Elephant seals and a hitchhiker

Another day of heading south towards Los Angeles. One good thing about this narrow road by the sea as well as the previous two-lane road, is that there are many "turnarounds" where a slow-moving car can pull over and let faster cars pass. I wasn't in any special hurry, but evidently a fair number of other drivers were, so I found myself frequently pulling over to the side to let drivers who were tailgating me go by. It kept me from feeling harassed by tailgaters and kept them from getting so frustrated that they would pass me in a dangerous area and risk getting themselves and others killed.

There were also areas labeled "vistas" every few miles where I could pull off of the road and enjoy the view. Most of these as I drove today had only a very few cars there or none at all. I came to one, however, where there were many cars and many people at the vista point and also along a narrow path leading off the vista. As far as I could see, however, they weren't looking  at anything in particular, so after a very brief stop, I moved on. I had only driven a very short way when I saw the sign informing that this was a site from which one could view elephant seals, so I turned my car around and went back. I mean one doesn't get to see elephant seals up close every day. Sure enough, about a fifty yards down the path, one could see a very large seal just lying on the beach. It was hard to tell if it was dead or alive. About ten yards further on there was another one, and another 50 yards beyond that there were approximately forty of them all lying close together, and only one of them occasionally moving a flipper.

A volunteer guide explained that these were young adult seals who had spent most of the year pretty much by themselves in the sea and now had come on land to rest. They did not eat at all during their time on land and moved very little in order to conserve their energy. Eventually, they would go back out to sea and then return again later to mate and still again for the females to give birth. They were quite large compared to other seals I have seen, which, I suppose, is why they are called elephant seals (Duhh!), but lying there motionless on the beach, they looked more like overgrown slugs than anything else, and there wasn't much to watch once you had had a good look at them.

The first place I stopped for a late breakfast was so expensive ($10.00 for a couple eggs and frozen hashbrowns) that I walked out after a good look at the menu. To pay so much for so little only encourages the restaurant to continue overcharging, but there are so few places right along the coast that I suppose they figure they can charge what the market will bear.

As I was leaving, I saw an old Mexican guy in a sombrero sitting bent over by the side of the road. I wasn't quite sure what he was doing there but he was very picturesque. If I had had any more shots left on my camera, I would have taken his picture.
Further along, I did find a more reasonably priced place for a late breakfast. As I was driving away, I saw the old Mexican again sitting by the road in the same posture. Putting two and two together, I concluded that he must be getting rides down the coast, and I thought of offering him a ride with me.
"It would be interesting to talk with him if he spoke any English," I thought.
"On the other hand do I really want to take a chance with a hitchhiker?"
" But he does look pretty harmless and this trip is supposed to be an "adventure," so why not?"
By the time I had finished this conversation with myself, I was already a mile or so down the road, but I decided to turn around. When I pulled over to offer him a ride, he lifted his head from under the sombrero and I could see that he was not Mexican at all but a white guy in his midforties. I was surprised, but I didn't feel that I wanted to say, "Oh, sorry, I thought you were an old Mexican, so I'm withdrawing my offer."  He responded to my offer simply by saying that he would indeed appreciate a ride if I would be willing to take him. He stowed his sleeping bag and a backpack with whatever else he was carrying in the back seat and hopped in with me.

We introduced ourselves - his name was Chris - and off we went.
His story was like stories I'd read about from the Great Depression of the 1930's, where people lost their jobs and tried moving on to other parts of the country in hope of finding work. He explained, "I was a forklift operator for a shipping company. I can operate fork lifts of any size, big ones small ones, it doesn't matter. A few guys were laid off at my company in Oregon, but it was a good place to work. The boss was a really nice guy. Once a year his wife made a big party for all of us, and if the work load was especially heavy, the boss would roll up his sleeves and come out and work right with us. One day, though, he called all of us in about an hour before closing and said that he was closing the business for good at the end of the day. He gave us our paychecks and that was the end of it."

My new companion explained that he couldn't find work and so he left behind his son who was with his divorced wife and was moving down the coast in hopes of finding work along the way. When he came to a town that had any place that looked like they were using forklifts, he would go in and apply for work. So far, however, he hadn't found any. He planned to just continue moving south until he reached Los Angeles, and if he didn't find work there, he would go on to San Diego. I don't know what he planned to do if he didn't find work in San Diego, and I don't think he knew either. He talked some about what a great kid his son was, and then we got into a long discussion about pool. He was evidently a serious pool player. He talked about some interesting betting situations he had seen. He also talked about how the sport was organized with major tournaments in different states around a circuit. It was more than I ever needed to know about pool, but I always find it interesting to hear someone talk about something that they really care about.
"Where do you stay at night?" I asked him.
"I just try to find some place out of the way where I can open up my sleeping bag," he explained. It wasn't too different from what I had done at Pebble Beach, but at least I had the car for shelter.

I wasn't finding any campgrounds for the night, so we stopped off in Santa Barbara at a Visitors Center to see if they knew about a campground in the area. We weren't there long, but Santa Barbara looked really beautiful, with the beach on one side and mountains on the other. The lady at the Visitors Center told me that there was tent camping at Carpinteria State Beach a few miles down the road, so off we went.
The campground looked pretty decent and there were sites available. Most of the campers had departed for home now that the holiday was drawing to an end. The campground was set on land just a few feet above the beach, and I decided to stay. I offered Chris either to camp out with me and I would take him with me in the morning as I continued towards LA, or I would also be happy to take him back to the main road if he wanted to continue on his own. He decided that he would just take off on his own from there. We had crossed some railroad tracks and I guess he figured if there was a railroad, there might be some need for a fork lift operator. I gave him a package of tuna and an apple of the little food I had left in the car. He thanked me, especially for the apple; I wished him luck and we shook hands and said goodbye. Afterwards I felt bad that I hadn't given him more.

At Carpinteria, the day was still sunny and comfortably warm. I took my folding chair and made my way down to the beach, where I just sat and read for more than half an hour. It was a pleasure!

A little later I watched another sunset, with the sun dropping down into the clouds just above the horizon - good but not perfect, just like the one in Pebble Beach.