Summertime

The first item googled was “hikes near Santa Monica”. It was my last full day in town and I was determined to make the most of it. I looked for something around 4-5 miles with moderate difficulty and ended up coming across the Escondido Falls. After stopping off at the Wednesday market at Arizona & 2nd, I got a text from Zack, the hitch hiker, and invited him and his dog along on the hike. I mean, it probably would have been nice to do my last hike solo, but I felt like having the company.

The drive along the coast from Santa Monica to Malibu didn’t disappoint. The hike itself seemed much shorter and less strenuous than the article promised, though we did stop at the lower falls. We decided to stop for a snack before venturing up the mountain and as we were sitting there, eating peas & hummus, drinking beer, groups of people started coming down the mountain covered in dirt. In typical Keegan fashion, I was wearing cut off jean shorts, the ones where my ass hangs out the bottom. So I was absolutely not about to climb up there and then have to basically slide down on my bare ass. The people we asked also confirmed that it wasn’t worth it, being that the drought had cause the waterfall to dry up. So we chilled at the bottom where some guy busted out the trumpet, and we shared a song: Summertime. 

After the hike, we cruised on down to Venice beach where I met up with Astrea, my kindred spirit, whom I’d met last September at TIFF. We caught up over coffee and I walked her to a barre class, which I learned is a new form of exercise, not a flare bartending class. 

And, after a nice hot shower, Peter and I grabbed a bite at Scopa. It was the perfect way to end my last day in town; great food, great cocktails, great company.

Trust Your Gut.

I woke up, in a tent, on the side of a mountain, in California, next to a great friend, on a beautiful sunny day. #WINNING

I was eager to pack up and head out, partially because I was anxious that we’d run out of gas trying to find a gas station, and partly because I had a long day of driving ahead, but that didn’t stop me from taking in the gorgeous ocean views as we headed back up north to Santa Cruz. 

We caught some rays on Manresa beach, froze our asses off in the ocean - finally getting the chance to wash off the oils from the poison oak. Which must have worked because we definitely would have come in contact with poison oak at some point on our hike, and I didn’t feel itchy at all! #SUCCESS

Ryan and I said our goodbyes in Santa Cruz and I prepared for the long journey back to L.A. As I pulled onto the on ramp, there was a young guy with a sign that said “South”. As I drove by him, I thought, I should have picked him up. I passed about two or three exits before I simply couldn’t ignore my gut any longer. I got off at the next exit and went back for him. As I was pulling up, he was just putting on his backback, ready to give up. I rolled down the window, “still heading south?” 

Him and his dog piled in and we were off! 

Some may call me crazy for picking up a hitch hiker, but you know what, I followed my instinct, and I’m still in one piece. You can’t live life expecting everyone to do you wrong. I mean, there’s something to be said for being overly naive as well but my gut has rarely steered me wrong. 

As it turns out, he had been standing there for three hours! Ryan said he never waited more than an hour. Anyway, we got to chatting and it seems that he’s done quite a bit of hitch hiking, and he’s interviewed many of the men that’ve picked him up about their views on masculinity. 

Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m obsessed with Movember and men’s health and masculinity and gender and femininity and feminism and all of that fun stuff, so it goes without saying that we had a great 6 hour drive filled with excellent conversation, comfortable silences, and plenty of laughter. I ended up offering to drive him right to his destination. It was only a few miles past where I was headed so it worked out quite well. I also wouldn’t have felt very good about leaving him on the side of the highway at 11pm to hitch, especially when it was only a few miles out of the way. So we hugged it out and exchanged contact info so we could keep in touch :) Then it was back to Peter’s for some serious couch Z’s.

I've Been To Hollywood, I've Been To Redwood

When I woke up, one of my roommates was heading out for dim sum with his parents and kindly invited me along. Sadly the other roommate had already left for a day of boat cruising, which I’d been invited to the night before, so I definitely missed the boat on that one. (pun, very much intended)

On our way back from brunch, Peter noticed a cat in the window of his shed. His dad got right in there, pulling boxes out, trying to find the cat… well he found it, and it’s kittens!! Yeah. Thankfully his sister is a vet, so she knew what to do, but that was my cue to hightail it outta there and make my way to Santa Cruz.

In order of importance….

Tunes? Check. 

Snacks? Check.

GPS? Check.

A place to stay when I get there? Working on it…

The drive itself was a treat for the eyes, to say the least. Rolling green mountains, vineyards for acres, and pure solitude. I realized how much I miss driving. Road trips are the shiznat. I guess I could probably mention why I was on this road trip in the first place. His name is Ryan Williams, and he’s Australian. Need I say more?

But actually he’s a friend that I’d met in Toronto when a mutual friends birthday bonanza turned out to be a total bust. She’d had a few too many brewski’s at lunch and ended up home in bed before dinner, but we didn’t get the memo. After a few beers we decided to call it a night, mostly because there was a guy who was creeping on me hard. When I said I was gonna leave, this creep offered to ride with me to keep me company :| No thanks. So Ryan and I hightailed it out of there, rather smoothly I must say, and stopped off at Sweaty Betty’s for a couple more drinks before going our separate ways. We jammed a few times on guitar/piano a couple times after that & became really good friends. So when I found out that he was in Santa Cruz, I had to drive up there! 

By the time I arrived, Ryan had already sorted out the motel situation so we enjoyed a few paper cups of wine and then made our way to the main strip in search of dinner. We just happened to find this hella rad vegan- & gluten-friendly, 50’s diner that was still serving food at 10pm on a Sunday, and there we devoured a couple burgers and a chocolate shake. Back at the hotel, there was more wine waiting for us in the mini fridge.

Monday April 4

Our first order of business was taking advantage of the hotel's WiFi and researching some hiking trails and free campgrounds in the area. Turns out, there’s not a whole lot around Santa Cruz, but there is a ton just South in an area known as Big Sur. The town itself is tiny, but it has everything you’d need: on overpriced gas station (being that it’s the only one around for miles), outhouses for bathrooms, and a restaurant. It was quaint :) Just South of the town is a huge national park called Los Padres, where there are tons of trails just off of highway one, and a handful of campgrounds.

After checking out 15 minutes late - Ryan is late for everything - we were on the road! We made a couple stops on our way to the hike: groceries… cleaning the windshield… 7 for $1 avocados… the usual. 

The tanbark trail was stunning. It was a steady increase though not overly steep for the most part. It starts out along a creek that, due to the drought, was more of a trickle than a rush of water traveling down the mountains, but it was crystal clear and looked incredibly refreshing. Though we were prepared with plenty of snacks and water for the hike, Ryan couldn’t resist taking a sip of this water that looked so clean and pure, and thankfully he didn’t get sick from it. I wasn’t willing to take the risk. 

We ran into a couple hiking the trail and chatted for a bit. Found out that the big birds flying overhead were condors and that we were idiots for wearing shorts on a nature hike that was filled with poison oak. Shit fuck. Their advice? Go home and wash your legs with cold water and soap. Well, we were planning on camping that night, so cold running water would probably not be in our near future. Especially considering that we were racing against time to get our tent set up before dark.

We reached the summit of the hike and enjoyed a well deserved lunch at the tin house. I guess the story is that the people who built it spent one night there and couldn’t handle the sounds of the tin expanding and contracting with the temperature changes so they just abandoned it. Idiots. The view up there was insane. Stunning northern and southern coastal views, pure solitude, abundant sunshine and friendly wildlife. What more could you ask for, really?

Once we got back down to the highway it was an easy walk along the coast back to the car and we were off to find the campsite. The GPS took us to the entry point, but once we turned on the road, there was another sign that said “Nacimiento CG 11” so… assuming CG stands for campground, it’s another 11 miles up this windy road into the mountains? Oh and the sun has already set? Cool.

I get 10 points for kicking my driving skills up to the next level. On our way up this road, we saw a few cars parked along parts of the shoulder that had been expanded but didn’t think anything of it. So we get to what SHOULD have been the campground and it’s blocked with a sign that says "road closed". Awesome.

Then negative Nancy speaks up, “Ugh, we should have done more research! Where even are we right now? What are we going to do? Where are we going to sleep?” I’m like “DUDE! Your negative Nancy vibes aren’t helping the situation right now, let’s just turn around and ask that couple that had a bon fire going. Worst comes to worst, we’ll just do what they did and pull over on the side of the road.” Don’t worry Ryan, I still love ya :) As it turns out, the pull over spots on the side of the road ARE THE CAMPGROUND. Sweet.

So we found a little spot of our own, used the car’s headlights to set up the tent, and finally started to relax. 

Not gonna lie, it had been a while since I went camping so it took me a while to stop jumping at every sound. Don’t ask me what I was afraid of… scary movies really get to me. I have a wild imagination. But once I had my pyjamas on, a cigarette in one hand and a chardonnay in the other, I finally took a moment to look up at the stars, and every ounce of anxiety instantly melted away. I’m not exaggerating when I say, I’ve never in my whole life seen that many stars at once. They’re mesmerizing in the same way people are when they talk about something they’re passionate about. I could have just stared at them forever. But I was hungry, so I focused, albeit unsuccessfully, on keeping the bugs out of my hummus. 

Note to future self: only open the lid halfway to dip the carrot, then close the lid quickly and tightly, repeat until you run out of either carrots or hummus; it will likely be the hummus if you’re sharing with Ryan, in fact, next time you camp with Ryan, bring two hummuses. 

Ryan put his mountain man skills to the test and build us an illegal fire. (I say illegal because we should have had a permit but… we’re rebels without a cause so, fuck ‘em) It provided much needed heat and light while we drank two bottles of wine and ate veggies and trail mix. Thankfully I brought my yoga mat on the trip so we had something more than the tent itself between us and the ground. We rolled up sweaters for pillows and thankfully - due to the wine, I’m sure - as soon as my head hit our makeshift pillows, I was out like a light. And as per usual, I sleep like the dead, so I was unfazed by the unusual sleeping environment.