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| California 1, Mist and Sun, Steve Brown 2022 |
California 1. Mist and sun. Sodium-light softened hills that seem to roll out of the surf of the sea along with the clouds--everything slowly moving east always--wave after wave. Blues, whites, greens, all glorious together as one everchanging, eternally-the-same landscape--grey, cold and moody one moment, and then, popping out in brilliantly bright detail the next.
There is no feeling on earth like getting out of the car again and again, viewpoint after viewpoint, along California 1. It is the drive of all drives. It blows my mind, there are those who have to drive that highway just to get around, to go into Cambria to get a box of cereal and a gallon of milk or go to the post office. A man can be in the moment anywhere, but there are some places that demand our presence more than others. What makes California 1 so magical is that it demands you be there, fully. The moment you step out of that car, feel that mist, hear those waves thunder, and take in those brief but glorious encounters with direct sunlight, you are 100% in one moment and one place. It's impossible not to be. Life becomes nothing more than watching a Monarch butterfly warm its wings on a purple flower on a hillside above the sea. You are constantly wanting to jump out of your skin, leave your mortality far behind, and glide over the hills, wild and free.
And so, that's what Marci and I did, April 11, 2022. We drove. We stopped. Sometimes we walked a bit. Then we stood all amazed and looked at the waves. They are always the first thing, each and every time. They grab you. But then there are the smaller things. The seagull sitting on a fence post, the squirrel popping its head out from under the ground cover, a butterfly gently landing. And oh, how glorious a moment of sun feels igniting your chilled skin. And then mist is back, and you zip up that hoodie, and pull it tight around you, waiting for that next brief burst of sun.
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