The Lost Coast is a land without internet. We showed up in early spring. The off season, when all the vacation homes were shuttered up.
Surrounded by the sea. The Lost Coast in California.Waiting for action that may never come. A tiny boat in the off season.
The Inn where we rented a room was kept up by one woman, plus a teenager who came in the morning to run the coffee shop. We saw no other guests as we arrived. We were more likely to meet a whale, if we sat on our balcony and waited. They’d been spotted just earlier, the inn keeper said. Lore and suspense? Maybe. We waited, but no whales.
The view from our balcony. Not bad.
Sea lions and cormorants camped out on jagged rock. Like they owned the place. (They did).
Creatures outnumbered humans at least 20 to 1.
The sound of the sea was constant and gushing. We slept with the balcony door open, salt mist lullabies pushing in. This is how to have a really good night’s sleep.
Dozens of times I’ve sung along, busted those moves. I’ve done the hokey pokey on roller skates, under spinning bedazzled lights. If called upon to do so, though I’ve never tried, I could do it with my eyes closed or in my sleep.
But when I stood, feet planted right in front of this step map of pokey moves, it was like I sprouted two left feet. I made the moves in the wrong order, couldn’t quite toe into the brass footprint.
The Hokey Pokey dance steps, as emblazoned into the sidewalk in the North Shore, Chattanooga, Tennessee.
It was entirely unnatural to follow a map for something I already feel in my soul. When it comes to dancing, which I do early and often, dancingeveryday please and thank you, I like to do my own thing.
As I stumbled over the steps, a couple walked up and said, “You should try the one down there! It’s impossible!”
It was the Mambo.
Nope. Thanks for the invitation, but one dance by numbers was enough for me.
Prompt: “Strange Encounter. Share a story about a stranger this year. Was it something you overheard? Someone you accidentally met & bonded with? A funny…or strange!…coincidence?”
It occurred to me this morning that my favorite meals from last year were not expensive, elaborate restaurant outings, nor painstakingly prepared home made affairs. The two meals I recall most vividly and fondly were simple, featuring just a few ingredients and almost no prep time.
In the spring, we bought a crusty loaf of bread from Ken’s Artisan Bakery in Portland. We paired it with a supermarket haul of a soft, stinky cheese and a thinly sliced prosciutto, all wrapped up to-go in brown deli paper. We hit the road toward Troutdale, along the Columbia River Gorge, in search of the great Multnomah Falls.
After hiking a loop, we unpacked our parcel of meat and cheese, and satiated the appetite born of several miles effort with the shush roar of 620 feet of falls as a back drop.
A meal fit for Multnomah.Could it be more green? No. The answer is no.
Hear what I mean by shush roar. This is nearby Wahkeena Falls, part of our hiking loop:
Later in the fall, we planned a day hike to get away and celebrate our seven year wedding anniversary. With stories swirling in my head of Turkey Run feeling like a wholly other place than flat, corn-fed Indiana, we set out for our first visit to the state park. The rock formations in browns and greens, with trees growing out of impossible, unexpected places did not disappoint.
We took our picnic of cheese and crackers with Perrier at water’s edge, laid back on a cool, flat rock in the shade.
Picnic at Turkey Run.Louie and Brüski, ready for adventure.
Prompt: “Play Date. You know the story about all work and no play… How did you play with others this year? Let your hair down and share how you escaped for an hour, a day, or more.”
Life is so much easier when you have someone to help you navigate.
I’m a wandering sort, the type who gets lost. When this happened, I can’t really say.
From the moment I got my license to drive, I intuitively got the lay of the land. This was pre-GPS. Maps came in tri-fold paper form. Remember those? I could go clear across town and find my way without a map, thank you very much. When I moved to Chicago, I navigated the city without the aid of a cell phone. During my first month in the city, I got off on the wrong train stop once, but otherwise, smooth sailing.
Later on, something changed. Perhaps I let this part of my mind go, as my most frequent travel companion, Louie, has an infallible internal compass. To not need to fret over directions helps me enjoy the journey, while he loves knowing the way and navigating. We make a good pair. I push us toward a diversion, and he rights the ship before we shipwreck in the wrong place. It was the same when I travelled with Lydia in Phoenix – a natural navigator whether in the car or in the wild, she kept us on the right path for our morning hikes.
Louie on our way to the Lost Coast in California last spring.Lydia leading the way in Phoenix.
I recently finished this book Collaborative Intelligence which teaches you how to think with people who think differently than you do. It’s a little like a Myers-Briggs test to help you understand how you’re wired to make decisions, to notice where your mental blind spots are, and to partner with others who have that strength.
The book presents a useful framework (and there’s much more detail to it), but you can make use of its key message, even without reading the whole thing. Are you a detail person, who can’t see the future? Find a visionary to help you make the leap. Are you caught in the clouds, but couldn’t take a plan from fluff to action no matter how you tried? Find a partner in crime who likes boots on the ground.
Why navigate solo, when a thinking partner can help you see so much more?
Prompt: “Role Models. Life is so much easier when you have someone to help you navigate. What makes a mentor great? Have you ever had a mentor? Been someone else’s?”
Step 2) Get a rental car. Take Highway 101 until you see an exit for California 254, toward Myers Flat, Humboldt County. Turn right toward Avenue of the Giants.
I’m sure a zillion others have said such things. Standing next to these noble trees, I saw myself for who I am. A rough, flawed beast. My steps, my breath – a clumsy assault on the serene green. Everything draped with prehistoric moss, old, yet fresh. A quiet hush.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Prompt: “In your eyes. Share a photo or paint us a picture with words. Show us something from your year through your eyes. Did you see something that took your breath away? Or maybe you just couldn’t look away?”
Going back to Chicago is like going home. Sort of.
Heading to my old neighborhood, all the store fronts are different. A rotation of businesses, of spaces, lives and details changed. But from a 30,000 foot view, the city looks the same as when I left in 2005. It feels the same. The old fixtures remain.
Snapshots from a weekend (sort of) home:
(1) I managed to get in my miles – not an easy feat when traveling. A five miler on Saturday, ten on Sunday. Running flies by with such a view. I’ve always been captivated by the lake. It’s perhaps the thing I miss most about the city. So expansive. Endless it seems. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking with my eyes fixed on its waves.
(2) To know me is to know that popcorn is my favorite snack. From the Oak Street Beach murals, the scenes of a Lake Shore run.
(3) Cappuccino art from Intelligentsia. Part one of my favorite Intelligentsia/Reckless Records Lakeview combo.
(4) Wrigley, Louie and I.
Not pictured:
Dinner at Senza. Highly recommended if you’re looking to splurge on a 10 course meal. An incredible experience – creative food, cool, yet comfortable environment. It took a fair amount of restraint to not photograph every course, each its own piece of art. I didn’t want to spoil the meal with low grade iPhone pics. Here’s the menu we enjoyed.
New client kick offs are always exciting. When it includes a spring trip to Phoenix, that’s a pretty major bonus. After the crazy winter and chilly spring in Indy, the break times spent in their sunny courtyard felt like quite the retreat.
We got to do a bit of exploring. Of course Jeb made sure we found a record store, and we ran into a familiar brand at Stinkweeds. Look at all that Indy-based Joyful Noise faced out.
Luckily one of my travel partners is wired for adventure. Lydia and I woke up before the crack of dawn to go walking each morning at Papago Park.
Spotted one of my favorite birds in the dessert. The North Flicker looks entirely different on a cactus than it does on my backyard bird feeders.
I still have red sand in my shoes, and I’m ok with that.
