A birthday in Cambria, California

Sometimes I think in another life, I may have been a gull that rode the wind along the sea cliffs, crying out in glee at the feel of freedom.

My longing for the ocean pulled at me like a gentle tug akin to the tide retreating out to sea.

This year, the pull came from Cambria, California, a place famous for it’s moonstone beach and Olallieberry pie. I have fond memories of our family touring the nearby Hearst Castle, a large mansion owned by William Randolph Hearst. More than anything, I longed to fill my lungs with the salty mist again.

Birthday Dinner

We dined at the Sea Chest Oyster Bar, a cozy spot with a massive wait list. After standing outside for what felt like an hour, we were seated and quickly ordered some bubbly and beer. I started with a fresh prawn cocktail, enjoying the extra kick from the horseraddish on the fresh prawns. Jeremy sampled a half dozen of the local oysters, slurping down the buttery morsels in between swigs of his IPA. For my main, I ordered the seafood pasta and it did not disappoint. The portion looked deceptively small when it arrived, but I found I was unable to finish, to my sadness. The pasta was coated in just the right amount of tomato sauce and didn’t feel too thick and heavy.

The hike

My one request for hiking was that the hike promised costal views, but what Jeremy failed to tell me was that he chose, Valencia peak, a 4.4 mile hike straight up with about 1300 feet of elevation climb. I found myself huffing and leaning heavily on my hiking pole, and using what energy I had left to burn a death glare into the back of his head as he effortlessly strode up the mountain.

At the top, the peak was shrouded in fog, denying us the view we worked so hard for. We sat on a picnic bench, eating snacks as cold dew formed droplets in our hair. Every few seconds, a small opening in the fog revealed the ant sized people making the very same hellish ascension up the mountain that we had. The cars in the parking lot gleaned in the sun and the smallest patch of blue ocean was visible across the road before we were swallowed up again.

As others arrived, I prepared for the climb back down, ignoring my wobbling knees and stiff back. We made it to the car just as the fog burned off at the top of the peak. We laughed, shaking our head at the Irony and continued on to the bluffs before heading back into town.

Antiquing

The next day, we ate breakfast at a local diner and then I tragedy struck. As we were driving away in the car to go park downtown, my stomach rumbled and I begged Jeremy to drop me off at a bar we ate lunch at the day before to use their restroom. He dropped me off and went looking for parking. After using the restroom, I ducked out the back exit to avoid judgement from the staff and while looking back over my shoulder, I missed a step, rolling my ankle and falling hard on the ground.

The bulletin board outside the breakfast diner caught my attention with the two hand made signs. I laughed, imagining “Home Loans Larry” and “Private Money John” are actually the same person, A/B testing his DIY advertising.

I sat there in shock holding my ankle and rocking on the ground next to the restaurants smelly trash cans, breathing heavy, unsure if I had just broken my ankle. I hobbled over to a set of stairs and called Jeremy to come find me.

When he saw me, he immediately sprang into action and checked my ankle. I studied his face as he felt around until he said it wasn’t broken, only sprained. He pulled out his med kit from his backpack and offered to wrap it. I cursed silently as I put pressure on it, but denied his offer to go get the car and take me back to the hotel.

Fully wrapped and grinning through the pain, I insisted we explore some of the local antique shops. One had a very traditional “cluttered junk” vibe, but the other felt more curated, with an overall theme of shabby chic.

After an hour, my ankle swelled up and I couldn’t hide the pain any longer. We decided to head back to the hotel, buy some overpriced champagne from the hotel store, and elevate and ice my ankle while watching tv. After a few hours, I gained enough courage to hobble out to the front of the hotel and sit in their oversized adirondacks and look out into the ocean.

Though the weekend didn’t go exactly to plan, I still got my fill of ocean air. I returned home, mostly refreshed, despite the sprained ankle.