Our trip ended a spot early. We all managed to get a touch of cold virus in our systems. This didn't slow the train down. It just sorta fell off the tracks. The tracks were aimed at a couple nights of adventure and surfing in Isla Vista. Well, the train cruised over night to San Diego and right on into Tucson. We used a pool to swim. It was not the ocean. While, we might have been in California, we did most certainly enjoy a career highlight in the voyage of Alex's cooking by way of Thai Curry. The ginger slurpy certainly helped.
We finalized the revenge on early returns by visiting Laikens old roommates and having ourselves a time including Tacos de Cabeza for breakfast. This, much like it sounds, involves corn tortillas, cilantro, lime, and meat from some part of the head of the cow.

I find myself, with internet (hence the pictures), in Flagstaff yet again reconvening with the great people that inhabit Clay Casa. Adventures continue.

Alex.
That sunset. We made it to Big Sur. Henry Miller Library. Drove around a bunch trying to find the elusive Willow creek, which we never actually found. We did, however, find Eden and her brother, and proceed to camp at a place comparable to Eden: Plaskett Creek. Basking in the sun here turned into basking in the wind as we soaked in the sunset with new friends from Quebec and beyond. We eventually found ourselves in the hot springs in Esalen soaking in the hot spring fumes and reviving night air. Magic happened.

The next day involved cruising up the coast. We scoped the Gorge in Big Sur Pfiefer State. We fell in the creek Kerouac style. The water was cold enough to bring up the subconscious, and it was ever so worth it. We met the ever-so-friendly campfire wine queen. Turns out we fluently can converse in Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese.

Post canyon shivers. We drove up the Palo Colorado Canyon to visit Country Flat (aka home). It was great to see the farm and family.

The next day found us in the ocean at Andrew Molera State park. Windy and Sunny yet again. More Henry Miller Library. We wound around til Cayucos. Swing.

SLO. Again. Sillyness saved my life.

Laiken.
Still smiling, met the Quebecers at the campsite and reaffirmed my opinion that they are the most fun/least serious people on this planet. They lead us to the ocean cliffs for a sunset that will forever be carbon-copied into my memories. The best moments are like that.

The next day was my favorite. The morning was sluggish and i stumbled back to the cliff. Breeze from the Pacific and words from my best friend lead me to epiphany. From there we went to the Henry Miller Library, hidden in the redwoods in the shadows of time. We stayed for a while and indulged on coffee and pseudo-intellectual literature like Kundera and Nabokov. Henry Miller was the man. From there we went hiking up a cold creek, bottle of red wine, crackers, cheese and sausage in hand. Hopped from rock to rock with impeccable balance, gettin' our Japhy on between swigs of laughter and mishap. Kerouac meets Hemingway. Hah!

In the words of Henry: "The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware"

Alex.
Post Isla Vista, we merged north to find San Luis Obispo aka SLO. After cruising around SLO on the prowl for gas, which I managed to forget about with the help of the banana gas gauge blocker.

Alex.
I hit my head pretty hard surfing in Malibu. So we got Mexican food and snacks. Tripa turns out to be tasty. Papaya hits the spot in the morning. I have since learned that 80% of Hawaiian papayas are GMO.

Santa Barbera. Beautiful beach sunset. Dashain. They have the beautiful flowers.

I have yet again found myself in Isla Vista. This time Sunset house is a beautifully flattened patch of dirt. We still found the love in Dashain, and sands. The water was sufficiently cold enough to inspire core shivers in my spring wet suit. So I elected beach running instead.
Tucker. Inspiration. This man is Charge Boss Number One. Responsible for fueling our trip with all sorts of delectable raw Charge Boss Fuel. Also responsible for being a great guy and probably the best surfing advice I've received to date: "You've got to put your heart into it."

Laiken.
Isla Vista is unlike anything I have known. It made me wish I was 18 again so I could emerge myself more youthfully in the madness - so I just pretended I was for an evening of indulgence. Woke up early the next morning, threw on the sandy wetsuits and had the best surf of the trip. It was after this moment that I began to find myself smiling unknowingly and uncontrollably for days at a time.

Alex:
Venice is a trip. I managed to make the boardwalk by sunset, but I got distracted by a girl on a bike whom I took a picture of and then. "Everyone has their fare share of experiences on the boardwalk." -Daniel Red. I can see why.

Newport. The Wedge. Shit. This wave was pretty big, and apparently it wasn't even a big day. Sponge city.  We did find the one and only Andrew Salter. Winner.

Laiken:
Asher and I skated towards the sun. We got sand in our bearings at the boardwalk, and hit up the skatepark where a girl in a fedora tried to talk us in to starring in a deoderant commercial. Girls in fedoras are always up to no good. Daniels girlfriend made us hot chocolate from nutella and we went to bed early like bad guests.

Alex.
I have left Flagstaff. I went to Tucson for a couple days and then West. I met Asher and Laiken somewhere in the middle of the desert. We drove through the desert heat and jumped into the ocean. We spent the last few days in Encinitas, Del Mar, and Pacific beach paddling in the waves, sometimes surfing, breaking in (not into) friend's houses, and sampling the local cuisine, bars, and hot tubs. We stayed with Kristen in Encinitas and Chris in Pacific Beach, both of which just moved in. Great hosts.

Cardiff had an inspiring photo show and talk by Thomas Cambell. Known for surf cinematography. It inspired both surfing and photographing for me.