Road, Prologue

On Saturday, August 7, I drove my not-quite-loaded-yet BMW to W. Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz, CA to say goodbye to the Pacific Ocean. That is, I went to say good-bye to my ocean, since I had become possessive of it in my two months. I would say good-bye to my redwoods the next day.

I didn't understand at first my connection with the ocean. Having grown  up as a land-locked Midwesterner, I had seen the Pacific exactly once before moving to California in 2005. And I didn't move to a beach front - I relocated to Palm Desert, which is, as the name indicates, a desert. On the surface, it appears that I should have absolutely no affinity for wet, salty waves, since I object to being anywhere that I become part of the food chain as soon as I dip in a toe. What eventually became obvious was this: horizon. I grew up in a tabletop flat river valley, moved to another flat river valley, then to a flat desert valley. Clearly, I crave the wide open space, and the ocean is just another wide open space.

So I said good-bye, and left at 8:30 a.m. Sunday, August 8 to venture east.