We left Vegas early, when (I imagine) many of her revelers, gamblers, and the like were just going to bed. Still a bit stressed from being in the city and the crazy traffic and whatnot, I made Errol drive us out of the city (breaking our usual pattern of me driving in the morning and him driving in the afternoon).

We left the city of glitz and glamour and entered desert; dust and dirt and sand punctuated only by an occasional oasis in the form of a casino and hotel. They would come into view, strange and garish and in sharp contrast to the landscape, and then fade away again as we continued to drive.

It was unbelievably hot. Rolling down the windows was futile; dust would come into the car, and the rushing wind overpowered the music and conversation. We put on the AC. I could still feel the sun baking my legs. I could not believe the wind and dust that blew around us - I felt like we were going through the Sahara. Or a golden Mars.

It was mostly quiet. I was tired, and stressed from Vegas. Errol continued to drive. We passed over into California suddenly, and without much warning. I felt it.

"Are we in California?" I asked, suddenly, and Errol consulted the GPS. "I think so," he said.

"Towanda."

"Towanda."

We drove through the Mojave Desert. Sam called me, and told me that if we haven't passed it already, we needed to stop in this little town for lunch at a place called The Mad Greek. Luckily, as he and I spoke about the route we were going to take (take 58 and not 46, he advised; 46 is crazy fast and is, in fact, where James Dean died, and 58 is lovely and scenic), we came upon The Mad Greek, and even though it was kind of early, we stopped for lunch.

It was awesome. I mean, who'd have thought that you'd have a fantastically delicious Greek restaurant in the middle of the Mojave Desert? We feasted on gyros before hitting the road again.

We got on 58 and began to drive through the Valley. It was hot, and dry, and dusty, and there were fruit trees and forests of towers with power lines stringing across them like electric canopies. We stopped to get gas in the middle of nowhere and the woman behind the register lamented that gas would be six dollars a gallon by June. I bought a large bottle of Gatorade and guzzled it and a bottle of water in record time. I fell asleep for a bit, warmed by the sun, and woke up with sweat pooling uncomfortably in the small of my back and behind my knees.

We drove past orchards and fields, stands selling strawberries and avocados, and got turned around on a small dirt road that turned out to be part of a farm. We sat in a small traffic jam while a train hundreds of cars long inched by.

58 became smaller. Cars started dropping off and taking other routes, but we pressed on. The road got twisty and strange and suddenly we were at the base of a mountain, and there was as sign warning us that there weren't any services for 70 miles.

We began to climb.

Poor Beatrice. Taxed by the length of the journey and the weight of my possessions, she huffed and puffed her way up that hill. The landscape was bizarre - the dust and dirt of the desert had been replaced by a golden sort of grass - or was it a grain? - and the road cut around the hills like they had at Mesa Verde. We twisted around and suddenly there was a drop off, and I turned away, or attempted to calm myself by taking a picture.

We came down the mountain.

We went through a large expanse - a plain, almost - of the same golden colored grass.

"This is beautiful," Errol said.

I couldn't disagree. We drove past fences, behind which black and brown cows strolled contentedly.

We went up another set of hills.

When we came down, we noticed something very strange - we could see the climate change. That is, suddenly there were larger trees, and green plants and grass, and the mountains in front of us - the last set before the ocean - weren't gold, but green. We went up the last mountain roads.

When we came down on the other side, the horizon was hazy, but I - well, I could swear - that I could see where the landscape ended. "The ocean," I whispered, hoarsely.

We drove into Morro Bay. I saw the rock from miles away, and as we drove into town, I felt my heart lift. We'd reached the other side.

We found the hostel where we were staying. It was a home hostel, run by this elderly woman named Sue who loves to travel (she's just gotten back from Canada not too long before). We put our stuff in our room and then drove to a local seafood restaurant that overlooked the ocean.

Before we went inside, we stood at the harbor and I took a deep breath. The salt air rushed into my head and made me a little giddy.

We came back from dinner, talked to Sue for a bit, and then, for lack of internet access or an update to make, I crashed.

We woke up the next morning, had some coffee and toast, and got on the road. But not before I got a picture of Sue, and she took a picture of us.

We took Route 1, up the coast. It was the most exceptionally beautiful thing I have ever seen. We've seen some incredible natural beauty on this trip, but this was something else.

We also stopped to see the sea lions! They were hanging out on the beach. Being awesome and whatnot.

We wound along the coast, taking hairpin turns (very, very carefully!) and meandering through cliffside flowers and beaches and rocks and trees and my heart swelled from the beauty.

We stopped for gas and paid the most that we've paid on the whole trip: $5.09/gal. We kept going.

Around one, we came to Monterey. I'd had my heart set on In-n-Out, but when I realized that Monterey was a proper city (as in: to drive around to find one would have taken forever), we stopped near Fisherman's Wharf and ate seafood overlooking the marina.

We kept driving. We went inland. We passed an overturned truck on 101; the driver was standing on the side of the road next to some good Samaritans who had stopped. Behind the truck, thousands of lettuces were rolling over the pavement.

As we continued through Santa Cruz, we both noticed billowing smoke rising from the trees on the hill in the distance. It appeared to be spreading, too - smoke began rising from other places, small at first, and then they all seemed to mesh together. Fire trucks started coming south on 101, in huge numbers.

Apparently, there was, indeed, a forest fire, and we drove right through it. Weird, huh?

Around four thirty, we pulled up in front of Mary's house. I jumped out to help Errol park, and as he maneuvered Beatrice to get her into the driveway, Rebekah came out of the house! I attacked her and hugged her like crazy and smothered her in kisses because I have missed her SO MUCH and I was so happy to be, in one way or another, home.

After unpacking poor Beatrice (who is now much happier and higher off the ground), we went for a walk/grocery shop that I could better understand Piedmont and Oakland.

The house I'm staying in absolutely beautiful. There are herbs growing everywhere and a lemon tree and the weather is perfect and there are roses and flowers everywhere. Lillian, the dog that we're taking care of, is super-cute. She's a black cocker spaniel and has these floppy black ears that drag in her water bowl, and when you lean down she just flips over on her back so that you can rub her tummy. So adorable! *makes puppy-wuppy silly smoochy noises*

Today, I slept in. Even after pulling myself out of bed at eight in the morning to answer a phone call, I crawled back into bed and dreamed that I hitchhiked my way across the US by paying people with macaroni and cheese that I carried in an iron pot that I wore like a messenger bag. I'm not exactly sure how it worked. I remember that I had a big ladle, though.

We went to the Berkley Rose Garden today and it was lovely. I smelled the roses for so long that my super-sensitive nose went a little haywire and I got a headache from all the perfume. But it was gorgeous. My favorite rose was called Taboo, and was this deep, gorgeous red that melted into an even darker, sinful maroon. It was a very sexy rose.

I miss Rebekah already. She's at a retreat for the weekend. Hopefully Errol and I will get some exploring done in the next few days, though I personally am still recovering from le road trip. I'm tired and my back and neck are killing me.

To the people at Arden: *waves hello* Have a fun tournament. I miss you guys!

Okay, I'm done writing this post, for the record, at 3 AM Pacific time Saturday morning. Now, I just have to wait for those darned pictures to upload so I can add them in and post! Stupid ScrapBook.

*EDIT* I am posting this without the pictures, because I CANNOT GET THEM TO UPLOAD. I don't know what's up.