Ride a Damn Bike: Nov 7, 2010

BUT ALAS!! I'm not dead!

Sorry for the radio silence, but up here in the mountains reception is a bit on the temperamental side. Yes, folks, I'm in Big Sur...well...some call it Little Sur, as it's just the very beginning at the tippy top, just south of Carmel. Either way...it's magical. I think where I left off last was that we were plowing out of Santa Cruz after 4 glorious days with the Chavez Co-op. They were such fantastic people...magnetic. So magnetic in fact that Santa Cruz just scooted to the top of the list on places I might want to live...someday...not super soon. Either way, on a whim, we decided to not stay in Santa Cruz for potential forest raves or street parties, and instead caught a ride with a few folks, the first being a Chavez house member named Chris. He took us back to a highway 1 on ramp and shortly we were picked up by 2 young guys from the area heading to Santa Barbara. It was the first truly awesome hitch we got because all conversation was kept at a minimum due to the overwhelming and rhythmic vibrations of dubstep blaring through the speakers. I don't remember their names or much else, but we definitely connected on a musical level and any and all awkwardness was staved off...Maggie likey. Unfortunately they weren't planning on taking highway 1 all the way to Santa Barbara, meaning they wouldn't be going through Carmel, where the wwoof we were headed to was located (or so we thought). The guys dropped us off at a restaurant called "The whole enchilada" and with a name like that it sounded right up our alley and in a price range we could afford...unfortunately we were wrong and decided to walk around back to the greasy spoon for a late breakfast. We also spied a really cheat fruit stand and we loaded up on all the (not so) fresh fruit we could carry, then made our way back to hitch hiking. We weren't on an actual on ramp so we knew our chances were less than good, but eventually a guy with a tiny (and messy) pick up picked us up and told us he'd take us to Castroville (THE ARTICHOKE CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!!!) Where we could catch people coming in from San Jose heading south. I think his name was John...a real nice guy...tried to give us the low down on hitching and where all the best "spots" are, most men who pick us up seem to know better than us about hitch hiking and are real loose lipped with the info. For a while we were welcoming the advice, but now it's annoying...and they are usually wrong. So after informing me that he went to prison in Minnesota (a total fluke, brought on totally by his relocation to said state) he dropped me and Tamara off at a 76 station next to an on ramp with absolutely no shoulder. See what I said...they are you usually wrong. We waited and waited and I waved and kept saying loudly to cars as they passed "but we're so friendly!!" I mean waiting and waiting really only totaled about 30 minutes, but for us that's garbage. Finally a guy named Matt...BIG GUY...with a flatbed truck picked us up. He told us he felt sorry for us because no one would pick us up on that ramp, no damn shoulder. Apparently his girlfriend, who we later found out was actually is EX-girlfriend, used to follow the dead, so he knows all the tricks and blah blah blah blah...macho bullshit. Anyways...he took us into Marina (we would later learn of the Marina dump, but I'm getting ahead of myself). Upon dropping us off he pointed due south and said we had to walk about mile to a mile and half through town, over a hill and under bridge and then we'd meet back up with the 1 and that would be a PERFECT spot to try and get a ride. So...here was this guy, who told us he passed us and then turned back around to pick us up, drove us 15 or so miles, only to drop us off 1.5 miles from where we could get a ride and he called that a favor?? I realize we can't really be choosey and we have no right to complain, but if this is peoples idea of "giving us a hand" or "doin' us a favor" then...perhaps we should be a bit more choosey. We hauled on our packs, which for the first 15 steps always feels really amazing and awesome, like you're about the conquer Everest or some shit, and then the reality that you're carrying 50 lbs. of bullshit for a serious stretch sets in and you just wanna throw the pack down, soak it with lighter fluid and set that fucker ablaze. But of course, we didn't, we trudged on, past the strip malls, past the brown, bleek landscape, past the creepy pack a transients who say "see you later girls" and then laughed...and with a bit of speed now...we came across a shopping cart and began wheeling our shit in that. Now, I'm sure it looked like we were crazy, homeless, bag ladies, but I had to admit, if I was indeed, a crazy, homeless, bag lady, the shopping cart is the way to go. All the square footage of storage, put on easily rolling wheels, WITH a convenient bottom rack for heavier, awkward items. Kudos and two claps for the homeless guy in San Fran who nearly hit me on the sidewalk that I originally sassed for riding a shopping cart down the path, but now, sir...I see the light.

True to his word, though, Matt was correct. Once we got "the spot" we managed to get picked up right away by a guy named Joe, who for lack of a better word, was eccentric. I don't know what it is about people who pick up hitch hikers, but most of them lack the space to actually pick people up. Joe was no exception, his car was jammed full of shit, looked like he worked (and maybe lived) out of his car, only having 1 available seat didn't stop him from picking us up, OH NO!! I shoved what I could to the far side of the back seat and stacked my pack and Tamara's pack on my lap, while Tamara navigated the conversation up front. I allowed myself to be the sardined into the back because I knew it would only be a short ride to Carmel. Joe let us off in Carmel proper (read: "Judgementville") We sat upon a bench outside the grocery store and for the first time realized we didn't really have anywhere to go or anywhere to stay. We left under the assumption that en route our wwoofing host, Lloyd, would call us and tell us where we could meet him to be picked up. Turns out we probably shouldn't assume. Last Lloyd heard from us was that were would be raving the night away for the better part of the weekend. So...there we were...in the middle of a town Clint Eastwood was the mayor of for 2 years, with all our worldly possessions strapped to our backs, and no fucking idea what we were going to do. After a few minutes stewing, a young man with Downs syndrome approached me and informed me that, despite having been sitting there for the last 20 minutes and the bench being unoccupied prior, that I did, in fact take his seat. It was about then that I decided, even with no place to go, we should probably be on the move in this here town, something was telling me that Carmel didn't take kindly to dirty, vagabond-ish, rogues loitering in their shopping areas. It was the extra E thrown on the end of words it had no business caboozing on that was the last straw, "The ShoppES at Carmel" and other such phonetic abominations...I wanted to throw myself out of Carmel, just as much as Carmel wanted to throw me out. After a few minutes spent at a cafe, in which I resumed my longstanding roll as the elephant in the room no one talks about, but gets smiled at nervously a lot...co-starring Tamara McLeod, that we decided we'd head for Carmel River State Beach. We knew it would be illegal for us to camp there overnight, but it was our only option. We soon discovered that in order to get there we would have to walk through the entire town of Carmel, through the little shopping district, through the quant little neighborhood with Hansel and Gretel-esque houses, past stunned joggers who again flash us those nervous smiles only rich yuppies seemed to have mastered. A woman driving a very nice luxury car actually stopped and asked us if we were lost. I almost just brushed her off, but then I realized we were and decided to get directions. The conversation went as follows:

Lady: ARE YOU GIRLS LOST?!

Me: Nooooooaaaaaahhhhctually...do you know how to get to the state park?

Lady: Oh, yeah Carmel River State Park? Sure you go down...wait...you do know there's no overnight camping, right? Yeah...of course you do...you're just going for the day!!"

Me: :::UNRESPONSIVE BLANK STARE::::

Lady: Yeah, ok well you just go blahblahblahyakyakyakimcallingthepoliceblahbleeeeeblooo, (trails off and drives away)

So yeah...let's see, here we are, the sun is setting, we are carrying far more than your average "day use park goer", about 47 lbs. more I'd say, looking exhausted and haggard from traveling, with a storm about to set in...yeah.....we're just going to experience the park in the last sliver of daylight, then we'll be hopping back into our invisible yacht and setting sail for Atlantis. She really talked herself right into believing we were anything other than what we were.......squatters.

"HI, WELCOME TO CARMEL, NOW GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE WE CALL THE COPS! THANKS BYE!"

We eventually did find the beach, hoping we could nestle in somewhere inconspicuous for the night, but the beach is like RIGHT NEXT to peoples houses and my spidey senses were alerting me to potential forceful removal by police escort. So we pressed on down the road a bit in hopes of finding a more secluded spot. We did encounter a few people on the way who were more than willing to point us to a place near the highway where we were from, people when they asked us where we would be sleeping that night only paused for a brief moment when we said we didn't know before pointing us in the direction of some trees, or a bush, or a schoolyard, or....whatever...I'm not saying they should have taken us in like stray pups off the street and made us cocoa, but...well if we had been in Oregon, I'd be telling about how we were put up at a cute B and B, given hand made clothes stitched with love by the hosts themselves and the next day given the key to the city, but alas...we were in Carmel, California and so we walked across the soon to be engulfed by the tide eddy of beach to a little spot off a walking path. I'd be lying if I told you we weren't in plain view of several houses along the beach, but I'd also be lying if I told you I gave a flying fuck. We swiftly set to pitching my newly procured 2 man tent before the storm hit and nestled into bed...time check...6:30pm. The ground was really just sand so I wasn't able to actually stake down the rainfly so when the storm finally hit we were whipped repeatedly by the flailing rainfly...perfect. We ate the rest of the fruit and tried to read and forget that we were in this situation. We fell asleep about 7 only to wake up roughly 2 hours later wondering what the hell we would do now. Sooooooooo...we read some more of our books, got pelted by the fly again and again, until we fell asleep again for the last time that night. You would think that falling asleep so early would mean we would be like ninjas, getting up early, breaking camp and leaving before anyone had any inclination of us being there, but we are just not cut out for this stealth camping and were woken up by the voices of people using the jogging path...yeah...NINJAS! We sluggishly got all our shit packed up and headed for the only landmark we knew in the area in the hopes that, Lloyd our wwoof host would know where it is and pick us up. Thankfully Lloyd answered and knew the landmark we were headed for and so we were saved!! Yay!!

The sun shined down while we waited for our ride

This was just outside out tent spot, we found it the next day...thank god.

Roughly 30 minutes later Lloyd picked us up in his red Mazda with his Chow, Winston. Lloyd was super nice and chatted us up on the way to his house, up on a mountain a few miles south of Carmel. We took a left onto Palo Colorado road and delved into a grove of eucalyptus trees that turned into Redwoods in the canyon at the based of the mountain. 2 miles of winding mountain road later and we popped out nearly at the top, next to Lloyd's house with a SWEEEEEEET view...like a "you can see the curve of the earth from this view" view. Slack jawed awe and inarticulate vowel noises were about all I could manage for the first few minutes...me...rendered speechless...I know you all can't imagine it, but try.

This is my view...for real.

Watchin' them mountain/ocean views

Lloyd giving us the low down on the sitch

We settled in for a longer stay, knowing this would be AWESOME...I guess now is a good time to explain to those of you who don't know what I've been referring to when I say "wwoofing" is all about...wwoofing comes from WWOOF which stands for Willing Workers On Organic Farms or World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. Basically you pay to be a member of this site and you apply to go live and work on farms in exchange for housing and food. The work varies from farm to farm, and sometimes the farms can be sketchy, but for the most part it's a really great way to experience a new place and travel with minimal cost...AND YOU LEARN STUFF!! Lloyd is a font of knowledge, very eager to explain this or that or something else...showing us knots, telling us about the plants species or animal life or personal philosophies and so forth. After a month or so of not being accountable to anything or anyone, after a month of doing what I want, when I want, without a set schedule, Lloyd's was a bit of a shock to the system. Took me a few days to get into a swing of waking up earlier than normal (the expectation being that I wake up at dawn...still haven't really done that...ooops) For the most part Lloyd has been a good sport about it all and hasn't brought the hammer down too hard. We spent halloween with him and his neighbors driving the kids up the mountain in a big long caravan...I even dressed up...a bit makeshift, but whatever.

Tamara as a clown and me as Bobo the Blue-nosed bear.

Tamara added the makeup just as we were leaving...damn good job.

We spent the night in the back of Lloyd's truck bed that was covered in straw (taken from the duck pen...poo anyone?) talking with an overly verbose 13 year old I wanted to strangle by the end of the night. The incessant talking I could handle, I could even handle the impromptu game of Truth or Dare? she prodded us into playing, JUST THE 3 OF US, what I could not handle was the volume at which this pubescent girl talked (read: screamed) at...it was if, knowing we were older, that she felt the need to crank up the ol' voice box. I realize that 26 seems, like, so...like...old and, like, whatever...but I'm decades away from setting my appointment with the kind folks of Miracle Ear, but thank you for trying.

One of the many rides the upper orchard in the truck

This is getting a bit long, but suffice it to say that the experience at "Merlin's Perch", that's what Lloyd calls his property, has been a fun one, but we are ready to move on. Our restless, traveling hearts are set on moving on. I've also learned that farming isn't necessarily my cup of tea...the early hours, the seemingly endless work, work that involves heavy lifting, dirt in your underwear, sleeping with mice scurrying near my head...no despite my broad frame and physical stamina (Pfffft...) Maggie McDonald is no farm hand.

Taking in the view from my "patio"

Also, I think Lloyd has grown accustomed to a certain schedule and regimen and having 2 defiant and some what lethargic girls who don't wake up until well after dawn over take his bubble was probably somewhat jostling. So with that in mind we will be heading off tomorrow, after working of course, to camp for the night at the Little Sur Campground, and then the next day me and Tamara will rock hop up the river to find the natural hot springs. We've been talking about the hot springs in Big Sur since Oregon, so we hope to be dazzled. After soaking in the natural springs for a day or so we'll be headed back to the 1 in hopes of a ride south. Maybe we'll stay in Santa Barbara, maybe we'll just cruise to L.A. I'm not really sure, but we definitely have to be in L.A. by no later than the 16th because Tamara has a plane ticket out to NYC for a week to visit her true love she met while trekking in Nepal...oh yes...her true love. More on THAT later, I'm sure. When she jets off I'll probably catch a bus to San Diego to stay with 1/2 of the Mulvey sisters, Shaina and Ali...and of course their niece kitty, Sage Francis. They are watching her while Lauren is in India. Should be a fun reunion. I'll ride the Mulvey wave until Tamara gets back or they kick me out...whichever happens first. At which point me and Tamara have to crack down and really investigate our hearts about Mexico. We've been researching getting to Mexico City and then traveling in the Yucatan and we like what we've seen, save for the drug cartels and beheadings going on at the border, but c'est la vie. We'll manage. The question is how to get there safely and on the CHEAP. Rideshare? Bus? Fly? Hitch Hike? Who knows, but I'm confident my spanish will keep me out of trouble and navigate me around. Fear not readers (mostly you Dad) I will not go into any situation I feel unsafe about and will trust the universe will push me in the right direction.

I know I've left out so much...like the huge 6'5 wwoofer dude who came to Lloyd's an hour after us only to leave the next day by taxi, claiming the remoteness of Lloyd's property was causing him "free floating anxiety" or the day we spent at the HORRIFIC dump in Marina followed up by a numbed out trip to the Aquarium, the juxtaposition...I tell you. But I just can't keep going...I must retire and vow to not let so much time pass between blog posts. I'll post a few more pics and then a link to my facebook albums...that way you can see ALLLLLLL the pictures.

ENJOY!!!

Maggie

This was a little sign at the aquarium where people could voice their suggestions about how to save the planet, this was one...I might have written USE LESS PAPER, but I thought it to be tacky.