Thousands of hands point in all directions

Everything is different...nothing is the same...life has a way of doing that.  I am still in San Diego, still making plans, feeling a bit static. Tamara came back to me only to leave again after a short period of time.  She made her way to Slab City today, in the desert of California and I stayed back.  A few days ago me and Tamara went down to the dock in San Diego trying to maybe get a job on a boat.  We found a willing captain, but he could only take 1 of us and he is planning to be gone for 4 months which didn't work for Tamara's timeline, she has to be back in Canada in a month.  So, Capt. Mike said he would be meeting with his partners to discuss trip arrangements and then he would get back to me about working on the boat. Several days have passed with no word yet, but here I am, still in San Diego, feeling a bit stuck.  The boat would be fishing for Tuna in the south pacific, making port in Tahiti after 4 months at sea.  What a chance...what an adventure, but something is telling me it's not going to work out which makes me a little sad, but that just leaves the door open, WAY OPEN, for something else. I spent several days applying for jobs all over the country at ski resorts, Northern Cali, Colorado, New Mexico, Vermont, Massachusetts, New Hampshire...so we'll see I suppose.  I have a phone interview with a resort in Vail on Thursday.  Biding my time until then and trying to stay as sparse as I can in SD so Shaina and Ali can live life uninterrupted.

I am toying (actually more than toying) with the idea of flying home to MPLS, seeing my family and friend, packing my car up and driving out to Vermont.  My friend Jo lives out there and has offered to put a sister up for while, I have been applying for jobs at ski resorts out there.  Plus on my drive out I could see my dad's side of the family, everyone is out there right now because my grandfather just passed away. I am sadly unable to make it to the funeral due to timing and money, which they all understand, but I want to see them as soon as I can. Rest in Peace Grandpa...that's life in a putty knife factory.  I guess the next few days will determine my life in the near future...no boat...I fly home and move out east, that's just the way life is now, and I like it.  I'm excited at the prospect of seeing my mom and friends and family and Sarah...sweet Sarah.  I just need to figure out my life quick before I'm penny-less and jobless and trapped in SoCal.


My plan to move to San Fran has been put on the burner because I don't have enough money to get myself there, get an apartment, and keep myself afloat while I find a job, but as soon as I do find some $$ I'll be headed that way. 


The adventure continues....stay tuned.  Here's some picture as of late.

Alyssa, our Thanksgiving host and the vegetarian spread...so nice

While out at the gay bar Tamara managed to get hit on by the one straight guy

Me and Ali in cove while hiking...apparently it's hilarious

Me on the boat, Janice, that I still might work on

The gang is back together...one night only

Maggie and her new kelp friend

Goodbye friend...I'll miss you!

Actin' a fool

Of course she did.

That's what I got for you this time around...check back for what's next

Another one bites the dust...

Hey fans,
Sad news on the S.S. Marge...my computer...the one that allows me to stay in contact with numerous friends and family, update this blog, check my facebook compulsively whenever I can find WiFi, has gotten a virus.  It first became apparent at Lloyd's in Big Sur that something was amiss with my little red Acer netbook, probably having something to do with me trying to illegally download TV shows from a sketchy website.  I knew it was wrong, but I was sick and couldn't read anymore and and and and....lesson learned.  Once we got to L.A. and I booted the ol' girl up for the last time she just wouldn't go.  As we speak my computer has flown its way home to MN to be handled...either it'll be fixed and sent back to me or my brother will likely take it into the backyard and stomp on it until it's completely dismantled "Office Space" style.

On the bright side though I happen to be staying with friends in San Diego that own computers and have access to WiFi...so here I am and I'm terribly sorry for the delay.  Let's get you up to speed!!

When last we spoke I was busy falling in creeks and Tamara was doing a solo hike to more accessable hot springs in Big Sur.  We reunited and it felt so good, spent a lovely time in SLO with Sark and his boys and then whisked off to head south again. 

This is the "gum wall" in SLO, it an alley that is covered in chewed gum 3 inches think...kinda gross.

Ish...but oddly fascinating

We ended up just north of Santa Barbara at a campground called Refugio, which was RIGHT OFF THE BEACH!! It was quite the task hitching out of SLO since SoCal is less friendly with the hitching folk, but after a few hours of dancing on the street and waving to passers by we managed to string together enough rides to take us about 100 miles south.  We spent a large majority of that time in a little town called Nipomo, I've seen JUST about all I need to of that town.  We got out of our first rides truck and were greeted by some barbie in a sports car gawking at us and saying "WAAAAAAOOOOOOW!" loud enough for us to pick up her scent of toxic judgment mixed with her Dior perfume.  Gross. We shook it off, trying to stay optimistic about our prospects, but after an hour with no ride our spirits were dwindling, as were the batteries on my iPod. Eventually a nice guy stopped and took us down the road a spell, where we were able to find another ride, almost immediately, the reminder of the way.

Tamara practicing at sunset

We got dropped off right at the entrance of the campground and waltzed right in, pitched our tents with enough time to watch the sunset on this amazing spot.  Tamara and I have made it standard practice to not pay for our camps site and instead wait for the ranger to approach us the following day.  In Oregon, we almost never got out of paying, which is fine, since the charge to camp in a hiker/biker spot is only about $5, but I'm not going to go out of my way to do their job.  More often than not, no one is even manning the ranger station and I feel like they aren't being paid to wander around NOT collecting money...so...that being said, we didn't have to pay.  We woke up the next day to an amazing sunrise and spent the better part of the day laying on the beach, reading, writing, making sand mermaids...the usual.

Enjoying the beach, ya know...while MN get blasted with snow.

We intended to stay another night, but at the last minute we decided that another night spent freezing (it gets SUPER cold at night) and listening to frat boys partying until 3am just wasn't in the cards.  Luckily Tamara set up a couch surfing situation in Santa Barbara with a guy named Ricky.

Tamara made a wicked mermaid warrior lady

Before we knew it we were back out on the highway, thumbs out, ready to move on.  Remarkably, we were picked up almost instantly, being that it was well into the afternoon and there was no on ramp, I assumed we would be waiting for a while.  LUCKILY, there were some Euro guys driving south and they offered to take us right to Ricky's place.  Luca and Anestasio from Italy were swell chaps...very clean car with GPS and polite conversationalists, I think they might have been Italian mafia though.  I can't be sure, but that was my inclination, after I asked them what they did for a living there was a pause, a look exchanged and then Anestasio simply said they worked for a multi-national corporation.  Whatever...they didn't whack me so I'm down with the Don.

We were dropped off right at Ricky's front door in a little neighborhood just north of Santa Barbara called Isla Vista, this is where the UC-Santa Barbara Campus is...so right off the bat I could tell this was a young folk town.  Ricky and his roommates don't actually go to school, but that doesn't stop them from living like sloven, hipster frat boys.  We were greeted at the door by a curly haired, blond fella, whose name I never caught, but his generous giving of hugs to strangers endeared me to him and kind of made me want to run away all at the same time.  We were then greeted by our host, Ricky...if Napolean Dynamite and Cesar Chavez ever had a baby, with an affinity for short shorts and bicycles, that baby would be Ricky.

This is Ricky in his beloved 1 man tent that he just HAD to show off.

I loved him immediately.  Ricky's house was a mish mash of chaos, punk rock, bike garage, co-op, surfer guy style...in a nutshell it was over stimulating and dirty and clashing and crazy and I loved it.  I'm still not sure how many people he lived with and who they were and how the rent manages to get paid, but like most things on this trip I just sat back and watched it all unfold without interference.  Ricky was quick to show us around town, the food co-op to get groceries, the fruit trees to steal fruit, the student co-op to steal internet and perhaps laundry services, and the free bin to steal clothes...I loved this place...I didn't really pay for anything.  The Isla Vista free bin is the single most amazing part of this whole town, I was told by several people we met while there that they haven't had to buy clothes since they moved there because of this free bin.  People are constantly rummaging through it to find the weather appropriate garments they need and will then come back later to drop off their old unused wardrobe.  I found so many delightful things I wished I could take with me, but I limited my grabs to a hat that says "Skipper" on it, some rediculous comfy pants that say Argentina down the FRONT of the legs (not the sides, the FRONT) and a sports bra...I KNOW, I KNOW...I washed them all thoroughly.

Yo no soy marinero, soy CAPITAN!

We stayed with Ricky for 2 nights, along with another couch surfer from San Diego named Devon who was making his way from Victoria, BC to San Diego and then eventually heading down to Argentina.  He's traveling alone so he ran into a lot of the same people we did along the way, which was cool to hear about, but beyond our mutual cycling friends connection, Devon was a complete egotistical, narrow minded asshole...it's not really surprising that he's traveling solo after hearing some of his unfounded, bullheaded view points.

Doing laundry is quickly becoming my new favorite activity

Day 2 with Ricky started with all of us heading to the farmers market in Goleta to watch Ricky play music in the hopes of getting some cash and scope out the produce the local farmers were slingin'.  It was an all together funny experience, complete with me and Tamara trying to be back-up dancers for Ricky's Harrana (traditional Mexican folk instrument, think 7 stringed Ukulele) playing, until he told us to stop.

Busking with Ricky...moments before he told us to stop

After  the farmers market we bummed around town, went to the beach, attempted (and failed) wheelies and goofed off until the student co-op's annual circus started.  The circus proved to be quite entertaining, complete with me almost being lit on fire thanks to the unchecked fire dancers.  There was a severe lack of safety precautions during this show that had roughly 12-15 non-professional circus performers whirling chains, poles, ropes and hula hoops that were on fire, near crowds of people who were not briefed on the finer points of what to do if one should be set ablaze during the performance, but regardless I chose to sit on the ground at the very front of the stage, taking my chances with the pyro-centric performance.

A girl sitting next to me had a giant lady fro and her do was singed...I shit you not.

Early the next day we set off from IV to find the 1 and head south to the dreaded L.A.  Tamara and I weren't exactly thrilled to be going to L.A.  After all the nature and amazing sights we've encountered of this trip, the idea of going to a city known for its ever expanding sprawl and crowds of plastic people made us feel a bit ill.  We tried to stay positive though and marched on...all the way to the 1 where oddly enough we were picked up by Ricky's roommate who was headed south the Thousand Oaks, which is in the valley, just north of L.A. where we were able to catch a city bus all the way to downtown L.A.  Our host for the next 2 days was an odd fellow by the name of Galen.  Galen was a nice guy, but his years of being an L.A. resident had left him a bit callus with an air of smug superiority.  He was really ashamed to be from a rural area of Oregon, making it clear that the first chance he got to leave he did and has stayed out ever since, swearing to himself he would never live in a city with less the 1 million people ever again...he literally said those very words.  Luckily Galen was also a "hands off" sort of CS host and gave us a key to his place, showed us where we'd be sleeping and left us to figure the rest out.  I should say here that we were only in L.A. for 1.5 days, having only 1 full day to actually explore L.A., our hosts loft was in downtown L.A., 2 blocks off of skid row and the only other area we were able to explore was Hollywood, so...armed with that knowledge...you can probably understand why I want to set L.A. on fire and watch it burn in the distance. 

This was the only cool part of L.A.

Gross...it was just dirty, smelly, concrete, awfulness that went for miles and miles and miles.  Our first night I was screamed at by a passing cyclist who was biking down the street at 10pm with a huge cardboard box in tow and he was wondering why I was looking at him?  Everyone we encountered seemed to have the same hardened, "lookin' out for number 1", mentality...something that I wasn't jiving with on any level.  L.A. is also where my computer finally went kaput and I was unable to find an affordable place to fix it (surprising? I think not) so I just sent it home to mommy.  One thing our host was good for was some insider info on the post office, he informed me about a little known way to ship things known as media mail.  Granted it's for things like texts books or DVDs or things of that nature, but I boxed up that laptop, labeled it "textbook" and paid 3 dollars to ship it home!  GO ME!

Hanging out on top of the Orpheum in DTLA

We spent our final evening in L.A. at the Los Angeles County Museum of Arts, for a reading by some art professor that mostly revolved around the color blue, a color for which she wrote an entire book about....IN-teresting.  We were invited by another CS connection that we were almost going to stay with, a couple I fear we would have had a good time with and felt a pang of sadness that we were unable to get to know better.  Scott and Andrew are a cute little artsy gay couple who work, go to school and live in L.A. and seem to be thriving...dammit...of course we had to stay with the aloof guy in a giant loft with bean bag beds instead of the intellectually stimulating gay couple who could have shown us COOL stuff in L.A. Scott is a photography student and the reading was by one of his art professors, that tied in with the current photography exhibit showcasing the work of William Eggleston.  I had mixed feelings about the whole experience, but regardless it was nice to be surrounded by my art fellows and some gays to boot. We called it an early night because Tamara and I both had to wake up early the next day, Tamara to catch a flight to NYC to visit her love that she met while trekking in Nepal, while I had to catch the Greyhound to San Diego to stay with my friends, Shaina and Ali Mulvey.

Tamara was already off when I woke up at 5am and I hauled ass to catch the bus to the Greyhound station, with only minutes to spare when I got there.  Nothing like calling it close to wake you up in the morning.  I boarded the bus to San Diego and discovered that this was also the bus to Tijuana, so my busmates were a ragtag crew of frightened gringos and legit Mexicanos.  I fell asleep almost immediately and woke up in a bit of a panic, making sure  I had all my essentials, wallet, phone, camera, and kidneys...double check.  Shortly there after I was dropped off in downtown San Diego awaiting the arrival of my ride, a Miss Shaina Mulvey, who in true Shaina fashion was late, but I love her all the same.

Keeping track of the days has never been a priority, but I think I've been here for about 5 days now and the weather has been a lot colder than I expected...mixed with a little rain.  Shaina and Ali both work...Ali especially has been busy because on top of having 2 jobs, she's in a masters program for social work at SDSU.  It's been really nice to be in a place that I know people and feel comfortable in...even if those people are the sisters of my ex-girlfriend...but whatever.   I'll spend the thanksgiving holiday with the Mulvey's, wait for Tamara to catch up and then we'll make our next move...more than likely out to the desert to find the Sultan Sea and Slab City.  The plan, as far as I can tell, is still Mexico, but the budget won't allow for any extravagant travel accommodations so we're hoping to score a ride from someone heading south once we get to Slab City.  I'm not going to push it, if the universe wants me to go to Mexico I'll go, but if not, no big deal.

Being in San Diego has made me realize that this trip will eventually have to end...at least for period of time.  I would love nothing more than to continue this journey, it's been life changing, mostly because I've had to rely on myself to get me this far.  Prior to this I wasn't confident in my own ability to take care of myself, but this trip...this experience...has completely blown my mind.  For 2 months I've been almost entirely self sufficient, it's quite amazing.  I now feel confident that I would be able to go anywhere and do anything and not only survive, but flourish and for that I am truly grateful.  Alas, the time is now coming for me to settle somewhere, find a job and start to repay my student loans that are coming out of deferment.  As much as I want to run away from that commitment, I can't escape it...it's inevitable.  I hope to squeeze out a few more weeks of fun before deciding where I'll post up.  If I had to decide right now I would more than likely head back up to San Francisco.  Despite all the crazy shit that went down there, I really loved that city...the sites, the people, the culture, the location...pretty much everything.  Plus Lani is still there and I get weekly updates from her about just how much she loves it, which is really pulling me back.  If I don't end up in San Fran, I'll likely head to Santa Cruz, although I haven't check the job situation.  I guess what it comes down to, is I'll go anywhere and do anything for a least a period of time, just so I can make some headway on my loans.  Alaska? Colorado? California? Neptune?  SURE!

That's about it for now.  Sorry there aren't pictures of San Diego...like I said...the computer thing, I don't have a cord to upload my photos on this computer, but as soon as I can I'll post them. Thanks for reading and if you have any feedback or advice, I'm SUPER open to suggestions.  This sounds like it's the end, but I promise it's not.


Best,

Maggie

Current map of the trip

View Ride a Damn Bike in a larger map

I'll update soon!

-Maggie

Kerplunk!

 Internet Pals,

Here I sit on the porch of a couch surfer named Sarkis in the wonderful town of San Luis Obispo, California.  Life is a sweet and so is the weather out here.  The sun kissed foothills over looking the Cal Poly campus...it's all so, so, so...perfect.  But I'm jumping ahead of myself here, because before all this awesome, warm, sun drenched greatness there was...well...let's just begin at the beginning, shall we?

After my last post me and Tamara and another wwoofer from Lloyd's farm, named Mauri, decided to go on an overnight hike to try and find hot springs.  Tamara and I wanted to try to hike to Sykes, a nearby spot in a national forest, with walking paths and maps and the whole works, but Lloyd tried to deter us claiming it was dirty and not all that hot...he called Sykes a "luke warm spring".  So Lloyd told us about a little spot 2 miles south of the Little Sur Campground that we could "rock hop" to, meaning we could follow the creek (HUGE CREEK) down stream by hopping from rock to rock for 2 miles...I say 2 miles because that's what the forest service maps say, but Lloyd told us it's more like 6 miles.   I was a little apprehensive, I mean, I don't know if Lloyd hadn't been paying attention, but and Tamara wouldn't call ourselves agile or quick or cat-like and I don't feel particularly moved to hop from one slimy rock to the next for 6 odd miles in a place I've never been with no guide.  Tamara was smitten...she was relentless...she was adamant and unwavering.  So....we went.  

It's as if Mauri's face says "I know this will suck"

The plan was for Lloyd to drive us to the start of the trail, we'd walk down hill 2 miles to the edge of the creek at the Little Sur campground, pitch our tents for the night, wake up early and begin hopping, reach the springs by noonish, hang for an hour and make our way back to the top of the hill before night fall, where upon Lloyd would pick us up and we'd all head back together singing camp songs and drinking cocoa near a fire.  Ok...that was the plan...now for what really happened.

So we got dropped off at the start of the trail and began our decent into the Canyon, that much went smooth...we even got a few pictures of ourselves, eyes all aglow with the promise of adventure and fun.  Mauri spent the previous day studying a mushroom guide so she was on the lookout for some oyster mushrooms she could eat...even found some...always exciting.  I should mention here that we didn't bring all of our stuff, 50 lbs of shit whilst hiking might be ok for some powerbar munching, vegan shoe wearing asshole, but not this guy...I was going light.  So I packed a few long sleeve shirts, my rain jacket, leggings, shorts, a camelbak of water, my sleeping bag, a book and my light, as well as some food and the tent poles.  Tamara had the tent and similar items, Mauri had her own tent and sleeping bag and clothes too.  Notice please that we didn't bring our sleeping pads...deeming them unnecessary...fools...we are fools.

Here's me and mountain I didn't climb. GO ME!

 We snaked back and forth down the canyon and finally reached our camp site about an hour before sunset.  It is pretty covered by the canopy from the trees so the temperature was drastically different when the sun was gone...frigid is a word one might use.  After trying briefly (and failing miserably) at starting a fire, I decided to just go into the tent and snuggle in with my book, I'm reading a new book by Dave Eggers called "A heartbreaking story of staggering genius", very good...but I digress.  Tamara and Mauri smuggled a bottle of wine down with them so they decided to stay up a while and talk about Canada...what else would drunk Canadians talk about?  You tell me?  So...as I'm reading I realize I'm fucking freezing...it's so damn cold and damp and dank and fuck I'm cold and I realize that my sleeping pad is pretty much the only reason I haven't frozen to death since the start of this trip.   Here I am, this WHOLE time giving credit to my sleeping bag for doing such a bang up job in the anti-Margecicle campaign and then I come to find out that my sleeping bag is a lazy free loading son of a bitch.  The sleeping pads first job isn't to cushion the ground for the sleeper, no, how could it do that with only 1 inch of foam? It's ludacris, what it actually does is insulate you so that the ground doesn't suck all the heat from your body.  You've probably hear the rule that heat rises?  Well, this is false, heat actually follows cold, usually that means up, but in this unfortunate case it meant down into the cold, unforgiving ground.  In about 10 minutes flat I was freezing my ass off waiting for Tamara to come in the tent so we could at least try to cuddle together for warmth.  That night of sleep was one of the most scarring, horrible, restless nights I've ever had.  I think my soul had icicles.  Me and Tamara spent the whole night flipping and flopping around each other, each in our own little sleeping bag tubes, just wormed around, this way and that way.

Despite the shitty night of sleep we still managed to not get up at the agreed upon hour of 8am and instead woke up around 10 (my body just likes 10am).  We ate some nuts, broke camp and stashed our stuff out of sight.  Lloyd told us to leave about 3 hours to hike there and 3 hours back, so by my calculations, we would get to the springs by 1, hang for an hour, get back to the camp at 5 and then race up hill 2 miles to meet Lloyd at the car??  Shit...we were fucked.  There was no way we would make it back before night fall, but being the stubborn jerks that we are we decided to try it anyways...claiming that Lloyd was probably underestimating our abilities and blah blah blah.  Things started smooth, there was a little trail along the creek for a bit and it seemed doable at the pace we were keeping, but then the actual rock hopping started because there isn't really a place to walk along the side of the creek, you have to walk on it.  I felt pretty comfortable walking on the rocks with my Teva sandals (really happy about buying them now) and Mauri seemed to be managing alright in a pair of Lloyd's old shoes, but Tamara was wearing really old canvas Keds with almost no grip.  The first time Tamara had to brave the creek she froze up...not 100 feet from the campsite...the seed, the instigator, the FUCKING PERSON WHO CONVINCED ME TO GO, totally froze up, unable to get over her fear of getting wet or falling in or cracking her head open...I don't know...da bitch wouldn't move.  After a bit of encouragement that bordered on prodding, Tamara gingerly crouched down, stuck her foot out to reach the adjacent rock, then not so gracefully scooted over.  This. Was. Going. To. Take. Hours.

Yay a creek, better take my socks off, don't want to get wet 

 The progress was slow, but after 2 hours we managed to make some headway and feel good about how far we made it.  Eventually we all resigned to the fact that our feet would be getting wet and we would be cold.  We would have to wade certain sections because there were no rocks.  I felt find about it because my shoes were made to get wet and be all up in nature, but Tamara was slippin' all over the place and had to go slow and the shoes that Mauri borrowed started to come completely unglued...literally...the soles came totally off.  Despite all that they wanted to continue, in the hopes of warming up in the hot springs, so we marched on.

 There were a lot of trees in the creek from rains washing them down so at the times you had to scale some pretty huge tree jams, then navigate some rapids over slipper rocks...I was starting to get the feeling that my luck with agility over these rocks was running out, but despite all that I started to pick up speed and blaze the trail.  Yep, despite my intuition...I fought it...like many cocky assholes before me...I ended up in the drink.  It would have been one thing to stumble a bit on the rocks and get my legs wet or fall on my hands, but when I fall, I go for the gold...just ask anyone who was friends with me freshman year of high school and they will tell the tale of how I top to bottomed the longest flight of stairs that Armstrong High School had to offer...AND I LIVED TO TELL ABOUT IT!!  So...I went in head first...completely submerged myself.  Thank god I decided to layer up that day...ya know...where my tee shirt, 2 long sleeves, my jacket, my beanie and my gloves...I left ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for me to change into except my shorts and those were MILES back at the camp site.   I also had my camera in my pocket, but had to good sense to put it in a plastic bag before setting off...and it is because of that fact alone that I am able to share with you the next picture.

 This is me moment after I fell in, blathering on like an idiot (think of an angry deaf person meets Scrooge), I stripped all my clothes off, except for my leggings and Tamara was kind enough to give me her sweater and her bear hat.  Yep...fashion upgrade.  Go me.  At this point we all realized that we were out of our fucking minds for going as far as we had and agreed Lloyd was even crazier for suggesting it.  I then proceeded to haul ass back to camp, mostly through sheer rage, wading waist deep in the water at points, just to get back to the camp and try to dry off.  All in all it took me 25 minutes to make it back, which made me realize that we hadn't gone that far after all...we had just been traveling SUPER slow.  Go...us?

Mauri and Tamara took about an hour and while I waited for them I snuggled into my sleeping bag and read more of my excellent book...did I tell you?  By Dave Eggers? So good.  Anyways...they finally got back and we set out on the 2 mile walk back up the hill.  Fuck. My. Life.  This hill was a bitch. I had miraculously been unaware of the steep grades on the way down, go figure.  It took us about 2 hours to make it all the way to camp site where we were set to meet Lloyd.  He told us he'd be there between 4-5pm...just before sunset.  We got there at 3pm and sat down and waited...dreaming of food and really hot showers.

 After the sun went behind the hills it come insanely cold...INSANELY COLD...so again we all hunkered together in our sleeping bags and tried to stay warm.  We all spent our time speculating when Lloyd would get there, if he was even coming, if he was actually insane for suggesting we do this...it was all very Lloyd-centric and the ratings were getting lower and lower as the minutes passed.  Eventually Lloyd showed up, at about 5:30pm just before I killed and ate one of my friends for food...thankfully.

Pissed

Pissed

Lloyd took us back to his house and we gorged ourselves on peanutbutter and bread and anything else we could find for fear we may never be able to eat again and then we each had the most awesomely warm shower EVER...Lloyd even pumped up the sauna for us.  I spent the rest of the night sipping hot tea by the fire and reading more of my book ::COUGH:: daveeggers ::COUGH::

The next day we were off...bound for the road...hittin' the ol' dusty trail.  We said farewell to Lloyd and company and we're excited to be on our way away.  Tamara decided she didn't have enough of the hiking/hotspring experience so she got dropped off at the trail head for Sykes, while I got dropped off at near the Esalen spa entrance, where I found my ride.  This guy named Harry came out of the resort and told me he was headed to very same place I was headed...San Luis Obispo!! YAY!!  Harry turned out to be this really cool guy from the LA area who was treating himself to an awesome spa weekend.  We talked about life and love and being gay (both of us being of that persuasion).  He offered me granola bars and organic apples while pointing out things "every Californian is obligated to show people".  He even stopped at this beach where all the Elephant Seal migrate to every year to relax and mate.

This is Harry and another hitch hiker he picked up named Nathan...Nathan was living in the woods with a friend searching for cool rocks they could turn into Jewelry and sell.  He was headed to town to get some food and renew his food stamps.  Nathan was really nice, but smelled like roadkill.

A whole BEACH of Elephant seals...it was pretty amazing, this site.  All these huge seals, barking and laying and getting randy with each other...it was like the Discovery Channel LIVE!  Harry turned out to be the COOLEST ride giver ever because he drove me right to the spot I was going to be couch surfing at for the night...well not RIGHT there but like 2 blocks away...we couldn't figure out how to get over the train tracks. Before I knew it was at the place I needed to be with more time than I needed...it was only 1pm!!  I met my host for the night, Sarkis, his roommates Chris and Kelly (bro and sis) and Mo.  They are all college students, Sark and Chris go to Cal Poly, Kelly goes to the community college and Mo is working before going to school.  They have a really great place overlooking the foothills.  Sarkis and Chris took me on a walking tour of SLO last night and then we all got up early and biked to the Cal Poly campus.  Cal Poly has a really excellent architecture and engineering program so there are all these weird structures on this hill on campus that we checked out.

Sarkis, left, and Chris on one of the weird structures

We walked all over checking the campus out, then we hiked up this big foothill and had a view of the whole town and the campus and even the ocean...it was really rewarding and I felt super pumped out this town and the people that inhabit it.

CHECK OUT THE VIEW BRO!!

Timed photo awesomeness!

So yeah, now I'm just sitting on the porch watching the sun go down, waiting to hear from Tamara.  She called me a little while ago saying she made it here, so she's alive!! Woohoo.  Sark offered to let us stay the night and then head out in the AM which is rad since it's getting a little late.  Looks like tomorrow we'll be heading to Santa Barbara to surf again.  Only a few more days and we'll be in LA!!  Don't really know what I'll do there...maybe just leave right away and go to San Diego.  

Well...that's keeping you up to date!!

-Maggie

I try my hand at farming............yeah.....farming.

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.

Lloyd took us to the cliffs on the ocean for the sunset...it was awesome

Same trip to the cliffs...the sunsets were amazing

Lloyd:  "MAGGIE DON'T FUCK AROUND!!"

I climbed up this here rock (super sketchy) only to have a plane fly by to say "JOB WELL DONE!!"

On an adrenaline high after the crazy rock scaling

Pals...

Doesn't even begin to capture the sunsets here

The fog rolled into the canyon one morning...it was spooky cool

Jellyfish at the Monterey Aquarium...I was still in shock from the dump

I tried to really play the roll of farm hand accurately, riding on the outside of trucks was a tour de force.

"Jackasses in mirror are more useless than they appear"

Me, Lloyd and Tamara

Lloyd and his sweet puppy Bongo

Yet another amazing sunset...like the Neverending story

Yep....you bet I will.

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The Journey in Pictures