At first I took the wrong fork in the road and so went on a merry and rather hairy ride on a rutted road that goes through several rivers (dry right now, fortunately). When I got to the right place it was about 3:30. It was a beautiful hike up to a ridge that looks out over
Lopez Canyon and it is just gorgeous. It continues down to the road by a different route so one can walk back along High Mountain Road, which is an incredibly beautiful route by itself. Total of about 3 miles. This was one hike where I sure wish I had one of those French funnels. I had to hold it in for a very long time, until I got to Vons in SLO, where I dropped off the film.
My legs are a bit tired.
When I was in Vons I stopped for a mocha. Actually - a grande decaf nonfat no-whip mocha, to be exact. As I was sitting with my drink and writing in my journal, a man came into the store whom I recognized. Only I couldn't immediately place him. Then I
remembered. He was ordering his coffee drink when I remembered he was the poet I met several years ago, when I belonged to that conversational salon. Michael is his first name, I have forgotten, temporarily, his last. When I first met him I was attracted to him,
and I still am. What is nice is that I felt pleasure just seeing him there, even though I said nothing to him, did not indicate I knew him, and he did not seem to recognize me. One reason is that I know he still lives in the area. The other thing is that I learned when he read some of his poetry in Cambria about a year ago that he is divorced. I have no reason to believe anything will happen, but it's nice to think it might, it could.