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| Women paint their surroundings at Cabrillo National Monument |
To gain perspective , often one must remove oneself from their normal routine. The normal routine, Alaska, not being routine for this hillbilly from Ohio,thus gaining perspective has become even more imperative.
Having watched Arctic terns inhabit the Potter Marsh during the summer, I've decided to mimic a small portion of their annual journey. Anchorage to San Diego is not even 1/3 of the birds pole to pole journey. But I don't have an aunt in Antarctica thus San Diego will suffice.
A winter furlough presented options of: holing up in my Proenneke like cabin along Turnagain Arm, moving to Anchorage and scraping together part time jobs before a temporary relocation to Juneau and lastly travelling to and fro soaking up sun, experience, and reconnecting with friends and family.
As great as it would have been to be on constant lookout for northern lights sightings and learning the finer points of avoiding frostbite, the travel bug bit hard and won hands down.
Upon arrival to southern California two things immediately happened. My bare feet came out of hiding and I rented a bike. An entrepreneur had the idea of delivering bikes to his clients locations. Car less as my aunt was at work, this was an important factor. Within an hour of the call a hybrid was dropped off complete with helmet and lock. Liberated I took to the streets and felt the marine air penetrate into the deepest recesses of my lungs. That smell, that ocean air smell. So familiar yet so far removed. Even though my cabin was along Turnagain Arm, I hadn't experienced a coast with open ocean since the Redwoods last June. The experts profess that our sense of smell is capable of recalling our most distant memories. After retrieving my bags and stepping outside of San Diego's airport, I must agree. There was an instantaneous sense of place due to the aroma that an ocean breeze can only deliver.
Having visited countless times before I was not seeking the first timer San Diego vacation. Thus no zoo , no Balboa Park, no Gaslamp etc etc. No pleasures were to be much simpler: waking up when I wanted, feeling the 70 degrees temperature in December, and watching the locals partake in their normal routines.
Stop for a moment and consider what the locals do: at 11 am on a Monday full grown adults are pulling off boneless and pop shove-it tricks at the local skate park. In Ocean Beach woman are walking their dogs via skateboard in the middle of the road, and of course the surfers are chasing the waves from dusk till dawn. Sure the weather allows for the constant pursuit of one's given pursuit. Yet it is still up to the individual to do what one loves and love what one does.
This is the encapsulation of the California way of life that I have come to know and try to follow. The fact that my mailing address isn't California doesn't present that large of a problem. The attitude once experienced and adapted travels well but damn that 70 degrees sure does help.
It was on a hike in Cuyamaca State Park that I realized that I was on such a migration. The vast open landscape and crisp air allowed the mind to wonder and take in all the stimuli. A wondering mind can be a dangerous thing. Wild adventurous thoughts sprout up out of nowhere. With only six months remaining for my hard core 30's club card the draw is to continue the migration till June. But eventually reality sets in. This trip should allow for the reality to settle in and be more successful.
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| Natty dread like crown of an ancient Ponderosa Pine atop Cuyamaca Peak |
