Fog and Pumpkins

I left Bonnie's early while she was sleeping.
It only takes a few days  to kindle a friendship and to feel a little sad when you drive away, knowing it will be a long time until you might come this way again.

One of the things we do on any journey, I think, is to return to places that have been magical for us.  I hadn't had enough of the wine country.  I have only tasted one wine, by the way, a pomegranate wine this afternoon that didn't appeal to me; I prefer my fruits baked into pies and tarts and turnovers.

But driving along, I always feel like my car tires are drawing on the pavement, a big circle with lots of ins and outs.  If I had unlimited time, I'd try to be sure to leave no breaks in the lines.  I'd try to leave no road untouched.

Someday I'd like to take a different kind of trip: stopping in a place for a long time, not trying to cover so much territory but getting to know the one place up close: taking the time to get to know the cooks and construction workers and mamas and babies and dogs.  Maybe when I'm seventy, I'll do it that way.

But there were still a couple of things I'd meant to see on this trip:  I still wanted to drive up Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County--and to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge.

The trip up the mountain was slow and curvy but well worth the drive.  All the way up and back I was making that OM sound we make in yoga, but it wasn't because I was trying to be all spiritual; it was because my leg was hurting so bad I was trying to distract myself, the way I do when I have to have my blood tested--which I'd rather get a mammogram or a root canal than to do!

I hate to complain--but I'm going to indulge myself just for a minute, then move on.

From the top of the mountain you can see all across the Bay area,  looking down on clouds.  It's kind of like being in an airplane except you can stand in one place and keep looking and looking as long as you like.

I stopped at a diner before getting on the bridge.  I had been across the Bay Bridge once at night and the Richmond Bridge several times, but this was--I thought--the scary one.  Actually, it was a piece of proverbial carrot cake compared to the hairy experience of driving the Bay Bridge at night--and I'd like to do it again someday with someone else driving so I can take pictures.  The Golden Gate people don't look too kindly on drivers getting out of their cars to snap pictures.  Or doing U-Turns.  There's actually a sign on the bridge saying "NO U-TURNS"--as if anyone would contemplate a U in the middle of five lanes of traffic.

Before submitting to Our Lady on GPS, I decided to "stop by" Half Moon Bay.  On the map, you know, it's only about half an inch from the Golden Gate Bridge, and even Our Lady estimated that it would take 20 minutes to get there.

I had thought that going there would be preferable to braving the traffic at Yosemite, but as it turns out, my idea was not an original one.  The last ten miles to Half Moon Bay took about an hour and a half.  There we were, millions of people, creeping along, like a giant metal snake.

As it turned out, Half Moon Bay was having a Pumpkin Festival.  I thought: oh this will be fun!  I love pumpkins, oh boy, oh boy!

As the traffic crept along, I noticed that my gas gauge was down to two bars.  And the closer I got, the more plastic inflatable superheroes and jumping castles I saw--so I decided to quickly exit Half Moon Bay and drive on down the road to Santa Cruz.

Fog was thick, giving the impression of driving in a dream.  If I hadn't been so worried about where to find the next gas station, (now down to one bar)  I'd have turned around several times on the road between Half Moon and Santa.  I glimpsed a beautiful field of pumpkins, with children and parents carting wheelbarrows full of them, the fog touching the tops of the pumpkins in every direction.

There are always so many voices going on in my head.
One urges me to "hurry up" and get on down the road.

Another voice is really nice.  I like her way better than the other one.

She says, "You just take your time, Sweetheart, and see every single thing you want to see, do everything that calls to you.  Who knows when you'll pass this way again?"

The first voice finally led me to the gas station, just in the nick of time, but then I kicked her out for the rest of the trip.