You know what's there. Your dreams. The irrational. The surreal.
View from the Motel -- not at 6, but 11am -- is a sky suddenly clear of coastal stratus, the naked hills near Santa Maria shining in the brisk light of framing foliage and a suspicious sign.
The trip north is fog clearing (seemingly perpetually) in Pismo Beach (but reliably bright in Avila),
the volcanic cones near
the Madonna Inn and San Luis Obispo, and
the chaparral anvils and sensuous slope undulations of the approach to
Cuesta Summit.
A turnoff to
the entrance of
Mission San Miguel,
stark against the sere semi-desert
is a welcome oasic,
musical,
de Chirican respite,
but it's time to move on, as
the oak
hills,
canyons (west),
and cliffs (east) around Bradley beckon,
beyond to the wider stretches of the Salinas Valley,
watched over by the Santa Lucias
and the Galivans.
After the rock monoliths approaching the Hollister turnoff,
Mission Peak looms.
Since this was supposed to be a hiking day, tt's time for a walk connecting the Fairview Highlands with
Garin Park,
then home.
