3 days to get here to Pacifica–a mere 10 miles from where we started. Although the pace has been slow, some of our group have felt rushed, and our somewhat-dysfunctional family-tribe has split into 3. The former junkie and his hound have taken the high road across an unmarked trail, along with the mindfully mute shamaness, although whether they stay together or not is a question to be answered when we meet back up in Half Moon Bay in a couple of days. The Occupy Crew have decided to follow on the same trail at a more leisurely pace. Which leaves me. I turned back from the 1 and Devil’s Slide to take the scenic Old Highway Route. Alone, laden with food that was supposed to be for all, I feel excited to be traveling by myself for a few days.
I feel energized and the shamaness says my aura is glowing bright blue.
Last night, I approached what I thought were a trio of bums gathered around an enormous iron fire pit on the beach to ask where we might sleep for the night. They laughed and pointed to the ground we were standing on. Private property they said, and started laughing harder. Turns out one of them had bought the small triangular property, crowded between an effluent creek and a row of beach-condos, and they were trying to goad the police into trying to shut them down — no bonfires on public beaches. Of course, the owner, Dave Blackman, was primed and ready with the deed.
Sure enough, after an enormous feast of stuffed poblano peppers and fish tacos, 4 cops showed up. Then 2 more. What a sight to see all 6 walking away, the butt of the “town drunks'” latest prank.
Traded a pair of Saddle Sacks for some homebrewed beer from some young Townests (local Pacificans) and spent the rest of the late night / early morning hours trading wisdom.
I’m off by Higgins Road.
Wish me luck, world.