A Lagunitas IPA in my right hand and a shared pool cue in my left, there I was. With my father in a brand new place. A place I’d once heard the name of, one I’d never made plans to visit. There, in a bar that looked much like the hundreds of others with a small stage, three pool tables and seating for the tourists and locals alike. Only a short walk from the public fishing pier and three steps away from another pint, Harry’s was the spot. In the heart of touristy Pismo Beach, I strangely felt at home. It’s funny how a game of pool and a cold beer can do that to a man. We hadn’t even secured a place to sleep, and I felt cozy in that bar. The live music was gearing up, the band lugging their gear in through the side door and out of the persistent rain.

The hotel reminded me of childhood stays in Myrtle Beach. Generic as they come, but with a great view of the ocean and the recurring sound of crashing waves throughout the crisp, clear night. After the previous night’s rainfall and ale consumption, the start to the day was a relaxing one. Something that remains constant when traveling with my dad: opportunity for a great breakfast. That day, we went to Penny’s for black coffee and diner food (and I mean that in the best way possible). And without further adieu, we departed for the next town on the list: Morro Bay. Thus far, we’d driven from Los Angeles, stopping in Santa Barbara for lunch and passing through Gaviota for a hike, moving north through Lompoc on SR-1 and then onward to Pismo Beach.

A short ferry ride southwest from Los Angeles, Santa Catalina Island is a mountainous oasis, operating on island time and the practice of natural science. The southernmost of the Channel Islands, it provides a home to the sleepy city of Avalon, CA and the 2,000+ ft tall peak of Mt. Orizaba.

Two days ago, after more than a year of hearing about this majestic place, I made it to Catalina. With a duffel bag in tow, Chloe, my Dad and I were en route to a weekend away in some sort of paradise. The couple days leading up to our departure, I’d started to catch a pretty good cold, so the car ride to the port was bittersweet, but I was truly excited to see another new place, especially during my dad’s California visit and with my girlfriend, Chloe. I knew that the island was supposedly beautiful but had no idea how much so.

When the boat pulled into it’s spot at the dock, I waited for two to three minutes to let the lines go through the door (as I HATE standing in line). When we started walking off the dock and onto the island, the view looking up, over the bay and up the foothills into the mountains of Catalina, was extraordinary. The rolling hills were partially covered with classical housing, lush foliage and old structures signifying construction circa pre-1900. I’ve never been to Europe, but solely from my post card absorption, this place looked like a Greek Island. Straight from a Facebook photo that may have previously made me jealous.

Our initial walk through the town, as we searched for our hotel, was lazy and meandering, yet purposeful and enjoyable. The locals of Avalon are mellow, smiling and helpful beyond most people you would ever stumble upon in LA proper (Avalon is technically within LA County). I was overwhelmed with the sense that time had stopped, and I was completely removed from the “real world” I had for so long been living within. A true vacation, even if only for 36 hours, was right in front of us.

With each corner you turn, there’s a new group of locals, walking, drinking, smoking, talking, whatever.. The entire town is the epitome of “laid back.” Everyone greets you with a smile, unless maybe they’re another tourist. And in each establishment, there’s immediately an energy that has been culminated and built upon for decades. There’s a unexplainable feeling of rich history that, with a bit of research, is confirmed. The part-time workers on the island are partying in the most jovial way possible. The tourists walking the streets are mesmerized by the community’s contrast to those outside of the bubble there. The local population let’s it all happen while embracing everything as destiny, it seems. An incredibly calming sensation overtook me, despite a strong cold coming on, clogging my sinuses.

At the hotel room that Saturday night, we opted out of restaurant dining and in for grilling on the porch. A stainless steel grill, provided by the hotel, with a view of the sunset glow on the bay and the smell of potatoes, asparagus and flank steaks cooking… It was a pretty ideal weekend evening… 😃 Following much food was beer… We had a few. Walking out into town was quite a trip. The local vibe was still present, just turned up to 11.. The bar scene of Avalon was fueled equally by rowdy temporary island workers, cool pool sharks and one-off vacationers (even given the winter season).

Each bar had its own flavor, but all were clearly influenced by the island vibe, small time but all time fun! The interiors were classic, and sometimes old yet loved. The morning after was hard. A hangover mixed with my prior sickness and made for a very slow-moving Keegan. Nevertheless, we walked into town for a coffee and a start to the day. We’d decided to pursue a golf cart rental to tour more of the island that day, so we went for it. It’s so much easier to cover ground with a vehicle that can fit all of us, and the views we brought ourselves to were amazing.

The bay that Avalon surrounds is astounding. The blue water pierces your attention like you wouldn’t expect. It pops to you so well, and the clarity of what’s underneath the surface… It’s all there. Hundreds of boats are moored there in the water, and they each most likely have their own unique stories, none of which we knew. I felt that way about a lot of the locals there, really. I constantly wanted to interview the passers by in the streets of Avalon. Wanted to know if they’d grown up on the island. Wanted to know where they DID grow up, if not. Wanted to know what they did for work, if they didn’t work, why they decided to give up everything for specific paradise in the not-so-far-away Pacific. I’d bet there’s a trend to those answers, but I’ll never know until I ask the questions.

Maybe next time...

As I sat there on the ferry home, a whimsical feeling in my heart and a tasty meal in my stomach, I only hoped that I’d be back again for an even deeper experience of the island (and not sick :-/).

 - 7Ply Epic

Some might say I’ve become a coffee snob. But I simply seek it with a particular enjoyment and passion that brings me to a certain place in my mind. It creates a home base, this drink derived from the bean of the Coffea plant. It’s a thing of beauty, how the beans are pulverized and powderized, exposing new realms of surface area and becoming enriched by the hot liquid pouring over it (to name just one method of prep). How the natural capsules are cultivated, sometimes in shade and other times in sunlight, to facilitate unique experiences from each. How I love that first sip.

That introduction to "the zone.” The entrance to my mind’s office. Sometimes, only for a meet-up with a friend, but always very much enjoyed. I hope you enjoyed my coffee rant, as nothing profound came to mind this week. Hey, now you know who much this guy loves his coffee…. What’s YOUR coffee?

Cheers,

 - 7Ply Epic

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m with my girlfriend Chloe. We’re on our way to a local church to pick up a homeless woman that Chloe’d befriended. It was a nice gesture that fit with the then current holiday season - it was all Chloe’s idea. I won’t name the person in need, but she needed help doing laundry and had no means to do so. The plan was to have her over at the house to clean her clothes and go along her way. But myself and another roommate weren’t comfortable with her coming into our house. This wasn’t a question of judgment by Chloe; it was simply an issue of trust in general. Who’s to know, no matter the vibe of the person, who will venture their way into our home, "casing” the house, examining the locks, learning the layout of our private home for a later visit?

Living in the city has made us less trusting of, generally, everybody. The benefit of the doubt makes up a very small slice of the pie, especially when possessions of value are connected to a situation. And it began my thought process which led to the notion that the few bad eggs will always ruin it for the rest of those people, whomever those may be. The homeless friend, in this situation, did seem like a very nice woman - I met her. She seemed sweet and well-intentioned, capable yet unlucky. But we wouldn’t have it, solely based on past experiences and horror stories. It’s a shame, but it’s just as much playing the odds in life. Similarly, being a skateboarder, you’re generally not trusted. Most people (and this IS slowly changing) will not give us the benefit of the doubt, only because of the several assholes out there that will break windows with their boards and curse pedestrians instead of apologizing to them. Many of us (skateboarders) are warm and gracious souls, whether or not we once had those mischievous tendencies. But the few ruin it for the many.

And so there I was thinking, “this isn’t fair for her.” Chloe’s friend was very nice about the whole thing. We did provide the funds and supplies for laundry at the laundromat, and we know that was appreciated, but we (I) still didn’t want her in our home. Was I too, a judgmental person for lacking the trust there? Was I no different than the person kicking me out from skating a spot on a Sunday afternoon? It was hard for me to answer the inquiry, but continued my thinking… 

If we weren’t the ones to take her in, who would be? I wasn’t sure. I’m still not. But my rational mind, the same one that’s learned many good lessons, wouldn’t quit playing the odds. The chances that she casually observed our living arrangements and learned of our New Years plans, later returning when she was certain no one would be home… It was too much to ignore for the trust that she’s a good person. It’s a shame that this is the way we must behave, or that I do behave. But I still haven’t been able to change my mind.

A New Years Resolution: Don’t assume the worst. Prepare for it, but don’t envision it in the majority of interactions. And don’t be an asshole. That only makes it worse for the rest of us.

 - 7Ply Epic