Sometimes you plan for things, plot, scheme, save and scrounge and embark upon something more then just an adventure, but a catalyst for change. An impetus to improve upon oneself through experience gained. Sometimes everything goes to shit and your best laid plans crumble in on their naive nature. Sometimes you realize change comes from within, not from a van and a change of scenery. It's something you have to manifest within yourself, with a heated desire for change and will to work. Reliving the moments in between brutal commutes and crumbling exhaust manifolds is like remembering the good parts of a dream. In retrospect looking through the negatives I can see the light from the dark.
Electric sunsets shining through the windswept formations of smoke blown West from the fire scorched hills of Santa Inez Valley.
Cool gray mornings with just your boys and a few hundred others being mowed over by thumping bands of Northwest swell energy.
Perspective was gained gazing into the empty eyes of death, a glimpse into the real simple truth all other creatures on this earth must acknowledge, eat or be eaten.
Sleepy elbows of cobblestone coastline were gently woken from hibernation by waves of energy that had traveled thousands of miles to meet their demise.
The promise of perfection drew even the saltiest of surf nomads, forced to tolerate the up close and personal nature of the local wildlife.
A short ride into the mountains afforded a glimmering perspective of the goodland I feel lucky to have known.
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