Without getting a phone number, an address, or even a last name, Zan and I gave Drew and Kelly almost all of our stuff just before leaving Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, on Highway 1. We’d all camped there the night before, despite laws, regulations, and other useless obstacles.
Zan and I barely knew Drew and Kelly (we also barely knew each other), but we trusted them to advance nearly all our stuff forward a hundred miles to San Luis Obispo, where they’re both attending Cal Poly University. I knew we could make some serious jumps between invitations in at the Treebones Resort (25 miles south), and then at Moonstone Landing Inn (another 35 south), before resuming Couchsurfing with shorter walks of 20 & 15 miles to Morro Bay and SLO, respectively. I found a way to stuff everything I needed into the many pockets of my outdoor pants. Zan carried an old military cargo sack, circa 1964, which he’d picked up for five bucks at some surplus store.
Not only did Drew end up e-mailing me immediately upon his return to San Luis Obispo, but after we arrived to SLO, he and Kelly took us out to eat, showed us around, and totally went out of their way to be of assistance to us. I spent 2 nights at Drew’s place, and Zan spent three. What a great, fun crowd he and his friends are!
We sent the majority of our valuables forward with Drew, never really doubting for a second the safety of such a move. I’ve just done the same thing again, upon leaving SLO: I’ve sent my camping gear forward with Zan, who will be leaving the country back to his native Australia this Sunday, January 31st. He’ll be staying with Alexandra, the friend of a friend of a friend I briefly spent time with in Santa Cruz. I have yet to meet Alexandra, but she found me via Facebook, invited me to stay with her as I pass through Santa Monica, and without yet having met her, I’ve advanced many valuable possessions forward to her (in addition to Zan). Again, I have no doubt about the decision– just a fantastic feeling of faith in the great people that continue to cross paths along the way…

Kelly, Megan and Drew greet Zan & me over a meal they provide to us in a locally-owned, delicious, healthy-food San Luis Obispo restaurant.
Interestingly, Drew revealed to me here that as he was explaining my story on the phone to his mother, who lives in Southern California, that she somehow was already aware of my story, and finished it for him… (that’s quite the rarity– but the fact that amazing things always happen on the road isn’t at all rare )

Kelly obviously carries a better camera than I do!

Drew’s camera is better than mine too!

Drew & Friends take Zan & me on a rainy day beach excursion!

Drew, Kelly and Megan introduce Zan & me to SLO’s Bubblegum Alley.                Bubblegum Alley is a local tourist landmark in downtown San Luis Obispo, California, known for its accumulation of used bubble gum on the walls of an alley.[1] It is a 15-foot (4.6 m) high and 70-foot (21 m) long alley lined with chewed gum left by passers-by. The locally created, “most-talked-about landmark” covers a stretch of 20 meters between 733 and 734 Higuera Street in downtown San Luis Obispo.

Earlier this week, having rocketed across some sixty miles in three days, we soaked up some extended hotel invitations amid the Big Sur Storms these past three nights– walking only a handful of miles the past couple of days. Now, it’s back into the rains–worst series of storms in some ten years, as this local tells us on our 20+ mile day through Cayucos and into Morro Bay:

11:45 AM today on Hwy 1. Going to Morro Bay today.

We’ve discovered the secret of where to find it…

Thanks to Cheryl @ Skippers in Cayucos for a great lunch!

Today’s mid-afternoon Cayucos sky

5:20 PM Morro Bay (3 more miles to go today)

Zan at sunset this evening Morro Bay beach

I wasn’t the only one camping illegally at the Julia Pfeiffer Burns campground last night; I was one of six doing so. Ted, Zan, and Ander had arrived before me, and Drew & Kelly arrived shortly after.
By a total coincidence, I’d met Ted at the gate to Chinatown, on the very day I arrived to San Francisco. Ted was a Couchsurfing host that I’d contacted, but ended up not needing to take up on his offer to host me. He’d recognized me there, waking my route through town with the signs. He recognized me for a second time yesterday.
Ted had brought Couchsurfing guests Zan (Australia) and Ander (Denmark) with him. Drew and Kelly, who are both studying in San Luis Obispo, walked down shortly after I did. None of us had made one of the impossible-to-book reservations on line, and were all risking getting booted anytime during the rainy night.
Thanks either to wet weather, budget cuts, or bureaucratic laziness, no officer ever hiked down the trail to bother us. My tent perched atop the high Pacific bluffs was treated to the strong sound of stormy waves throughout the night. The rain drops that made it through the tree tops complemented the crashing waves below quite well.
Before heading off to bed, Zan and I stayed up and chatted for a couple of hours. Age 23, Zan is nearing the end of six months in Canada and the U.S. He’s a very cool, very funny guy, who talks to you with a smile in his voice (we couldn’t see each others’ faces as the conversation continued well into the night.) By the end of the chat, he’d decided he’d wanted to come along with me for the next hundred miles, to San Luis Obispo.
I’ve had people talk of joining me before. Some have come along for a portion or for a short day (fun times!), but I’ve never had anyone join me for more than ten miles.
Zan broke the record today, as he joined me for over 25 miles, from the JPB campground to Treebones Resort, where we’re being hosted tonight in a cozy trailer.
Drew & Kelly graciously are advancing all of our heavy stuff forward to San Luis Obispo for us, and we’re headed there with the bare essentials.
Zan has definitely won my respect, as today was one of the three rainiest days of the whole walk, and Zan wasn’t very well materially prepared at all for it. Yet he made perfect proof of what I told him: “doing a walk like this is about 90% mental.”
Zan was wearing jeans, a leather jacket, sneakers, and an overcoat. All his layers had been soaked through, and his black leather jacket, one he’d owned for years, had even bled deeply through the lighter colors of his shirt and overcoat. At the end of the day, his arms were dark blue as well (from the jacket). A caretaker of the campground asked him if they were tattoos.
Zan has really proved his ability to move forward with a goal super well. In fact, as he was soaked within the first three miles or so of today’s walk, I was prepared for him to give up anytime.
“You’ll be breaking a record by walking more than 10 miles with me,” I informed him, “and if youjoin me for 30 miles tomorrow, you’ll break my previous one-day distance record with me!”
“I’m all about breaking records,” he replies, continuing with a cheery, dry smile in his voice, “especially breaking Rod Stewart records!” His delivery was perfect, and had me laughing off-and-on all day…
After we left the small, rip-off general store in Lucia, which was just over halfway to Treebones Resort, I was completely confident in Zan’s drive to finish the day with me. It had been a very wet, hours-long, challenging trek to Lucia, and the store allowed him a few minutes of warmth and comfort. If he were to quit, then would have been the perfect time. But wet jeans, shoes, and all, he emerged ready for more– perhaps not with 100% of the enthusiasm he began with, but enthusiastic nonetheless.
Zan’s efforts were well rewarded. We continued on through almost no more rain for the remainder of the day, a handful of conversations with curious motorists, and a spledid sunset show in the distance, which climaxed when the clouds emerged to give us shadows for about sixty seconds.
We didn’t arrive to Treebones till a couple of hours after dark. They knew we were coming, but a staff member who’d seen us on the road earlier had doubted we’d make it all this way.
Dave, who manages the property, arrived at the reception desk to show us to the clean and cozy trailer next to his house. He and his wonderful wife prepared the most delicious enchilada and stew dinner for us, and took a load of laundry to wash and dry for us. Breakfast in the morning is on them as well, and they offered to speak with the owners about hosting us for a second night. We’ll take them up on any such offer, but are prepared to continue 30 miles to Moonstone Beach (and the next offer) tomorrow, if need be.
I was prepared to walk somewhat more slowly down super scenic Highway 1, however, it’s funny the irony of how the greater the predictions of heavy rains, the more I find this water lighting a fire under my ass to speed forward!
From last night’s camping atop the bluffs to the end of a very wet day with great hospitality tonight, Zan fully understands now how each day of this Walk is a great adventure– only a small part of which may be predicted. I wonder what tomorrow will bring..?

At first, I was planning on walking the valley of Hwy 101, through towns such as Greenville, King City, Paso Robles and Atascadero. However, Portland-residing California friend Sonya Duffin sounded off loudly to me as I was approaching Silicon Valley: “Walk the Big Sur Coast!”
Just as that ragtag band of bikers had ultimately inspired me to shift my miles toward the coastal highways of northern Cali, Sonya’s words ultimately shifted me to the Big Sur Coast.
As I was planning for my coming miles down CA Hwy 1, I found that very few people lived there; and I would not be receiving any Couchsurfing invitations, so I sought out any sort of hotels, motels, inns, whatever. To my surprise, I found a couple dozen inns via my digital map search of Big Sur. I wrote to them all. Between the 97 miles of Carmel & Cambria, I received one response, from the Post Ranch Inn.
I’d never heard of the Post Ranch Inn, but when I took a closer look at them online, I found that the average room here rents for over a thousand dollars per night(!!!)
Upon my arrival, the kind lady at the front gate knew my name and my story. The people in the front office did as well. Manager Dan Priano appeared to personally introduce himself, warmly shaking my hand, greeting me to the Post Ranch, and telling me “dinner’s on me tonight.”
A member of the staff ushered me to my room, the top story of what I believe was a Butterfly Room (I’m not sure; only the individual room name, Dolan, was clearly marked).  From the top of the three stories, a great view of the east hills was visible through the trees, and I had a partial view of the coast from up there as well.  The air was among the cleanest and crispest I’ve breathed, with the perfect subtle mix of sea salt smells and emanating pine trees.
Pools, spas, a sauna, a workout gym, morning yoga, and other amenities were all available– a few of them 24/7.  The staff was very professional and friendly, and I had to wonder at times if they outnumbered the amount of guests, who also seemed to be present in adequate numbers over the MLK holiday weekend.
At a flat rate of $105 per plate, dinner at the Post Ranch Inn’s Sierra Mar Restaurant isn’t cheap, but the food is fantastic.  (And I certainly had no problem with it being totally provided to me compliments of Dan– they wouldn’t even allow me to tip.)
Admittedly, as I was settling in to bed at night, I was on one hand thoroughly enjoying the ultra-luxurious experience they were providing to me, yet at the same time, just as I’d camped at a deserted campground after arriving to Andrew Molera State Park hours into the dark of night after the previous long day on the road, I also knew that enjoying the Post Ranch too much would make it that much harder to return to the tiny bivy tent the following night– and I knew that this is exactly what was about to come for me.  So, I kept everything in balance, and I felt that all went perfectly well.  I slept and enjoyed everything– but not too much. I left with having enjoyed one of the best nights of the walk.  (Of course, by now, almost every night on the road seems to be one of the best nights.)
Upon checking out the next day, Lauren, the reception desk supervisor, gave me a small list of family contacts in New Mexico and Texas– a part of the country she’s originally from.  She told me they’d surely host me as I pass through.  As I’ll be experiencing few populated places over the course of a thousand miles or so of the Southwest, I’m sure I’ll definitely be making use of her contacts. 
The Post Ranch was an excellent experience.  I do recommend it to anyone who (unlike me) can actually afford it.  My only caveat is to remember that the fantasy experience enjoyed there will be followed by the inevitable return to daily life.  Keep this in mind, in the right way, and it will make the return to daily life much more palatable.

Outdoors last night & tomorrow night; Post Ranch Inn tonight.

It took some time to settle in to the reality of camping again last night– as it had been over two months since I’d last slept outdoors. Arriving to Big Sur’s Andrew Molera State Park after a most exhausting, 22ish-mile day of spectacular afternoon & evening walking, shortly before 9 PM, I suddenly remembered why I don’t like finding a camping spot after dark. (Still can feel a bit spooky if I’m not familiar with the area before the sun goes down. I’m sure I’ll continue to get over this through time.) 
After a couple of hours of picnic table top meditation, I felt at ease enough with my surroundings to enter the tent. I was in a fantastic place. Still, due to an abundance of environmental noises last night, I slept pretty lightly, often awakening with caution (OK, some fear) on my mind, remembering the presence of that heavy-breathing bear just outside my tiny lone tent in Myrtle Creek (I never did unzip the tent to look). 
When I emerged from the tent this morning, just after dawn, a half dozen deer were peacefully grazing just a car’s length away. I could hear the waves breaking onto the rocks of the unseen, nearby shore, and I felt oh-so satisfied with a very accomplished feeling of having resumed the momentum of comfort with sleeping in the wild, momentum that had been building up into November, my last time outdoors. In fact, my mind was immediately ready for more nights outdoors, as I know I have to get used to them before reaching the desert Southwest.