PCH

Three days of a single winding road alongside the coast of California. 

It goes a little bit like this: Steering around the edge of sheer cliffs that rise from the bluest waters I’ve ever seen; driving past wildflowers of every color that decorate both sides of the highway, bending and swaying in the ocean breeze that carries with it the sweetest, purest of smells. It’s cold but we roll the windows down anyway. 

We passed through the Avenue of the Giants, standing up through the sunroof of the car with arms spread wide. It’s was childlike wonder that enveloped my soul as we cruised under the shade of the redwoods, gentle chords of a guitar humming through the radio as afternoon sun filtered through the mosses and ferns and tall, tall branches. My mind ran through phrases like “This feels like a movie,” and “I’m waiting for a mythical creature to emerge from shadows,” and “I can’t imagine all the things these trees have seen.” It is all things enchanting and mystical, and if you didn’t believe in magic, or had lost it somewhere in the transition into adulthood, the beauty of the Redwood Forest has the power to bring it back tenfold. You’ll wonder how you ever lost it in the first place.

When reflecting on those moments, and every stop along the highway, it all comes back in a green and blue montage of weathered glass pebbles, small towns, old lighthouses, sweaters on the beach, and the feelings of complete and utter happiness and freedom. It felt like a separate life, driving down that road. A completely separate adventure. A vibrant, ever-changing, misty fog-covered awakening of the body and soul. 

The only thing I would do differently is take more dramamine. 

♡ Shelbie