We were cruising up the 101. State Route 101 North, and the temperature was a smooth 76 degrees Fahrenheit. After a night in the neighborhood, drinking wine and smoking cigars in our modest backyard. Slightly hazy but feeling crazy, we moved along the highway. Gazing across the Pacific from the coastal road, before turning to our right and into the topographical gem of the Los Padres National Forest.

The sea in our sights transitioned to a green hilly masterpiece. Up another small road, we ventured into the majestic mountains. The general direction was north, toward the town of Ojai. Ojai, CA is a quaint community nestled perfectly in those mountains. A tiny spot, yet full of cute and cool restaurants and shops for the choosing. Not to mention a pretty great outdoor concrete skatepark… A fresh pour, less than three years old, the seamless grey looks like it could still be fresh cement, right there in the sun. With a striking mountainous background for skaters to stare at in utter awe.

A pit stop yielded a hummus wrap and store-bought firewood, and then we were on our way. The Topatopa Mountains are glorious. Especially after an abnormally wet winter, the landscape was a dashing green yet shockingly sharp. The lines of the mountains were drastic and bold, a solid sight for us adventurers. En route to meet our friend, Jeremy, at a campground, we lost reception and along with it, all of our worries rooted in Los Angeles.

Our first choice campgrounds were full, and we had no connection to the internet. So, we trucked onward the old-fashioned way, asking for people’s advice all along our path. Finding a full campground with an outlet to an open wooded trail, the group made the executive decision to bend rules and make our own camp. One of the best decisions I’d made in weeks...

Walking back to the car to drive into Ojai for a fat, juicy burger and an ice cold beer… I stepped, clumsily, into the flowing stream. Yet… I didn’t care enough to avoid stepping into deep water to even out my then wet boots. Knowing we had but two miles left, I’d deserved my “fuck it” moment. And it’s a damn good feeling when you actually deserve those moments. Approaching the parking lot, we’d all accumulated a lot of sweat in our clothes and vitamin D in our skin. It had been a successful day.

Although weary, we were content. We were exhausted, yet fulfilled. It was time for that restaurant feast and then onward to Los Angeles to recharge for the quite "normal” week ahead. Recharging our batteries via mattress and washing machine. Carpet on our feet and running water at our fingertips.

Sometimes, it takes some time away from home to remember our privileges (and I have many). Such a beautiful world we inhabit, most gorgeous when we step away.

Step away, take a drink, stop and think.

 - 7Ply Epic ​

We found ourselves there. It could have easily been anywhere. But on that day, there in the garden, we were laid out in the warm sun on that toasty towel. In a serene, quiet bubble of a noisy, cancerous city. A sanctuary within Los Angeles, high up in the topography of Mount Washington. While our hangovers lingered slightly overhead, our faint smiles grew wider. The trees swayed in the lazy breeze, almost exactly to the tempo of our mood yet as sporadically as the traffic only one half mile away.

We’d found a magical place, nestled just north of downtown LA. One that could calm even the most raucous soul to a silent simmer. At the Center for Self-Realization, it is made possible to find the kernel of yourself. The part of your own person that you barely hear, even when you’re trying your hardest to listen. With our ears to the pavement, all we receive is outside negativity, maybe a feared foot fungus. It is not the the external instability that we seek. Rather, it’s the self that’s hard to see which we wearily want.

In the garden, the monk approached us, notifying us of the facility closing. We stood up with utmost hesitation. Just above the hedge’s high point, we saw the view that reminded us of our position. The iconic skyline of the city, framed as if by an artist, a view from the our grassy patch. Just for us. The context of our basking spot was everything we needed and just as much wanted but still well within county lines of the place we needed to escape, temporarily. The city that gifted us that hangover. The community in which many had forgotten about quiet times in grassy fields. A society masked in smog, forgetful of the nature that birthed its own species.

Grateful for the short-lived rest, we uprooted our zone of zen and, later, zeal. It was one we would return to, again and again.
A piece of paradise in the City of Angels that few know exist.
More work to find than a TV set, remote and the flick of a wrist.

Find new cool places. They’re usually not far.
It’ll make you feel better when you head to the bar.

 - 7Ply Epic ​