The early morning quiet of the Morro Bay campground was subdued by comparison with the night before. A bus filled with high school kids had arrived yesterday and set up a cluster of tents as I was settling in. Thereafter, the boys played a vigorous and joyful game of soccer while the girls gathered in talkative groups and occasionally yowled in the bathrooms. They spoke in Spanish, unfamiliar to my brain, forming a sort of background music like birdsong that did not distract much, nor derail sleep.
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A brief stop in Morro Bay gave me a chance to greet the morning properly. If I sent Christmas cards this would be the image I'd want. |
Much of the day was spent stocking up, driving, and then at last buying the binoculars I've been contemplating for a year. When I walked out of the Dick's Sporting Goods store in San Luis Obispo I thought maybe I should turn right around and revisit all the great places I'd already been, this time equipped to really see it all! But I still yearned for new sights, so I made a plan to turn inland and travel north up Highway 101. This would take me through the Salinas Valley and right by something called the Big Sandy Wildlife Area. It was marked on the map with a binoculars symbol --- irresistible.
I was still in the shopping center parking lot, once again brewing up tea water. Parked next to me was a well-worn over-the-cab camper truck with the entrance over the back bumper. A young man stepped up on the bumper to go in and in his hand I saw the familiar turquoise and dark blue design of a pack of Bugler tobacco. "Wow!" I blurted out. "I haven't seen Bugler in years!" He smiled and said that yes, it was still around. He said that if he has to roll his own, he finds he smokes less. It's also much less expensive. I agreed, remembering the poverty of those years in my life. We got onto the subject of travel and he was surprised to see that my ordinary-looking van was equipped as a camper. I explained the advantage of carrying no advertising logos or garish paint jobs and he readily understood, saying: "That would have to be the ultimate in stealth campers!" There is no disguising a vehicle like his, and if you travel that way you have to take it into account: you will be noticed.
Now that I was out of the boonies, the loud commercial bustle of SLO and of Pismo Beach were repellent. I crossed eastwards over a range of dry hills at Cuesta Pass, stopped briefly at San Miguel to admire the old mission and continued on to my wildlife viewing area just south of Bradley.
The hills around are stunning in dry gold fur, shaped in voluptuous folds and curves like giant walruses:
The path into the Wildlife Area was barely discernible across the first flat quarter mile, and was crossed by other faint lines showing alternate routes created by other earth walkers. I stayed on the one I started with and as it descended into the first arroyo it became a well-defined but extremely narrow line of bare dust and rock, taking me steeply down one slope, crossing over at the bottom and heading just as sharply up the next fold on the walrus. Trying to keep track of my bearings, I gazed for a while at some power poles near the road, just to remind myself of my way back out.
Stickers from the grasses collected in my socks. Is this cheat grass? The name fits. The path was so narrow only a couple of snakes could have traveled two abreast. Any handhold or foothold can crumble, even solid-looking mounds of earth, for they were formed back when there was water to hold them together. Dry remnants only, any one can give way, collapsing into little landslides of rock and fine dust.
After a few more zigs and zags the path dropped suddenly down a nearly vertical drop of 6 feet and I slid/landed onto a wide, dried up river bed. I was still getting used to juggling the new binoculars and the camera, alternating as the urge to see something far away vied with the urge to capture images of all the new things around me.
An owl called from within a cluster of sycamores and other trees on the far edge of the riverbed. I searched the branches and leaves, walking closer as it called again. I never located it, but it was fun to see everything else so clearly. At 10X magnification it's a bit of a challenge to hold the glasses steady and breathe at the same time, but having this new range of sight is exciting. I fed my eyes and kept my trigger finger busy, collecting images of the unfamiliar plants that managed to find sustenance in the gritty loose sand. Names, anyone?
I retraced my way up the narrow path with the persistent grass seeds, found my landmark power poles and a few minutes later, Neetie was waiting where I'd left her.
She and I returned along the dusty route that led back to the 101 and headed north. It was time to think of a place to stop for the night. One RV campground I spotted on the southbound side of the highway looked promising. I pulled over to look them up and call them on my phone and found that they had no room for a mere van. The man I spoke to suggested I try King City because there was a county park there with camping, so I continued on. I found King City, found a park, but it was closed for the night. Now it was almost dark and I was running out of steam. Had I simply missed a sign somewhere and found the wrong park? I wandered loose on streets I didn't remember traveling, making random turns and getting nowhere useful. Finally I gave up on finding the park and saw that this might be the night to test the van's invisibility. Could I get away with just sleeping on the street?
I found myself on a street of plain homes, apartment buildings and a school. There was no metered parking, the curbs were unpainted, and a line of cars was parked along the right side, with plenty of gaps so I wouldn't be depriving the locals of room. I pulled in, made the bed ready and just lay down. The police department was a few blocks away (I had rejected the idea of parking in full view of the station). For a while I lay fully clothed, expecting a rousting by flashing blue and red lights, but nothing happened. A few cars passed by. Children's voices could be heard now and again. I slept off and on, eventually shedding jeans and socks and slept through until 7:30 a.m. It worked. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but I certainly was pleased.
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