Central California

Santa Cruz is a small town with an interesting history. Originally founded by Spanish missionaries trying to convert  Native-Americans in 1791, its one of the oldest settlements on the west coast. Lacking a deep enough harbour for big ships, it never exploded like San Francisco. Its population of 60,000 had to be creative to maintain itself. First, by becoming one of the first places to embrace the new-fangled 19th century concept of inexpensive beach destinations, with a boardwalk and permanent carnival rides. More recently, as a hub of surf and skate culture, laying claim to Surf City USA, as well as a hip, liberal enclave of progressive living. 

It was the surf that excited Freya and I - we've been surfing in Portugal several times in the last year, and couldn't wait to 'hang ten' on the famed California swell. 

Therefore, we were slightly surprised to find a cold, grey beach without a single surfer! We hadn't read far enough down the page. But in the middle of winter, when much of Southern California's waves have dimmed, that's when Santa Cruz breaks. That's when the surfers head north. Whoops!

We did find a delightful town and lively boardwalk to enjoy. 

Often, these fun parks descend over time into grubby, tasteless pageants of garish hucksters which parents endure as the children are oblivious. Not so in Santa Cruz. Their board walk is clean with a fresh charm, a warm affable vibe, an uber-cool retro design flair, and some out-of-this-world tasty corn dogs. 

In possibly related news, I had to explain to Freya that the smell she was so often scenting was that of marijuana, and very few people seemed to be drinking alcohol. 

It made for a great chilled evening. 

We made a plan to make sure each day was filled with something physical, something cultural, and a bit of driving. Getting from Santa Cruz to San Diego is a LOT of driving!

So the next day we went kayaking in the local river delta with seals and sea otters.  In my youth, these animals were threatened - there was a campaign to save them and their habitat.  Sea otter pelts, in specific, are thick and perfect for clothing. When that campaign began in the 70s, natural conservation was a relatively new idea. It worked. Now these beautiful animals are thriving. 

We then visited Monterey and Carmel, with a little visit to the revived Cannery Row. Unlike much of America, with its strip malls and acres of suburbia, so much of Coastal California feels unique. One doesn't confuse them - each place feels very different. And not just the famous places - smaller towns such as Cambria and Moor Bay, too. Each has its own soul. I'm sure a big reason is the lack of big corporate - I haven't seen a single Friday's, Chili's, Applebee's or Outback. I am told these towns often have a rule which forbids these companies in favour of local ownership... with the curious exception of Starbucks (thank God). 

The result is that warm, welcoming feeling of a neighbourhood. 

We then headed back to Highway 1 and it's speactacular drive south to Big Sur and the redwoods. This road is a feat of engineering - cut into the mountainside, driving it is one of life's true pleasures.

 

Unfortunately, nature itself sometimes has something to say about feats of engineering. This spring a series of landslides left much of it undrivable!

So we enjoyed the one hike in all of Big Sur that hasn't been closed, and turned around. 

Driving back was another frigid, wind-swept occasion. The microclimate created by the cold sea, the coastal mountains, and the oven of the basin on the other side, makes for unpredictable and often rough weather.  On this day, the winds were biting and strong. 

This is when we noticed a pair of cyclists fighting the elements. It looked a painful fight. When they stopped near the bridge pictured above, they looked spent. Freya and I realised we were perhaps the only sort of vehicle (a rented van with the chairs removed for makeshift bedding) that could help them. Freya suggested we offer them a ride, and through barely concealed tears they accepted. So we had a fun ride and chat with some new friends, Don and Randi. 

Before long, we had a 120 mile drive around the landslides, in order to find our most interesting quarry of the entire trip. The elephant seal. 

These massive beasts (the males often weigh 5000 lbs) have a rockery which they permanently inhabit. As far as we can tell, all they do is sit around all day, very occasionally fight each other, and far more often exude incredibly deep, resonating burps or farts - we couldn't tell which. 

This was it. How these massive blubbery beasts manage to feed themselves is utterly mind-boggling. They're too slow to feed on fish, so they have to dive nearly 1000 feet deep, holding their breath for an hour, to feed on relatively large and slow rays, eels, sharks and other deep sea-goers. 

Presumably, they are able to sneak up on their prey because deep sea-goers don't  have noses, and can't be warned off by their odor. Freya and I could. 

So we headed to Santa Barbara for some more kayaking, in the caves under Santa Cruz Island. What fun. Sea kayaking can be quite the upper body work out, and this day was certainly that (although we only took photos in the calm places). 

Yesterday evening we crossed into Malibu, and our first taste of Southern California. Huge beaches filled with surfers and volleyball players, and lots of hot, beaming sun. 

We've been enamoured by the beauty and personality of Central California. 

Frankly, we're also longing to feel sun-kissed. This part of the state is frn grey in summer. Today starts the next stage of the adventure. 

Injury and Plan B(s)

When an adventure takes months of planning, spontaneity is easier to claim than create. 

On our 2nd day off trail Freya was still visibly limping (even when I wasn't watching! ), so I knew she needed a few days of relative rest. We were in Lee Vining, CA, which boasts a convenient array of shops and restaurants to cater to its stream of visitors to both Yosemite and Mono Lake. Interestingly, it's successful legal challenge to the City of Los Angeles over local water rights is the basic premise of the famous film Chinatown; it's an impressive tale. Still, embracing the delights of the entire town and its David v Goliath legal history only took one morning. We were itching to move. 

Part of the challenge was how to keep this a worthwhile rite of passage and within budget. Hiking and camping are free, after all, and very little in this world is. 

So armed with a wifi connection and nothing but time on our hands, the seeds of a new plan began to come together.  We could rent a car and head to the coast. If we started in Santa Cruz and drove south to San Diego we could stop at PLENTY of state and national parks, most of which had camping options, with plenty of day hikes amidst such venerable sites as Big Sur and the redwood forest. Plus, we could surf along the way, which is more upper body than legs, and still physically demanding. Challenging rite of passage? Check. Flexible options to account for injury? Check. Still camping and within our trip budget? Check. 

So we hitched a ride down to Bishop, CA where we could rent a car. The local Enterprise Car rental people were awesome, and hearing our tale of woe, gave us an amazing rate for the car.

(Side note, one life lesson I'm sure Freya has learned on this trip: how often one can negotiate - she has seen successful  deals agreed on car rental, room rates, and even the exchange rate of sterling to dollars at the airport(!) - surprised myself with that one!)

Once mobilised, we headed back to Yosemite to continue our exploration of the famous valley. We visited the falls, half dome and El Capitan, all of which are just as mesmerising as the photos you've seen. I'd visited Yosemite once before, some 20+ years ago, and it was far grander than I recalled. Truly, this place should be a natural Mecca for everyone. And even though it's crowded and busy, the majesty of the place withstands this intrusion with graceful aplomb, figuratively and literally rising above it all. 

We then headed for Santa Cruz, which requires a drive directly through California's agricultural basin. The foothills of the Sierra unfold into a rolling sea of hills, which are sublime and graceful. One could genuinely envy the cattle their daily view. These briefly flatten into traditional farmland before rising again into another series of rising hills and breathtaking mountain ranges. 

In all my travels, only France and Italy rival California for sheer variety of ecological diversity. All three have amazing mountains, beaches, forests, cities and charming small towns, with both industry and farmland. But within this league of landscapes, California's is the easy winner. There's just so much unspoilt variety. 

The main reason for this, and why CA in general, and LA and SF in specific, is so expensive, is because Californians have taken such a progressive stance with preserving its beauty. In a way that ancient nations could scarcely imagine, CA has prohibited development on the jewels of its landscape. So just a few miles from both LA and SF are parks which inspire the heart, but also require millions of people to cram themselves into less space, inflating the cost of everything. 

This little reality had escaped our calculations in Lee Vining. In the eastern Sierra, camping spots are easy to find. As we sat in a cafe in Hollister, the impending impact of CA's progressive stance and our spontaneity hit us. We spent 3 hours calling around various campsites, trying to book a place to sleep, and almost all were booked out for at least a week in advance.  Those we found were $50+ per night... for camping!

Motels were easier to find, but were about $100/night, and with 20 days left on our trip, neither figure was in our budget. 

The best solution we could think of was upgrading our car to a van we could sleep in. It'd keep us spontaneous, and although  showers would be a hassle, and even though it was still more than our budget, about $80/day, it was the best option we could think of at the time. 

We went to Enterprise and were flatly shocked. Hearing our tale of woe, the chap upgraded us to a perfect van for only $10/day. I was gobsmacked. This basically saved our trip, meaning we still had a budget for fun stuff. As I pondered the games of "I spy..." Freya and I now no longer needed to play, I vowed that for the rest of my days, I shall only rent cars from Enterprise. 

Once we had the van, we then got super lucky and found a foam mattress in a 2nd hand store, that just needed a bit of 'engineering' with my handy-dandy knife to fit snugly as our bedding. 

As we drove merrily to Santa Cruz, we were excited to see the coast, and the next stage of our adventure. 

Intense Sierra

The landscape of the Sierra Nevada mountains can arguably be considered the most beautiful in the world. I don't usually like comparisons of beauty - something absurd about it - but the Sierra have certainly had more impact than any other landscape.  

In the 19th century a Scottish immigrant to America named John Muir fell in love with the Sierra. He spent years exploring its secrets and being moved by its ravishing splendor. His passion led him to write powerfully about nature, and to lobby his government to protect the area from commercial development. The spiritual quality and enthusiasm expressed in his writing became the catalyst for the National Park Service, the first of it's kind in the world. The idea caught on in other countries. Therefore, every protected landscape on the planet owes a debt to John Muir and the Sierra. 

Freya and I began climbing into the Sierra like many of John Muir's mules must have done - thinking, 'crikey, these packs are heavy!' We had 6 days of supplies, sleeping gear, tent and various other bits. Fortunately, the miles pass under foot quite easily in such grandeur. 

That evening, under the campfire, I was reminded in a deep experiential way exactly WHY I love these hikes so much. These is something magical about spending several hours with someone without any type of potential distraction. Without phones. No television. Nothing. After the initial cascade of topics, there is always a pause. A silence that, once accepted, allows the connection to broaden. Sometimes that path is inane, like lists of Hollywood favorites, and other times the conversational tour leads to moments of deep discussion, of hopes and fears, that deep texture of life. Captivating. 

The next day we started climbing into the Sierra proper. Each mile brought us to higher elevation, and into thinner stretches of trees. The day was warm, and the sun kept us eager to find the trees when we could, for their shade, whilst also grateful for the stunning vistas. 

Poor Freya was struggling a bit. She had 27 mosquito bites (to my 4!?), and she was struggling with the weight. After several hours and about 12 miles of steep mountain hiking, we took a lunch break. This involves falling asleep in exhaustion under some dark trees for an hour or so. When I woke up I realized that Freya had spent that hour quietly weeping to herself, overwhelmed by the pack, the sun, the mossie bites - the trail. 

We were in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing I could do but guide her to soldier on. As we hiked her knee began to bother her more, which is an injury for which she's seen orthopedic specialists. Twice I saw her fall into the rock, her shins and knees and body battered. Each time, she dismissed it as a slip and bravely vowed she was fine. 

I've fallen into the rock from exhaustion before. I know how it feels and looks. As brave as she was being, we needed to change something. After another 8 or so tough miles of this, we came to a road. I hitched us a ride to Murkleeville to regroup. 


There I was able to go through our bags and find nearly 10 kgs (~20 lbs) of unnecessary pack weight!! That, plus our water strategy of carrying nearly 2 liters at all times, even though we were passing a stream every 20 mins (doh!), meant we could and should've been hiking with much less weight. I felt more than a bit careless.

Armed with a new strategy, we headed back to the trail the next day.  With a bit of luck we got an amazing hitch-hike from Scott.  He has spent 21 years as a fire-jumper - the type of chap who voluntarily parachutes into forest fires.  He had plenty of amazing stories to share with our rapt ears and, before long, we were on the outskirts of the Yosemite wilderness, ready to hike again.

This time we'd try a new adventure. In the past, I'd always had some clever technology to clarify our location on the map. This time, we were going to hike using trail maps and my handy compass. These maps and trails are well-labeled, so really not a big deal... but it doesn't tell you where the actual campgrounds are like the sparkly app maps. This little omission would prove a little dicey.


As we began the second leg of hiking, we both had strong legs. Getting rid of 15kgs+ makes a big difference! We had a spring in our step, even on the inclines, and the miles were unfolding before us like we were motorized.

We came across deer and streams, fields and mountain scapes, all with a cool breeze on a pleasantly warm day. If you were to draw some Disney cartoon of the perfect hike, it would look like our day. Freya enthused that she could finally understand why people loved hiking.

The most spectacular part of the day was Tuolumne Falls.  Powerful and remote, we had the dual pleasure of being right up close and alone with it. 

My soul annoyance with Yosemite is how crowded it is along the main trails. I realize its good that so many people are being exposed to nature. And that its equally impressive that some of them hike a couple of miles from their cars and into the woods. Bravo. Seriously. But on this hike, I'd longed for the sense of adventure of being remote, and these back trails gave us just that.

After a long day of hiking we decided to camp before a planned summit of Mount Hoffman the next morning. Just as we found a place, the booming crack of mountain thunder shuddered around us, and we knew one of the famed Yosemite storms was closing . As we had no official tent site reference points on our map, we had to invent one. The best we could find was beside a large wall of granite, amidst some trees, between that granite and a stream. More experienced hikers are already snickering, I'm sure.

With timely precision we erected the tent. Freya's training had been effective. Just as the hail stone began to fall we sat inside, cozy and pleased with ourselves, with the pounding storm lashing our tent walls, content with our precision.


Until after about five minutes and we looked down. We noticed the floor of the tent moving. We both jumped back in surprise. Here and there, in fact everywhere, the entire floor of the tent was being undermined by an immense flow of water. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Like a river. I now deduce all of the rain from the entire mountainside had to go somewhere, and the earth beneath us was the only path between that mountain and the nearby stream, which was filling up fast.


The mini flash flood was picking up forest debris so quickly that the side of our tent became a dam, and the detritus of the wild crept up the edges of the side of the tent. In places, water leaked through the bottom. Everything was getting or soon would get soaked. Quickly, we realized we had to break camp and move in the middle of this storm. It's a good tent, but not designed for surfing!

Fortunately, the storm subsided as we packed everything and dug ourselves and our tent out of the dirt. The whole storm may have lasted 30 minutes, but in its wake most everything was either soaked or wet or damp, and lots of it muddy. So of course, even after shaking everything out, our packs were even heavier than before.


The next day we headed to Mount Hoffman, which was a long 8 mile ascent. For some reason my legs were stone, I couldn't find my energy gear. Freya had hers, bless her, and kept encouraging me with bright calls of, 'Come'on dad, you can do it!'.  Having hiked and climbed more mountains than..., well, I smiled at the deep irony.  Ok, dear.


We finally got to the base of Mount Hoffman, and even though my legs were thick, we agreed to summit it. We started in with a strong pace, and I quickly returned to those familiar feelings of summit fever - buoyed along by the imposing mountain.


Just as we got to the shoulder of the mountain, with the last bit of scree to clamber up, maybe 45 more minutes of climbing, Freya declared she couldn't go on. In addition to her knee, her hip was now bothering her. Scree can be hard going, especially on your legs, so I knew there was no choice but to turn back. With our heavy bags, and her now carrying two injuries, I also knew it was time for another break.


Fortunately, before descending, we had time to enjoy some extraordinary views of Yosemite - resplendent even for an overcast day.



So we hitched a ride to Lee Vining, CA. Little side note - I have a little hitch hike dance that I've now used across four continents, three decades and at least 100 rides. From Kenya to California, if you ever want some tips on getting rides while hitch hiking, let me know.

We are now on a rest day. Freya's hip and knee are both still bothering her. I'm a little lost now as to what to do. At twelve years old, one is not generally advised to push through pain. There's too much stuff changing. So we'll see what each day holds.


All I can say for sure is that we will remain spontaneous and ready for adventure.

One Last Beginning

The run of life in rural America saunters along with a languorous gait, full of the patient confidence of a big fish in a small pond. There's both a charm and sadness to the deep commitment to parochial mores. Of course, as a city mouse vs country mouse comparison, the observation is cliche. But even so, the experience is not. 

These days, the country mouse has a President. I had thought here in rural California, these country mice might have a more worldly view. Not so. We have seen part of Trump's America here, too. 

Fortunately, America is a diverse and complicated place. Our hosts for a couple of days pre-hike, Dan and Laurie, would inspire the trendy salons of NY and London with the breadth and depth of their interests, wisdom and joie de vivre. Ben and I met Dan when he picked us up while hitch-hiking in 2014. Dan and Laurie are both school-teachers, and despite the battles they face every year with parents who lobby that the biblical creation story be taught in school, rather than that suspicious scientifically based theory of evolution, Dan and Laurie continue to fly the flag of liberal ideals. 

Yes, these days science is on the liberal v conservative agenda. 

Fortunately, Dan and Laurie shared the secret that not only seems to be the source of their clarity, but also promises to be the key to Freya and I letting go of our up tempo lives, full of schedule and devices and social media and general fears. Here, at the foothills to the majestic Sierra Nevada which Freya and I are about to enter, Dan and Laurie are deeply connected to the simple beauty of life. They are part of this land. 

Each evening during dusk at this time in summer, several hundred bats fly over their back porch. Upon this back porch sit four reclining chairs, angled for maximum viewing pleasure. Just as the blue is bleeding from the sky, as the glimpses of a red horizon dapple through the tall pines, we take our seats. And the nightly parade begins. 

Some may fly 50 ft above the porch, but others, playing their part with the insects that might pester their faithful audience, fly just a few feet from us. Hundreds of them. Swooping and turning with the incredible precision that only bats have, we hear glimpses of their barely audible sonar targeting the hundreds of insects each bat will eat every evening. Mostly it's quiet. And mesmerizing. 

This combination of curious and captivated seems to fill a lot of how Dan and Laurie live their lives. And how this land invites us to enjoy it. 

We've also had the intense pleasure of visiting with other friends, like Scott and Joanne and Dean and their kids, doing some wake boarding and cliff jumping and rock skipping - all those great American lake pastimes. Such fun. And all of it serving to recalibrate our internal beings into being right here, right now. 

The word from the trail is fascinating - lots of fresh water, lots of hikers and wonderfully verdant landscape, due to the record snowfall last year. There's also more bears this year, more mosquitoes, and a searing average temperature. Most of our hike is above the tree line, so we'll be exposed to the hot sun for many hours every day. And picking up the packs, oh my word, I forgot how heavy they have to be for these hikes. I'm a little worried on Freya's behalf. She strong and tough and all these things... but... [gulp]... these things are heavy. 

We're off tomorrow morning. For those with Google Earth and a few minutes, our route includes Echo Lake, Sonora Pass, Tuolumne Meadows and Yosemite. We looked at the landscape on Google Earth yesterday, and we are SO excited.  I'm told there is little to no phone reception on this trail. 

The meditation / prayer that we enter this hike with has been inspired and set by this little preamble: 

May every step of the hike, every meal, and every pause for breath, be filled with the open-minded curiosity that allows us to be mesmerized by each moment. 

Freya's First VLOG

Starting to Prep for Freya's Adventure

Freya and I starting to Prep for the next big adventure. Getting excited. Important days. Less than two months before we depart.

Freya has suggested we do a vlog for our trip - mine is the only blog she's ever heard of; I guess dad might be slightly out of step with the times.

So this is my first stab at a vlog.  Its made using some video editing software app for iPhones called Videoshop.  Pretty nifty stuff (even if I exhaust all the sound effects fairly quickly). 

Hope you enjoy.

😋