from California: not eaten by a bear

The hiking shoes are packed now. The dust of the dry California hills is scrubbed off (at least from the body if not yet the clothes), a post-camping dinner in downtown San Francisco with my mother could not be more different than Curry in a Hurry, made in 7 minutes with boiling water in a pouch, eaten in the dead silence of a redwood forest the night before.

I have a handful of hours before I need to catch a flight home. Please accept this brief Ocean post for now and log in tomorrow, and the next day for some tentative answers to the question that bugged me no end before we set out – why do people insist on camping in the wild, when there isn't running water within miles? Not even in the form of a babbling brook?

Only one photo for today. From this morning's hike, when the sun was just beginning to pierce through the cool air of a foggy dawn.



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