Perched On A Mountain Side

Climbing and winding up the mountain side, we could feel the tires losing traction on the steep, poorly paved road. Every time we hit a pothole, the Tacoma would lurch forward in anticipation of the upcoming road. The ancient oak trees and surrounding chaparral were dyed gold from the low lying sun on the ocean. Coming out of the oak forest we see the road cut into the hillside high up on the mountain. Pointing the direction for Ryan, I tell him that's where we need to go.

Glancing back down the steep mountain side, highway 101 is but a line in the distance and the oil rigs begin to glow like campfires in the ocean. Out in the distance, the Channel Islands feel close enough to touch them. San Miguel. Santa Rosa. Santa Cruz. Anacapa. Santa Barbara Island. Their cliffs and coves are etched from the island's silhouettes by the sun's last light.

Recognizing a turnout in the road, I tell Ryan this is the spot. Stopping the truck we get out and the cold mountain air immediately whisks through our clothes. Lowering the tailgate, we have a seat and momentarily sit in silence. Eyeing Santa Barbara in the distance, we seem close but feel far away on top of the Santa Ynez mountains. It's times like these where we begin to realize that with a little exploration our backyard can be pretty cool.

Sunset

Sunrise

Open air camping

Rise and shine

Cause we never go out of style

Playing the air(pad) guitar