Gypsi
An Independent Roadtrip
Who We Interviewed
Jessica Murch
Drum and Bass DJ
Noah D
DJ
My Open Road
July 08, 2009
Sunday the 5th was spent with an old friend. Napping on couches, homemade burritos. A warm evening in La Jolla spiked with Sake Bombs. After a thwarted effort at Star Wars Monopoly (impossible to play such a game without dice), we set out on a mission to explore the Greenbelt. When Denell and I encountered a hill of epic proportions, we knew the only way to approach the situation would be by rolling down said hill. Wet grass and gravity is a recipe for log rolling at terminal velocity. I may have sustained a concussion. But no worries!
Monday morning we left San Diego county, a day ahead of our "schedule", on a tip about the Tuesday memorial service planned for Mr. Jackson in L.A. (thanks mom!). L.A. traffic AGAIN. At this point I am convinced there is no time of day there when hundreds of cars are not weaving about in madness like deranged herd animals. Not going to miss Los Angeles.
A short stop at our lucky beach along the Santa Barbara coastline (where we recieved an inmpromptu surf lesson last summer) became a lesson in following one's life passion when we met a man who left behind a career as an egineer on a Louisiana oil rig to pour wine in the Santa Ynez valley and surf every day.
Monday night found us in San Luis Obispo, dropping in on our friend Benji. A midnight hike up Mt. Madonna, eucalyptus, and dry grass. The next morning a delicious breakfast with a view of Morro Bay, and cross-generational recognition of self-exploration and inspired adventure, followed by a five hour drive to The City (San Francisico, if you will), where we fosterd a new appreciation for the "quaint" aspects of Bay Area traffic and crowded streets. Take that, Hollywood!
Now I sit at the computer belonging to Denell's parents in Santa Rosa, enjoying the few moments we will be spending in Northern California (goal: Southern Oregon by night fall. We are the ambitious sort). Background sound of laundry tumbling in the dryer, the first load either of us have washed in weeks. On a stomach full of a meal made with love we strategize about switching wardrobes before heading to Northern Oregon. Nice to touch home base.
This weekend: Oregon Country Fair in Eugene!
Monday morning we left San Diego county, a day ahead of our "schedule", on a tip about the Tuesday memorial service planned for Mr. Jackson in L.A. (thanks mom!). L.A. traffic AGAIN. At this point I am convinced there is no time of day there when hundreds of cars are not weaving about in madness like deranged herd animals. Not going to miss Los Angeles.
A short stop at our lucky beach along the Santa Barbara coastline (where we recieved an inmpromptu surf lesson last summer) became a lesson in following one's life passion when we met a man who left behind a career as an egineer on a Louisiana oil rig to pour wine in the Santa Ynez valley and surf every day.
Monday night found us in San Luis Obispo, dropping in on our friend Benji. A midnight hike up Mt. Madonna, eucalyptus, and dry grass. The next morning a delicious breakfast with a view of Morro Bay, and cross-generational recognition of self-exploration and inspired adventure, followed by a five hour drive to The City (San Francisico, if you will), where we fosterd a new appreciation for the "quaint" aspects of Bay Area traffic and crowded streets. Take that, Hollywood!
Now I sit at the computer belonging to Denell's parents in Santa Rosa, enjoying the few moments we will be spending in Northern California (goal: Southern Oregon by night fall. We are the ambitious sort). Background sound of laundry tumbling in the dryer, the first load either of us have washed in weeks. On a stomach full of a meal made with love we strategize about switching wardrobes before heading to Northern Oregon. Nice to touch home base.
This weekend: Oregon Country Fair in Eugene!
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Stirling Freeman |
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