Celebrating Life

On the day before Thanksgiving we are as far west as this trip takes us. Slightly inland tonight, we stay in San Luis Obispo, 72 days away from home.

A frost last night turned parts of the garden and lawn at Cambria Pines white, and ice coated Little Red in a frozen film.
At 8:30 a.m. we again climbed Black Hill, this time for a sunny view of the marshes and Morro Rock from the top of the 665-foot cinder cone.
Elfin Forest looked different in the sunlight, as well. We walked the pygmy oak boardwalk that we had jogged yesterday in the rain, identifying lavender, black sage, coyote bush and poison oak along the way.

The birds of prey perched on the telephone wires along the road are kestrels. They seem to thrive in the open fields near the coastline.

A one-mile hike on Oak View Trail at the Los Osos Oaks State Preserve wound through dense undergrowth and a stand of 200-year old coastal oaks. "According to the folders, there is a planned hike in this area almost every day," said Andy. Little Red was alone in the parking lot, but the holiday traffic on the highway picked up considerably.

At Harford Pier #3 the pelicans celebrated Thanksgiving a day early, as a colony of harbor seals drove a school of sardines into the bay where a hundred small sail boats had anchored.
On the shoreline the RV park posted "No Vacancy," and RV campers filled every spot. I wonder if they cook turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.

We found the Pismo State Beach Monarch Butterfly Grove before the GPS directed us there. Winters are warm enough at Pismo Beach to support the wintering of monarchs. We had better not tell them that predictions for tonight may drop as low as 26 degrees. As many as 20,000 monarchs make the Pismo acre of eucalyptus and pine trees their home in the winter months before they and their descendants head back north. Some travel up to 265 miles in a day. "The eastern monarchs have the farthest to fly," said Andy, reading the signs. "They go all the way to Mexico, but that is where so much of their habitat is being destroyed." Visitors stepped carefully, gazing upwards as monarchs fluttered over us.

A travel brochure advertised Pismo Beach pier as 1,200 feet long and one of the highlights of the town. We walked to the end, watching a plethora of bundled out-of-town tourists line up for clams and oysters on the adjacent boardwalk. Fishermen dropped lines far down into the water, and surfers paddled in the waves below us. "I got one," called out an older lady, pulling on her line.

Her husband dashed to her aid. "Not bad," he said, unhooking what looked to me like a 10-inch perch.

"Dinner," I joked.

"No kidding," they agreed. The bright sun compensated for the wind off the water, but with temperatures in the low 50's, my hooded jacket felt good.

The Mission of San Luis Obispo de Tolosa, built in 1772, combined manicured gardens, grape arbors and a barbecue patio with a beautifully maintained parish church. Next door to a city park called Mission Plaza, the grounds were extensive. At the park entrance, a worker painted white edging on a red Santa Claus House. Other than the harvest colors inside the chapel, that was the only clue that tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Did I experience pangs of homesickness, or was it just selfish feelings about our dearth of Thanksgiving dinner plans?