2005 California

June 2, 2005

Hello All,

I’ve reached my destination. And I’ve enjoyed safe travels from Alaska through to California. Traveling alone has proved to be an awesome adventure thus far. I’ve experienced a trial or two here and there, but such is the nature of life. The best we can do is to learn to extract the precious from the worthless and enjoy the good we do have in our lives; family, friends, love and the list continues infinitely.

So much has happened in the month since I last wrote and I have a host of stories to relay. I’ll try to spare you the book version of my escapades and focus on the semi-condensed version. The majority of you are enjoying my lengthy letters and ask that I continue sending them. I realize, though, that not everyone is a reader. So, if you’re not up to reading my letters, you’re under no obligation. But as life holds so many wonderful opportunities and adventures and possibilities and lessons, I will share with those who are interested in my happenings.

I did indeed drive the coastline here to southern Cali, but the trip was not quite as I’d envisioned. I had visions of sun and blue skies, of walking the beach and collecting shells, of playing in the ocean and sitting on the sand writing and sketching to my hearts content. Instead I was met with fog and rain. Visibility was so poor, from North to South along Hwy 1, that I rarely glimpsed the ocean. The majority of the road along Hwy 1 is precarious, winding and twisting, up and down and around with one hairpin turn after another. It was dizzying to drive, especially in poor visibility and it was worse in the dark.

As I was driving, a parallel came to mind - I compared the limited visibility and the adverse road and weather conditions to conditions, at times, in my personal life. I set goals and I dream dreams and I steer my course onward. But when traveling becomes precarious, winding and twisting and visibility seems limited, my journey leaves me dizzy and the unknowns seem to darken my vision of the future further. But it is at these times when darkness seems to fall, that I turn on the lights to help guide me; the lights of family love, of wisdom gained through the hard knocks of life, of friends who cherish and care and of the Bible. And though I sometimes find myself taking a detour, I, thankfully, find my way back and continue my journey with confidence. And too, in spite of the conditions and the precariousness and the dizzying affects of life, I’m still on the road making headway, even if progress is slower at times than at others. (Here’s a bit of feeling for you, Cliff).

When I hit the bottom of the mountains and finally reached the ocean my first night on Hwy 1, it was dark and late and I was exhausted. I hadn’t seen anyone or anything along the hwy for miles. So when I spied a cluster of R/V’s hunkered down near the beach for the night, I pulled into the middle of them and crawled in the back seat, once again, and slept. Highway I also routed me through Sausalito, a cute little touristy town across the bay from San Francisco, and toward the Golden Gate Bridge. While crossing the bridge, I couldn’t help myself, I let out a scream of excitement. That thrill cost me a $5 toll when I reached the other side. And yes, I do entertain easily. When I hit San Francisco. I called my daughter and we made plans to meet at Pismo Beach. When I arrived in Pismo and pulled up next to my girly's car, she jumped out and said in the sweetest tone, “Momma, I’ve missed you.” She made a few cute little hops toward me, wrapped her arms tight around my waste and laid her head on my shoulder and just held me.

My sweat pea and I’ve had all sorts of fun together. We recently went on an outing with a group of her friends. Mark asked, “Do you want to go cliff jumping, Momma?” I replied, “Let’s go.” So six of us piled into a compact car and held on for dear life while Hannah drove like a mad woman careening the car up the winding canyon road. The tunes were cranked and voices rose in song, the windows were rolled down and the wind ran its hot fingers through hair tousling six heads.

When we reached the jumping point at Colby Canyon, I looked down a very high, narrow canyon walls into a small but deep pool that had waterfalls above and below it. Over the course of the winter, the effects of erosion had loosened a slab of rock the size of two suburbans and it had fallen into the lower half of the pool we were to jump into. After assessing the situation, we all agreed to try another place of insanity down river.

Making our way down river was no easy feat I can tell you. We spent hours bouldering and climbing along rocks and swimming back and forth across the river and working our way over one waterfall after another. We'd climb up, up, up and over and under and around and down, down, down again wearing our swimsuits and sandals or going barefoot in 100+ temps. I have wanted to learn to rock climb for years but I always thought that ropes and harnesses would be a part of my education. Not so on this day. I was quickly introduced to freestyle climbing through experiencing the moment. Wow!

While we were climbing away, a group of four athletic types with a lot more climbing experience caught up with and joined our group. When we reached a particularly treacherous looking fall area, the girls opted to sit in the sun and wait for the guys to return from their “fun.” I watched as the guys made their way across the fall and up a high rock wall on the other side and I decided that, “I can do this, too.” I looked back at my girly and Hannah laying on a rock and my daughter yelled over the crash of the falls, “No mom, don’t do it.” I mouthed back, “It’ll be okay.”

So with a little trepidation and a lot of determination, I set my foot on a rock in the water at the top of the first section of the fall. The water rushed over my foot and leg. It felt sturdy. I took another step and made my way over to a rock wall. I grabbed hold of the wall and pressed myself close to it and then eased my way down to a narrow ledge of rock that sloped down into another section of the fall. From there I had to jump across the fall into the water where the current wasn’t flowing as swift. I let go of the wall with one hand and lunged. I went completely under water, resurfaced and swam toward another rock wall that had a rope hanging down from it. I grabbed the rope and climbed my way to the top where I was met with congratulatory shouts. What a blast!

I could go on and on about that day. I had so much fun. But I’ll spare you further detail. I will say, though, that the next time I go climbing, it will be with the experienced. There’s way too much room for error and the experienced definitely know what they’re doing. I walked away that day with a sunburn, an amazing feeling of exhilaration and an offer to learn to surf. Sweet!

My daughter and I also loaded up her Saturn and took a road trip to Arizona to visit an Alaskan friend over Memorial Weekend. While my girl steered us toward Phoenix, I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on the dash, reclined my seat a bit, relaxed my head on my arm and enjoyed the company, the tunes, the wind and the drive.

When we reached the LA area, the congestion on the freeway slowed our rocketing pace to a 20-40 mph crawl and sometimes to a complete halt. In the midst of this slow procession, a professional looking guy in a sleek new car crawling next to us “hayed” for our attention. “You ladies from Alaska? That’s what the plates say. “I’ve been there myself. Oh, by the way, would you like my phone number?” I wondered how much success the man had with this approach. This encounter seemed to amuse the motorists crawling along with us. They craned heads and smiled big cheesy grins as they passed. Who needs the bar scene when you have the LA freeway. Goodness!

Well, I could keep you reading for a long time sharing thoughts and experiences, but I’ll wrap it up here for you. I plan to spend the summer here in Cali and then I'll head North in the Fall. My plans are subject to change. You never know where the winds of life will blow you. But at present, this is what I have in mind. I will keep you informed as to my happenings and future plans.

Thanks again for your emails and phone calls and letters. As always, I enjoy communicating with you. I hope that your lives are wonderful and that you’re happy. You’re in may thoughts and I am missing you And yes, I am even missing Alaska.

Love,
Nannette