For an all-too-brief 36 hours, I finally got to see Big Sur in all it's beauty this past weekend. I had only driven that winding Highway 1 road once before, in the dark, on a desperate and dilerious mission to Monterey Bay and San Francisco many years ago...

Lo and behold, I finally got to see the coastline. The days were sunny and clear and the night was shockingly mild. Here we were in late November, encircled around a crackling fire in nothing but flannels, switching out sips of Fireball Whiskey and Bud Light. Chloe the Dog sniffled and snuffled between our legs, inspecting the countless foreign forest smells as thoroughly as her leash would allow. Camping is truly the potluck of living: everyone brings a piece of equipment, chips in some food scraps here, offers up positivity and laughter there and before you know it, it's an experiential feast; a purer sense of Being.

We encountered many things, but not limited to: a surly convenience store clerk, torn between pulling pins off a board to satiate my curiosity and ringing out a befuddled woman for her pumped gas; mossy forests, green and quiet, adjacent to pristine beaches that stretched far and wide below suspended bridges; hundreds of beached elephant seals doing the darnedest things; and open shorelines, filled with glassy and polished stones, where Dog and Man could run together, untethered, waves lapping at naked feet.

More photographs will follow, but for now, here is a link to some phone snaps I took: http://bit.ly/1I8TTm8

A short week welcomes me back, and as I fit in work with Jam in the Van and my internship at Chris McPherson's studio, I must also pack up and prepare for Wednesday, when fifteen of us depart for Friendsgiving and cabin life near Bass Lake and Yosemite, where good food and snow await. Many photographs will surely trickle out into the world from this pending trip: a most joyous time...#getyourasstobass!