I spent the first part of last summer touring across the west coast in a 15-passenger van with my band. We played shows in bars and living rooms and slept on floors and met people I’ll never meet again. Every mile made for a new memory. From standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon to confronting a deranged stranger at 3 a.m. in an evicted apartment in Portland, Oregon — the trip was riddled with moments I’ll never forget.
One day particularly did a number on me. I do my best not to wax-eloquent, or come off too horribly pretentious, about my time in Big Sur, California — but it was one for the books. Here’s an excerpt from my journal:
June 6. Saturday, 1:05 p.m.
Off the interstate on the coast of Big Sur. No phone service. Nothing but the deep blue ocean and the sky blue sky. I just stood on the edge of a planet sized rock protruding from the water and watched the waves crash against it. I am on top of the world. I have never seen anything like this. Neither have my friends.
I’m listening to John Lennon’s Watching the Wheels. There’s a lyric I love — “No problems, only solutions.” Something about this song and this day kind of brings it all full circle. I am at peace. No worries about the past, no contemplation about the future. Just the now.
I’ve read about this place in books: Hunter S. Thompson said this is the way life is in Big Sur. “Watching the sea-lions in the surf, or coming here to work on … the simple art of living your own life.”
I’ll never put it as well as him, but nothing compares to sticking your head out of the window and feeling the breeze against your cheeks as you cruise Interstate 1.
My hands are dirty from climbing cliffs. My dress shoes are tattered and the shoelaces torn. I did not plan for this. The Grand Canyon. Staring at Los Angeles and the H O L L Y W O O D sign from the top of Griffith Park. Now this. Two days before my mother’s birthday. I wish she could be here.
Last night, we decided to camp. A seven-hour drive from Los Angeles (more on that later) pulled us along the coast and to the edge of a mountain.
Midnight. Pitch black. A small wooden sign stood at a fork in the road. To the left was six miles of incline up a dirt road to the alleged campground where we would rest our heads. The next morning, I’d learn from a man named Oliver who is from Memphis but lives in Chicago, that because you can’t get phone service in Big Sur, it’s also pretty damn hard to use your GPS.
We learned this in motion. Here we were. Six boys, thousands of pounds of gear, and it all pointed to the top. Darkness and mystery. Unknown territory. We twisted around steep inclines and dirt rolled from underneath our tires like smoke. What were vague shapes at the bottom of the path soon were mountain peaks in clear view. How high are we? It’s now 1 a.m. Fog is rolling over the sides of a narrowing road. We are barely going over five miles per hour. The brakes are telling me they think they can, but I am skeptical. We have under a quarter of gas in the tank (Gas is expensive in paradise. Nearly $10 a gallon. Wowza.).
We pause. We argue. Some of us are fearless, “let’s keep going.” Anxiety has reached dangerous levels. We eventually agree, due to lack of gas, to retreat from our plan. We find a place to turn around and 30 minutes later we are in a gas station parking lot. I close my eyes. I open them. It is a new day. I walk to the edge of the highway and look down at the tide rolling in onto the shore. There are sea lions singing their song on the beach.
What will tomorrow bring?
I thought the experience would flee when I returned home. I figured it was similar to the magic you feel at Disney World. Lost once you leave. But Big Sur never really left my head. It taught me to appreciate the present — to live in the moment. I listen to Watching the Wheels every day on repeat. And when everything gets too stressful, I escape back to Interstate 1. Because one moment you’re fearing for your life at the top of a mountain, and the next you’re watching sea lions on the beach with your best friends. No problems, only solutions.
Follow Joshua Cannon on Twitter: @JoshuaS7.
Standing on the edge of Interstate 1 in Big Sur, California.
