I was parked along Highway 1 near Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park in California to take some photos of the coast.  There were a number of cars around me; it was a popular spot.

As I walked down the shoulder to get a better angle on a shore pine, I noticed one guy and his female companion repeatedly trying to open the doors on their silver Honda.  They weren’t having much luck, so they soon switched to asking people if they might borrow a cell phone.

Unfortunately, that part of California doesn’t have cell phone service, so the phones were useless.  I tried my satellite phone, but no satellites were in range (and none would be until 45 minutes later).

I continued on my walk, and the locked-out man and woman continued to consider their options.

About 10 minutes later, I was walking back the other way when I saw a crowd gathered around the Honda.  At first, I thought that somebody must have been trying a slim jim on the door, but then I noticed the car owner had a big rock in his hand.  Before I could draw my camera, he wound up and slammed the rock into one of his car’s small side windows.  The glass shattered, the door was unlocked, and the crowd clapped.

The car, the rock, and the broken window

Was it cheaper than getting a tow truck or locksmith to come out?  I’m not sure, but I do know that it made for good entertainment.

The trip is on hold temporarily.  I flew from San Francisco to Rapid City, SD on August 3 due to a family emergency.  Sam is parked at a friend’s house in the Bay area.

It is unclear exactly when I’ll be back in California to resume the journey, but it probably won’t be until sometime next week.

Update August 9, 2011: Sadly, my cousin did not survive.  With a heavy heart, I am back in California and will be resuming the trip.

In case you’re wondering why there haven’t been many updates lately, I attribute it to three things:

1. Things have been going well, so there haven’t been many problems or sources of conflict.  Stories are driven by conflict and challenge; ergo, there hasn’t been much in the way of compelling source material.
2. I averaged something like a post every other day during the first month, a total of roughly 12,000 words.  I don’t think that’s a sustainable rate, neither for me nor for you, dear reader.
3. Most of my time over the past week has been occupied by driving. After concentrating on twisty roads (namely, Highway 1) for the entire day, I’m left mentally exhausted.

The good news is that while I haven’t been doing much writing lately, I have still been taking photos.  Check out my Flickr stream for a visual recap of British Columbia, Washington, Oregon, and northern California.

The Irish Breakfast tea would have been good anywhere, there was no doubt about that, but what made it exceptional that sunny June day was the environment in which it was being consumed.  Was it the log construction of the building? The nearby ice-dotted lake?  The green expanse of pines falling away endlessly to the valley below? All were essential tones in the symphony of the moment.

I took another sip.  Delicious.

I was at the Lake Agnes teahouse in Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada.  There was only one way to get to the teahouse: a 2.5 mile hike up 1200 vertical feet from azure Lake Louise.

Canoes on Lake Louise

It wasn’t a particularly humbling ascent — many old people, overweight people, and old overweight people made it — but the measure of difficulty added immensely to the teahouse experience.  The tea became more than a beverage.  It transformed into a reward, a celebration of a climb conquered.

The Lake Agnes teahouse has been around in one form or another for about a century.  All of the supplies for the surprisingly extensive menu are hiked up by the staff or provisioned by an occasional helicopter drop.

Lake Agnes Teahouse

I picked up my cup and strolled inside the building. There, I found a kitchen and a small seating area. The sweet aroma of fresh cookies filled the interior; baking was done on-site.  The chipper staff of twentysomethings gave everything a lively air, and they were more than happy to dispense good hiking advice in addition to good eats.

Inside the Lake Agnes teahouse

It was a delightful change of pace from the resort environment of Lake Louise.

I returned outside to my table on the porch, the better to enjoy the view and the pleasant weather.  It was still early in the morning and the breeze slightly cool, making the warm rays of the sun welcome teammates to my hot beverage.

Tea and cookie at the Lake Agnes teahouse

The hordes of late-sleeping tourists had yet to attempt their ascents of the trail.  Just a dozen customers were leisurely soaking in the experience with me.  Smiles and relaxation ruled.

Ice-dotted Lake Agnes; a splendid alpine companion

As I munched on an oatmeal-raisin cookie and sipped on my tea (brewed from full-leaf loose leaves), I noticed my table neighbors paying with US currency, something then allowed by the teahouse at the generous rate of par.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Minnesota” they said.

The couple turned out to be Erik Aus and his wife Sue.  Erik was the successful recently retired head coach of the Centennial High School boys hockey team, a tenure that included a state championship in the mid-aughts.  They hailed from Lino Lakes, just a few miles from Fridley, where I had begun my journey.

I chuckled at my luck of running into other Minnesotans in a remote part of Canada.  Another sip of tea was in order.  Delicious tea.

To see these places, to feel them, to know on a personal level that — my god! — they actually exist; that is something that is irreplaceable, something that cannot be conveyed by words or photos.

Sometimes when I am driving, alone with my thoughts, I find my eyes tearing up with emotion at the beauty of it all.  Of the cities.  Of the trees.  Of the mountains.  Of the people.

How lucky I am to have the experience.