What calls to us from the comforts of home?
What beckons us back to the road?

The van was simple
A self-contained vessel to
        drive in
        sleep in
        cook in
        explore with

We got to Morro Bay before the fish market closed
Montaña de Oro by sunset
Enough time to jump in the water, frigid
As the kayak fishermen paddled ashore

On a lonely pull-out we had dinner and wine
And didn’t think once of home
Out here on the plain above the ocean
Was where we were supposed to be

The next morning we had our coffee
On the water, watching the otters
Pelicans flying north
Dolphins swimming south

A couple of elders wished us well
“We sure hope you enjoy it here,”

We meandered up the One
Crossing the latitudes
Watching the plants change
Through Santa Cruz and SF

Until we reached Lucas Valley

The light was turning gold
As the canopy thickened
We wondered would it look any different
With the sun at High Noon

Quietly we moved through that still valley
As if holding our breath
Emerging to the setting sun’s reflection
On the surface of Nicasio

Through Point Reyes and Bolinas
Steep Ravine to Limantour
We drove and got out and observed
And walked around 

Cruising through the morning grey
To find a place to light the stove
A proper place to sit and
Let the coffee greet the day

One day we headed south
Left for Stinson, straight for Muir
Fish burritos on Ocean Beach
Made our way to Monterey
Slept off a creek in Big Sur

        A place that always calls
        But holds its secrets close

Before the redwoods faded out
We pulled off high above the sea
One last time to take it in
        Queue the condors gliding by

We arrived back home like any trip
—different than how we left
We could never put our finger on how
But the memories speak for themselves

C.W.