Driving through the Carolinas on back country roads in harvest season, you’re struck by the endless miles of ripe cotton greeting you. With many crops, you look at it and wonder what it might be when you’re flying by at 50 MPH. Not so cotton. You know immediately what this crop is. You’ve been wearing it all your life. Ripe cotton waves back at you like a stadium full of home run hankies or laundry lines strung with tighty whities.
Cotton fields echo. Deep down you know the labor history of this crop, know the historical advancement in picking the stuff from slavery to machinery and all it meant in between. Cotton and tobacco share similar echoes, but cotton reverberates a bit louder. As I understand it the crop was more labor intensive to pick, but also grew exponentially in demand. Cotton was one of the first commercial crops grown by European settlers in America. They grew it in both Florida and at Jamestown, Virginia in the first wave of settlements. The value of cotton in human lives demanded attention, and fueled generations of economic prosperity and more than a little oppression too.
Driving through field-after-field of cotton you begin to feel the weight of it all, this essential crop for so much of what we wear and use in our daily lives. I wanted to shout to stop the car so I could walk through the fields, feeling the cotton plants (Gossypium) in my own hands. But we kept rolling through, and those endless fields soon felt like clouds rolling by your plane window. And I began to feel like we were flying through history.
And I don’t believe in the existence of angels But looking at you I wonder if that’s true But if I did I would summon them together And ask them to watch over you To each burn a candle for you To make bright and clear your path And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love And guide you into my arms – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Into My Arms
Some songs you hear take time to enter your rotation as “favorites”, but others grab you the first time you hear them. Nick Cave’s Into My Arms is the latter kind of song for me. And it’s one of those songs you don’t exactly play at parties, so I have no idea how other people feel about it, but for me it’s on that playlist I play for myself. I know I’m not the only one, you just need to look at the number of views on YouTube for this song in the many performances he’s put out there over the years to see it hits a cord for a lot of people.
I heard an interview with Bono recently where he mentioned that Nick Cave played this song at the memorial service for Michael Hutchence in a darkened room. Bono was so deeply moved by this that the song stays close to his heart to this day. Listen to the song and imagine that moment, and you might never think of it the same way again either. It’s changed how I think of it now, hearing Bono’s story. Elevating it to a new place than before. Maybe my sharing it will change how you think of it too.
This is a love song, first and foremost, but you know it’s more than that. This is a song about questioning it all, these stories that we all tell ourselves. And maybe acknowledging that there’s something special in the universe to have put a kindred spirit in this world and pointed us towards each other at just the right moment. Serendipity? Or something more? To say you know the answer to that only means you’ve embraced one story over another. The only story I trust in the story of today, just you and me and this crazy world we live in for now.
Just another song on my Memento Mori playlist, as I march through this one brief life. You might think that’s a morbid thing, remembering that we all must die. I think of it as a reminder to live with grace and love in these days of light. And to celebrate our time together while it’s here. To remember, really, that we all must love.
The Apache Pier in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and the Oceanside Pier in Oceanside, California share two things in common. They’re the longest piers on the eastern and western coasts of the United States, respectively. And secondly, this writer managed to unwittingly stumble upon both of them with no prior knowledge of their standing in the world of wooden fishing piers.
The Apache Pier in Myrtle Beach was build in 1994, making it a relative toddler in the world of wooden piers. By comparison, the Oceanside pier was first built in 1888 and subsequently rebuilt several times. Apache reaches out 1,206 feet into the Atlantic Ocean, while Oceanside juts 1,954 into the Pacific Ocean. If you’re wondering, Apache Pier is named for the beachside campground that owns it.
I’ve written a bit about Oceanside recently. Myrtle Beach is new for me, and it seems like paradise for year-round golfers, with over 100 courses nearby. I’m not much of a golfer, but I appreciate a long, walkable beach in the offseason, and they surely have that in Myrtle Beach. The piers connect two places for me, if only as common ground. Latitude isn’t that far off, Myrtle Beach is at 33.6891° N, while Oceanside is at 33.1959° N. The gulf currents are of course opposite between the coasts, with warmer water reaching up to greet Apache Pier, while Oceanside Pier has cooler waters coming down from Alaska.
I confess I rarely think about fishing piers. I live in New Hampshire, and we have piers too, but not piers that stick a thousand feet out into the open ocean. So it’s interesting to spend a bit of time with a couple of the big boys in lumber allocation. I may never write about fishing piers again, but I never thoughts I’d have two posts about them already. You just never know where travel and blogging will take you, do you?
Myrtle Beach and Apache PierApache PierApache PierOceanside Pier
Stoicism is accepting whatever the world throws at you. Not to be bullied by the universe, but to accept fate and manage the moment. This, of course, is an oversimplification, but for our purposes we’ll run with this definition. There are bookshelves full of stoic philosophy at the ready should you wish to dive deeper.
With this in mind, what were the odds that I’d bruise my right heel stepping on a small log tossed underfoot by a rogue wave I was running to avoid on a beach in Marin, California on the one morning I happened to be walking in that place in my lifetime? Not quite as random as hitting the birth lottery, but pretty damned remote. One step of thousands of steps, landing on the exact spot to create a bruise that’s irritated me for a couple of weeks now.
Maybe irritate is the wrong word. Maybe fascinate is better, because of the randomness of that bruise. Semantics aside, it’s a classic test of stoicism, one I ought to embrace for the gift it is. A bit of pain in the heel is a small tradeoff for the celebration of random events that brought us together. And sure, it could have been a lot worse. Rogue waves aren’t to be trifled with.
Accepting whatever is thrown at you doesn’t mean you don’t deal with the problem at hand. You don’t have to like getting hurt. To do so would be a clear signal of another problem in your life. A bit of motrin, some heel inserts, and other efforts to heal the heel are ongoing. Some long walks I’d planned have been postponed. To press on would aggravate the injury, extending it, and from a stoic point of view, it would mean not accepting this fate.
“Go out, go out I beg of you, And taste the beauty of the wild. Behold the miracle of the earth with all the wonder of a child.” – Edna Jaques
Getting outside to nature cures all things. Stress, fogginess, illness—all are tempered or eliminated by getting deep into nature. When I’m not feeling well, the first thing I try to do is get out into the cold, crisp New Hampshire air and breathe deeply. Inevitably this is the beginning of recovery.
Driving around California tor 11 days, I was most at home in the wildest places. The rugged coastlines, the redwood forests and the dunes of Marin all served to restore whatever was lost in city traffic. Even in Los Angeles, there are mountains around you that make you believe nature isn’t far away… if only that smog wasn’t pressing down on you so relentlessly. New England is the same in many ways (though thankfully without the smog). The ocean rules the coastline, the mountains and the forests rule the interior. Cities are full of modern wonder but also a fair share of ugliness. Step away when you can, for it’s only in nature that we find balance.
If there’s irony in writing this post, it’s that I came inside from a walk to do it. But that’s the tradeoff we all make, isn’t it? Work, family time and the constant draw of screens keep us indoors more than we ought to be. There’s a place for the indoor life, but it shouldn’t dominate your life. Shouldn’t tasting the wild dominate our time? It seems to me that getting outside is the only way to find your center. And the more time you’re away from the outdoors, the more unbalanced we become.
Remember celebrating sick days when you were younger? I remember them well. Stay home from school! Freedom! Sort of…. But somewhere along the way I became frustrated by the loss of momentum a sick day represents. If we only have so much tome in life, why waste it sick?
This is the place where adulthood kicks in. Responsibility and reliability are key metrics on the career path. Doing what must be done seems honorable and right. But sometimes your body has other plans for you. We must listen.
We didn’t get things like stomach bugs and colds during lockdown. When these things happen now it seems an unpleasant novelty. Not so much to be experienced but managed. Sick days are different now. There’s more at stake. So use them wisely.
“Ask yourself: What is the best I can do? And then do that.” – Cheryl Strayed
“The unifying theme is resilience and faith. The unifying theme is being a warrior and a motherfucker. It is not fragility. It’s strength. It’s nerve. And ‘if your Nerve deny you—,’ as Emily Dickinson wrote, ‘Go above your Nerve.’” – Cheryl Strayed
Borrowing a couple of Cheryl Strayed quotes for this post. This ten hours late in the day post. This can’t get my head back into Eastern Standard Time post. This too busy and distracted to ship the work in the time you promised yourself you’d ship it in post. But perhaps I’m being too hard on myself. Despite it all, I publish every single day that I wake up on this planet with my head screwed on tight. Today will be no exception.
I’ve recognized that I’m not doing enough, and I’m taking corrective action. Not just with this blog, but in a lot of things. Sometimes you need a bit of a kick in the ass from afar, and I’m grateful to the two ladies quoted above for providing that. I’ve used this Dickinson poem before, and delighted in Strayed quoting it in her own straight-to-the-point way. Her quote above was exactly what I needed to read to get my head out of the clouds and get the damned blog posted already. Save the excuses for another day, thank you.
We all hear the call in their challenge, don’t we? It’s about the rest of the things we promise ourselves that we’ll do. Writing promises. Fitness promises. Work promises. Project promises. Relationship promises. Things deferred and neglected for too long. Be a warrior and grow beyond your fragility. Do what must be done. Have some nerve, or go above it.
What’s the best you can do? It’s more than this. So do that.
“Hiking is not for everyone. Notice the wilderness is mostly empty.” – Sonja Yoerg
It seems counterintuitive that an otherwise social being would be so quick to seek out solitude and empty spaces. But that’s generally where you’ll find me when the opportunity arises. Let the record show that I love interacting with people. I just don’t want to have them encroaching on me all the time. And so it is that you’ll find me in places others might think of as desolate and wild.
My favorite destinations have the fewest people in them. You can have your hippest restaurants and trendy neighborhoods, I’ll stick with wide open places, thank you. I’m happy to visit the world’s big cities, I just don’t want to live in them.
I think nothing of it when I lose cellular coverage. In fact, I celebrate it! To be off the grid is increasingly difficult, and it may one day be impossible. But for now, I dance with my zero bars when I get ‘em.
If all of this seems like a diatribe against population growth or humanity in general, well, that’s not the point at all. No, this is a celebration of elbow room and quiet hikes in hard to reach places. May we always have them, for I surely can’t be the only one seeking them out.
“Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now take what’s left and live it properly.” — Marcus Aurelius
There’s something about an extended vacation that makes you hyper-aware of the world you return to. You gain new perspective on the world, you break free of the stories you’ve been telling yourself, the routines you’ve established, and you come back a different person than the one who left. At moments like this the quote above reverberates in my head. Take what’s left and live it properly.
We have once vibrant people all around us falling by the wayside as their own time comes to an end, but we don’t embrace this truth enough in ourselves. Be it 50 years or 50 more minutes, shouldn’t we make the most of it? Or do we go right back to our previous life of falling in line and doing what’s expected of us? There’s only now, friends.
What we once were was wonderful, or maybe it wasn’t all that great at all, but it’s gone now. Roll up your sleeves and get to work on who you are now. Who you’ll become, based on what you do next. It’s always been about this next step on the path. For what does “properly” mean to you anyway? Get to it already.
With a respectful nod to the beautiful interior of California, particularly Yosemite, Lake Tahoe and Death Valley, there are few drives that offer the best of California like the stretch of Highway 1 from the Sonoma Coast to San Diego. My own road trip began in San Francisco, north to Bodega Bay and Jenner, over to the vineyards of the Russian River Valley before turning south to the Pacific Coast Highway through Marin, Monterey, Big Sur, Moonstone Beach, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, Oceanside and finally San Diego before heading back up to Los Angeles for a finale at the Hollywood sign. That trip was roughly 1000 miles and some loose change worth of driving. That’s a lot of windshield time, but it was broken up by 30 miles of walking and some incredible experiences along the way.
The trip can be thought of as three distinct segments: San Francisco Bay and Sonoma, The Pacific Coast Highway, and the southern tier. Each segment could be a full vacation on their own, in my case, it was ten very full days of travel and adventure. But life is short, you’ve got to pack as much in to your days as possible while still feeling like you relaxed a bit during your time off. Here was the itinerary by segment:
Day 1: San Francisco coastal walk from Lands End to the Golden Gate Bridge, Irish coffee at the Buena Vista and dinner in Tiburon. There are some nice ferry options from Tiburon that afford great views in good weather but the schedule is limited.
Day 2: Alcatraz, Fisherman’s Wharf, cable car rides out and back to top of Lombard Street, walk down the zig-zagging Lombard and then walked to the Palace of Fine Arts.
Day 3: Muir Woods, Bodega Bay to Fort Ross drive along the spectacular Sonoma Coast.
Day 4: Vineyard tours and tastings in Healdsburg and the Russian River Valley.
Day 5: Travel day to Marin, beach walk between the crashing surf and the dunes and a visit to the Monterey Aquarium.
Day 6: The gorgeous 17-Mile Drive with crashing surf from the offshore storms, then down the Pacific Coast Highway through Big Sur to Moonstone Beach. Multiple stops along the way to take in the coastal views and visit a couple of waterfalls.
Day 7: Drive-by through central coast vineyards, beachside dining in Santa Barbara, Ventura to Los Angeles through miles of orange trees.
Day 8: Los Angeles!
Day 9: Oceanside and San Diego Zoo and friends and family time.
Day 10: Academy Museum of Motion Pictures and a visit to the Chinese Theater and the gritty and touristy Hollywood Boulevard.
Day 11: Warner Brothers Studio tour and a visit to see the Hollywood sign up close at Lake Hollywood Park.
Whew! Drove more than 1000 miles and walked almost 30 miles in 11 action-packed days through ancient redwood trees, coastal dunes, spectacular cliffs, iconic city streets, legendary bridges and highways, past famous cultural attractions with a splash of California’s best wines. If you’re looking for an adventurous drive this is one you should plug into your own GPS. Here are a few favorite places found along the way:
Golden Gate BridgeBixby Creek BridgeRussian River VineyardAlcatrazKoala at San Diego ZooR2D2 at The Academy Museum of Motion Pictures Sea nettles at Monterey Aquarium Sunset at Moonstone Beach
