The ocean has been vibrant these 3 days. Big swell, crashing waves. Surfers are a hardy bunch up here. This ain’t no stinkin Southern California. Water’s cold, there are rip currents, surfer dudes are tough.
Lots of driftwood on beaches. When I leave this cafe in Gualala, I think I’ll head back down to the beach where we went yesterday, this time with my backpack to pick up driftwood treasures.
On Wednesday, I skated for an hour and a half. First real skateboarding in months, injuries healed, thank the lord, or rather, body1 It’s a half-mile downhill narrow road, v. little traffic, going out to the Pt. Arena lighthouse. I bomb a stretch of it, what a thrill. I shot movies of the rides with my GoPro Helmet Hero HD video camera, will get into YouTube when I can. (Looks like I’m going faster than I am.)
I went down a little canyon path a few hours ago to shoot the above pic of the driftwood beach, and on the way back up, spotted this skunk skin, or rather,skunk fur. I probed around with a stick, but there were no bones, just this image of a skunk draped on the pine needles.
I’ve heard of Taoist masters who have died and supposedly left no physical traces. When monks opened the master’s room, there was nothing but the master’s clothing and hair. The body had dissolved into thin air.
This is my 3rd day on the road. Louie is my only friend that is older than me, but he’s still a boy. He rides a 500′ cable across a churning river to get to his house. Yesterday I turned around on the beach to catch him trying to lasso me with a piece of kelp.
Yesterday we played in his shop. I had cut some slabs out of an oak log with my chainsaw, the same log that rolled down a hill and fractured my rib a few months ago. I figured I’d make a litttle box out of the wood.
Louie ran it through his big powerful wooden-wheel shipbuilders’ band saw, then milled it down on his Makita planer, and I ended up with 2 beautiful pieces of oak.
Room attached to Louie’s shop where I sleep and fiddle on my Mac.
I’ve had the urge to communicate since my high school journalism class. Every day I run across wonderful stuff and I want to tell people about it. To the point of being a blabbermouth. Hey, check out this barn/motorcycle/red-shouldered hawk/beach…blah-blah-blah. To the point, where while I’m discovering something, I’m already thinking about communicating it.
Blogging is kinda perfect, a lot quicker than getting something into print. Right now I get something up at least once a day, it’s a necessary part of my day.
The biggest thing going on now, though, is my tiny homes book. I’ve been working 12-hour days maybe 3 times a week. Getting up early. I’m into it! I love the process, and the way this book is unfolding. New things are coming in almost daily. It’s wild. I’m putting it together 2 pages at a time, the parts are assembling and I’ve got over half the pages done and I’ll keep at it until we have a 224-page book.
It’s “organic” in the sense that it’s growing on its own. It fees like the same thing that was going on during production of Shelter in 1973. There’s a vortex , a cultural movement, in this case, of providing a roof overhead simply and cheaply, staying away from banks, using one’s own hands, simplifying life, at least for a while. Seeking independence. This morning, Louie, looking through the miniature printouts I brought along, said, “It’s gonna be like Shelter.” It’s going to resonate with a lot of people, especially women.
Only problem is it’s taking a long time. Communicating with all these homeowners and builders and getting pics that are hi-res enough. We’re aiming to have it out in winter 2011. It’s great for me to take a few days’ break and have fun with Louie.
Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning…
Took off at 6 AM for Berkeley today, meeting Kevin for breakfast at 9:30; I always come early to the Fertile Grounds coffee shop on Shattuck, with good latte and wi-fi. Catch up on news (read real hold-in-hand NYTimes).
Then this afternoon I’m shooting photos of a young woman who built her own $3000 tiny house in a friend’s backyard. Turns out there are a lot of women builders in our forthcoming tiny houses book.
Tonight I’m heading over the hills to the coast, to hang out with my friend Louie for a few days. I’ve got “my” little circular room in Louie’s shop, with wood stove and desk for writing. It looks out on grape vines and apple trees, with redwoods in the background. Gonna skate; there’s a half-mile downhill with v. few cars. I’ve recovered from operation and injury, good to be rolling again.
Stay tuned…
We’re selling a lot of copies of Builders of the Pacific Coast, and The Barefoot Architect. Last night, after some rock n roll at Bottom of the Hill, I went to Sam Wo restaurant about 2 AM. I’ve been going there for about 50 years. You walk in through the kitchen, climb narrow stairs, and surly waitresses take your order and haul it up on a dumb waiter. The place was famed in the ’60s for the ultra-rude waiter Edsel Ford, who would yell at you: “No egg foo yung, no sweet sour, no chow mein! What you want? Hurry up!” Edsel’s gone now, but his spirit remains. I had a bowl of wonton soup, delicious. They are open until 3AM. Lot of international travelers there late at night.
My talk on the half-acre homestead went well yesterday. It was fun, everyone was with me. Raining this morning, I’m at Ritual Roasters, v. cool barista/wi-fi cafe on Valencia St. Doing talk today on Builders of the Pacific Coast at Green Fest.
This flurry of posts is because I’m in the Big City for 4 days for the Green Festival.
Ocean beach yesterday, surfers” paradise, shadows in the sea mist…
An Irish coffee last night at the Buena Vista, Ghirardelli sign with its handsome typography…
Cafe Roma in North Beach at daybreak today…
Here’s my hangout at Louie’s.
These days I shoot pix continually with my Canon Powershot S-90, which is always on me in fanny pack. When I want to get serious, I use my Panasonic Lumix G1; the latter replaced my 5-lb trusty Canon 20D. It’s half the weight. Much the way that the Olympus OM-1 replaced Nikons back in the ’70s. The Lumix G1 is a wonderful camera.
It’s Friday, we had a great breakfast at the Trink cafe here in Pt. Arena. Local eggs, hickory-smoked rough-cut bacon. Last night we had dinner at Bones, a “blues and brews” pub in Gualala. The place was packed. Huge menu. Smoked everything, every dish was good, a restaurant in its own “sweet spot in time” at this very moment. Dark ale from the nearby Eel River brewery, tasted like chocolate.
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The ocean has been vibrant these 3 days. Big swell, crashing waves. Surfers are a hardy bunch up here. This ain’t no stinkin Southern California. Water’s cold, there are rip currents, surfer dudes are tough.
I went down a little canyon path a few hours ago to shoot the above pic of the driftwood beach, and on the way back up, spotted this skunk skin, or rather,skunk fur. I probed around with a stick, but there were no bones, just this image of a skunk draped on the pine needles.
