After the course was up, I decided to take the rescue assessment, but not the course assessment—I’ll need a bit, or a lot, more study for that. But I did pass the rescue, and I have to give credit here to the fact that I wore a western pearl snap shirt with my
After that, several of our friends had two days of course assessment, so while the gang was out performing, Chelsea, John, and I put together a top-notch Easter Eve Egg Hunt, complete with candy, cupcakes, beer, and eggs hidden in places only climbers should go. We had planned on the hunt happening in daylight, so when that day’s assessment didn’t wrap up until after dark, we were a little nervous as to how it would go. Our friends came through though, and everyone was enthusiastic and energetic in their headlamp hunt for plastic eggs and candy.
At this point, we probably should have hit the road, but then a friend offered me a day of guide work, so, instead, we stayed like 3 more days, and, to no one’s surprise, had a bunch more fun. The day of work went great, but for me the best parts were getting to climb and hang (sometimes simultaneously) with our new friends, and our last night’s activity… THE CHASM. And, yes, it’s every bit as dreadful as it sounds… not really though. But an uber amount of fun! At some point in our last days, Dave mentioned The Chasm, a fun tunneling adventure. At which point,
Hwy 1 treated us well, and we even managed to save some money when I decided I'd rather drive half the night than pay for a campsite. Well, it wasn't all thriftiness--I had the bug and wanted to be on the move, so it was nice to drive while Chels slept. The next morning, I parked at a beach at 6am (the earliest legal parking time) and while Chels remained passed out in the car, I watched the sun creep across the roundness of the world and onto shining wet sand. To take my mind off my frozen fingers and toes, I tried to memorize the way the reflection of the moon ran alongside me in the wet sand, and how the birds flew belly to belly in double flocks with their own mirrored selves. It didn't keep my digits warm, but I was alright with that.
We then moved on to the beach at San Simeon, and I had a well-deserved nap in the sand, sleeping bag and all, while Chelsea read and flew kites. When I woke up, I dove into a wave in the cold ocean, shivered myself dry, and then proceded to get sand everywhere when I sprawled out on the beach for a few more hours. And just in case my dreads didn't look like sandy licorice just yet (which they did), Chelsea buried me alive in the nice warm sand. We had a super great time of it, and topped off the day by rolling up to Carmel and having dinner and staying with some friends of my family, the Edwards. This translates to mean that we ate an amazing home-made meal, followed by chocolate cake and ice cream, watched Survivor, had good conversation, and, yes, enjoyed some WiFi.
That brings us up to date on activity. The trip has been amazing so far, and today, as we coasted alongside the ocean, I felt alive and vital, and the immense beauty of the world was undeniable. I couldn't quit being grateful for all the amazing new friends I've made. With several of them, I've daydreamed about stuffing them in the car so that we wouldn't have to part, and to some of them I've offered genuine invitations to join in. No takers yet, but we do have a lot of new phone numbers, and several people we will make a point to stay in touch with. I also feel so grateful to be on this trip with Chelsea, and as we continue to not kill eachother, I realize how good of friends we are, and, incidently, how hard it will be to exist in different cars, let alone different cities, after this trip. I can't imagine this adventure with anyone else.
I'm reading the book Ceremony by Leslie Marmon-Silko right now, and I realize how much I'd hoped that this trip would be like a healing ceremony for me, as I'm coming out of a hard break-up as well as some unhealthy self-protective habits. Right now, I'm pretty happy to say that the ceremony is going well. I feel good, alive, and free, and even though part of me always wants to just tuck back into the comfort of the known, a larger part of me is falling in love with the amazing capacity for beauty in the unknown. The band Old Crow Medicine Show has a great lyric, "We're all in this thing together, walking the line between faith and fear." I keep thinking about that line as I feel myself leaning farther and farther from fear, and it feels great. It feels alive and changing and unpredictable, and, much to my surprise, that feels alright.