Santa Cruz

The forcible release of my future worries seemed to do the trick and a couple of days down the line the auto shop called me. There was nothing immediately wrong with my van, a transmission engine code was on, along with a couple of sensors, but maybe I had just overheated the transmission. H and I split back into our respective vans. Thankful to have my home back and with a hint of Transmission Paranoia, I headed North, back to Santa Cruz. H joined for the trip up, he was a free man floating.

It was now the beginning of November, landing at Ashley's I was a bit shaken. I wrote that “it felt like I was crash landing” and although incredibly grateful to have a space to land, I was very much questioning if this was where I should be. I was wondering if Ashley’s offer to let me park in the driveway was too kind a gift.

I remember sitting in the backyard with her and her son that first afternoon back. As she and I caught up on the last couple weeks, he played on a spinning dish-shaped swing hanging from the rafter of the patio cover. During a moment in which thoughts spun around my head, as he spun around on the swing he looked across at us and said "Do you know what 2+2+2 is?"

"Six" she answered

"No, it's two hundred and twenty two." he replied.

I glanced down at the ‘222’ tattooed on my arm. I stayed.

Santa Cruz sits about an hour south of San Francisco and is split into two sides, divided by the San Lorenzo river. It’s tucked into the northern side of Monterey bay such that the coastline along the city runs west to east rather than north to south. A road runs along the cliffs overhanging the ocean on either side - West and East Cliff Drive. The city’s west side hosts a bit of a grungier feel, and from what I’ve heard about older Santa Cruz that was more so the general vibe. I get the sense that the West Side preserves the side of Santa Cruz that existed a decade or so ago, it also holds the city’s most famous wave. There’s streets on this side of town where I noticed that vans, buses, and other cars can spend the night without issue. The East Side feels quite family oriented, almost like suburbs that were able to retain character and a unique liveliness. The area has a lot of charm, its very bright and the streets are lined with colorful vintage trucks and vans beautifully restored, people always biking through the streets of Pleasure Point (the east side community that sits on the water) with surfboards. There’s very rich surf history and surf culture in Santa Cruz - something that I sensed the locals feel it’s losing with the boom of ‘covid surfers’ (of which I must admit that I am). From skimming one of Ashley’s many books, surfing in the US supposedly started in Santa Cruz in the 60s, brought to the area by visiting Hawaiian royalty. From what I read, visiting Hawaiians saw the waves and had redwood trees from the forest inland cut and milled, from which they shaped themselves boards.

I began settling into a routine here on the east side, it was a life much more grounded. I helped Ashley with her businesses and surfed as much as I could. Living at Ashley’s she welcomed me to try any board from her quiver that I pleased - it overjoyed me and I learned heaps about different boards and board construction. Ashley is a beautiful long boarder and the boards she shapes are an extension of herself. Living here, I walked and ran countless times along the stretch of east cliff drive, I saw many glorious sunsets here, too surreal for words. They illuminated the entire bay in the most vivid expanse of colour. The point was often swarming with people during the day, hundreds most evenings, still the overall vibe was that of a very close knit community. Pleasure Point almost felt like its own little town or bubble. At some point I started going for walks in the dark of night, I’d have the point mostly to myself and I’d watch the waves roll in illuminated by the moonlight. These were peaceful and special times for me. I spent a lot of time in contemplation still. The days were often warm, but the nights were cold and the water was cooling off. I had no idea that central California does actually get a bit chilly, I found myself buying winter clothes in thrift shops and wishing I had packed warmer. I quickly picked up a little space heater to keep myself warm at night. Ashley essentially let me live in the house, the van became mostly a bedroom, which was a god send. Having access to a warm shower post-surf and somewhere to cook and clean made the chilly November far more enjoyable. It was a humble routine, I spent most of my time out of the water with Ashley and her son. It was a home.

Internally, I was still searching. I played the song “Bold” by Jackie Cohen many times through the staticky speakers in the van, it stuck close with me throughout the trip. I think I was even listening to it as I crossed the Oregon-California border.

Left with almost nothing left to build on
I'll send my blueprints out to you

Maybe I'll be famous in California
Baby, I'll be more famous than you

Glitter in the gutters all around us
Crystals in the closet in your room
You appear in lovely colored fabrics
Like a dream dreamt up by a bolder man than you

Left with almost nothing left but pardons
Who knows if anything will do
You know I think you're uncommon
But nothing I say impresses you

Glitter in the gutters all around us
There are crystals in the closet of your room
You appear in lovely colored fabrics
Dreamt up by a man bolder than you

Left with almost nothing left but options
I pick the landscape most confused
Stealing out the back door of a promise
To take the words that you refuse

I hope I could be bold, too
Oh I hope you'll learn to be brave soon

The song felt familiar and fitting in these times, although I don’t think I was necessarily trying to “be famous in California” I did desire to make something of myself - whatever that means. The lyric “crystals in the closet of your room”, felt appropriate to life at Ashley’s. Her house seemed to be decorated with magic, she cultivated a life connected to an ethereal realm. We spent many hours discussing spiritual endeavors and happenings. This, coupled with the relative solitude of my life provided for a very introspective period of time. I was often ruminating on my dreams, seeking the path to manifest them.

I felt as though I had two lives here - one within Pleasure Point, akin to the energy of the area and Ashley’s. One, outside of it which involved exploring the reefs and beaches north and south of town. The surf out of the city was a different crowd and it felt more wild and free. I pushed myself harder in the surf outside of town, it satisfied a need for adventure and intensity that I often crave. I found many spots that I loved.

As life here settled, things continued to stir internally for myself. I lugged that Transmission Paranoia alongside my dreams like a ball and chain. In my eyes, my road trip was essentially over. I feared running out of money and having to head home, I felt the van was too volatile to take me where I wanted to go. So instead it was time to get serious and stay put. I was going to make something happen for my future! I began working very hard, trying to gain some sort of career experience or skills, trying to create opportunity. Internally I became very hard on myself, I was pushing to always be doing more. Ashley was a kind and giving mentor - I let her in on some of my turmoil and she suggested a Reiki healing with a friend. I’d been skeptical of things like Reiki - but I’ve picked up the saying “I’ll try anything once" so I obliged. Of course the healer that I saw also lived in Pleasure Point, only a short bike ride away. One evening I went, and after my reiki healing was sorted, I clambered back on the too big bicycle I was borrowing and headed home. Crystals gifted to me jostling around in the pockets of my fleece. I’d recommend it to anyone who’s curious. While it did not ‘cure’ me of anything that I was experiencing, it did provide some release from my self-imposed harshness and some clarity.

Shortly after, in mid November I flew to meet my mum and aunt in Tijuana, Baja California. My aunt has been battling breast cancer for a number of years and was undergoing treatment at a clinic in the area. She’s one of the strongest and most inspiring people I know, her positive attitude and energy for life remains ever-present during the challenges she’s faced. On my visit, I wanted to bring a positive, balanced, and receptive energy. I spent brief time with a couple of friends that my aunt had made in treatment - they were all incredibly uplifting people. I think that everyone in treatment gifted me that balanced, uplifting energy more so than I was able to gift it to them. I’ve found people experiencing something as challenging and real as terminal cancer to hold a very special insight and place of presence in this world, it’s hard to describe aside from something akin to enlightenment. Life close to an edge that most of us are too afraid to speak about. The visit was a perspective wake-up call.

I surfed a day in Baja, and met a Brazilian who was travelling from Alaska to Argentina on a motorbike with his surfboard strapped to the side. He had very little with him, and I can’t remember how long he was taking to complete the trip, but it was to be a long one. He had an upbeat matter-of-fact attitude and said that he could live off of as little as $250 a month if he needed to. His story and journey further inspired me.

After Tijuana, my mum, aunt and I went to San Diego for a couple days before they were to head back to Canada. The visit was brief, but I had another notable interaction that I wrote about in my journal:

I was in Ocean beach

It was early morning, the sky pink

A man sitting on the street corner asked me to tell him something

Flustered I asked what he’d meant, I struggled to come up with anything

“It’s a beautiful day!” I tried

He smiled

He didn't have anything

He looked me in the eyes

He told me that when all else fails to just breathe

A Siddha of the western world?

During my short stay in San Diego I was also invited to a dinner party by a girl that lived in Encinitas. I had met her back in October while H and I were living in the van together. In our first couple days of being van roommates we had stopped at a flea market where we met a girl selling vintage clothes. I remember meeting her and thinking that she had to be a fairy, and telling Dev that I wanted to be her friend. We had exchanged social medias at the time, and on my weekend back in the area she saw that I was there and invited me over. It was a beautiful dinner party, a mish mash of friends from all walks of life, I figured that I’d likely never see any of them again.

I love the openness that the travelling mindset can provide when I lean into it - when in it I’m granted a presence in the moment where I have so much space to receive those and the experiences around me. I think that this is the reason why people love to travel, and why it feels so expansive, it’s a conduit for intimate connection to life itself.

I came back from the short trip south feeling energized with regards to the future, I was optimistic and feeling incredibly grateful for my place in the world. Meeting the people I had in that short trip asked me to check in with my ingratitude. I don’t think I’m an ungrateful person, I try really hard not to be, but sometimes my perspective of gratitude can slip and I find myself wanting more or wanting something greater. The human need for progress, perhaps? I wrote The gift of freewill around this time, I elaborate on my mindset and thoughts around the whole thing.

Back in Santa Cruz, H had ended up with a spot at a board building shop. It was great to have a friend near by, we surfed lots together, he helped me push my surfing. We’d heard of a wave, a sand-bottom barrel. One day, on a whim we went to look at it in the evening. We didn’t know if it would be working, I think we’d checked it one time prior when it was flat. We ran down the path as the sun sank low in the sky and found it almost like a cathedral. Through the trees sure enough we saw a barreling wave flying across the sand, the spray backlit by the sun emanating a fantastic yellow hue. There were only a few people out, my heart leaped in my chest. I was nervous.

Paddling out at good waves is intimidating, getting good at surfing is hard. Good waves deserve respect, as do the people who regularly surf these spots.

We ran back to the van, I was unsure about going, second-guessing myself and my abilities, but I forced myself to at least paddle out. This was what I was after, after-all. Getting suited up was a big anxious curfuffle, my board had no wax on it, no fin in. By the time I was running to the water, we maybe had 40 minutes of sun.

It wasn’t too big aside from some of the sets that would jack up and break as a big freaky wedge and then careen away, I wanted nothing to do with those and sat on the shoulder for a good bit. The small crowd was mellow thankfully, and there were two guys who looked as though they surfed the spot a lot - they traded barrels and paddled into the sets that irked me with no issue. After watching awhile I nervously took some of the small scrappy waves that broke further inside and started trying to practice pulling in. It really wasn’t too big, nor too heavy unless you were right in the impact zone. After taking a couple small waves that stayed open and after pulling into a small couple closeouts, coming up with a mouthful of sand but unscathed, I started having fun. The nerves released and I started to feel confident. At this point, it was just two of us left in the water, the sun was almost gone. As the sun sank below the horizon it was just me in the water. I became determined to pull into one. I remember another big set came through, the ocean around me an inky midnight blue and the sky a bright orange and purple. As the set rolled under me I sat with my arms outstretched over my head, I looked up at the first couple stars revealing themselves in the darkness above. In the final moments of light, a wave came and I knew it was my last chance. Committed, I took the wave and pulled in, and for the first time experienced what I’d been searching for since I fell in love with surfing. The water tunneled around me, everything a bright orange and purple mirroring the sunset. It all got very quiet and I was travelling, the exit to the world outside stretched in front of me for a few seconds before it stretched out too quick and then it was over, I came up with sand in my mouth hooting and hollering. It wasn’t a huge wave and I didn’t make it out, but travelling inside a barrel for those good few seconds, and experiencing the vision that I’d read good surfers describe was all I needed. I immediately knew I wanted more. Riding the purest adrenaline high, I ran up to the beach elated beyond belief, the last bit of daylight gone.

And then, a couple of days later, I came as close to drowning as I think I’d like to.