the long way home

Several weeks ago my father passed away.  About a month before that I went and saw him for what I knew would be the last time.  As his last born child, brought into the world 18 years after his other children, I was his little girl.  His health problems began when I was young and for the past 20 years I've been living on edge that the day would come.  

At his prime, he stood 7 feet tall, he filled a room with his stature, voice, and copious personality.  He was a natural born story teller and people seemed to flock around him for his sage advice and, honestly, his perverse sense of humor.

He lived a whole life before I was born.  He grew up in Pasedena and truly was a rebel without a cause.  He was active in California politics through the 60s and 70s.  He had four children from his first marriage then was married to my mother for 34 years.  Things were always difficult for all of us it seemed, him a life full of glory ended after a long decline, me as a child feeling the instability of a family balancing the negative effects of health problems.  Despite him never being on his feet, he kept me grounded, he kept me sane amongst the chaos.  I'll miss his voice the most.

The memorial this past weekend was a casual family party and I expected him to be there, sitting in his wheelchair, smoking a cigar, while he filled the room with his booming laugh.  

Along with my mom and brothers and sisters we spread his ashes along the Bear River near Sacramento.  It was a place I'd never been before, but where my siblings grew up and where he and my mom built their first house together. I felt lost. 

Rather than driving the 8 hours straight home to San Diego, we took the long way home, south east through the Sequoia National Forest. We got a cabin for the night and hiked through the giant trees, feeling dwarfed by the beauty of it all and that feeling that we have no control over the course of nature.  

Like the ancient towereing trees, my father was a mighty man.  At times he stood tall, at times a lightning strike may have slowed him down, but he always remained hopeful with a sparkle in his big blue eyes.

the sights

I was so surprised how sleepy the towns in coastal central California are.  I figured since we were seeing beach towns they would be more populated and funky, but everything was very quiet and peaceful with lots farmland and rolling hills.  It was just my kind of place. 

We visited Hearst Castle, on my bucket list of historical places. William Hearst was a bit bonkers for Gothic art and Spanish architecture, as well as having the resources to add and add to his "ranch" over 28 years to fill with art collected over his lifetime.  It was incredible the beauty and condition of every single surface from ceilings to tapestries, rugs, and lamps, each thing appeared to be dripping with money.  It was neat, but part of my obsessive love of the old is what story the person or artifact can tell about day to day life of the time period.  Although influential, Hearst and his castle was far from realistic.  I like my history with a touch of dust, rust, and soot.

 I could handle some roaring parties and a dip in the pool at Hearst castle circa 1930.

I saw on Oprah that San Luis Obispo was named the happiest place in America

I think any place with ice cream and baby farm animals is a happiest place for me (Avila Valley Barn)

Montana de Oro was incredible.  I was naughty a took a couple bleached, tumbled stones and bits of drift wood from the beach, I couldn't help it.

Overall it was an incredible trip.  Although we camp alot, this was different, this was a true vacation, and a welcome one at that.

the site

We just back from an amazing weekend up in central California.  We camped for 3 nights in Pismo Beach and spent the days exploring Hearst Castle, adorable San Luis Obispo, and hiking at Montana de Oro state park.  Our camp site was nestled next to a lagoon and just over the hill from the ocean. Oh boy did we really rough it.

After reading the new article in Sunset on camping in comfort, I couldn't resist getting a new rug to keep out the dirt and throw some spare white sheets on the air mattress.  I don't think I slept that good in a long time.

No hot dogs or smores for us.  I love to cook while camping, which is weird because I don't really like to cook at home.  There is something magical about cooking in the fresh evening air, over an open fire, usually with a gin and tonic in hand.  We had yummy burgers, steak, and salad, but my favorite had to be the artichokes (trim and steam artichokes as usual at home, then wrap in foil with a drizzle of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, garlic, brown sugar, and salt, toss on the fire until hot).  So luscious, there's no need for dipping sauce. 

I was worried about food staying fresh in the cooler for the last night, so we had my new favorite thing: sauteed sardines with garlic and spinach on grilled bread with bruschetta (saute trader joes boneless skinless sardines with thinly sliced garlic and a handful of fresh spinach).  I paired it with a pasta salad I assembled the night of with fresh english peas, bacon, toasted pine nuts, and a light pesto cream sauce.  Yeah, not quite sure why I don't cook like this every night, because it was freaking righteous.

Who needs an alarm clock when you've got papa goose, his 4 baby mamas and chicks as a wakeup call.  These guys owned the place.

A short hike over the hill, flowers and silky sand galore, the ocean greeted us.

happy new year

We spent new years eve camping in the Anza-Borrego desert.  What better way to ring in the new year than in the pure isolation of the desert.  We parked the car, hiked in a little ways, and set up camp in the middle of nowhere.  I love the desert, it's quiet, it's rugged, it's simple.

 

An afternoon hike, followed by potato-garlic soup, crusty bread and red wine for dinner.  We played a game of scrabble in the quiet of the night by the warmth of the fire.  We were asleep long before midnight, but getting up early to see the sunrise over a new year was exhilarating.

  

We got home a little bit ago.  I will probably stare at the camping stuff piled up next to the Christmas stuff for the next couple weeks, but no big deal. I've got a pot of black eyed peas on the stove for dinner to bring us luck in the new year.  It's always a little sad to see the holidays end, but after a lovely weekend, this year is already looking up.