We Continue to Conquer in California....

The Western waters in sight and our time spent in the Bay area slipping away, our road trip comes to an end. Starting on May 26th upon Nick’s arrival in Berea and ending on June 17th as Micah and Matt board their one-way red-eye to Kentucky, one could only agree that we spent three weeks living life as it should be lived. Free flowing and dynamic. Open and with much laughter. Not to say that this was an easy trip. The combination of very little sleep, stiffness, and different ideas about what and where and for how long with 3.5 massive personalities (another Halfling joke) mashed into the cozy quarters of the overflowing jeep makes everyday life tricky. Even our time spent together in California felt a bit cozy at times even though we actually had beds and showers on a regular basis….as well as regular meals. Though ‘regular’ is a slight underestimation as you’ll soon learn


Golden Gate from Marin Headlands

We conquered every well-known eatery and devoured every famous food known to man in less than two weeks. Did we eat small servings? Hell no. Eating an average of 5-6 full meals a day, we ate till we hurt. And then some. A nap would normally be in order after such strenuous eating extravaganzas, but there was no time to waste! There’s too much to see (and EAT) in the Bay area. Let me give you a brief rundown of a typical day:

9-10: Wake at leisurely hours after sleeping in REAL BEDS (not the Jeep)

10: Eat breakfast at Arizmende (local/organic bakery coop in Oakland). Eat one large California style pizza and split 4 pastries.

10:30: Have second breakfast at The Taco Stand (small roach coach on International Drive in Oakland where they measure murders—drug related mostly—by meter squared). Eat 6 or 7 varieties of taco (fish, carnitas, carne asada, shrimp, etc)…we had 14 total tacos.

11: Have Elevensies in Chinatown (Oakland) at an awesome take out location…I wish I could remember the names of the foods, but the dumplings stuffed with sweet pork as well as the shrimp wrapped in bacon were my favorite.

12: Lunch time: We like to eat ice cream for lunch. We discovered that ice cream is soothing while full, so it makes sense to eat it even when you can’t eat more.
Afternoon: Walk around Berkeley and discuss dinner plans….grab a couple slices of pizza from Zachary’s Pizza Parlor (their veggie pizza rocks)

5:30: Dinner at the Siebens: Gorge on grilled ribs, corn on the cob, salad, and bread. Drink delicious red wine or some of Zachary’s Berea Broobs. After an hour, maybe eat more even though you’re in serious pain at this point—but it’s worth it. Greg Sieben is a God in the kitchen. The WOLF (the stove) is his faithful sidekick. What good cook doesn’t have an industrial style stove?
Oh…also, there are always appetizers at their house. Salami, prosciutto, cheeses, etc.

11: Go for a late night run to the doughnut shop in Oakland. Get 2 doughnuts each.


Sushi!

I found out later in the trip that Nick was trying to kill us just as he had tried with a friend visiting from Williams during Spring break. It’s clever really—who would expect someone to try and over nourish the soul with amazing foods 24/7 rather than simply starve a person? Though it’s not as clever as it could be since it didn’t work; we’re all alive and well—just a little fatter and a lot happier. I considered it part of my training regime for the farm. I needed to fatten up a bit before working 12 hour days. In retrospect, a good run would have been a lot more helpful, but there’s just TOO MUCH GOOD FOOD and somebody has to eat it! As beautifully worded by Greg Sieben in respect to our eating marathons, he said: “I watch the scale every day! It just goes up.” A wonderful philosophy in all of our opinions. Don’t you agree?


Alec, the giggly hacky sack champ

Now…the Sieben family dinners certainly deserve a round of applause and an encore or two. Given the chance, we attended every dinner at the Sieben’s house we could fit in our schedule. With exception of our trip to Yosemite, we ate dinner at the Sieben’s house about 8 or 9 times. Why, you might ask? There are two reasons. The food rocks. It always rocks. So do the beverages—especially Greg’s home brews. But there’s an even more important reason.

The Sieben’s are simply the most amazing family I’ve ever met—not that I’m undermining my own family, there’s just no possible way to compare. Each individual (Greg, Suzy, Allie, and TT) is entirely different and absolutely interesting to converse or spend time with. Between Greg, the Keeper of the Kitchen, Suzy’s energy and passion (she was always ready to play with us and even learned to play hacky sack), you could never find a more loving and more fun set of parents. Allie might be a bit quiet at first, but don’t let it fool you—after she opens up you’ll find her to incredibly sweet, smart, and hardworking. She’s a trooper too! I know traveling with us to Yosemite was probably not easy—ya know, just a jog up a couple o’ mountains with a boisterous crowd and no sleep—no biggie, right? Hope she was ready for that. Ready or not, she did it without a single comment—didn’t even complain about being out of breath or tired! In fact, I think it’s safe to say we showed her a good time. TT (Taylor) is exuberant and brilliant. Who knows what sort of academic scholarship to MIT she would pocket—that is if she were interested in engineering instead of saving the world. Ready to tell stories, both about silly moments and amazing experiences in Mali, she captivates her audience well, loving them as much as they love her.

When the Sieben’s came to Berea in February, they learned about Berea and met its awesome people. Impressed with the love and support we exhibit toward one another as a community and the passion we have for what we do, they understood why Zack loved Berea as much as he did. In doing so, they gave Zack to us—and welcomed us, in turn, to visit them in Piedmont. Who would be foolish enough to turn down such an awesome opportunity?

WOw...SO Much Food

Suzy took us all over the Bay area, breakfasting at Café Fanny and Tacubaya, and wandering throughout the Haight district, admiring the colorful kooks, hipsters, beggars, hippies, and average Joe’s strolling the streets, watching us with as much bland disinterest in us as we had curiosity. Chocolate shops, café’s, vintage thrift shops, and quirky jewelry stores lined the sidewalks with enough people to make things interesting without being too crowded.


I don't see what they see...


Greg's Saffron

It was fascinating to watch Greg cook. He talked to us about what he was doing as he did it, teaching us, rather than just showing what he could do. There was little we could do to help the master run his lair save one important job: Making sure the cook always had a hearty glass of wine or brew. Micah and Matt showed exceptional dedication to this important task, always ensuring that the cook remained happy with conversation and delicious beverages. The evening we had paella, Greg set up the paella grill on the porch, loading the specialized pan with rice, roasted red peppers, shrimp, oysters, clams, peas, lemons, and various spices. Greg showed us his prized tin of saffron shipped from distant shores to his humble home on Olive Avenue. The fragrant red spice complemented the dish perfectly not only drawing people toward the grill for a quick smell but a peek at the beautiful contrast of the various ingredients. It was a feast for the souls of the most revered gods—but instead a haggard group of footloose vagrants devoured the meal with the spectacular company of the Bay’s best folks.

California, is no doubt, an exceptional state. Redwoods, snow peaked sierras, deserts, Mt. Shasta, Yosemite, Death Valley, Lake Tahoe, the great agriculture belt, Pacific beaches, an international border, ghettos, small signless hippie beach towns just an hour from one of the world’s greatest cities….It’s endlessly entertaining. In an exploration of the outer reaches of the Bay, we toured Marin county, scampering over the rocky cliffs in the Marin Headlands and surfing the gentle waves of Bolinas (the above mentioned hippie beach town which always takes down its road signs so people can’t find it).


Shooting the Breeze


Marin Headlands

The headlands start as the Golden Gate Bridge ends, lush native plants and colorful flowers clinging to the cliffs despite the odds of the harsh elements against them. The sun’s powerful rays beat down on the exposed land while the wind whips unforgivingly—I can’t even imagine what it’s like with poor weather conditions if that’s what it’s like on a sunny day! The headlands are spotted with bunkers installed during WWII as a lookout for the enemy. They’re no longer in use, save random exploration by tourists and locals and mischievous endeavors by beginning graffiti artists. Point Bonita lighthouse stands on the outermost peak warning ships of the rocky shores, its white tower just out of reach of the crashing waves. Sea lions and otters scamper throughout the seaweed in calmer parts of the salty water, searching for food.


Incoming Tide

Bolinas, another hour from the headlands along the wildly curvy cliff-side turns of Highway 1, proved to be the most charming beach-side town I’ve ever visited. There’s one café (maybe two), as well as a general store, post office, visitor’s center (which doesn’t seem to be open very often), and a couple of surf shops. Otherwise the quaint town is littered with farms on its edge and lavish herb gardens in its interior, lavender and bougainvillea shooting sky high in the rich, seaside soils. Delightfully small, clap board homes line the road which sports an array of clever homeless hippies, stray dogs, and crotchety old men with horn rimmed glasses. After renting a couple of boards and wetsuits, we all dressed and got ready to hit the waves. Matt put his wetsuit on backwards, an innocent mistake which I was cruel enough to not bring to his knowledge (the clerk at the shop was much nicer than I) since I wanted to see if he would notice after he saw the rest of us in our suits. The zipper goes in the back—I doubt he will ever forget, especially after surviving my slightly malicious humor.

Nick collected us before we braved the 50 degree water and explained the basics of surfing to his eager pupils. Turned loose to apply our newly acquired knowledge, we paddled (against the current rushing into the channel which fed the coastal oyster flats) to catch some waves and learn how to sit on top of the world. At first I was frustrated—I wasn’t catching anything. Nothing seemed to come my way. After a while, I realized that waiting is simply a part of the sport. Meditating quietly on the water, fingers and toes bloated from the cold, but persistently paddling in the direction of the best formed curls, I wore a ridiculously huge grin on my face, wiping it away only to prevent from drinking copious amounts of the Pacific. After finally catching a small wave and managing a feeble crouch on my 8 foot foam board, I no longer bothered to wipe off the grin for oncoming waves. I was having too much fun.


I didn't want to stand...tide was outgoing and it was time to go so it took me long enough to catch this small wave!

Later I managed to stand fully (for a few seconds) two times, but usually toppled over, unsure of what to do with my weight once actually on a moving board projected forward by the force of the moving water. I usually leaned too far forward when trying to catch waves, clumsily nose-diving into the wake and tossed carelessly like a ragdoll in a dryer. Each time I told myself to learn from my mistakes, but couldn’t seem to quit my detrimental habits which led up to my thorough wave scrub. At any rate, I seemed to be well hydrated after swallowing a substantial amount of water during one particularly awkward nose dive. Micah and Matt had decent luck as well (skill too!) with their first day surfing, catching several waves, but missing more, and completely falling apart on others, just as I had done time and time again.

The last place I’ll tell you about is “The Spot”. I saved it for last because I didn’t know what exactly I wanted to say (as it is, I still don’t know) but I’ll give it a try. The Spot is located at the top of the Oakland hills. We visited a similar spot upon arriving in the Bay area where you can see the same general view, but without the stunning charm of native flora and fauna instead of a well traveled road at your back. Zack discovered the spot sometime back in high school during one of his random excursions to explore the region on foot. He stood looking at the red blinking lights adorning the cell towers and decided to find their exact location in hopes of finding something interesting along the way. He was well rewarded. A 15 minute drive from Olive Avenue, the spot not only provides an uninterrupted view of the bay, but it is off the road and adorned with shrubs and small trees native to the region. Turkeys scamper along the hilltop and deer can even be seen on occasion. For a city boy, this is quite an oasis. Nick and Zack frequented the spot in high school, camping on the crest of the hill despite the relentless wind. Zack described it to me many times during our first year at Berea so that when I visited the spot with Suzy, TT, and Zack last May, I already knew where we were before we had even crested the ridge. Now some of Zack’s ashes blow in the wind at the spot, which actually resembles the spot where he and I used to camp during our freshman year. Windy and exposed but affording a decent view of Berea within walking distance of the campus, some of his ashes rest there too, floating amongst the gnarled oaks and colorful maples of the Brushy Fork Woods.

The photo of the spot (in the Bay) hardly does it any justice. I often feel my photos depict far more than my words, but this time neither really serves to show how incredible the spot is or any of the other places I’ve been fortunate enough to visit on the road trip. Really all I’m saying is that YOU need to stop reading my blog and go for a drive so you can see these things and meet these people for yourself. If you can’t leave immediately, that’s okay—I just hope this serves as an inspiration to you!


Half Dome

I’ll think of other memories which I want to share when I’ve “finished” my blog. There’s no way I can think of everything and encompass the trip with objective accuracy. This story is entirely from my point of view, created from my fairly loose memory. As it is, I hope you have enjoyed the blog, reading its many stories, admiring the photographs, and maybe even sharing it with others.


A Random Farm (photo by Matt Quarles)

I’m working at Sunfield Farm and School in WA (I might have mentioned this earlier…). Perhaps I’ll start a blog detailing my experiences here, but we’ll see how my energy holds. Ten to twelve hour work days in the baking sun have a tendency to take a toll on my desire to write, even if I enjoy it. It’s much more pleasant to curl in bed with my fleece, a cup of Lapsang Souchang, and a book (currently reading Into Thin Air by Krakauer and Anna Karenina by Tolstoy


Taryn, Ruhiyyih, and I on the morning of our departure! They (along with Megan) served as a wonderful farewell crew, making sure we had everything we needed.

With love, I’m signing off!

Frances

Sleepless from Santa Cruz to Yosemite

After playing with Suzy and Allie in the Haight District of San Francisco for the day (I bought a pair of 80’s print tights and a red zebra striped dress at a vintage thrift shop), we devoured a huge Vietnamese dinner, packed our bags, and left for Santa Cruz at 9 with Lauren in tow. Our plan was to hang with Daniel and Levi all evening and then head to the beach for some surf and sun the next morning. They gave us directions to Panther beach, a small townie’s favorite along the organic strawberry and lettuce fields lining coastal highway 1. It took us 15 minutes to find it, but was more than worth our patience.


Suzy


Suzy and Allie


Picnic on Panther Beach


Lauren and Nick


Searching for Sea Shells (Matt took this)

Tiptoeing down the sandy cliff, we crossed a small beach and walked under a sandstone arch formed by the wind and waves. Munching on cheddar cheese, salami and a sourdough baguette, we sat with our back to the cliff watching the waves break and spill within 20 feet of our towels on the empty beach. Nick and I decided to explore the stunning environment…two minutes into our exploration we stumbled across a baby seal resting silently in the shade of the cliff. It observed us pensively, its dark eyes gazing without fear, matching our curiosity for each other. We could have touched the peaceful mammal, but chose to leave it be, comfortably napping just feet from our path. A few days later, while eating Peking duck and Chow Mein at a late-night Chinese food diner in downtown Oakland, the anchorwoman announced that hundreds of malnourished and underweight seals were being found along the coast and turned into Marine Mammal rescue centers—but the cause is unknown.


Haight St, San Francisco


Guitar on Haight St


Construction Signs


Baby Sea Lion, Panther Beach


Allie

Driving home from Santa Cruz late that afternoon, we dropped off Lauren and went to the Sieben’s to have a beer with the famed Aunt Spike. She was as spectacular as I had imagined, telling tales of her pilgrimage from Canterbury to Rome and of future plans as well…possibly even Cusco to Tierra del Fuego. Just imagine traveling Europe at 3 mph. That’s badass. (If you want to check out Aunt Spike’s blog, look for the “follower” on my blog at the top right of the page…she’s under “Winter Pilgrim” and has the photo with the hiking sticks). After spending a couple of hours talking of her adventures as well as our own, we went around the block to Alice’s house. I was thrilled to meet her having only heard praises and seen elated expressions at the mere mention of her name. It didn’t take long to find out why. Alice is spunky and genuinely sweet, quick to put everyone at ease, making me feel at home right away. Though I only spent a couple of hours with her, I look forward to seeing her again.


Cliffs at Panther Beach


Ducks on Mirror Lake at 5 a.m.


View of Vernal Falls

Returning home to Nick’s, Matt and Micah went to bed while Nick and I prepared the food and packed the car for our trip to Yosemite. We would leave at 1. One in the morning, that is. Tents, sleeping bags, food, and other necessities packed, we woke Quarles and Micah, shooing them to the backseat to sleep and picked up Allie who took a Dramamine before hitting the curvy road to eastern California. Nick took the first shift in driving, drinking hot coffee he brewed at the house, while I shuffled the music, keeping him awake with classics like 99 Red Balloons, Spanish techno, Daft Punk, and the Spice Girls (yes, I freely admit that all of those songs came from my iPod, but I also have lots of Tom Petty and the Beatles). Halfway to Yosemite I took over driving—just in time for the curvy roads. I learned very quickly that the van picked up speed in curves (even up to 15 mph faster than I had started) so I had to compensate before going into the curve. But the beauty of driving such curvy roads at 3 a.m. is that I did not pass a single car. So I went a bit…faster…than most would choose to go. Those who were awake probably felt like they were on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, but for real. Arriving in Yosemite Valley at 4:55 a.m. we immediately walked to Mirror Lake, our path lit by the gentle twilight. The lake—rather a pool in a small river—runs under Half Dome’s majestic flat face and reflects the gray and white granite cliffs of the valley. The banks were lush, evergreens growing further away from the edge of the river with greenery closer to the source of water.


Long Socks and Short Shorts: Zack and Nick Explored Yosemite before departing on the JMT trip.


Blue Jay

Walking back to the car, we dressed for the 8 mile hike on the Mist Trail/John Muir Trail (JMT) and found a picnic table at the head of the trail to eat our simple breakfast: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at 6:45 a.m. Micah decided to linger in the valley, napping and strolling, rather than join us on our hefty little hike. The first part of the trail was paved and crowded with tourists, most of which appeared never to have been in the wilderness before (not that the first few miles of the trail could be considered wilderness, but that’s beside my point). We skated around them as quickly as possible which wasn’t particularly easy since the trail was fairly steep. Being a bit sleepy at the moment, I’ve forgotten the name of the falls which the gorgeous trail displayed, save Vernal Falls (which is the one at the end of this section of the trail). As soon as we passed the first waterfall, the crowds thinned and the trail narrowed, turning into a mass of roots, hand-built stone steps, and sand. I started to feel that we were on a real trail now and began to feel a true sense of excitement which pushed my exhaustion out of my mind for the time being.


Mist Trail


Family Photo: Mist Trail

Heading up to the second set of falls, the 3 foot wide trail hugged the side of the mountain. The powerful and loving hands of a brave trail crew carved and hoisted these rectangular shaped rocks 1 foot wide and 2 feet long (some even bigger) on a vertical slope in order to enable people like me to enjoy the beauty of the Mist Trail. It seems entirely insane, yet it’s entirely necessary. Without the trail, the popular mountains would succumb to damaging amounts of erosion from the heavy foot traffic it receives each year.


Lots of rare wildlife here.


Mist Trail

It wasn’t long before we discovered the reason for naming the trail the Mist Trail. The second set of falls spilled over the edge of the cliff ahead of us and crashed violently onto the rocks below, releasing a cold spray which welcomingly cooled our laboring bodies. The trail was slick and muddy so the moving was slow, but none of us were in a rush to leave the view of the stunning gorge bejeweled with rainbows and ornamented with rich layers of moss covering the boulders and trees. Exploring the cliff at the top of the falls, we snapped several photos—the best of which were the classy photos of Nick slurping water from my camel back which Quarles was wearing—and marveled over the view which would only improve as we gained elevation to check out the third and last set of falls. The crowds thinned again as people tired from the trek heading up the cliff, unable to comprehend even the consideration of climbing yet another dauntingly steep wall. We, however, kept our quick pace in check, slowing only for views and interesting sights or water.


Tuba Shirt and Shorty Shorts


Mist Trail--the trailhead

Nick and I were the first to reach the top—which has a lot to do with us being completely ridiculous, taking a sick enjoyment in running up mountains. This is a fairly impressive accomplishment when you consider than neither of us had slept since Friday morning and it was mid-day Saturday. However, as soon as we sat on a warm rock to wait for Allie and Matt, I fell asleep. I would have stayed asleep on that rock had Allie not turned back after reaching the top to wake me when she realized that everyone but me had continued walking after their short break. Hidden behind Nick’s dark aviators, the boys hadn’t realized I fell asleep and left, assuming I would follow with my usual zeal, likely to pass them at any given moment.


Mist Trail


Gear Nerd: Zack on the first day of his JMT trip (note how clean he is)

We explored the top of Nevada Falls for about 30 minutes, gazing tirelessly at the wide view of the valley. The falls plunged over the edge with incredible force, sending a spray several hundred feet in the air from whence it came. It was fairly windy and too cold to sit close to the falls, especially with the icy spray, but that didn’t deter me from taking another powernap (this time for 10 minutes) and snacking on a PB&J sandwich before our fast paced trek to the bottom for lunch. Arriving in record time—the hike only took us 3 hours—we threw lunch together over the camp stove and hopped in the car to drive to the Mariposa Redwood Grove. It was only 40 (or so) miles away, but the park speed limits are slow to keep people from hitting each other or the bears on the narrow, winding roads.


Suckling the Camel's Teat

Nick took the wheel, twisting and turning the minivan through the winding roads, the rest of us asleep in minutes. After 30 or so minutes, he too began to fade and decided to pull over to take a quick nap. It wasn’t very quick though. What was going to be a 15 minute nap turned into a deep slumber for all. We accidentally fell asleep on the side of the road for two hours. I recall two thoughts during that entire period. I had one foot on the dashboard and the other on the floor. I was wearing one running shoe—my neon yellow pair. I thought, “Huh, that’s funny. Why am I wearing one shoe?” But I fell asleep before I even thought of a reason, much less taking the time to remove my shoe. Some unknown time later I woke for another 5 seconds, just as bewildered as before, wondering if we had arrived at Glacier Point yet (we were going to the Mariposa Grove….).


Exposing our Inner Bear in the Mariposa Sequoia Grove


Mariposa Grove

We all woke sometime later and continued our trip, Nick still driving, but with a peculiar look on his face. Looking at me, he grinned and told me what he had realized. Last spring, he and Zack had come to Yosemite around the same time. They too had driven through the night and made a marathon trip of the park before Zack’s departure on the JMT. On the way to the Mariposa Grove, Nick had started to fall asleep and pulled over on a turnout on the side of the road to take a quick nap, but overslept. We had just used the same turnout. This might sound insignificant except that there is at least one turnout each couple of miles, so we could have picked from 100. We just happened to pick the same one he had used last time.
Wandering through the grove of sequoias, we chatted quietly, appreciating the calm silence afforded by the respectable trees despite the squabble of languages peppering the trail and disturbing what could be a perfect silence. Yet it wouldn’t be quiet, even if we treaded lightly, saying nothing. The trees were alive with birds singing droopy warbles and squirrels bickering like children in the back seat. Small scrub deer with blasé expressions munched passively on the few greens struggling to survive beneath the canopy, eyeing the gaggles of tourists that shrieked with as much excitement as to match Dorothy’s fear of the lions and tigers and bears (Oh, my!).


Allie in the Mariposa Grove


Mariposa Grove

Sequoias are simply epic. Really, they are. So is that photo of Zack...though he would probably prefer it if I addressed him as “Grizzly Giant,” making sure to complement him on his bushy mountain man beard in which he took so much time and energy to grow (unsuccessfully). Then I would ask him what sort of awesome deal he got on his Icebreaker merino wool shirt. After that I would ask him about his highlighter yellow hat (which he gave to a random boy on the Empire Builder train in August because the kid touched his heart and intrigued him) and likely receive an earful on the horrors of MTR (mountain top removal).


Apparently Nick took about 100 of these before Zack (rather, Grizzly Giant) was satisfied. The results are apparent; the photo is epic.

Back to the sequoias. Again…they’re epic. I could give you a physical description (thick reddish, peeling trunk with thick branches) but that’s lame. Though I’ll mention that they probably reach the stratosphere. That’s what happens when you grow for hundreds of years. (Except Frances. I will stay short forever. But it’s okay. I refer to myself as “Fun Size”…like the candy bars). I digress again. All I mean by this chatter is that you should go see the sequoias yourself. As a travel writer and photographer of sorts I cannot encompass their power and simple beauty with any worthwhile works. Then again, nobody really could.


True Love is found only in sequoia groves.


Extremely rare wildlife can be seen in the Mariposa Grove.

Driving back toward Yosemite Valley after a pit stop at the general store for some Jambalaya and hot dogs (actually tastes really good…for road food), we headed to catch the sunset at Glacier Point. By the time we arrived, we were a little late for a sunset, but the view was still (Ready for yet another awe-inspiring adjective from the synonyms suggestion box?!) radically marvelous! Nick whipped together dinner, sightseers gazing longingly at the boiling rice and hot dogs as if we were grilling steak and potatoes. We might as well have been—we were all hungry enough to be convinced of it if were told so. Upon arriving we had been able to observe the contours of the valley, Yosemite Falls, and Half Dome along with the surrounding Sierras but by the time we finished our meal, it was pitch black and though Half Dome still vaguely loomed in the distance, the stars captured our full attention. There were so many stars that night, it was like trying to count jelly beans in a bulk candy bin.


Sequoia

Nick took the wheel while Allie, Micah, and Matt promptly fell asleep in the back. An hour or so later I took over driving staying awake with two brilliant methods: the power of techno, the Spice Girls, and MGMT and lots of chocolate. We had decided to stop at the first campsite between Lair (where we would visit Kunze the next day) and Yosemite. But after driving 3-4 hours (I lost track of time) on the wildly winding country roads which teeter tauntingly along the edge of cliffs for most of the ride, we realized we had arrived at Lair. Low and behold, there were 50 campgrounds in the area and over 100 sites in each one…we just had to drive until 2:30 am to find them after pulling an all-nighter on Friday. In short, Nick and I were a bit tired.


Sunset on the way to Glacier Point


Glacier Point


Glacier Point

The next morning we met Kunze after a tremendous breakfast at the gas station/grocery down the road from the camp site. Gorging on breakfast burritos packed to the gills with potato, egg, cheese, and bacon and Snickers ice cream bars, we felt like gods basking in the sunshine on the floor of the concrete porch of that homey gas station. Such excellent service! Driving to Lair, we met Kunze and walked to the edge of a large pine encrusted lake (Lake Jackson…or am I confusing it with another lake this trip..?). Finding a secluded spot along its extensive shoreline, we played hacky sack for an hour before napping on a massive boulder, basking in the sunshine which kept us warm despite the chilly lake breeze. After several hours, we walked Kunze back to camp before jumping in the van for the drive back to the Bay area with Matt at the wheel.

Go West Young Men (and Frances)!

We actually made it 3 weeks ago...or so. I've lost track of time since then and am currently in Washington state working at Sunfield Farm and School, a private 501c3 Waldorf school and farm....but back to the road trip.

Driving from the Peninsula to Portland, we met one of Nick’s friends from Williams for dinner at a local, organic Mexican restaurant with massive burritos for $6. After dinner, we headed to Eugene to meet the infamous Leo Lober-Tracy, Zack’s best friend tracing back to elementary school. Leo gave us directions to his frat and stood on the corner of his street, anticipating our arrival with the same eager impatience to greet the world just as Zack did. A huge grin on his face, he darted over to the jeep to give a hello hug to Nick and meet Micah, Matt, and I for the first time. I had heard so much about Leo, particularly in reference to “Hurricane” Katrina as well as the classy hit song “Nuttin It II” with his fellow band members, The Eunochs. He was happy to give us a place to sleep, but unable to pass the evening with us as he had finals. As it was, we were tired and went to bed almost immediately with plans to meet him for breakfast.


Sneaky Francy Pants entertains herself in less creepy ways than Matt on the last few hours of the road trip by taking photos of people she knows.

It was a beautiful thing. Four people who had impacted Zack and who had been impacted by Zack in some wonderful way or another quietly, but contentedly ate their breakfast together. We didn’t talk much, but there was no real need. I was completely content, happy to enjoy the company of four friends. Also, Matt Quarles had Soysage (an epic and hilarious moment since soy lacks the greasy, salty, tough skinned fatty goodness of real sausage)—it was a local, organic, vegan breakfast joint which had a sign that all cell phone conversations must be taken outdoors and a Bush-isms poster in the bathroom. My two favorites…(upon viewing a world map): “WOW, Brazil is REALLY BIG”. My other favorite (stated while addressing a single mother with 3 kids): “Wow, that’s so uniquely American of you to be working 3 jobs. That’s just wonderful!” Alas, the old white bastard isn’t in his pretty white house anymore—rather he’s not just hangin’ at his vacation home in Texas. MOVING ON….


Meat Fuck BBQ Sauce

After breakfast, we hit the road. Jumping on I-5, we booked it, first to In-N-Out Burger just south of Shasta, arriving in Piedmont around dinner time—just in time for the traditional Sieben Sunday dinner, in fact. Making a quick detour for a pre-sunset view of the Bay area from the Oakland hills, we absorbed the incredible sight, spotting the Golden Gate and Bay bridges, San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley, Piedmont, Alcatraz, the Marin Headlands, etc.


Zachary's Berea Broobs

Raring to see the Sieben’s and ready to eat, we climbed back into the packed jeep (for the last time!) and drove down the hills to the sweet blue house on Olive Lane which was bound to be packed with family and friends—and it was, of course. Bobbie, Louie, Kayla, Elizabeth, Lauren, Orli, Lorrie, Brian, Allie, TT, Sue, and Greg were all present and ready to greet us with warm hugs. Snagging grilled corn and ribs, our brilliant meal was complemented by Greg’s delicious home brew: Zachary’s Berea Broobs. Of course. Topping my ribs with “Zachary’s Atomic Nasty BBQ Sauce” of the Meat Fuck variety (also created by Z7), my meal could not have been any better—great food and amazing people make the best dinners.