Winter Pilgrimage

Ryan Lovelace doing what he does best, crafting tools for fun.

Dillon Perrillo checking for tube monsters.

Mr. Keith Malloy finishing a crispy Central Coast ride with an exclamation point.

Head dipper in at the Queen with Trevor Gordon

Mr. Gordon speed checking for the inside bowl.

Goodnight and goodbye my queen, Mr. Gordon drawing evening lines.

Clear Lake Morning

Back Breaker

Good Morning and Goodnight

I'm awake 37 minutes before my alarm goes off at 4:45am.  Sleep wasn't restless, but somehow I didn't seem to require much.  I recalled being perched atop a once terraced hillside, overlooking a particularly breathtaking canyon hideaway nestled between horse ranches and orchards.  My breath hung still and visible in the steely morning air.  I tried to recall the last time I had been up this early and felt so good.  Perhaps it was sleeping under a tapestry of brilliant stars burning in familiar patterns on the other side of the universe.   I couldn't remember the last time, so I turned my my mind towards the days endeavors and adventures.  The possibilities of perfect waves aching to be ridden and the opportunity to capture and share them infused my spirit with the drive to get up.  With the visualization of wave ridding my limbs began to twitch with life.  With little stiffness I rose from my layers of thermal and fleece and down.  Standing up and out from my tent I could see the faint blackness of the mountains and deep navy blue of predawn sky run the length of the horizon.  After being transfixed by the steam produced as I made water I found my full senses and made my way down the hill to where my host was readying our vehicle.

Simon Murdoch leans back on a clean one before darkness and frigid temperatures take hold of this little cobblestone corner of heaven.

That night I slept like a rock.

Hidden Light

       

  

  

The Subtleties of Air Travel

Casual Observations of an Outer Sunset Nature

                                      

Outside the Museum

 

Infrared Visions

Big Sur Visions

The steady pulsing of funky bass lines shook all who stood basking in it's warm glow.  We moved and twisted to the wills of the music makers and our own lack of inhibitions.  The Garden was a meeting place for all the forces of the universe.  As we frolicked in the cosmic collisions of energy waves time and place  became thin as paper.  All that was real consisted of marshmallow chocolate and graham.  

Early mornings here have a calmness to them.  A blanket of tranquil quietness.   Only the soft sound of waves folding over onto themselves could be made out in the distance.  

Humble abode for the duration of my stay.

An energy channel carved from the rocks.  The presence of Big Sur goodness was strong here, a connecting point with the universal flow.

Los Angeles 2

Los Angeles 1

Through the Eyes of the Machine