Claustrophobia

 

Yes, a rare posting from Beagle’s southern base camp, Morro Bay.  The return was easy enough; I will definitely make the trip to Colorado more often—mileage was 347, 406 and 438 respectively.  Mileage over 400 is difficult, but the middle day provided beautiful scenery (Green River, Utah to Las Vegas) and the final day ended at home.  That’s always an easy distance.

There were many lessons learned on this trip but the most striking was my hiking to towing ratio was way off; I prefer three days of hiking to one day towing but it was more like one to one.  This was due mostly to weather and unforeseen obstacles; I feel confident that if I had not needed to be back in Morro by a certain date, I would have fattened that ratio by heading up to Wyoming and Montana for a few weeks.

But in Morro Bay we are.  After three weeks in Beagle with only one night in a hotel (the final night in Las Vegas), I found myself wandering from room to room in my house thinking, “What is this room for?”, and then, once inside that room, “What are all the things in this room for?”  The beautiful pictures and paintings on the walls began to close in on me (despite the fact that most of them are nature scenes) and I felt…you guessed it…claustrophobic.

Now, some of you have seen my house and know it is not large nor do I have a lot of stuff—by most people’s standards.  Most people come in and comment on the simplicity of my living space.  But I do have five rooms, excluding the two bathrooms, and I realized that what I do in all five of those rooms I do in one room in Beagle.  It’s not that my life is different in Beagle, I do the same stuff, just more simply.  And, I have to admit, with more contentment.

Have you ever noticed how much stuff you have whose only purpose is to hold other stuff?  Sheesh, my chest is tightening up again.  It’s time for even more paring down.

In other news, I walked Opus into town this morning (about a 2.5 mile walk each way) and sat at my favorite breakfast spot gazing across the marina at the famous rock.  It was (yet another) gloomy, grey morning in Morro Bay and I found myself beginning to feel dissatisfied.  Then I thought, “What if you arrived here in Beagle and were camping?  How would you look at this scene?”

I realized I would adore the small fishing town with its abundance of healthy eating options and fresh fish; I would treasure the ability to have a nice long walk that included avocado toast with a boiled egg and a hot cup of coffee; I would love how everyone says, “Good Morning” and looks you in the eye.

I also realized that I had thought all these things in December of 2018 when I did come to town in Beagle, camped at the State Park, walked every morning into town, and knew I had found my southern base camp.

Until next time, thanks for reading!

-K

PS:  Those are otters chilling in the bay; an every day scene around here.