Wiped Out

SWR report
June 4, 2008

We left Santa Cruz after a good mellow surf in the cool of a cove that dug deeply into a bluff. We were on our way to San Luis Obispo.

Who would have known that centuries ago, in the midst of severe drought, drugged by a drying sun, when Odysseus heard the vapid Sirens, when Poseidon scolded his one-eyed son, Polyphemus, and Apollo gave chase to virgin river nymphs, and all the world stood still in the sun drenched waves, silent, hot, sultry, static, still, listening for the waves to return, that the great god of all winds, Aeolus, took a leave of absence from the realm and went to his favorite vacation spot by the name of San Luis Obispo!

Like so many wind swept cliffs, the god stands resilient, residing in the quaint town, and like Persephone, rises to Earth to appear in Spring. He blows hard in this region, hard at the disc golf ranges, hard at the extreme low tides of Pismo pier, hard at Montano de Oro, hard at Hazards, hard at Turtles, hard at Shell Beach, hard up at Morro Rock. His breath blows and chases you out of town with vengeance. Only the tough can stick it out - or those that devote their time to the university.

We met Daphne's roommates and friends, and celebrated 23 years of Daphne. We are so grateful for the hospitality they provided, as well as the pina colodas, and the beds - where we dreamt of calmer winds sprinkling a soft glass upon the sea.

Anyway, having no patience for Greek gods, we hurled ourselves out of that gale laden valley and headed south. We made good time eating organic, spelt strawberry scones and reading aloud more of Bryson's tales of hiking the Appalachian trails.