wrecked you are. Stepping into a busy city at mid-day while your internal clock tells you that it’s 2:00 a.m. is a subtle process that competes with trying to make sense of the dramatic shift in language and that you have to secure some local currency so you can move about freely. In the meantime, I can spend a few minutes trying to get a good photo of the new socks Caroline knitted me and that I’m wearing for the first time on this trip.

Morning On Approach To Europe

After starting to stir I thought it a good idea to peek outside. I was nearly blinded by this folly, but now I’m also fully aware that we transitioned from the dusk-like zone to the oh-my-god; it’s the middle of the day in a European capital that I’m about to encounter. Soon, the aircrew will start bringing up the lights to create an artificial transition to morning, and we’ll be served our first meal of the day. But this is an extension of last night, and I’m feeling confused. After a breakfast that, based on the clock, is too late, yet based on my body clock, it’s happening in the middle of the night; we’ll start the process of being ushered into the cattle yard to be sorted into our next destinations.

The last 20 hours of life spent in the process of traveling is a blur of moments trying to extract something meaningful that relates to what I am about to embark on, but the reality is that I squirm in roles of trying to be sophisticated and entertained, locked in a tiny space waiting for others to be finished with the transport of my body. This is not glamorous, nor is it enlightening; it’s mobility torture for the sake of celebrating mobility when one finally begins the real journey of being somewhere.

This is a powerful reminder that when confined. the internet is of little service in rescuing you from the inescapable. The internet, for me, is only able to fill gaps with mindlessness or knowledge when sandwiched into the luxury of options that I’m struggling to make. Do I go for coffee, make music, read, watch cat videos, meet a friend for lunch, or go grocery shopping? When no options exist but to persist in place, I find what the internet has to offer as banal as the TV I so vehemently eschew. I wonder how we encode options against the economic and time realities we exist within and how the media becomes the crutch we turn to when indecisiveness and ambiguity are facing us.

One plumbs a lot of boredom and idle time under constraints and restrictions to kick-start our minds into finding viable options to lead us through the moments where our decisions to act are severely diminished. Comfort to have options might not be our best friend when we are aware of our desire to manifest a different reality, and so we must bind ourselves in ways that at once punish our mind and body while simultaneously liberating our imagination to create constructs that offer viable outlets for minds that want to explode in the power to manifest an undefined new reality.

John on board near Germany

My fellow passengers have started to stir, and others are repeating the mistake I made earlier, opening their window shades. Just as quickly as one opens, it closes. We are only 90 minutes away from our encounter with a different world, and somehow, this is all quite different than my previous visits. Maybe in our post-pandemic world, our senses are being reset, and it’s not as easy to take for granted what we used to enjoy. If I’m allowed to enter the European Union, I’ll be stepping onto ground where national governments are not yet at ease about the consequences of people making selfish decisions and those moving about potentially sharing a deadly virus. What I find in Germany might be a shock compared to Phoenix, where my transition to pandemic existence was relatively gradual.

Enough writing for now. I’m ready to fling open the shade and see this side of Earth. Bring me something to eat and kick me off this plane; I need to stretch my legs and see how my mind exercises itself in this tomorrow that arrives at a peculiar time.

Next time I have to travel wearing a mask I must remind myself to have mints with me and a toothbrush in easy reach. I need a second mask with me, too, as this one just broke, and I’d like to avoid the N95 as I move through the airport and try to be understood by passport control. Speaking of entering another country, my anxiety wants to make itself known, but if the Germans decide that family helping out family in a bind is not reason enough to allow my entry, well, that’s fate and just the way it is. I’m confident that my ducks are in a row, but the people I’m about to encounter know significantly more about order than I ever will.

Okay, breakfast is done. We are awaiting a sweep for trash and I’m expecting I will lose wifi shortly. With sunshine streaming in through opened windows, my senses are telling me to reach out to Caroline, but it’s 1:00 a.m. when she puts her head down for the night. She won’t be up for about 3.5 hours, meaning, yes, she’s waking at 4:30. Why so early? To go for a walk, talk with me, and then put herself in that infernal machine called a car that she’ll have to pilot to her office.

About to land in Frankfurt Germany

Only 45 minutes left before touchdown. Time to turn my attention to putting things away and getting ready to start blogging about what lies ahead.

Deutschland

JWise Thoughts, Travels

Europe 2021 Map

For days now I’ve been trying to write this post that shares that I’m heading to Germany for nearly five weeks. My primary reason is to help sort my mother-in-law’s belongings that couldn’t follow her into assisted living and to visit with her, take her for walks, and hopefully share a laugh or two along the way. My secondary purpose is moving around in ways conducive to writing about what I find, and if I’m lucky, I will reconnect with a storyline I started writing back in 2019. Then again, maybe I’ll find a different story, no matter really, as I’m looking for confirmation or denial of set and setting playing a role in my creative processes.

Caroline is not traveling with me on this journey, but by mid-September, the two of us should be on our way back to Europe with the hope of spending about ten days with family before venturing out for 21 days of indulgence, moving about the continent in search of new adventures. With Caroline waiting to hear back from the U.S. Government regarding her citizenship application, we’d be remiss if she missed an appointment that could move that process along.

I’m anticipating having an adequate amount of time to give to myself aside from family obligations. Thirty-five years ago, when I first landed in Germany, I’d often board random train lines to see where they went, getting off at stops that looked interesting. These days, I may know too much for my own good when it comes to exploring surprise destinations that just come up as the train heads to its ultimate destination. So, while I know I may not really care about heading into Bad Homburg, Hanau, or Darmstadt, I do want to revisit the local routes to Gelnhausen, Wiesbaden, Nidda, Friedberg, Niedernhausen, and Oberursel-Hohemark. While I’m at it, I’m considering heading into Karlsruhe to visit my father-in-law and then maybe Marburg, Worms, Kassel, Limburg, Koblenz, Munich, and finally Paris.

Making the decision to leave for Germany only a week before I flew out meant there were 100 things I needed to get done to leave Caroline in the most comfortable situation possible. Now, with 48 hours left, I’m setting my attention to the logistics of figuring out when and how I will fit in those above journeys I’d like to make. My original thought regarding Paris was to go for 3 or 4 days, but I’m considering the idiotic idea of going for a day as no one would ever travel from Frankfurt to Paris for a day unless it was for business, but I see the story of popping into the French capital for a day as making for a good story here on my blog. Then again, two days in Paris and two days in Amsterdam would also have a lot of appeal. If I stare at the map just a little longer, everything starts to enchant me.

What is certain is that if I go to Munich, that will just be for the day. The historic city center will be the focus of this trip, and with direct ICE trains (high speed) getting there in about 3 hours, I can easily satisfy myself with 10 hours in Munich before heading back.

Sunrise and sunset are important factors in my journeys, and during June, when the sun over Germany rises at approximately 5:15 a.m. and sets at 9:30 p.m., I have solid daylight for 15 hours of illuminated exploration. One difficult aspect of calculating things is the rapidly changing COVID situation that is obviously having a huge impact on tourism. I’m seeing prices changing quickly, which has me thinking things are about to pop open. Fixing on buying train tickets and reserving a room in Paris feels smart, but there’s still a lot of ambiguity about how all this will play out.

Believe it or not, my movements through Europe will be measured, as without Caroline by my side, I’m well aware of what she’ll be missing and how much she’d like to share the sights and experiences with me. So, take Paris: I have no intention of visiting anything other than the sidewalks, parks, and cafes in the City of Light. The objective is to observe, contemplate, write, and repeat. This goes for the rest of my destinations as well; should I stumble upon something of particular interest I feel Caroline would enjoy, a note is made for us to return. And if we cannot return someday? Such is life; we accepted long ago that we will never see everything, and many places of importance on the global map will be sacrificed to the gods of time and cost.

Sunday Closing The Loop

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

We got up a minute before the alarm at 5:59. An exchange of telling each other that we love each other, a hug, and a moment of recognition about how wonderful a vacation we’ve been having. Things were mostly packed last night; I just needed to get on my shoes, stop this quick bit of writing, leave Seferina, the housekeeper, a little something of gratitude, and head out the door. Hopefully, it will still be before 6:30 as we take our last walk of this journey along the sea, and then we’ll turn our car east for the long drive home.

Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

Out before the sun peaked over the mountains to the east, we were able to watch its first rays illuminate the world around us in golden sunlight. The flowers return to their vibrant colors, birds become more active, and humans emerge from their lodgings to join us on the boardwalk.

Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

And here comes the sun, oh glorious sun that illuminates our way and breathes life into all.

Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

Just met a fellow Canon camera enthusiast who was down on the Central Coast from the Oakland area. Her name was Tabitha, should she stumble on this entry and read a bit. She seemed most interested in the wildlife but also the catharsis that comes with being on the seashore. Tragically, I also learned that where she lives has become a trap because high rents and low-paying jobs have limited her options to escape the crushing despair of a bleak existence. But here at the ocean, she finds her better self and is able to celebrate the win of being away from home, if even for a short while. I wished her the best and rejoined Caroline on an overlook where she was patiently waiting for me.

Snail on Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

Minutes become hours, become days, and still, we reach for another moment where the secrets of what draws our fascination to the coast might be made known.

Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

Maybe the great mysteries should remain just that so we can continue to return again and again as we search for the elusive in places that strike magic into the depths of who we are.

Snail on Moonstone Beach Boardwalk in Cambria, California

Only an hour was carved out for our time along the Pacific before we dropped the key off and moved onto Main Street for breakfast at the Creekside Gardens Cafe. After we leave there, the challenge will be moving without distraction to arrive home before midnight.

While Google suggests that the way we came via Santa Barbara and Los Angeles to the south is the fastest route, it is also the one that takes us by a dozen or more beaches that will tug at our inner Schweineschnecke that would defeat us from getting home while we are still able to keep our eyes open. We both know that we’ve seen a fair share of the abundance of beauty that lies out here along the western edge of the United States, and still, we want just one more photo, one more walk along the crashing surf, another chance to listen to the birds, or clean sand out of our shoes. We will try to do our best to just drive, I swear.

On Highway 1 near Harmony, California

That intention lasted maybe 10 minutes before we pulled over to snap a photo of the green rolling hills that we missed on the way up. This is certainly the end of giving in to temptation…

Harmony Headlands State Park in San Luis Obispo County, California

…That lasted for almost 5 minutes before we were making a U-turn to check out what Harmony Beach State Park might have to offer. It appeared that we might be able to walk to an overlook about a mile down the trail, but unfortunately, the information didn’t offer any real indication of exactly how long the trail would be. But we easily convinced ourselves that 20 minutes out and 20 minutes back was manageable.

Harmony Headlands State Park in San Luis Obispo County, California

Wouldn’t you just know that the ocean view wasn’t to materialize until we were right upon it at about the 2-mile mark?

Harmony Headlands State Park in San Luis Obispo County, California

The trail extends up the coast, but now we have a 40-minute walk back to the car, so we’ll have to be content that we visited yet another destination on this trip that we would have driven by on previous visits.

When we pulled into the very small parking area here at Harmony Beach, there was one other car parked. On our way back, we passed a family of about a dozen members and maybe ten other small groups that were hiking in. So lucky we were that our time out here was in quiet isolation.

Arizona Rest Stop on Interstate 10 at Sunset

Prior to leaving ten days ago, we already knew where today’s lunch was going to be: Shakey’s Pizza and that’s exactly where we went. Traffic out of L.A. was at times heavy but the traffic returning to the Southern California area here on Mother’s Day was crazy. All the same, here we were already in Arizona before sunset and managed to arrive home at 8:30 p.m. instead of the midnight return I was worried about.

Saturday Winding Down

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

We beat the Saturday breakfast crowd by heading over to Lily’s Coffee House at 7:30. We had slept in, which meant there wasn’t a walk along a dramatic coast or into a mysterious forest before eating either. The entire process we typically rely on during these travels is all akimbo as we have forsaken the rising sun in order to lazily get moving when the light of the day or the tension of bladders finally pulls us out of slumber.

Sitting at Lily’s with the locals, easily understood by the conversations, we spent two hours sipping our coffee after finishing our first meal of the day. What remained the same out of our habits was Caroline pulling out her knitting and me the computer to write about the previous day. Now, with the absolute necessities out of the way, we drove back to our measly motel of mostly meh (and convenient parking) for a walk along the Moonstone Beach Boardwalk.

Walking, walking, and more walking…discussing how we are likely entering the phase of the trip in which we panic and take photos of every single thing we see to capture all the important details. This was followed by a conversation about the quality of the images we take, and when I say “we take,” I mean that I feel unable to take photos alone as nicely as I can when Caroline is by my side. I’m certain I’ve written about this before, but we have a new take on the subject, and that is when we are together, the images when viewed at some future date, have shared memories embedded in them. When I’m off taking photos on my own, we don’t share what the experience was, and only I was taking inspiration from what I was seeing. Out here on the coast, or anywhere for that matter, when we are together, our experience is laden with love, and so it must be the lingering memory of these special moments that seeps into the images and reappears when we gaze upon them years into our futures.

Allow me to introduce you to Dipsacus Greenstein, joining the likes of great conductors Leopold Stokowski and Herbert von Karajan and currently conducting the Cambrian Coast Ensemble, bringing the roar of the ocean, the subtle breezes of offshore cool winds, and the waving plant life into full orchestration for us visitors’ enjoyment. We offered a standing ovation for the incredible piece we were enjoying. The second number performed for all those present was Teasel’s Dream; you should have been there.

We’ve passed through Cambria a number of times and, for some reason or other failed to ever visit this stretch of ocean. Maybe it was our enthusiasm to reach Big Sur or Monterey or the thought that had we headed down Moonstone Beach Drive; we would be in some wealthy enclave with views of the ocean thwarted by mansions along the shore. It turns out that the majority of the beach here is wide open, and about a mile of boardwalk above the cliffside offers everyone an easy path along the shore.

Icicle, you sickle, we all suckle for ice cycle! So that was goofy, but that’s what came to mind before I learned that these succulents are now called ice plants. When I was a kid growing up in Southern California, we called them icicle plants. Speaking about growing up and not being totally effective in that endeavor, when I learned the Latin name of this plant, I chuckled. It’s Delosperma, and yeah, there’s a part of me that’s that childish.

And no, I didn’t post this photo to indulge my inner idiot. Caroline loves the green-to-red transitions on these beautiful plants that populate so much of the California Coast, and so it’s here to bring us back.

Finally, she took off her shoes to walk along the ocean, and after about 30 feet of nice soft sand, we were walking on gravel that wasn’t as nice or as soft, but she was committed and endured a million ticklish and moments of painful pebbles that made up this section of beach.

Indulge me with my broken record, but once again, I have to wonder out loud: why are two of only a few people out in this spectacular landscape? By midday, I’ll struggle to take photos of the environment without people obscuring the view, but right now, we are essentially alone on a beach in Cambria.

The Monterey cypress tree is named as such as it’s native to the area between Carmel and the Monterey Bay of the California Central Coast. These trees down here and farther south in the San Luis Obispo area are transplants and help control soil erosion. They are well suited to high winds, but the number one reason, in my view, that they are here is found in their aesthetic value.

Can you sense my grabbing at more images than I should be posting? I often wonder how many will be enough when, some years down the road we no longer live near enough the places we currently love to visit. Or maybe our state of health precludes us from ever returning. And so I’ll continue pushing up what will hopefully be an adequate number to bring smiles to our old faces about those days we stood here holding hands, pinching ourselves at how lucky we were to be somewhere so beautiful.

Dear humanity, please continue your obsession with watching and listening to streaming life instead of being out here polluting the outside world with your inanity. Instagram is your friend, your mentor, and your god. You, as an average mortal, only require your drive-thru Taco Bell and more stickers from your favorite coffee shops. Experience is well over-rated. Can you sense the loneliness of visiting such a forsaken place without others to affirm how amazing you are to yourself?

Continued from above. The water leaps out of the ocean due to boredom, as there are no otters, dolphins, whales, penguins, giant sea turtles, or polar bears that might otherwise make this place cute. Nobody of any particular note ever comes here to showcase anything of value. Bands don’t play out here, there are no Buffalo Wild Wings for over 100 miles in any direction, and you’ll notice we don’t shoot selfies out here as it’s embarrassing to have fallen into such a void. So, in closing, you will serve the rest of humanity well by telling others to veer away from the California Central Coast. Thank you to the victims of being tricked into visiting this area.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program already in progress.

Pink, white, and yellow flowers framing a wooden boardwalk with a blue sky and the sea in the distance are part of a well-balanced diet that feeds the soul and staves off premature old age. Holistic dietary requirements depend on age, physical activity level, and happiness goals. Only consume under the supervision of love and know your limits.

Why, oh why, have I given myself such a steep ladder to climb so close to the end of this vacation? Worse still, I’m writing this five days after we were here, and I’ve already shared so many impressions on the previous posts that I feel that I’m not really adding anything new other than the sights of what we saw.

Finally, we are about to transition to something else…

…but not all that far away. We are across the street from the boardwalk for some lunch at the Moonstone Beach Bar & Grill. Should you consider visiting, please heed our warning; it is not cheap here along the coast. As a matter of fact, it’s downright expensive. Our room a few doors down from here was $191.25 a night, and a lunch of 1 beer and iced tea, calamari appetizer, three oysters on the half shell, an avocado bacon cheeseburger, fries (they are separate), a vegetarian sandwich, and a dessert of a scoop of vanilla ice cream topped off with hot berry compote came in at a hair over $100 including tip. Now add about $35 for breakfast and $150 for dinner, and without any shopping or other drinks/snacks the price of a day out here is quickly surpassing $500.

I’m reminded of the days when we avoided these pricey enclaves and instead headed to Seaside north of Monterey to find the cheapest motel we could (we did that here in Cambria for this stay, too), and we’d kind of choke on the idea of paying $79.95 not including tax for the night. Nature’s Valley Oats ‘n Honey granola bars were our breakfast, turkey sandwiches made from ingredients in an ice chest and backseat were our lunch, and just as often our dinner, too. But when we got tired of the cold meals, we splurged and hit Burger King.

After lunch, we headed into the quaint old shopping area around Cambria’s Main Street, off Highway 1. After driving by those other years, it was time to check out just what is here. Of course, the coolest things we found exceed our comfort zone of what we are willing to spend on such treasures, but these redwood objects pushed a few buttons. (Never mind that we have no space in our apartment for any of these things.) Lucky for us, you can only shop here by appointment, and we had to satisfy our curiosity by looking through the windows.

This is the Squibb House Bed & Breakfast, and while not across the street from the ocean, it is in the wonderful Main Street area at a fairly reasonable price of between $195 and $225 a night.

This was an essential stop in town and our second time here at the Ball & Skein yarn store. Caroline lost a needle required to knit my socks, so why not buy more needles and other stuff while we’re here, supporting the local economy?

Then it was back over to Lily’s Coffee House for a second time today, taking a coffee break to knit and spin yarns. Caroline is doing the knitting while I’m responsible for the stories. Part of the winding down is not wandering more than two miles away from our motel. There’s no special meaning behind this total slowdown other than maximizing relative laziness.

It’s a cool 64 degrees (18 Celsius) with a calm breeze under clear blue skies. Other than it being perfect out here, there’s not a lot to report. But I do have a lot left to write about yesterday, so I’m turning my attention to that page.

After some temporary leisure-induced writer’s block, I was able to open the spigot of words and sat for nearly two hours with my cold coffee, which had been boiling hot, to hammer out another thousand or so words, thus completing the tale that was yesterday’s adventure.

On our way to the other side of town that we were supposed to explore too, I caught sight of this object out of the corner of my eye and had to make a quick U-turn to verify that I had seen what I thought I had. Wow, this is the Fresnel lens from the Piedras Blancas Lighthouse (now Light Station) that we had walked out to yesterday. I had bet Caroline when we were out there that I believed there had been a lighthouse atop the tower in the past, but she was disbelieving. I was right.

We didn’t make it to the other side of the shopping area as it was getting late, and we were wanting to walk the other half of the boardwalk we hadn’t explored yet. So we’ll postpone the remaining window shopping and browsing in that part of town to a subsequent visit. I’m hoping it is obvious to most people that you are looking at a closeup of the Fresnel lens.

This is where we would spend the next two hours as we walked into the sunset on our last full day on the coast. It also turns out to have been a photo I stared at for two hours as I tried to kick-start what I wanted to write for the remainder of this blog post. I’m sitting in a coffee shop four days after our return from this adventure and my difficulties are being compounded by the fact that it’s also the fourth day of a fast, so the thinking circuits move with the speed of cold molasses.

From above, so below. In the previous photo, we were just above this cliff that can be seen left of center, but Caroline wanted to walk along the water’s edge instead of on the boardwalk, so we headed down. It turned out that we were already at the end of the boardwalk anyway.

This recurrent theme of me focusing on the low sun to set my exposure in order to shoot something in silhouette is an old favorite of mine. It also helps in yanking down the reflective brilliance of blinding white light coming off the ocean, creating a warm ambiance that makes the already molten sea appear even more metallic. The sense of the late day also feels amplified, and to me, this type of image is a kind of exclamation point signaling that we’ve reached that perfect moment in the golden hour.

We are at Moonstone Beach, and while these rocks look a bit like Swiss cheese that might come from the moon, these are not what the beach is named for. Little white speckled gem-looking rocks are scattered across the stretch of beach here in Cambria.

These are happy people wearing the faces of gratitude for all that we get to do and for the privilege of being with each other to share these experiences.

This is sad kelp on its way to desiccation as it has been dislodged from its grip on the ocean floor for this journey onto land. While we can appreciate our encounter with the still fresh, fly-free, and shiny sea plant, I can only imagine the turmoil it must be suffering as it realizes it has no ability to bring itself back to its watery home.

On the other hand, there’s this beautiful creature already well versed in navigating the land who I’m fairly certain will bring herself back to the car where I’ll be able to return her to our desiccated desert-dwelling hundreds of miles from here that we call home.

But hey, isn’t home where the heart is? If it is, that’s Caroline sitting out on the bench while I soar overhead, trying to poop on her.

Yeah, I had to go there on that last bit of writing just so after Caroline reads it while proofreading the entry, I can hear her over at her desk ask me, “Really? You seriously wrote that you see yourself pooping on me?” You can rest assured I will laugh my ass off, and then years down the road, after this is long forgotten, we’ll both laugh at the folly of youth…even though we are already approaching old age.

And with that, the sun set and we peeled away from the golden ocean as we finished winding down another amazing vacation.

Friday Closer Examination

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

You can rest assured that I had yet another photo of Caroline in the Nest that could have been posted here, but after more than half a dozen images of our perfect lodging on the coast, maybe those were enough. That begs the question: how much of enough is ever enough? When it comes to being out at the edge of the sea, we apparently have an insatiable need.

We are trying to make better sense of why this is only the third time in 10 years we’ve chosen to be out here on Highway 1. The reasons are multiple, but now that we’ve been on the coast for a week, we understand we’ve been missing out on some immense beauty. About those reasons that kept us away, the first, which I think I’ve shared before, maybe even on this trip, are the driving conditions as they relate to other drivers. While the road is twisting and narrow with not many places to pull over, there are so many aggressive drivers using the road to challenge their mettle that those of us out here to soak in the beauty are abused by having them on our asses. The second reason is that the Oregon coast has pulled us up to its more casual, more accessible, and equally beautiful shores.

In the intervening years since we first started driving this incredible stretch of scenic road, I’ve learned to go as slow as I want and pay a lot of attention to people behind me. If I see a car on the straighter segments a half-mile or so behind us, I start looking for a pullout right away. This has turned out to be a great strategy as by being proactively defensive and rarely driving faster than 30 mph in a 55 mph zone, I can maneuver into the smallest pullouts that would be too dangerous to pull into if we were moving a little too fast as the gravel and lack of guardrail next to the ocean can be intimidating. This has allowed us to discover natural springs, drinking fountains, and overlooks we would have never stopped at 20 years ago.

All the same, I can’t help but feel that I’ve already shot almost every ocean view out here ten times before. If we are lucky, we’ll travel this road another ten times during our remaining years.

We found a parking spot in a crowded curve and decided to take the hike anyway. This is the Salmon Creek Trail that is supposed to lead us to some spectacular waterfalls.

Sadly, we didn’t make it to the waterfalls and had to satisfy ourselves with this small cascade. The combination of a big crowd and people playing piano music (because the natural environment without such accompaniment might have been boring?) sent us in the opposite direction back to our car. If we didn’t know we were old earlier today, this would certainly be an indicator of our intolerance for the selfish shenanigans of youth. On the other hand, maybe it simply signifies that after so many days in remote locations listening to the surf, wind, birds, scurrying lizards, barking sea lions, and encroaching squirrels looking for snacks in settings of cliffside, ocean, and fog, we’ve grown comfortable with the tranquility that is a large part of the Central California Coast.

Instead of making the theme of today’s Closer Examination, maybe I’ll change it to The Lament. Here we are at Ragged Point. We stopped for lunch and decided to walk over to a trail that leads down to that beach. I was already uncomfortable at the restaurant as we were mostly among people our age and older. So, it wasn’t that they were our age; it was the difference in attitude when compared to those our age back at Treebones. This place is for the cruise ship crowd having passive experiences while we enjoy at least a hint of being among adventurous people. That’s it; I’ll quit right now with any more complaints or negative observations, I hope.

San Carpoforo Creek pullout has space for three or four cars; we were the second one. It was a nice walk out to the beach past the creek that is pooling out there. For a moment, we weren’t sure we’d be able to pass the creek until we reached the point where we were able to walk around it because it wasn’t actually flowing into the sea. The other car belonged to two young women setting up a tent on this windy beach. A smile came up on my face thinking of their adventure of trying to sleep in the howling wind. Certainly, the days of building grand memories.

Another new spot for us to explore here at the Piedras Blancas State Marine Reserve & Conservation Area. It’s dawning on us out here that we’ve never before taken the luxury of having so many consecutive days on this short stretch of the coast. This grants us a level of granular scrutiny that is similar to what we experienced on our 20-some-odd days up in Oregon this past November.

California and some of the wealthy here who made it their life work to protect the coastal regions should be commended. These areas are outstanding in their natural beauty and no amount of manmade architecture could add an iota of value to what nature has sculpted out of the landscape. There is nobody else out here, not a single person. We know this because there are few places to pull over and park, and we’d not passed another parked car for miles. Further south, there were no other cars parked along the road, just the ever-present circuit racers zipping by.

Happy to slow things down even more, I get down on my stomach to gain a ground-level view of the low-lying plant life hugging the windswept earth.

It’s colorful down here, crawling upon the tough plants, looking for the tender ones that solicit my eyes to take notice.

I wish I could have pulled out a notebook and pen while I was looking at this succulent because here I am a day later at Lily’s Coffee House in Cambria, sitting in the shade while a nice breeze washes over me and Caroline has taken a walk back to the car to fetch a knitting item and I’ve got nothing but an empty mind that’s enjoying the down moment to listen to the birds. And then Caroline walks up still holding a bag she was going to drop at the car. She found herself distracted in another nearby shop and is now walking over to where we parked. I wish her luck at not being drawn into another shop, telling her I’d see her in 10 minutes to an hour.

So, back to the plant life and something witty or insightful about this beautiful specimen. Well, I still have nothing and will have to just leave it here as an example of a color scheme we were both taken by.

Scroll back up half a dozen photos to the one with a trail leading to the edge of the land and check out the grasses; there’s not a lot to see in a broad overview. But take your gaze away from the ocean and blue skies and look down towards your feet, and that’s when this other universe becomes apparent. What I didn’t share with you is that as we got closer to the sheer cliffside, there were deep cracks in the dirt where it looked like runoff from rains was draining through widening openings in the earth. While I’m not a geologist, it looks to me like more of this coastal land is heading into the sea.

Our car sitting there next to the road is significant to the two of us. You see, so many travels we’ve made up and down this highway and often short on time, we’d see those lone cars pulled over at the narrowest of places just barely off the road, and we’d wonder, what is so interesting out there? With so many named sights to see, who just stops at random spots along the coast and then disappears from view? Today, we are those people.

This is an old farmstead home just south of the Piedras Blancas Motel we’ve mentioned on so many other opportunities. We’ve stopped out here due to something we missed as we were driving north last week. As we passed the motel, we were looking for a low spot on the road where I took a picture of a large wave crashing well above the highway, but we couldn’t figure out where it was. We told ourselves that as we came back down this way, we’d be sure not to be distracted so we wouldn’t miss it this time. We still couldn’t find it. So, we pulled into the motel parking area and went on a walk.

Seeing a trail over by the ocean without a No Trespassing sign, we walked that way, and the path went south behind the old farmstead. Well, this was interesting enough as I saw that, at first, I thought was a coyote but then realized it was a bobcat. I’ve never seen a bobcat in the wild.

We found part of what we were looking for; no, it wasn’t this snake, nor was it the greasy black skeletal remains of a seal that were scattered about. Before getting to what it was we were looking for, let me satisfy anyone’s curiosity that might be wondering. Yes, Caroline picked up one of the vertebrae, asking, would I have a problem bringing it home? Gack, yes, I’d have a big stinky problem with that. We agreed that if she found the skull, we’d have to bring it with us. Lucky me, we didn’t find it. I’ll bet the caretakers at the falling-down motel took it with them to boil the rancid meat off the bones. The fur that was shredded in small pieces stunk too, but even I had to examine it closely and touch its bristles, as the hair was way coarser than I could have ever guessed.

Back in January 2002, we stayed overnight at Piedras Blancas during a pretty fierce storm. As we left, driving north, there were some frightening large waves breaking over the highway; click here and scroll down to see a couple of photos from that day. In front of the farmstead, we started walking along a paved section of road that I finally realized wasn’t the access road to the old house; it was a two-lane highway with a double yellow line on it. At the end of the pavement in front of the motel, it dawned on us that we were walking on an older version of Highway 1, and where it was cut off, the old road had been removed and realigned further inland. To the right of these coastal cypress trees, where there is no longer any ground at all, is where the highway had been. We were incredulous.

While it’s a bit difficult to make out, the old Highway 1 scar is on the right of the photo, and the wave photo from 2002 is breaking over a bridge that crossed the drainage. No, the ocean was NOT that close to the road before. After figuring out the mystery and getting back to an area with cell service, we Googled things and learned that back in 2017 and 2018, when the realignment took place. When we get home, we’ll be looking for other old photos that were never published that we might have shot while taking this part of Highway 1 that no one will ever drive again.

There’s an unmarked driveway about 1/4 of a mile north of Vista Point, where a large parking lot welcomes visitors to see a giant colony of elephant seals. This photo of seals is not from the main location but from this unmarked smaller lot. But we are not here to see more belching farting elephant seals; though we do enjoy their scratching, sunning, and rude sounds as much as we ever have, we are going on a hike.

We are on the Boucher Trail, walking north. How it should work out that on a Friday afternoon, we are the only people out here is beyond my wildest imagination. Okay, it could be the howling wind that is contributing to the isolation as others enjoy comfort more than beautiful oceanside walks among the wildflowers.

Twenty-five years ago, when we first learned of the elephant seal colony while on a drive north during my mother-in-law Jutta’s first trip to America, we were directed to a spot we had sped right by. There was no parking lot, no marking, or anything else, giving a hint of what was out of sight just below the cliff. We were able to walk right out on the beach to get fairly close to these enormous creatures. Now, all these years later, the colony has grown and inhabits many coves along the coast here in the San Simeon area. While we can’t go down to the beach, it was nice to be here away from the crowd.

We continued on the trail, continuously hoping for a better shot of the lighthouse, and then, all of a sudden we were at a junction with the road that travels right to it. From the road, a gate prohibits access, but from the trail, we were able to walk down the gravel driveway to get to this secondary gate. A sign asks that we do not enter without being on a guided tour; we heeded their request and were quite satisfied to have been this close.

The walk back was as wonderful as the walk out.

This is the last photo of the day where we covered 22 miles of Highway 1 in 8 hours instead of the 35 minutes Google suggests it should take. What an absolute luxury it is to have the time to do a slow crawl, taking a closer examination of a small section of coast we’ve usually mostly driven past.

Thursday Something Or Other

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline Wise in the Human Nest at Treebones Resort on the Big Sur Coast in California

It was foggy last night as we crawled up the ladder to our Nest at the cliff’s edge. It was foggy this morning as we descended the ladder after leaving the cozy warmth of our down comforter. We left our sleeping bags at home so we could snuggle in the cold coastal air that easily flows through the perch we are calling home for a couple of nights. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I woke and looked through the branches surrounding us, and up in the dark sky, I could make out a few stars. The fog had dissipated just enough to offer me a peek at distant suns while the barks of sea lions rang out from the waters below.

Every surface exposed to the moist air was damp. Good thing I listened to Caroline about putting the otherwise unused rainfly over the top of us to help keep our blanket dry; the pillows didn’t fair as well. Cute to me was how Caroline greeted me, “Good morning, mad scientist!” I guess tossing and turning on a somewhat hard thing that at one time might have been called mattress had frizzled my hair into a scholarly disheveled appearance. Minimal, sorry, no ablutions followed, although nature’s call was heeded before we took ourselves to the comparatively warm dining room for breakfast and internet.

No, the internet is not important for these travels aside from offering Caroline a connection to do her daily Duolingo lessons and as for me, I need the connectivity to upload photos and to save blog entries. Of course, while on the road, we enjoy the luxury of having our smartphones to find dining options and detours from main roads, details that our paper maps 20 years ago were not able to offer. Other than that, we try our best to avoid the news cycle (yes, I accidentally learned while out here that Bill Gates is getting divorced), and obviously, we don’t turn on the TV unless it’s winter and we’ve checked into our lodging seriously early. One last thing about the news finding us: one year, we tuned in to NPR to listen to This American Life and a fascinating story about Curly Oxide. While listening to the broadcast out in the middle of Nowhere, Idaho, we learned that Marlon Brando died, which was back on July 2, 2004, and I only know that because I blogged about it.

Caroline Wise knitting at Treebones Resort on the Big Sur Coast, California

Breakfast was a self-serve affair with quiche, chia pudding, granola, and fresh fruit on offer, with the obligatory endless coffee. As we sip on that infinite supply of life force, I’m sitting across from Caroline, who’s knitting my next pair of socks, of course, and I’m writing what you are reading. Somehow, it feels like a Saturday, which I can only attribute to the last five days requiring us to be places, and now, here on Thursday, we are moving lazily without a hurry to be anywhere in particular.

It’s 9:30 a.m., and the fog lies heavily on the earth around us, so we are not so motivated to head up or down the road to our next trail or overview. Then again, there comes a point where no matter how involved we are with our hobbies, we grow fidgety, probably due to the nagging thought that we are on vacation and are supposed to be busy with other stuff. For all we know, just 10 miles south, we could run into blue skies. It’s likely going to be that possibility that will drag us away from the hot coffee supply and into new aspects of the day. But for now, I will try to delude myself that I’ll stumble on more things to write about.

By 10:15 a.m. and a bit of talking with staff about perspectives and how a pandemic is altering habits and expectations (thanks, Dan at the front desk), the fog is lifting, and we are getting our first view of the ocean from here. The sun is shining on the property, and if that’s not the trigger that kicks us out of our comfort zone into a new comfort zone, nothing will. Hopefully, I’ll be returning to writing at a new overlook soon. As a matter of fact, we spoke yesterday about having lunch at Lucia, so maybe that’s where we’re going.

We had to head back to the Nest to pick something up, which turned out to already be in Caroline’s bag. You have no idea how often it happens that what she’s looking for is within inches of her already. All the same, it was great that she had us come out this way, not only for the view but for being at the right place at the right time.

While we were up on our cliffside, a neighboring couple in one of the new sites below us offered to take our picture from their perspective; they said they’d email it to us, we hope they follow through.

John Wise and Caroline Wise at the Human Nest at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

Wow, by the time we returned to Treebones later that day, the couple that took our picture from the Autonomous Tent site below had sent it to us. It’s rare that we have a photo of us not taken by me. It will be even rarer that we might stay in one of the two Autonomous Tents as not only are they booked solid for the next year, but they are priced at a lofty $645 a night with a two-night minimum. You do get your own bathroom and shower, though, and the views are outstanding.

Now ready to go, or maybe not? We turn left instead of right and visit the hillside organic garden seeing where many of the greens and edible flowers are grown for the restaurant. In a seemingly small space, every available square inch is covered with plants, and many are flowering now, so it feels like the proverbial Garden of Eden. A greenhouse, fruit trees, and a compost heap round out the garden.

Close to the garden are 3 or 4 beehives next to the Sweet Spot Honey Processing Hut. We spoke with one of the gardeners about why so many pest traps are out; they have a vole problem. A garter snake we saw hopefully catches a couple from time to time. Okay, now we’re really ready to go.

Our first stop driving north was at Sand Dollar Beach State Park, and whoever named this was probably related to the people in Phoenix who name a community Emerald Pines or Amber Creek because after walking down to the beach, there wasn’t a sand dollar to be found, not even a tiny fragment. But there was a consolation prize found in the body of a decaying sea otter, whose face a buzzard or two had been feasting on.

The beach itself is a quiet place. Steep cliffs surround the cove, and the beach is mostly rocky, with a couple of small stretches of sand. At high tide, I doubt there is any sand here. The rocks near the shore that are exposed at low tide, while covered in moss and seaweed, don’t have a single anemone at their base, not a seastar, nor a barnacle or mussel. In the scheme of things, maybe this isn’t the most dynamic beach we’ve ever visited, but at the speed we are moving, this is a luxury not to be in a race to see special places that draw us back or have a schedule where we stay, eat, drive, with little time to linger. As I wrote that last word, I thought maybe this trip should be titled the “Lingering On The Central Coast Tour.”

We note that Limekiln State Park is south of Lucia, which wasn’t clear in our spatial memory, but we are now hungry and heading directly to Lucia Lodge before they stop serving lunch. A huge deck below the parking area we’d never noticed before was open for diners, and there was a table open with our name on it. Greasy fish and chips for me, veggie burger and fries for Caroline will need to carry us through 8:00 p.m. as we changed our dinner reservation from 6:00 so we would have more of a reason to hang out until we’re ready to ascend the ladder to our outdoors bed.

Content to just sit here on the deck at Lucia, we’ve ordered a couple of coffees and a slice of cheesecake; we are on vacation after all. The knitting needles are out, with one held in Caroline’s mouth as she adds stitches that require a fifth needle. Great, the needles are dropped, and the spoon is tightly gripped, letting me know we are about to go into battle for the larger half. Should I believe she’s getting ahead, I’ll try some whining about her attempts to dominate our dessert. She hates whining, so she’ll rage quit eating my cheesecake, and I’ll get a solid 75% of it. Right! Like Caroline wouldn’t fight for her fair share using the excuse that she’s concerned about me and my health due to “the diabetes,” so, in her mind, she’s just saving me from myself.

Patches of blue sky appear behind the fog that comes and goes before burning off to open amazing vistas that demand we just sit here. For a short time, it felt like the day was warming but then a light breeze comes in off the ocean, and maybe it’s cooling off. We’ll just have to sit here longer to get a better read on what’s what. What we can do with that information is beyond me right now so sitting here even longer might help in bringing answers. That doesn’t work, but we are given more sun. Nothing left to do but sit here and enjoy this moment of perfection.

Not the best photo of two horses in a flower-covered pasture with one of the most awesome views in all of California but it’s being posted here for Katharina, our niece in Germany.

Warning, sharp curves, and familiar sites ahead, along with even more words. Maybe it was pessimism, or maybe it was the wish to have a slow day, but as I started writing this blog post, I had the sense that the fog that wrapped the coast last night and into the morning was going to be with us a good long time. And so, figuring that and knowing I’d need to post something or other to fill the page for this day, I just kept on writing before knowing that we had a lot of adventure ahead.

If one curve looks like another to you in any of these photos, don’t let that dissuade you from at least once in your life seeing this coast with your own eyes at least once in your life. The nuances you see in person are extraordinary, no matter the time of year you might visit. Caroline and I have been here at all times of year over the previous 25 years and never have we been disappointed, even under foul weather. How can bad weather contribute to the extraordinary? Mystery on gray, rainy days blossoms in place of the wildflowers and the clear aquamarine waters; that’s how.

Treebones Resort offers guests a list of nearby places to visit; one of those on the list is Partington Cove Trail. There are three forks of the trail, with the first one we took going through a short tunnel carved in rock coming out into this view. In a cove like this one, you will see just how pristine the waters of the Pacific are here on the California coast. This is not a loop trail, nor is it long, though this is the only way short of owning a helicopter that you will ever see this small cove.

Heading back to the main trail to see the cove that this area is named after. While difficult to identify in this photo, those are redwood trees.

Partington Cove is a small rocky inlet with some huge boulders to scramble over should you feel like jumping in some apparently deep water where the surf will dash you to bits against the shore, but if that’s your idea of a good time, there’s nobody out here stopping you from you doing you.

On to the third fork which appears the lesser-traveled of the three. This trail doesn’t take you to the ocean; it takes you into redwoods along a small creek. I know, how isn’t that appealing to those who make this mile-long hike?

Sticking with tradition to see just how much water sticks to someone, Caroline had to step into the small creek running through the canyon. For those of you just finding this blog recently, you may not know that Caroline has doffed her shoes dozens, if not hundreds, of times to step into as many waterways across the breadth of America as she can.

Note to Claudia: While my best friend and wife has keen language skills among her many talents, dressing is not an exacting science to her. So, as you browse these entries and see her wearing these Adidas sweatpants, know that she’s also about comfort on her own terms.

Redwoods, one can never see enough of them, ever.

Flowers, too, because every time you gaze upon beauty, you extend your life another 10 minutes.

In just five minutes, I gained another 30 minutes of life. Just imagine that if you look at three beautiful things a day for 50 years, you’ll add a full year to the time you have to explore life!

Blam, another 10 minutes added to my reserve of time. By the way, we are no longer on the Partington Cove Trail but are now across the highway, where we spotted another path; this one is called the Tan Bark Trail. Strangely, it wasn’t on our list of recommended destinations.

Caroline and I often joke, probably to the point of annoyance if you had to hear it for yourself, about certain places being the Swiss cheese of sights. Meaning, just the common everyday old stuff of no particular interest as a road stops being a Scenic Highway while we feel like we are still on that special designation. Here we are, on this hike into a forest that we find spectacular, and yet, it didn’t make the list?

Consider that you are only seeing a pale representation of nature on display. All the smells, sounds, and ethereal depth painted by contrasting colors and dancing lights are lost in these photos. I suppose this is as good a spot as any to share with you that Caroline has added a new word to the lexicon; it is photogenous. We were approaching something or other out on the road when she attempted to describe a view as being photogenous, so we are going with it, and you’ll be reading more about how photogenous places can be.

My apologies should be offered as I didn’t warn readers early on that this post features 45 photos, 46 tons of beauty, 47 trillion words, and this one purple lily.

We’re still on the Tan Bark Trail as we are enchanted in this narrow canyon and astonished that no one else is here.

This photo is especially for Caroline as she has a thing for long exposures of running water, and I know she’ll be surprised that I managed to get one without a tripod or nearby tree to steady the camera.

She asked that we take a selfie here as it’s been days since we last took a photo together. Well, maybe you can see from my color why I might have been reluctant to capture a reminder of the wicked sunburn I adopted. You can see in Caroline’s skin tone what sunblock and a hat do, compared to Mr. Macho-I-Don’t-Do-That and a deep red coloring that I prefer to call blushing.

Attention Readers: You are now leaving the trail for the next part of the adventure of John and Caroline.

There are a number of natural springs along the Big Sur Coast. Almost 100 years ago, they were tapped as drinking fountains for travelers on this old road; today, only a few still function. This is the Rigdon Drinking Fountain that no longer offers passers-by the opportunity to quench their thirst.

Should you be wondering how close I am to finishing this post, I still have a baker’s dozen of photos remaining. Does this image have a story, John? Not really, other than we find it to be an appealing view, and it will likely be yet another powerful reminder of our good fortune to have been out here once more.

The appearance of the coast changes dramatically as the light shifts over the course of the day. Many of our travels on this highway have been expedient due to a lack of available time to linger, but these eight days directly on the coast were meant to offer us all the opportunities we might be able to take advantage of. So, here we are, looking back and then forward again.

Forward through Pacific Valley without a great vantage point to grab a photo. There’s a lot out here that cannot be seen from where I pulled over but there was nowhere else to do that, and so this is the best I can offer for now.

This is one of two “conundrum” shots. I should have made do with one image of the late-day sun shining in a narrow band of warm light on the calm ocean, but I loved this shot as much as I loved the sunset view four photos below.

There’s a beach down there, not the one in view, but just beyond the jutting rock on the left.

But before we visit that beach, we have to stop at another spring-fed drinking fountain at Seven Stairs. Yes, we certainly did drink from this spring in addition to the unnamed fountain the day before, and no, we have not had to suffer the ill effects from inadvertently drinking giardia. Also, this being California, if there was any chance of disease or illness, there would be large warning signs alerting people to the dangers.

This is the beach from Willow Creek Vista Point and our last stop before returning to our second night in our Nest.

Also, Willow Creek Vista Point and the image I referenced above that was my conundrum.

Should you, too, find yourself with a loony bird, then you too will understand why so many photos of her smiling from your nest are important. You should have heard her mating song that lured me up there.

This is why we pay such a premium to spend a couple of nights in a drafty oceanside perch high up a cliff. The view is from our bed.

In order to maximize our memories, I need all the views of the approach to our Nest.

Not an easy location to take photos of as the sun sets; a drone would have come in handy, although drones are not allowed in the resort.

These are the yurts and probably the primary attractions of Treebones Resort, though the Twig House, Tree House, and now the Autonomous Tents are all very attractive, too.

The fog is again trying to move in, and a breeze is kicking up, too, but nothing can dampen our enthusiasm because we have once again experienced a perfect day.

Frog at Treebones Resort on the Big Sur Coast in California

Last-minute addition: after we left the dining area, we heard this really loud frog croaking near a water feature, so we had to investigate if we might see this giant. It had to be big because of the booming sounds it was making. We spotted this guy on the side of the wooden pool, and he was tiny, like about 2 inches or 5 cm, but it was loud, like we couldn’t believe.