Lana'i

The long awaited Islands have finally taken me in. I've been here on the island of Lana'i for about a week. It has been non-stop action since the moment I arrived. The weekdays are no different than the weekends, it's all become one big blur of crazy wildness with a dash of beauty sprinkled on top. I arrived on Maui last week and Jared's Hawaiian friend brought me to the ferry stopping along the way to see some breath taking sights along the road: sacred valleys with magnificent peeks and waterfalls (where I started stacking rocks and he said that probably wasn't such a good idea considering that if one of those rocks was a sacrificial rock the ancient Hawaiians used to bash heads in than it might be a world of trouble and bad luck for all of eternity; so I gently placed them back where I got 'em), a town of beautiful haole wahines, and the most expensive Bud Light I have ever seen - like $7.00 for a six pack!!! I gave my new friend the rest of the beer and gave him a big "mahalo" for taking me all the way. I got on the ferry with the island of Lana'i in sight, the sun setting over its highest peek. Ended up talkin with this wonderful Hawaiian family on the surreal boat ride over, and they all knew Jared and the rest of the Mainards on Lana'i. Ryan and Jared picked me up in an old WWII Jeep bombing through old pineapple fields overgrown in tall grass.

Since then we have been snorkeling with every fish in the rainbow, camping down secluded 19mile dirt roads (where we got stuck on the beach), surfed and spear fished. We took a different road out of there that was the most insane off-roading I have ever done in my whole life, sheer vertical rocks with over hangings, Jareds truck was sticking upside down on these impossible rock faces where boulders are the road and a wonderous view of Maui. (Is "wonderous" a word?) This island has about 6 drastically different climates ranging from Southern California, Humboldt County, and the planet Mars. Christmas day was filled with funny little presents, good food and a 30ft cliff that we all jumped off into the sapphire blue ocean which happened to bruise my poor little coccyx (tailbone) the second time I jumped; and I have no beautiful girls to rub it for me, and now I have to stay put on the beach with a stiff drink and watch the sun move......oh woe is me.

San Fran

My travels have taken me away from my fairy land of Santa Barbara and the gems that reside there. Onward is the new game, the flame to tame the bullshit and clean away the sticks that dirty the path, the societal hold-downs and fake here-nows. If I keep moving then I can stay in a perpetual state of excitement, but it always comes with a price. Anyway, spent a few days in Santa Cruz helping Roberto move into his House of Goddesses. We stormed in with high spirits after a good bottle of Jesus Blood (aka: wine), stuffed his drums and boxes into the attic and whipped up an amazing meal for the three beautiful women who inhabit the house. The one who steals hoodies has the essence of an angel, and beauty of a smile hidden amongst a crowd of sadness, a soothing drug in the hectic face of madness. I left the Goddess house and got a lift into San Francisco. I'm staying at my old roommate Chris's house. The city is crying her drizzle tune, damping my bags and mind. Tomorrow I need to get up to Humboldt, and it's all up in the air right now, as of 11:00pm; I wont know if I have a ride half way up until tomorrow morning at 6:00am. But I do already have a second Walker runner from half way up to Humboldt. Who the hells knows, I might just end up hitch hiking. The wanderer has to be able to wander by all types of means.

Santa Barbara

Its crazy how one town can bring back such old memories.  The first place I moved to out of my parents nest, a mysterious paradise which awaited  new friends and extended mind sets.  After being here in my new nomadic post-graduate life and looking at this town,  I'm in a melancholy state of reflection.  It's good to see a chunk of my life, my college life, wrapped up in one 5 year bundle of memories and people.

When I arrived into SB, I stumbled off the train after these kids got me a little sauced on the ride up from LA, I happily walked through the friday night happenings with my ipod singing me Bob Dylan to a perfect sound track of arrival.  And not after 5 minutes of getting off the train did I walk by a bar and hear some one yell out "WALKER!!!!!!".  It was some blonde bimbo plastic chick who used to live in the bottom apartment of my old house.  After chatting with her for a while I walked away with this great since of: God I love this town; I haven't even been here 5 minutes and people are already yelling my name.  A warm feeling and happy welcome. 

On monday morning, Roberto and I are driving up to Santa Cruz.  It has been fun going to the bars, eating sushi, having beach bon fires until 4am, and hiking through the magical mountains that embrace this place.  BUT, as much as I love this town, I'm not sure I could stay for any longer, or else I'd find my self wrapped up in all the drama and useless issues which many of these people find themselves lost in.  The real task of life is to have the energy and excitement of traveling while you are stationary in one place.

Passion Flower

The Beginning

I've got one more week left of plunging my cold fingers into stiff rotting fish and lifting awkward sized meshed lobster traps. Ya Ya, you say that's just what you needed Walker, well; it was, and now it isn't. I've learned my hard earned lessons and seen the fruits of my loins, ...I mean, the fruits of my labor; and now it's time to start out into the world of the unknown, the gang plank of society awaits my footsteps and yerns for me to lightly hold it's guard rails even though if you really fell the damn guards wouldn't hold up worth a shit. So, now I wait with anxious anticipation of my wanderings with my plastic ATM card allegedly loaded with electronic gold pieces, nuggets of our modern currency.