Visiting Grover Beach: Sundowns and Throwdowns

“One can spend their entire lives dancing, but I still concede that every quality human should know how to throw a punch.” – Old Sean

Cordial Coast

After a brief visit with my friend Rubov in Ventura, I wandered slightly further north to spend some time at Grover Beach, California.

I wanted to meet an old friend of mine named Rich. I knew Rich from my time working in Colorado, the ruggedly artistic musician.  We worked together in a kitchen long ago where he was among the star chefs and I was among the guys who cleaned up after the star chefs.

Cliffside Reunions

Anyway, Rich understands me well. 

We ended up taking an enormous muddy hike along a high ridge slowly drinking beer, sitting on swings and collecting the occasional piece of trash. 

We culminated the hike by visiting a nearly inaccessible cliff cave system that hoarded terrific sounds from a bashing ocean while watching sea otters slip around in the water below. 

On the walk back to the car, we managed to dispose of most of our boot mud while Rich played his guitar. Finally, we hit up Splash Café for some supremely good Chowder Bread Bowls.  After that, it was off to sleep at Rich’s place, trade some music recommendations and drift off to sleep.

Sleep n’ Strike

Normally, that would be the end of this post. A relaxing day, bookended by some sleep. The following day, we would wake up, eat breakfast and I would continue on my journey.

However, our night churned out a very different result.

When Rich greeted me with welcomes and general awesomeness, he mentioned that he was having some “funk” with his roommates. 

This turned out to be a ridiculous understatement.  That night, while asleep upon the sofa, the rather inbred fellows attacked Rich physically, grabbing and sitting on him before stealing his phone and ejecting him from the house in allegedly drunken fit before thundering through the house and laughing madly while slamming on doors and walls.

I woke up and spent a good four seconds listening during the alteration and decided, hey, this seems about right. 

I was snoozing in Rich’s bed behind the only closed door, and as such the unmitigated asshats hadn’t seen me quite yet.

Do I sound bias?  I’m bias.

Old Exits

I’m glad I pack light.  I re-buttoned my pants, ducked into my backpack, slunk to the side window and slipped outside, where a real fight was brewing.  The neighbor was screaming, catching everything on phone-film as everything continued to escalate.

I slipped out the side gate, put my gear in the car, and turned to watch the show.  The neighbor and the landlord were watching the men yelling with increasing vigor and rage.  In a fit of panicked fascination, the woman turned to me and asked “How can you be so calm?”

Well, firstly, I was sleepily.  Secondly, it’s not exactly my first rodeo, and these things happen in the world.  When they do, you play the witness or get involved as your conscious tells you to. 

And thirdly and most importantly, Rich is a soulful guy.  He has grit, he’s got direction and, to be frank, I trusted him to handle this.

It was well-placed trust.  As both men rushed Rick with flash-lights and flailing fists, he planted his feet and met their rush.  Two clumsy blows barely clipped him on the left side, he briefly grappled with the lead offender and stuck him back soundly. Rich has smoothly knocked him unconscious, with a growling shout I’d never heard before. 

The second offender backed off, blinking stupidly while Rich turned his gaze aside.  Some more bellowed, empty threats were shouted back and forth, but the brawl was effectively over.  Rich stalked off into the night, and I quietly followed, fading into the dark.

Muddle

Now, I have to flub the story a bit. 

Rich apologized for the chaos (not that he needed to, these things happen and he handled it like a champ) and found us a place to sleep with some associates.

Naturally, I don’t know the situation back home and I can’t really name any names beyond what I’ve already said.  My accounting is honest, but I’d hate to involve parties that did nothing more than give me a place to put my head after a hectic night.   

Needless to say, all parties are alive and I’ve got another story under my belt.  And I didn’t even have to get punched this time.

So on that note, I slept for a time, eventually departing early in the budding morning for San Francisco for work.  I would drive through hills green as emeralds and see more rainbows than I’d ever witnessed in my life, but those events will have to be sequestered in another post.

So until then,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Read more about visiting Grover Beach and seeing the world by visiting Leftfade Trails Destination Info.

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