Discovery

There are other young people in Campbell River. Enough young people to play two games of six on six Ultimate. That is 22 (not including myself and Mike Brown) more young people than I thought lived here. It might be possible to have a social life in small town BC.

Back in the River

I'm sitting at my parent's kitchen table sorting through photographs of palm trees and sunny beaches, while the residue of an early snowfall melts into the earth outside. I have been meaning to update this space for a while now with a tale or two from New York, my sentiments about moving back in with my parents at 23, and my plans for the near future. However, every time I come close to knowing the later, something changes with the effect of blurring upcoming days. I have now resigned myself to planning only one morning at a time and leaving the afternoon open for some random job interview or a last minute flight to Ottawa (I'm waiting to hear back from CIDA about a short contract in their Canadian Partnerships Branch.)

About living with my parents, my dad has recently retired from his medical practice and both my parents have taken a more holistic approach to their well-being. It's now not uncommon around here to come across dad watching meditation videos in his underwear (in all honesty, the underwear is nothing new) nor for mum to talk about the relationship between core strength and her sciatic nerve injury as she leaves for yogalates. To be fair, I came home blabbering about how animal protein causes cancer and went to my own yoga practice this morning. I don't know what is more horrifying, realizing that I'm as weird as my parents, or that my parents are as weird as me. One good thing to come of this new focus on health is that the sauna is no longer used to store Mike Brown's crap (he recently moved out on his own, the big guy) and is now fully operational.

New York was crowded, dirty and full of rude assholes. But underneath all that is a city where you can do absolutely anything at any time of day. A definite highlight of the trip to NY was the Cirque Du Soleil performance we saw called "Wintuk," about a snotty nosed brat who wanted to see it snow. I really did enjoy the costumes and set and it was impressive to see how elements of circus performance were blended into the storyline. Matt lives in Spanish Harlem with two roommates and this bundle of joy named Cookie Monster.
I guess this concludes what really felt like two separate trips, one by bike down the west coast and another to New York City to see Matt. I am now in state of flux something like Nirvana or Purgatory...

Mexico!

Seven weeks ago, on the ferry from Crofton, BC to Saltspring, a guy named Stewart gave me some money to by myself a beer when I got to Mexico. Yesterday I enjoyed that beer in Tijuana.

OK, so Tijuana is hardly Mexico. It's more an American shopping district than anything else, where Americans come to purchase cheap booze, pharmaceuticals and breast implants; as soon as you cross the border you are faced with a sprawling mass of dental offices, medical clinics, pharmacies and liquor stores. But technically, after 2,750km of riding, I made it to Baja California.

I would have liked to have made it further into Mexico, but the more people I talked to the more I was dissuaded from my objective. And so, much to the relief of my parents, I decided it was best to hang out here in San Diego, enjoy what this city has to offer and only make a day trip to the border. And Tijuana is not all bad! There was a certain appeal that gave me a taste and interest for another trip further down the Pacific Coast.

I have a couple more days here in San Diego before I make my way to NY. I have found myself a surf partner who I am headed out with for a second time this afternoon and a few other cyclists that I met on the road have gathered here in San Diego over the past few days. We will definitely get in a few beers before we all head back to our respective corners of the globe or continue south along the coast.

So Totally California

There is no doubt about it, I'm in California. I haven't seen or felt rain in three weeks, the highway is lined with surfers changing in and out of wet suits and place names are pronounced in Americanized Spanish (San Clemente = Sanclemeney, San Pedro = Sanpidro). Despite unseasonably overcast and "cool" weather, I am digging this climate big time. The Winnipegers reading this will probably role their eyes and say "but you're from BC" when I say this, but I feel a bit hard done by to have shivered through Canadian Winters all my life. But I do feel hard done by- it is down right unfair. Consequently, I have become an adamant proponent of Cascadia, (a nation-state composed of BC, Washington State, Oregon and California) not for its presumed environmental benefits, but in order to ensure equitable access to warm weather for my northern brothers and sisters. Climatic access is an issue close to my heart; I have long supported the annexation of Turks and Caicos. It's only fair. Access to a warm climate is important because of the activities it enables, activities such as this bike trip and tequila fuelled skinny dipping in the Pacific.

Last Friday I had one of those evenings charged with coincidence and spontaneity that are more apt to happen when traveling. I was staying at a youth hostel in San Luis Obispo (a rare luxury only made possible by a woman I met in Morro Bay who insisted on paying for my accommodation) where one of the staff members invited me out with her friends. Originally we were going to go check out some art show downtown, but after a potluck dinner someone had the idea of a beach fire and a swim. Would I come? Hell yes. So, with The Red Hot Chili Peppers blaring on the radio we cruised to the beach.

Since San Luis I have past through the urban mess that is LA and arrived in San Diego. Today I plan to make a plan for the Mexican leg of this trip. I'm not sure how to ride safely in this area of Mexico as a solo biker. I'm also not sure where is worth going. So, we'll see what I end up doing. Also since San Luis I've had a change of plans for my return. Rather than fly home to BC on the 15th of November, I will be flying to New York City. A slight detour to see Matt Conley. For those of you who are confused, Matt is the guy I was seeing in Tanzania. For those of you who are still confused, don't worry so am I.

The Road South of San Fran

The ride South from San Francisco has been extremely varied. It started with an acute ascent and then descent into Half Moon Bay, followed by a flat ride through artichoke and celery fields into Monterrey. The 74 miles of cliff clinging highway through the Big Sur area were demanding but photogenic and the wind fuelled sprint to Morrow Bay was extremely motivating and equally picturesque. These photos are from the Big Sur Area.

I am reminded of how far south I am these days by the number of surfers in the water, (up until now I had only seen their boards on the tops of their cars) the palms that decorate boulevards and gardens and the beach volleyball courts in urban areas. Also it is strawberry season in California. (I don't actually know if strawberry season in California ever ends) Under the cover of darkness I managed to raid a field next to my campsite a few nights ago and enjoyed strawberries with my breakfast. Nothing tastes as sweet as stolen fruit, I swear.

I have spent the past couple days here in Morro Bay lazing around yet more coffee shops and watching surfers in action off the coast. I have decided to slow my pace down a bit and enjoy my surroundings. I have also decided to take a train to LA from San Luis Obispo tomorrow. It is pretty good chunk of the journey that I will be fast forwarding through, which I have mixed feelings about. However, I think it is for the best. I'll be in touch from LA or San Diego.

More Activism in San Fran

Saturday morning I was impressed to see thousands more San Franciscans out on the streets advocating an end to the war/occupation in Iraq, and protesting possible military activity in Iran. Just another reminder that I don't hate Americans, just their awful administration.