Visiting Morro Bay

I used my saved Labor Day holiday from work two days ago to take a solo road trip three hours south along highway 1, or the Pacific Coast Highway, to Morro Bay, California. Morro Bay was a randomly chosen destination based on its distance, and while it provided a great beach to read and nap on for an afternoon and some good Mexican food, the highlight of the trip was driving through Big Sur -- how clear of a day it was, how few people were there, the incredibly beauty of the entire region, and the enjoyment of taking an adventure on my own and the time to think, absorb the quiet, and admire the views it brought. 

Big Sur is one of the most undeveloped and rugged stretches of coastline in the world, and is described as the longest, most uninhabited, and scenic in the U.S. The Santa Lucia mountains are in such close proximity to the coast, or rise up from the ocean. It occurred to me while driving how I'd never seen so much empty ocean, there was never a boat or person in the water. It was the largest stretch of sea I can ever recall seeing that appears so natural and empty. The shades of blue stretched on forever. 

The golden cattails lined both sides of the highway and when hit by the sun, they were so, so gorgeous. 

I'd seen parts of Big Sur before, but there was always a bit of wildfire smoke or fog in the evening, and I'd never gone very far south in the region. 

A hummingbird and gecko were spotted.

A little over halfway through the journey was a spot called Ragged Point. An inn, outdoor restaurant, gas station and shop seemed to make it a common tourist stop. In the gorgeous garden and unexpected lawn, I noticed a dozen or so monarch butterflies. A hummingbird (more challenging to photograph well!) was also there.

Two and a half hours south of Monterey Bay where the trip began, the scenery flattened. It still looked like California, but the mountains and dramatic coastal landscape disappeared. In the small coastal town of Cayucos, one town north of Morro Bay, I found a beach with a few sunbathers. Forgetting my own sunscreen, I pulled on a long sleeve shirt and read until my eyes grew heavy and I fell asleep.

Cayucos and Morro Bay, California

Reading & Missing the Rain, Just a Little

Despite the busy-ness of a new job and a natural inclination to be really social -- to learn names and meet people and pursue volunteer opportunities and endless hobbies (Badminton! Singing! Yoga! Art! Writing! Jogging!), I’m trying to be realistic. That includes taking things down a notch. Enjoying the solitude. In life thus far, there’s felt like there’s been too much of it, now I’m realizing not to take it (or any amount of time for that matter) for granted. Daily or weekly quiet time on my own seems to be the recharge that I need for life and work right now. I’ll never say no to spending time with a friend, but one or two of those hobbies sometimes need to take a back seat in favor of quieter more reflective time. Sometimes the hobbies themselves provide that. 

Besides walking along and gazing at the ocean, I’m trying to read more and as there’s always so much I want to read, I’m adopting a new approach to giving in to my interests at that moment. There’s always a laundry list of books I hope to read and nearly always I commit to finishing the one I’m on before starting a new one. But like food, I experience cravings for books, for authors or genres or locations or times in history to be immersed in. I’m trying to let those cravings speak more, to read a little bit of what I want at that moment. For me, so much of the attraction to reading and writing is thinking and learning. It’s what I miss most about being a full-time student and what I look for in a job. Reading is being somewhere else. And if there’s an inclination to read something specific, it feels right.

Not feeling right is adjusting to a rain-free environment. Similar to time, I’m reminding myself to not take the blue sky days (or any days here) for granted. They’re beautiful and I do really like the consistency in weather. Outdoor plans have yet to be cancelled or rearranged, occasionally the fog or clouds intrude but every day is predictable and nothing more than a light jacket has ever been needed. Every few weeks though, a strange expectation for rain has arrived in my thoughts. I haven’t seen it since I arrived two and a half months ago and even locals have brought it up when they’ve asked how long I’ve been here; one responded with, “you haven’t seen rain yet then, we haven’t seen it since March.” The two umbrellas in my car are overlooked and my hoods haven’t seen much use. I suspect in time my mind will adjust, I won’t expect rainy or overcast days every few weeks like I’ve lived with. I never expected I’d miss them, but they do seem to become a part of the rhythm I know. Remaining indoors or sleeping late as rain falls outdoors feels so familiar, and so welcome.

In other news, I baked some of my favorite scones over the weekend with a friend and bought more than a few more succulents. I then promised myself that as irresistible as they are, my succulent purchasing was finished for 2016.

Visiting Big Sur

I visited Big Sur a couple of weeks ago with a friend who's also new to the area and it was as enchanting as I had imagined.  It was the first time I'd seen the region on a clear evening and the cliffs, ocean and sunset were remarkable. Described by some as "the greatest meeting of land and water in the world," the rugged central Californian coast line defining Big Sur certainly appeared to be the greatest I've seen. With a planned destination of Julia Pfeiffer state park to see the sunset, the road wound along the coast and I loved the frequent opportunities to explore each overlook. Someday I hope to pursue the multitude of hikes in Big Sur.

The winding roads made me pretty nauseous, and with time to spare before the sunset on the beach, I took a quick nap on the sand. The air was chilly, but with a towel and jacket, it was a peaceful place to sleep! Also remarkable, the purple and pink sand at the beach!

The sun disappeared quicker than I had expected and wasn't quite a clear break with the horizon, but a disappearance into the fog that was rolling in. 

Even more beautiful seemed to be after the sun had set and the pink glow of light framed the mountains.