making assessments

Some floating thoughts to gather into one place:

Much of my creative outlet channels are very inconsistent these days, so when I do come up with a photo, a drawing, a bit of writing that comes right out of my soul, my heart leaps and swells.

I've reconnected with a few friends I thought I had lost forever. Time is the steadiest judge of such things.

I start massive knitting projects when I feel like I am not in control of something in my life. Which isn't all that deep, it's just a way to keep my hands and mind busy and eventually productive, rather than turning on a television.

I am surrounded with more love than I realize.

echolocation

Hello, it's me. It's been a little over a year for the usual reasons - being preoccupied with life, busy with work, busy with managing relationships, friendships, keeping myself sane on varying levels. Different iterations of the same challenges. With some growth and wisdom gained along the way...at least I hope.

I've been feeling the stinging loneliness of lacking a partner, but I've been honing and polishing the silver lining of that situation constantly. You have nothing to tie you down, you have nobody to answer to but yourself, you can do anything you want, you will never be as free as you are right now - are thoughts I repeat to myself. I am surrounded by people I love, who I know love me, and want good things to happen to me, so I should nurture and welcome those good things, right?

There's a danger to being both pragmatic and dreamy - to protect that dream and optimism I've found that I approach hypothetical situations with a pessimistic slant, to shelter myself from disappointment. But doom and gloom replacing a bit of faith is very disheartening, and really, what value is there to drag yourself down into the mud and wallow in it? Who gives a damn about one who martyrs herself, solely for herself?

I finally feel like I'm emerging from this cave that I've been hiding in. Setting goals and trying my hardest to complete them. Recognizing and feeling my feelings. Being kind to myself and others. I'm feeling sapped of creative energy, which is frightening, but I'm working on it. Always working on something.

2015

Strange sort of new year. Spent it with a bunch of strangers in the desert but felt no more alone than I would amongst my own friends and acquaintances. The night we arrived it was windy and rainy and I felt like a massive fool struggling to set up a tent in those conditions, but under cover of a circle of cars and Andy's direction it worked out fine. Two nights of campfires, alcohol, weed and mushrooms, offset with solitary strolls amongst the rocks and scrub searching for an elusive cholla cactus would seem transformative enough, but the myth of 'new year, new me' stands strong. I've been working on 'new me' in my own ways since Thanksgiving, but can't say I've been seeing strong results as of yet. This isn't me being self-deprecating either...I lashed out and hurt someone very close to me, and as the days carry on my heart feels heavier at the possibility that I've broken this too far to ever come back to a steady, solid rhythm. My self-sabotage button knows no bounds. I'm not the type to give up very easily and cut someone completely out of my life unless out of absolute necessity, after all resources and efforts have been exhausted. But I wonder if perseverance isn't as successful as knowing when to walk away from a situation? There are so many lessons to be learned... This year, and for all of my years, I would benefit greatly with more empathy, self-control, and maturity.

McWay Falls, Big Sur

Andy went back up north last weekend, and on the way we stopped by McWay Falls, which is right off the 1 at the northern end of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. It's one of two waterfalls in the area that drop right into the ocean - to get there it's an easy 10 minute walk through a tunnel out to the winding coast and then you're seeing one of the most picturesque spots of Big Sur. All of Big Sur is totally gorgeous by the way, but McWay Falls is one of those easier-to-spot gems.

Andy scrambled up an outcropping of rocks for a better view, and I stayed below to creep and take photos. See you in another month or so...!

Henninger Flats to Idlehour

Seeing that campsite sign was a wonderful relief! We checked on the water situation (thankfully there was water despite this horrendous drought) then quickly made camp, and after filtering a couple liters of stream water to drink, we made a nice hot cup of tea to sip by the pool. And it was a healthy pool indeed, full of coastal newt (Taricha tarosa), giant water beetles, tadpoles, and some kind of dragonfly larvae (?). We watched the pond goings-on the way a family watches the television after dinner, it was peacefully mesmerizing.

After our tea we examined the camp area and soon after went off to look for firewood. Picking our way through the poison oak and making sure not to touch any wood that was anywhere near any wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. Andy spotted three rakes in the leaf litter on the bottom slope of a hill and we went to investigate, then left them there as we hauled dead branches off to the stove. While searching for twigs and stuff I happened upon a lovely, healthy stand of white sage, ominously framed by some even taller poison oak. I found some broken dried sage branches and brought them along to add to the woodpile.

After a few minutes Andy came back with a 20 foot dead sapling of some sort, which he immediately went to town on hacking up with a saw that some other campers (or forest rangers) had left behind for this very use. After sawing a little, he would balance all his weight on the long end and SNAP off the shortest end with his right foot, which he did a good dozen times. Our camp, being situated in a canyon, made the snaps sound like gunshot each time!

A roaring summertime fire, albeit confined to a metal stove. We threw a few tortillas on top of it to warm them - this I do not recommend. They got covered in soot & rust and came away with a metallic tang (big surprise). Carcinogens!

Wine straight out of the bottle, and me moving to the tent out of the sheer desire to lay down. Leading to me dozing off and falling asleep as I watch the boy glow in the heat of the fire. I've fallen asleep to this scene many a time, it never gets old. Though one of these days I'll make sure it's not always me retiring first.

Idlehour trail camp

For Labor Day weekend, Andy and I went on a quick backpacking trip to Idlehour campground in Altadena! We parked at the upper parking lot of Eaton Canyon and headed up the Mt. Wilson Toll Road, aiming for our rest stop at Henninger Flats, which we got to in 1.5 hours.

Once at Henninger Flats we took a hefty break, which was mostly due to my huff-puffing-filled struggle up to that point. The toll road has no tree cover whatsoever, and we started off around 11:30 with the sun beating straight down, with the only respite being a scraggly tree here or there along the edge. Henninger was a welcome change of scenery, with lots of trees and shaded picnic tables, and a wonderful little information center where we each got a cold soda for $0.75. Back outside I checked out the view of Altadena/Pasadena, and picked up little bits of hardened (but still squishy) pine sap just to amuse myself.

Here's a candid snap of me that I had to share because of the look of consternation on my face. Nikon DSLRs are that baffling I guess!

From Henninger Flats to the campsite the trek was considerably easier - all mostly downhill and generously shaded - so you can see why I took my time to snap shots of a fluffy golden weed and some drying ferns, and many of dear Andy beasting his way through the trail.

Glorious mountain views! The Idlehour trail forks west of the Mt. Wilson Toll Road, and I think this shot of the mountains shows some "scarring" of the San Andreas fault, which is evident in the different kinds of rock formations all mashed together (?) which isn't very evident in this photo.

Andy's straw hat let in little sprinkles of light that illuminated his face, and I enjoyed that effect very much.

Do you know how poison oak looks? Here it is. Sometimes it's low-growing and bushy, dense and stick-y (as bushes), or dangly and sprawling as pictured, or tall and tree-like. Nasty stuff, don't get it on you!

Andy, the fearless trail-blazer.

We saw many a manzanita tree with brilliant red curls of bark flaking off to show off even more red underneath! So alien-looking and odd. Then we passed by a large number of feathers that marked the site of a bird's demise...oh the way things go.

the lost coast - day two, continued

It must have been around 5 PM or so when we set up camp. Andy scouted a few areas and we settled on this site with the rusted-out barrel and log - right at the point where the mountains tapered off into very low "cliffs" that banked down into the beach. I remember being so tired as Andy swiftly pitched the tent and I helped put our stuff inside. Andy tasked himself with gathering driftwood for our campfire as I sketched our sea findings of the day.

Fire is such a beautiful thing. We spent a few hours after dinner feeding the flames, and with the amount of wood we had we could have had a bonfire going all night. But the weight of the day's hike totally wore me out, so I retired to the tent early, as the fire snapped and crackled with Andy taking care of it. Rolls of fog creeped in, and a calm, pleasant evening peppered with rainfall overnight turned into a wet and grey morning...