Each time I do it, I don’t know why I don’t do it more often. Last week, coming down the coast, I parked and hiked for about 45 minutes to get to a secluded Sonoma County beach. I had a new super lightweight tent and I ended up like the Keystone Cops setting it up because I hate reading directions. It took me like a half hour to do something that should’ve taken four minutes.

   But it was a nice night. I roasted a local pigeon (from the freezer), and a potato and onion, both wrapped in foil, over the coals. Half a bottle of red wine. Sat around the fire for a few hours, surf crashing, no electronic devices.

Louie pointed this out to me on Thursday; he pulled the truck over, somewhere south of Ft. Bragg on Highway One, pointed down, and said, “There’s the house for you.”

Totally!

I’d be in or on that water every day. I can only dream…

It’s an impossibly beautiful morning, just exquisite. California blue skies. Fields on ridge have blush of green — early rains. Nights getting colder. Stars. Moon a week away from full. Red apples in trees, blue in sky, green on hills, warm morning sun. I’m taking a break from (the final stages of) Tiny Homes on the Move (I swear it’s getting better by the day) to write this.

More reggae I’m listening to “Train to Skaville,” archived on https://www.dancehallreggae.org, thanks to a comment by Gill. I missed out on most of this music back in its day. It just feels so right. I love it. Makes me happy. What a great site. Free.

On this morning’s SFGate:

“S.F. man lost in woods, survives on squirrels, lizards

A 72-year-old San Francisco man was recovering Sunday after he spent 19 days lost in a remote canyon of Mendocino County, surviving on squirrels, lizards and berries, and wrapping himself in leaves and grass to stay warm.…”

Techies in San Francisco I hear (and read) a lot these days about the rich techies pricing out the less affluent in SF.

From Socketsite:

“The average rent for a studio in San Francisco is now $2,312 a month, up 8.7 percent year over year …
The average rent for a San Francisco apartment in general is $2,899 a month, up 3.4 percent from the first quarter of 2013 and 6 percent higher year-over-year, with one-bedrooms averaging $2,782 a month and two-bedrooms with two baths up to $3,791.”

I wonder what % of these people are techies. What about lawyers, financial wonks, other corporate fat-checks? Whatever, it’s too bad. $3k per month rent is 100K in 3 years. Tiny homes, anyone?

On being native I was talking to a Mill Valley cab driver a while ago. He was thinking of leaving. I said, Look, you’re a native, you’ve got to use your knowledge and experience to figure out how to stay. You know your way around. Don’t give up. Be creative. Hang in. Whenever I meet a native San Franciscan, I say so am I — we’re an endangered species, always gets a laugh.

Bounty from beach These days if I’m not getting mussels, I gather seaweed and crab shells, stuff into plastic bags in my daypack, throw on compost pile when I get home, chop up with machete, turn into compost — which I’ve finally got figured out. This pile (5’x5′, 2-3′ high) is steaming, worms are thick. Every single scrap of food (that doesn’t go to the chickens) from 40 years is in our soil, which gets better each year. Speaking of which:

Symphony of the Soil, DVD by Deborah Koons Garcia

Was reviewed in NYTimes last week by Jeannette Catsoulis here. “Infused with an infectious love for its subject, ‘Symphony of the Soil’ presents a wondrous world of critters and bacteria, mulch and manure. Maintaining this layer in all its richness and diversity is, the film argues, perhaps our most critical weapon against climate change. At the very least, you will leave with the profound understanding that feeding our soil is the first step in feeding ourselves.”

“We don’t grow plants, we grow soil. And the soil grows the plants.”

        – A farmer talking about composting

I’ve wanted to do it for a couple of years. On foot, out my doorway, into San Francisco—or, I should say—on my own power, because the first part of the trip involves swimming. The night before, I was so excited I could hardly sleep. Got up at 5:30, walked down to the beach. My son Evan met me and paddled my day pack and clothes across the channel in a kayak.

   Sun just starting to glow in dark eastern sky. 6:45. I’d psyched myself up to do this. Crunch time. Stripped down, waded out into the channel, and it was c-o-l-d. Had been a windy week, chilling the ocean. Mama mia! It’s only a short swim across, maybe 50 yards, and it felt like forever. BUT once out of the water I was stylin. Got dry, clothed, walked barefoot along the beach and got to the Parkside Cafe coffee stand at 7:30, got latte and a really good donut and was off along the coast. Got to Slide Ranch by 9, to Muir Beach 9:30. Nice morning, winds had died down, you could see as-they-say for miles. It’s maybe only 30 miles to SF, but pretty much all up and down.

View north from Tennessee Beach. I kept along the coast here on the southern side, rather than go on the (prescribed) Coastal Trail, which goes inland for a ways. There were faint animal trails and I eventually made it to the Marin Headlands. What really stokes me about this photo is that in the very distant background to the north (very faint, just to left of dark low peninsula), you can see the tip of Pt. Reyes, which I hiked to (from home) a year ago.

   I have a bunch of things to say about the trip, a few photos, will try to get back to it later, but in a nutshell, it was fucking hard. Probably mostly so because, dumb shit that I am, I didn’t drink enough liquids. I was dehydrated and didn’t realize it until I limped home. Plus I can’t seem to walk slowly; the old race horse (competitive runner) syndrome.

   I got to the San Francisco side of the Golden Gate Bridge at about 3:30, about 8-1/2 hours. Caught buses home, saw two friends downtown; one said, “Did you hurt yourself?,” the other said, “You look tired.”

   Getting enough liquids in me last night got rid of most of the tiredness and soreness. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. I kept telling people it was do-able, and it was. There are lots of adventures to be had in anyone’s neck of the woods. More later.