California - Morro Bay

After our harrowing drive down the Big Sur coast highway, we made contact with a couch surfer from Morro Bay named Bethany. Her and her husband Phil are two of the loveliest hosts you might ever stay with, though you might have to get used to Phil (token white dude) refer to Native Americans as "his people". I think he might be 1/16th apache or something. Just smile, accept his delicious cooking and continue the conversation. 

The funny thing about couch surfing, is that because you're capitalizing on the hospitality of others, you're required to give up a little of your time and effort and go along with your host's plans. For instance, the first night, with Bea and Phil, they made up a bed in the living room for us to sleep in, which was so nice and so lovely, even though we've got our whole situation set up in the Van, and ultimately would prefer to stay in there. But you can't turn down that kind of wonderful hospitality. You just can't. We had a lovely sleep and it didn't make a difference either way, it's just interesting to see how these sorts of things arise. 

After we woke up and had a delicious french toast breakfast (thanks Phil!) we made our way down to Morro Rock, a giant volcanic plug that rises out of the ocean like Morla from The Neverending Story. We sat on the beach, drinking a delicious coffee, basking in the crisp winter sun, and sporadically exclaiming "It's freaking January!" Our cold, dead, Canadian hearts are not used to this. 

Morro Bay Beach. In JANUARY.

When we got back to Bea and Phil's, another couch surfer had arrived, a lovely German fellow named Dominic. After another delicious homemade dinner of Lasagna, we relinquished the living room to Dom and made our way back out to our wheeled palace. Where we promptly engaged in what I can only compare to a girly sleepover night with Pringles, Trader Joe’s cookies, and Supernatural! There were no pillow fights. Just demon hunting and junk food. 

Our final day in Morro Bay, Bea and Phil  took TJ, Dom and I up to another of the volcanic plugs in the area and we hiked to the top for the panoramic view of the bay and the surrounding mountains. This was my kind of hike, insofar as it takes less than 20 minutes to get to the top and I'm not wheezing like dying antelope when I get there. 

Morro Rock. From atop another rock.

Our drive back was mildly hilarious, as we rode with Dominic in his hatchback Honda, listening to techno music while he regaled us with tales of his travels. He started out in Ontario, drove across Canada to Vancouver/Vancouver Island, and has now started his trek down through the States. 

He also said the only reason he bought the big, techno-pumping stereo, was because driving in North America is so very boring compared to the ridiculousness of the Auto Bahn and he needed something to keep him entertained in place of driving 200km/hr. Thank jebus I don't drive.  

Bea hooked us up with a couch surfer in San Luis Obispo, a short 15 miles away, and we thanked her immensely as we finished packing the van. Phil brought us some tacos for the road and we bid our delightful hosts goodbye. Our stay with them was spectacular, but I think we were ready to set our own agenda for a while.