We have left San Francisco in an old Chevy van that we are renting for fifteen pounds a day, travelled four hours West to the largest coastline I have ever seen. We have sat in hot sulphur springs while the Atlantic ocean crashed below us and clambered through redwood forests. Weaved through lines of trees that make you feel young and small; their bark the colour of rust, their branches like outstretched fingers. We have travelled four hours back East to California’s gold country, past orchards of almonds, cattle ranches and hay bales, until we got to the top of Soulsbyville mountain. As I write this I am looking down onto forever. Were staying in a beautiful house, with a hot tub and two amazing dogs and a wonderful woman who likes to feed us up until we are sweating and giddy. Yesterday was Thanksgiving, in the morning we drove to Pine Crest Lake, we passed through towns with names like Whispering Pines, Old Strawberry and Mi Wuk to get there. The lake was like a strange apocalyptic ruin. Pools of water, boulders and tree stumps littered miles of land.
Tiny rivers trickled down with flecks of gold carried on top of the water into what was left of the lake. Green Pine trees lined the outside of the basin and in the distance, we could here the far off crash of the waterfalls. In the afternoon we ate turkey and pumpkin cheesecake. Got lost in heated debuts with thanksgiving guests about politics and religion and all the topics that England and America have to feel uncomfortable about. Now, its tomorrow. The day before we set off again into the heart of it. Yosemite. Death Valley. Grand Canyon. LA. Mexico, await us.
Rebecca Tantony, California, November 2012