Day 5 & 6:Losing Control

Well, breakfast on Monday the 14th was great with old friend Anne whom I worked with back in the day- and her husband Phil. No biz.just discussing life. It was 1992 all over again. They were on my route! lol.

After being packed with the remaining frittata, blood orange and home grown avocados, I began the journey to Cambria.

It was always 'planned' as my next stop but State 101 would have been easy so I stuck with US1. Leaving Montecito, I took the long way home.

Along the way, I went through small towns and came upon Vandenburg Air Force Base. I decided to exit and found out they did NOT give tours and they politely, but firmly, bid me goodbye. I told him about my retirement drive and while he thought it was funny, they didn't give 'tours' to civilians.

  

Control is a pretty interesting thing. Not in the dark Orwellian way we think it happens but the way we run our lives. We like to be in control. We believe a plan keeps us on course. But we can’t control everything: fate, other people, even our own path and trajectory.

And I KNOW, we can’t control nature.

Maybe what we need to do is stop and let it take its course.

(Hey, BK. Pot is legal in California..You smoking again? Nope.not since 1972)

On this trip, I’ve learned that I am out of control when it comes to nature. And that’s the way it should be.

Sitting by the ocean, walking through Yosemite, these were forces that existed with or without me. I have no part in their workings. In fact, surrendering myself to their sounds and splendor, made my own quest less important because I dispensed with this soul searching ‘thingy’ and learned you can’t mandate or 'schedule' introspection. It just happens.

You just have to be in the right environment.

But let's go back two days. Before Yosemite..

For me, it was away from the crowds, the highways, the noise. Not surprisingly, it was not Carmel. Certainly a lovely town and laid back but a great tourist stop and it is what it is. Nice people, no chains, a place that comes alive during the year and a great getaway for Bay area folks.

Cambria is what resonated. It reminded a bit of Mendocino and that place where they filmed Same Time Next Year. No..No rendezvous but a special place. Bluffs, beaches and beauty. It’s a beach town but NOT a beach town. No docks, no t-shirt shops, no campers parked along the shoreline. Just tranquility and I realized I miss the ocean. Not that I went too often when I lived in NJ or NY but I’m also not 35 anymore.

The Blue Dolphin Inn. OMG. I was home in my bedroom and it happened to be an Inn!!!

Simplicity is the key. I walked through the town of Cambria with its local shops. No chains. But a vibe that said: we lived the big city life but this is where we hang. I met a group of guys at the local roaster, kinda like my Starbucks stop in Scottsdale.

They call themselves the Sons of Arthritis. They invited me to sit down and have my coffee before I started my trip to Hearst Castle. The talk went to politics (Dems as one can guess) and I felt this could be my Scottsdale. (No Hope..we’re not moving to Cambria..yet..)

But let’s backtrack to my previous night in Cambria, Monday, May 14.

The Inn was amazing as I posted on FB and I asked the desk clerk, where I can go and have a drink and dinner. She directed me up the road a bit, walking distance. A mile later, crossing US1, I fell into the Organic Roastery. A big kinda place where it looks like it can be great for weekend  motorcycle warriors with a large outside bar.

I walked upstairs with a view overlooking the Pacific. I like bars, as if you didn’t guess. I like talking to bartenders and people who sit. I don’t talk about myself except for an anecdote and then get into some kind of rambling discussion. (More on this later—in Carmel)

I met two couples who came in. One woman, owned a spa inCA, and her boyfriend a financial guy. The other couple, Golden State Warrior fans  in their late 50’s(I DO know who the Warriors are!).

Three hours, 3 martinis later, we were having a  grand old time. I had had stitches for a non cancerous excision two weeks before and Monday was the day they needed to come out. My dermatologist said I could do it myself. I even had my kit of scissors and tweezers since I planned to operate when I got back to the Inn. My doctor said if you’re too squeamish, go to an Urgent Care.

No need., my new friends included  a licensed aesthetician and a female park ranger. They doused my wound with alcohol..ok..vodka---- and sterilized it. One held the scissors, while the other held the tweezers and within minutes, I had been healed.

Some more laughs and I walked the mile back to the Inn. A late night stroll on the beach, and going to sleep with the windows open.

Next: The road to Steinbeck Country. to Cambria, a Ticket to Ride (for going 82 in a 65) and the wonder of Yosemite.

What would Scooby Do?