The Windmill Posts

Not a bad day, lots of twisties, which I never get tired of. Hours of them, and I’m still happily bopping along, going quick but not foolishly. Had some issues with the sights today. The first one was Bowling Ball Beach. Hard to find the trailhead, and even then the closest I could get would require me to get down on the beach and go around a rock point – except that’s where the pounding surf was. It was a nice little hike. Astrid was with me, as I was following these trails through the (wet) tall grasses and I came upon a tree downed over the path. I was going to go back but then I heard Astrid’s voice saying “Come on, it’ll be fun!” and there I went. Nice. The second was some kind of arch or something about a goat. Bumbled down a unlined road for way too long only to find the final bit was closed. Could have used a sign for that one at the highway. Finally, the waterfalls. Supposed to be amazing. Turns out it’s something like a 7 mile hike to get to them. Ouch.

Love my hotel so much. Needed to go out and get something to eat, so I forced myself. I decided to Uber to the Castro, wander a bit with some window shopping and people watching. Wasn’t having luck finding a restaurant I liked because I was being too picky. Did go in an extremely busy bookstore to look for a book to read during dinners and such. Got Hemingway’s short stories, as well as The Pink Marine. It’s the book that was the basis for the Netflix series “Boots.” It’s a story about a young man foundering in college who joins the Marine Corps on a near-whim. Also, he’s gay. Sound familiar?

After having a cute guy yell to me from his friends table at a restaurant that he loved my outfit, I called it a draw. I took an Uber back near the hotel to a restaurant I had looked at earlier. Expensive hamburger surrounded by pretty and basic folks. So next time I’ll try harder to find the restaurant in the right spot, and not default to the restaurant in the wrong spot.

Turnouts

In California there is a law, or at least something so official they write it on signs, that if you have more than 5 cars behind you, you are officially a slow driver and must take the next turnout and let them pass. It’s awesome. Yes, it’s on the honor system, but people do it! Stuck behind an RV? They’ll just pull over and let you pass. Nice for me, so I’m not getting bored or angry behind their lumbering boxes. Also good for them, as it gives them a dignified way to deal with the driver riding their ass.

Today there were a few RVs who pulled over, except one jackwagon in a pickup with camper on it. Going so slow around some of those turns we all could have gotten out of our cars. But the best one was a set of two trucks. They looked to be carrying rocks or something heavy, and they had extension trailers, as well. Two, identical, not pulling over. But that was okay, because these drivers meant it. They were taking turns at near speed, whipping around curves at speeds much higher than I would have taken them. And I take those turns at foolish speeds. (Ignore the first comment saying I wasn’t foolish)

Fog

The fog was thick. It was claustrophobic. You could see the sun was up there, but you couldn’t see it. Visibility was so poor cars with and without headlights on would come out of the fog like sharks from the deep. I can handle a steep drop off of cliff into the ocean. But when it’s fog there’s just too much unknown about it, and it’s stomach droppingly intense. Equally unnerving, going over a bridge with fog all around.

3,000 miles

It seems I was just talking about crossing a thousand miles. That seems like a long way. But somehow 3,000 doesn’t? I think I’m just in the groove. On long drives in the past I have gotten tired, especially my right leg. Like a sharp but also throbbing pain. Even on long trips with my daughter, where we spent the whole time talking and joking and having a really great time. I’d still get too tired by the end of the day.

And yet here I am, alone. Hundreds of miles a day with admittedly not enough pauses to stretch. And I’m just in my element. I’m in my car, which is an extension of myself. It’s comfortable, it fits me like a glove. And the vibe fits me as well. Zippy, tiny, against the odds, ridiculous. Wonderful.

Can’t wait to see what’s next!

The real fog

Ok, so I came up with this one this morning and hate myself for conjuring it and buying it. Reminder, I’ve been haunted by crippling depression for years, and before that I experienced it in varying levels of horrortude. That’s a word now, BTW. And nobody can tell me it’s going to end. That things will get better. That I won’t always be depressed. That I have to have perspective. So many people have tried to tell me these things, but they never get through to me. And won’t, I imagine. So here is a simple observation about fog, having nothing to do with my depression.

Sometimes it’s so thick you can’t see ahead. They come out of the fog as a surprise and fly past you, sometimes frightening you. At times the fog will be bright, the sunlight trying to pierce the mist, but not wholly visible. You can’t see the sun, but it’s there. And it’s burning off the fog as fast as it can. Eventually, it will. You’ll go through patches of fog broken by patches of blue sky and sun, only to pass back into the fog for a bit. You’ll come through the fog, the sun having burnt it all off, blue skies above and warm sun on your face. And those are the best times. Wind in your hair, able to see for miles, and making you forget how thick it was just a little while ago.

You’re going to drive into more fog ahead. Don’t know when or how much. But you’ll go right through it for as long as it takes, and eventually those best times will be back. Rinse and repeat.

I was about 3/4 through those thoughts before I realized what I was thinking about. Kinda hate me sometimes.

Deets

• License Plates: None
• States: CA
• Departed: 9:49 am MDT, 56 degrees
• Original ETA 12:56pm PDT
• Arrival: 4:37 pm PDT
• Weather: Fog from thin to thick, also blue skies and sunny
• Budget: Food above, Hotel above but awesome
• Food: ABLT (Avacado + BLT) because CA. Also expensive burger at San Francisco restaurant
• Music: Yacht rock playlist. All. Day. Long.

Observations

• Went through the Robin Williams tunnel, as seen in What Dreams May Come
• Golden Gate bridge was fogged in but still pretty
• I could make fun of the people wandering Mendocino but it would be too easy. Also I’m a middle aged white man driving a mini.
• When I’m talking and my VNS fires, does it sound cringe? Or like someone being choked?
• The coastal plateaus of California remind me of Ireland. They’re richly green, clumpy fields, foliage looks like rock walls, and there are lone buildings in the middle of nowhere. Also, the fields end in cliffs straight down to a cold raging sea.
• Point Arena headland is the closest land point to Hawaii.
• Finally saw two motorcyclists. They were kitted up for a long journey.
• Highway 1 is some sort of CA bike trail, so at any moment you could come upon one or a gaggle of bicyclists in the road. Even on twisties. Scary. And a little crazy on their part.
• With the fog and changing weather I was chilled, chilly, cold, freezing, warm, and hot at the same time
• The only thing that could make twisties any better would be a manual transmission.

Pictures