a dark night saw stars. elias saw nothing, he forgot his glasses. a brighter early morning saw a nearly full moon. elias was able to see this part because we went back for his glasses. two cars, a small caravan moving along the coastline, four cones of light and one bonding commonality, everybody poops.
signs of day in monterey. purple then pink then the orange sun peeks finally over the hill tops illuminating the grazing cattle, the grasses to their knees and the white foam crash at the shoreline. lulling awake and then back to sleep again lazy elephant seals. in the west a moon slips quietly from view beneath rolling waves. forward facing eyes watching in the rearview.
sounds of footsteps dissipate in the vastness of this place. bigger than an echo. the trees greet us at the onset only to abandon us as we climb higher into the hills and farther from the humidity of the coast. the day only just beginning, and hours beginning to feel very long indeed.
down a long nasty switchback our feet ache and our eyelids feel heavy. we take turns in the river, submerging and washing away the invisible oils of poison oak, hopefully just in time. after the awakening chill the last of our energy is used to restore body heat and to lay out ground pads for an afternoon nap. sleep enveloped us all, and it was welcome.
broken camp and upward again. long, but beautiful. each downhill means the shade of redwoods. lunch on the road, pitas, hummus, tofurky, cheese, chicken, salami, and sundried tomatoes…the secret ingredient. not anymore. the other secret ingredient? not telling. just kidding. love. the last secret ingredient? secrets.
we walk into our campsite and drop our packs. this will be our home for the night. we’ll cook our dinner and enjoy this sandy beach. we’ll wade in the creek and walk to the hot springs. we will. it will be nice. it will feel warm. it seems naturally unnatural for a creek so cold to have such warm water close by. its warmth is intoxicating. the closeness of everyone–euphoric. these feelings grow and grow as the night removes us from the surrounding world and places us under a shining blanket of stars. the only semblance of day bathes our eardrums, the flowing river persists along with the spirit of adventure. it does not sleep, it manifests itself in an orgy of raw pleasure, covered by the cloak of darkness. hands, heavy breathe, animal noises, and the false feeling of anonymity. normality abandoned for something far more unique.
each step draws us closer to home, so downward we fly. towards warmth, cleanliness and comfort and all that the civilized world has to offer. the entire distance travelled the previous two days are covered in one day’s push. each bend we expect to reach our destination but are disappointed, until finally that bend comes. we walk past a peaceful grassy field. the grass is tall and fenced in, but the coastal breeze spins and tustles each blade. they move freely. car doors unlock, an engine starts, and a road lies ahead. a very long road.
in the distance a dog barked.
written by Cormac McCarthy