Epic of California

8/8/2019 Epic of California

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by Patrick Atwater

Tell me the epic of California, Muse,

speak to me through your hills, your skies,

Guide us as we take our journey,

through memory and time.

My Avalon

That sunny day, so long ago yet near to heart,

we stook our claim, paid our due.

Our tent to be pitched, stood waiting

in our already parked car.

But Drugan the Wise knew better than the fading light:

our campsite too humble, the freeway too near,

The audacity of an Imperfect nature simply proved too much slight.

The darkness growing, we rejoined the road

a thousand tales long.

How did we get here, from such an ease

of placeSanta Barbara,

That emptiness of song from such fullness of Play,

That cheese shop meandering, wine tasting nonchalance

high culture, low culture, UFC present, European now,

That gentle palm swaying, new rustic ambience

of simulacric naturalness

who teases us along from waking to night,

Fortunes mistress we become,beyond question, out of sight?


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Was it the power of the place,

The Dream that drove men

to build 200 foot towers

of will mixed with concrete?Or the Adventure of rope swings long forgotten,

hammered wood, nailed trees,

the will to soar over valleys near,

And Triumph over troubles far.

Out of the hills of gentle yearning,

to the sprawling green ats below,

To the top of Morros Mound,

whose size and scope

dwarfs the landscape,

But not the imagination.

The road again, the eternal PCH,

winding its way along the coast,

Casually bespeaking unspeakable beauty.

Surf, sun, and air dancing,

intertwined into everything thats just right;Flowing ridges, a contoured path,

an isolated bus route for tourists,

wondering idly about the exotic life now gone,

To travel and consume the accomplishments of Old:

The soaring pinnacles of a church, a spire, a house?,

of whatever Hearst wanted to be,

A perfect pool, an innite respite, tucked but not away,

just beneath the sporting grounds of pleasure-induced exertion,

A banquet hall and tidy guest houses, a Home for everyone,

a specialized universality for anyone who makes their due.

Coming down from this encased dream, this impossible world ofranch life ketchup eaten next to Ramses idol-laden grave,

we stumbled into the sheer providence of sea lion mating,

a minor Fortune, a pure happenstance, from the

winds blowing, catching the sea in our face,

giving freedom in the moment, in the here, in the now,

Truly paradise.


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Night falling, nding a campsite still pressing,

I added my folly to dear Drugans,

nding Nature too tempting,

And missing out too dear,

I stopped to see a waterfall,

having to see every place,

that should be seen,In order to somehow get the place.

Yet taxonomy has its virtues,

yielding a beautiful sunset split across the yawning Paci

the watery void transformed into a brief, innite moment,

Redemption out of folly, a dream just touched,

perhaps something gained out of the absurdity of order.Passing a one way construction zone,

with an unending line of cars to the South,

We crossed our Khazad-dm,*

throwing caution to the wind

And sense to the seven seas.like Californians of yore, we asked

Why not?

The hard and fast rules of the world?

Whatever. Budgets fade and night cannot last,

before the totalizing imperative of what could be.

*(Khazad-dm is the slim stone bridge in Lord of the Rings,

where the Fellowship passes the point of no return. AsGandalf the Grey battle the Balrog of the underworld, the

bridge collapses, trapping the Fellowship from all that they

hold dear.)

The darkness smothering, campground yet unfound,

we began to doubt.

The hope that came from an ofcial state park sign,

quickly faded into cold determination,

Beat back by the now falling rain.

Dinner somehow cooked, a re barely made,

we slept through the haze.


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Big Sur

awoke us. Our eyes already open, sleep already gone,

it shook us from our slumber.

A cathedral sof sylvan majesty, towering trees

t for the elves to call their Undying lands,

a West to ultimately drift into,

A Valinor to call a nal home

like the Esalen Institute,

overlooking the edge of Western Civilization,

Probing the depths of human potentialities,

yet wallowing in psuedo-reective ease,

Operating on a tight time schedule,

we embarked on a short hike

To the highly recommended Buzzards Nest.

at the Top we savored the view

And some of Santa Barbaras nest cheese,

good friends, good food, beautiful scenery,

Things worth pondering deeply and living rigorously,

not consuming in a cheap aestheticism.


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Abandoning my beloved PCH, to the straight shot 101,

we powered into Berkley, to the cognoscenti,

To the sophists and the intellectuals, to a paralyzing

freedom of action that spawns hipsters

Out of thrift stores, indie-movies,

and the scattered remnants of genuine social movements;

The true enemy of our generation claimed Ahmad the Witty!

the enemy of value and of virtue,

Too busy to care about such judgements,

too busy being lost in a sea of self-referentiality,

Too caught up in a lust for irony to escape their self-imposed daze.

A few cliff bars and a walk down later,

we were back on PCH, our newfound home,

Witnessing a guy karate chopping his way down the coast,

meandering perpendicularly to his dream of Japan.

Then, just as suddenly as we had entered,

we were back on the coastal plain,Driving towards Monterey and tourist destinations to come,

Cannery Row, famous because of a book I havent read,

And the Monterey Bay Aquarium,

full of otters and sh and bizarre animals from the deep,

The product of an upwelling of deep ocean currents,

a watery counterpoint to the previous starry nights,

Poles of human experience,

Finding an underlying unity in their capacity to inspire wonder.


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We took Bart to see the city,

diving below ground and emerging in San Francisco,

Walking through the towers of Finance,

exploring the parks and everyday ideologies,

Brushing through the art museum,

checking out Chinatown:

Scattered elements achieving a syncretic wholenessThat thing found in a quiet night with friends,

old and new, in a random bar,

Easily chatting in a cool setting over a nice brew.

Cleansed after three nights of camping,

we went to the university to see where giants walked,

And might yet walk again.

The proud buildings on a hill,

shining out for all who would know her,

The home of Great Movements,true believers shaking great ideas until they crashed into reality,

Reduced to empty monuments,

the Free Speech Movement Cafe,

Where students can talk about their plans

to write lies on newspaper stands

And pretend to shake the status quo.


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The last night was the last of the year,

giving us a nice arbitrary nality,

With which to reect on the trip,

but rst the night itself,

The warmth of a true city on a winters night,

watching ice skaters play while families watc

And we eagerly awaited the night to come.

A ood of drinks and people later,

we found ourselves back on the Bart,But nding a newfound solidarity.

A round of Laughter for everyone!

Its on me folks.

The next day we lost Ahmad the Witty to love,

forcing Drugan and myself into the city alone,

To explore its ever-present past.

Driving this time, we went to the Palace of Fine Art,

part of San Franciscos eternal quest to become European,

And then to the Presidio,the glorious remnants of forts long gone,

Concrete and plaques the sole reminder of ideology hollowed

to make room for the citys diversity without limit

(Panspecies ecosexual wellness seminar this Friday!)

and its desire to keep history at a distance

Something quaint and curious, to be mused

and consumed but never actually lived.


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Waking up the next day,

the trip was over,

By unspoken consensus,

Finality reached, if not achieved,

another journey begun,

Sorting through where weve been,and where it is were from:

A looming task, a mountain rising

seemingly out of nothing,

From the ats of existence.

A view remembered, a turnout on the road,

a glimpse of all that is yet to come,

The splendor of California,

Big Surs coast line sprawled out before you,

Standing beside people from every color and creed,

lining the side of PCH,

To snap photos and revel in the transcendent beauty,bonding with family old and making friends anew,

Basking here together in the radiant glow of the simple dream

Of living a Good Life.

Epic of California

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