It might be the last of the warm sunshine I feel for awhile so, as I wrote about in The Gift of Knowing It Is The Last Time, I am basking in it: Beagle’s doors are all open, the screens pulled across to keep the flies out and Opus in (not that I trust either of those scenarios), the sun is warming the side of Beagle as it slowly maneuvers its way toward the end of the day, and my body is tired from today’s beach hike and swimming. This is my idea of heaven.
If you read my previous post, Act I, you know what it took
to physically get here; an arduous journey for Wurzig, Beagle, myself and
Opus. After five nights in this
Disneyland for campers, three out of four of us feel like we have had a lovely
vacation.
“Isn’t your entire life a vacation?” you ask. Actually, last year someone said that to me—not
in question form, more like accusatory form—and I had to admit that he was
right. But, just before booking this
fancy RV park, I had turned down an opportunity to go to Hawaii with a dear friend. Hawaii sounded so good: Sunshine, warmth,
swimming, a true vacation. But I did not
want to fly anywhere so, despite Sun Outdoors Santa Barbara’s $140 per night
charge I decided the vacation portion of CA Streamin would happen here. The resort boasts easy access to beaches,
hiking trails and an onsite pool and jacuzzi.
Sounds like vacation to me. The hills just behind the RV park:
For Wurzig, vacation meant freedom to go as fast as it was allowed, not having to tow Beagle, not having its tires rubbing against the snow and ice built up inside the wheel wells, not having rocks from the “sand” fly up and crack the windshield. It meant over 80 MPH with the windows down and the moon roof open and the radio blaring, making even the (unexpectedly far) drive to Santa Barbara activities a pleasure.
For Beagle it meant a full hook up spot where, connected to “city”
water, she didn’t have to run her pump to deliver water to the faucets, and
plugged into 30 AMP power she didn’t have to fire up her gas burners to heat
water or keep us toasty during the surprisingly cold nights. (Unfortunately, there was a power surge one
night and she blew her 15 AMP breaker, nullifying any use of internal outlets; I was without toast for four mornings.)
For me, having spent a lot of time in Santa Barbara for, let's just say, not pleasure, I was anxious to spend time in the town
as a tourist. It turned out to be a
great combination: The comfort of knowing
your way around and the joy of discovering new places.
Due to the rains, all my favorite hikes in the National
Forests were closed so Opus and I made do with the Bill Wallace El Capitan Trail (adjacent to the RV Park), the Goleta Beach UCSB Lagoon Trail, and miles
and miles of the gorgeous path that runs along Santa Barbara from north of the
Marina and down to Butterfly Beach. But
my favorite activity turned out to be a new one: Paddle-boarding on the open sea.
I had paddle-boarded before, but never on the open sea (once
was in San Diego’s Mission Bay which is, technically, salt water, but no one
would confuse it with the open sea.) I’m
talking waves baby! And sea lions and
harbor seals and did I mention waves? My
guide, Amanda from Cal Coast Adventures, was fantastic: Very calm, reassuring, and supportive with
comments like, “Feel free to stand up whenever you are ready” and, after a
particularly ungraceful sharp left turn on my part, “But you are still on your
board!”, and my favorite, “We are going under the pier, not into
it.”
I could not be in Santa Barbara without visiting the Helena
Street Bakery (twice) and Brody Brothers for chowder while overlooking the
marina:
But I also forced myself to try new things. East Beach Tacos was highly rated on Google, a hole in the wall kind of place adjacent to batting cages. The line was already long at 11:15 AM and I could almost hear the locals cursing Google and Yelp as they patiently waited for the rest of us to make up our mind. But how could you? Sure, they had the basics: Fish, shrimp, carnitas, carne asada, but they also had Banh Mi and Gangnam Style. In keeping with my 50/50 familiar to new philosophy, I opted for one grilled fish and one Banh Mi. Rated on Google, of course.
Due to the Yelpification of Jeannine’s, I tried another new
lunch spot, The Goat Tree; where I sat in a delightful, dog-friendly,
sun-dappled patio and enjoyed the Smoked Salmon Toast which was presented so beautifully
with grated red beets resting atop the white and green alfalfa sprouts, which,
in turn, rested upon the pink salmon, I almost broke my rule about taking
pictures of my food.
And nothing says vacation to me like laying in the sun which
I did every afternoon before swimming in the small but clean pool. Or trying to.
Yesterday I was entering the pool via the steps and, as I tripped and
began to tumble into the pool, I had two thoughts, “Thank god I am landing in
water”, and “Does anything make you feel older than tripping on your way into a
pool?” Turns out there is
something: Today I walked into (elegant,
trendy, cool) Dean’s Coffee Shop which was filled with UCSB students.
As I mentioned, three out of four of us were thrilled with this vacation; Opus begs to differ. Although he has enjoyed lots of off-leash beach and hiking time, back at camp the squirrels required constant vigilance. Often by 4:00 PM, he would sit by the front door of Beagle and ask to go inside. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
Often.
Often ignorance is bliss.
Like with every vacation, this too must end. But with even more storms rolling into California,
I have made some changes to my itinerary.
I had planned on leaving here and going to San Simeon State Park where I
would be camping, truly camping (without water or electricity and on, get this dirt!)
for four nights. But it is due to rain
almost continuously for those days and, although I often camp in rain, and I
often camp on dirt, I do not camp in rain on dirt. So I am off to another pricey RV Resort…
-K
PS: I call this, “She
Who Must Have Toast”:
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