May 31, 2017
Day 50
Lake Cachuma, CA
Miles driven: 5860
Currently Reading: Great American Short Stories
Currently listening to: American Money by BORNS
Through the Looking Glass
Day 50. When I first started planning this adventure so long ago, I never really knew what to expect. I had an idea in my head of what it would be like, but theory is so different from reality. I would never have guessed the incredible challenges, nor the unbelievable joys that we have experienced on this adventure. That being said, this is no longer an adventure.
Let me explain.
It all started happening after the incident at the Murder Motel. Exhausted, broken and pushed to the extreme of every negative feeling I could ever fathom, we left the parking lot. It was a Sunday. Being a (usually) good Catholic boy, I went out to search for a local church for mass. After that night’s events, the calmness of a church service sounded perfect. We twisted through the evergreen-lined roads on top of the mountain and found Our Lady of the Lake parish near Running Springs, CA. It was a simple church from the outside, but when I walked in I was overwhelmed by the light pouring through the full glass wall behind the altar that opened onto a rocky garden filled with conifers and religious statues. It was indescribably beautiful.
The mass was a regular Catholic mass. The priest was cracking lame jokes and of course there was a baptism and it dragged on for almost 2 hours. I left with a greater sense of calmness than when I went in, but the fire of determination still burned. I would not let this mountain beat us.
Again we drove for hours trying to find a camping spot. Nothing. Exhausted, we decided to take a quick hike up a mountain, walk a trail for a while and then head to LA to get a normal place to stay. We were beaten.
Then a funny thing happened. As we were driving down the mountain, we ran across a campsite that had tents, but no cars. I saw a perfect little spot to hang a hammock between two sequoia trees that were surrounded by boulders to block the wind. There was a couple in one of the campsites, but the other two had tents, but no people. State law says that these spots are first-come-first-served, but I thought, “why not ask and see if the folks who were camping there would mind if we took up that small area for the night?”
I walked up to the couple who were milling around their campsite.
“Howdy y’all,” I said, “Would you mind if my doggo and I put up a hammock over there for the night? We really didn’t want to drive to LA tonight.”
“Sure thing,” the man replied, “no one is in any of these other tents, we just took this spot and haven’t seen either of them since we came in last night.”
Jackpot.
Immediately relieved, I grabbed the hammock and Boss’ bed and set up camp.
Four hour later, the couple and I had played street-Jenga (don’t ask), cooked dinner, made smores and shared stories and laughs about all sorts of things. The man, TJ, was a part-time automotive journalist and had recommended some folks with Jeep who might be interested in sponsoring us on our trip. As the evening faded, the warm sun melted off behind the mountain tops and a clear sky opened up to a million stars under a crescent moon as we both drifted off into the comfort of sleep.
After that day, things started happening. It’s hard for me to describe other than nature opened up her arms to us. Suddenly, very random occurrences of luck began happening.
Our drive into LA, the most congested of all cities in America, was traffic free.
While cruising up the coast of California, every campsite not only had vacancies, but every place had an ideal spot for our needs.
People in Santa Barbara kept coming up to us out of nowhere, cheerfully greeting us and listening to our story about all our adventures.
The camp attendant in the Los Padres National Forest happened to be from Killeen, TX, so he offered me a discounted Texan rate and a place in his private campground while he was working. He even threw in a canister of stove fuel and some carnitas he had just finished cooking. Boss loved that last past.
Even tonight, we pulled into Lake Cachuma and there was one last Yurt available, a highly unlikely event according to the park ranger. (I have never stayed in a Yurt before and it is freaking amazing).
It seemed as if the world was suddenly for us, not against us. Like a switch was flipped after we had endured such hardships, we were showered with good instead of being cursed by evil. It was a bizarre twist of fate that I couldn’t comprehend. But then it hit me. There had to be something greater than my understanding that was behind it all; a driving force that recognized our struggle and said, “enough is enough, give these guys a break.”
So back to my first statement about how this is no longer an adventure. I have become aware of something inside of me. It is something that connects all humanity and all of nature together. Some call it God, some call it the universe or mother nature or energy or whatever; the name is not important. What’s important is that it is inside all of us. When we are pushed to our limits with hard times, somehow help comes. Whether it comes in the form of a friend helping a single mom raise her kids or a breathtaking view at the end of a tiring drive or even a tiny little spot between two sequoia trees to hang a hammock for the night, it arrives just when we need it.
This connectedness of everything is living all around us and within us. At any moment, we could be the one that gives someone else the break they so desperately need. If we would quiet the noise in our lives and listen to its soft whisper, we would know that we already have everything. We have always had everything.
This is not an adventure. This is life.