There was a moment around the time I turned 20 when I realized I was no longer a teenager. Alas, except for the many moments strangers and non-strangers alike mistake me for a 15 year old, I consider myself a fairly well adjusted adult (though my gummy bear drawer would beg to differ). I am now on my way into the deep woods of my 20’s but I’m not yet old enough for a quarter-life crisis. Cue post-teenage angst.
Given that my birthday is on both the 13th and the day before Valentine’s Day, each year hears the story of my dad asking my mom if she could wait one more day for me to be born (she couldn’t), and each year asks the question if anything haunting ever happens when my birthday falls on a Friday (it doesn’t). At least I’ve never had to worry about finding a Valentine, since I can just bask in the glory of day old birthday cake and slightly deflated balloons.
This year, though, this year was my first year in the adult world, and so I did what any adult craves to do: I went off the grid. Big Sur was on the agenda, where reception fizzles to naught and you’d better hope you have a compass and provisions just in case (or in our case, hope your iPhone doesn’t die from taking a bazillion blurry “candid” photos standing on top of fallen trees so you can use the compass app). Joe and I spent the afternoon on Ewoldsen Trail, which, for interested travelers, has a real, non-portable bathroom at the entrance and is where you can get the Big Sur treatment. Avoid McWay Falls at sunset if you have a vendetta against PDA of any kind (or if taking photos for the aforementioned PDA-ing couples makes you want to chuck their expensive DSLRs over the railing — I’ll take my chances with grainy iPhone photos, thank you very much).