“In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow… And in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.”
— Pico Iyer
Over the last few years, I’ve fallen head over heels in love with the idea of being a pilgrim—or perhaps, given the context, I should say head over walking boots?
It all began in 2012, when I tied a pilgrim’s white scallop shell to my backpack and walked half of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage through northern Spain—after only two weeks, I was hooked. My next pilgrimage was the 88 Temple Circuit on the Japanese island of Shodoshima—a smaller version of the more well-known circuit on Shikoku Island—and then the Evliya Çelebi Way: a 220-mile trek through northwest Turkey that follows in the footsteps of a 17th-century Ottoman traveler and writer.
But lately, I’ve been learning that not every pilgrimage has to happen on foot.
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Last week, a new story of mine was published on G Adventures’ website, about a few favorite day trips from San Francisco. The story was inspired by my parents’ visit to the Bay Area this summer, and recounts three of the day trips we ourselves did during their week-long trip, including a couple of excursions north to beautiful Stinson Beach and Sonoma County.
But the trip I was most excited to write about—and what I want to share more about with you here today—was the day we spent driving south from San Francisco, wending our way along something called the Slow Coast.
The Slow Coast is a 50-mile section of Highway 1—stretching from the beach town of Half Moon Bay to the city of Santa Cruz—and was founded by author and marine biologist Wallace J. Nichols and his wife Dana. In 2011, they started opening Slow Coast pop-up shops along the highway, selling locally produced food, art, jewelry, and other Slow Coast-themed products. Some of the stores are located in small towns such as Pescadero, Davenport, and Capitola Village near Santa Cruz; others, like Pie Ranch, are situated more on their own (and yes, their pies are as delectable as you might imagine).
But it’s the Slow Coast’s motto and mantra I love the most: In Slow We Trust.
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While I loved introducing my parents to the Slow Coast this summer, it was my dear friend and fellow sketch artist Cara Kozik who first introduced it to me.
Earlier this year, we set out on a gloriously sunny Wednesday, paused for breakfast at the first Slow Coast stop of Pescadero, and carried on to Pigeon Point Lighthouse. We were so inspired there that we traced our steps back to Pescadero, bought sandwiches to-go for lunch, and spent the rest of the day sketching the lighthouse and the stunning landscape surrounding it.
Somewhere along the way, we started calling the journey our “Slow Coast pilgrimage,” and I truly think there could be no better way to describe the purpose of the Slow Coast: to transform a section of highway that would normally take no more than an hour to drive, into something to be savored and lingered over. I find it no accident that the Slow Coast’s founders themselves even came up with the idea (and the term “Slow Coast”) as they hiked 1,100 miles on the California Coastal Trail in 2002.
And though Cara and I were traveling by car along the Slow Coast, I felt like just as much of a pilgrim that day as I’d been while walking through Spain, Japan, and Turkey. For that’s what the Slow Coast has taught me—that being a pilgrim depends less on our means or method, as it does on our mentality.
To take our time with a journey, to not rush our destination, and to create space in each day for discovery, saying only:
In Slow We Trust.
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What a wonderful way to go through life, on the slow trail. One can certainly savor each mile, each sunrise/sunset, sun and rain, the scent of flowers, the sea or perhaps pines. Your sketches are beautiful and, along with your prose, capture the very essence of slow travel and stopping to smell the roses. Happy trails.
Thank you so much for your lovely words here, Roberta—I couldn’t agree more about the gifts that come with savoring life at a slower pace. It has certainly taken me a few years to embrace slowness as a way of life, but I’m truly grateful it has come to feel more and more natural. I’m sending a big hug your way from Buenos Aires today!
I know this post is about day trips from San Francisco, but it’s that first sketch in Rabanal (del Camino) and El Acebo that struck me. I remember the biting cold of the mountain air in Rabanal and the amazing chorizo bocadillo in El Acebo (which was truly a Godsend because we had just descended from Cruz de ferro)… AAAHHH… I honestly think I should strap on my backpack and put on my walking boots and get back onto the Camino again someday soon.
Pauline! I can’t even tell you how much I adored this comment. I too will always remember the biting cold of Rabanal (we even had a crazy spring snowstorm that day, if I’m recalling the day correctly!), and I’m so with you—there is truly no greater Godsend than those bocadillos that appeared right when you needed them the most 🙂 From one fellow Camino pilgrim to another, please know I’m right there with you in being ready to return to the Way soon!
Enjoyed your Slow Coast post. I just returned from a trip with my own mother, to an equally beautiful stretch of CA coast. Have you checked out Hwy-1 from Monterey south thru Big Sur? Leave the touristy Cannery Row behind (tho the aquarium is worthwhile) for the late 1800s bungalows of Pacific Grove, then venture south. The iconic Bixby Bridge and then McWay Falls are beautiful, with countless vista points in between at every bend in the road. Choose a spot, then plop down in a beach chair and enjoy the changing light.
Thanks so much for saying hello here, Pete, and for sharing about your own recent coastal adventures in California—it sounds beautiful! I haven’t been to Monterey since I was there on a family vacation while growing up, but I would really love to revisit it at some point soon. Thank you again for your recommendations (and for that stunning photos above!), and I hope the gorgeous changing light you witnessed on your trip has continued to stay with you.
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I love the two lighthouse sketches. Both so gorgeous and moment catching yet so different. I am finding it quite intriguing how people all seem to have a style of their own. I know they develop but from what I observed, much like growing kids 😀 The tough edges can be smoothed but big changes rarely occur. So where do we get these individual styles from? I mean I have never studied art so certainly wasn’t trying to replicate any style. Is it just how a brain perceives? Or the unconscious observation of images from books and more over our lifetime? Or a reflection of personality. My style, to me seems quite childish-esp when I compare it to the other moment catchers each month. Is that because I am new to art, or childish??? Am happy either way. Anyway better abandon my musings. Bedtime here and a storm is on while I text. Yay for summer!
Amanda, I loved your musings here 🙂 Thanks so much for taking the time to share them! And please know I’ve definitely followed similar rabbit-trail lines of thought over the years…I will never forget one of my first experiences of sketching the same scene with another artist, in Saigon in 2013. I met a university art student there, who took me to sketch his favorite yellow building in the Saigon Zoo, and I couldn’t get over just how differently we captured the exact same scene. Ever since then, I’ve been captivated by the way we each have our own “voices” as artists, just as they often say to find your own “voice” as a writer…and yet for some reason, I’ve never taken the time to look into why that might be, so your questions have got me more curious than ever! I just took a screenshot of your caption and am excited to do some more research soon–and I’ll be sure to keep you posted 🙂 PS–I’m right there with you in feeling like I have quite a childish style as well, compared to other artists I know who capture scenes very elegantly–but I’ve slowly grown to just embrace it! I love your style and can’t wait to see you continue to hone it. <3
Thanks for thinking for me Candace! Will be interested to see/hear what you uncover in the future. I said awhile back to someone that I loved the Classic Winnie the Pooh artworks. I blame my style on that. Hahaha. We are very lucky to have the time and ability to wonder these things.
You are so very right, Amanda–it’s definitely a privilege to have the time, space, and resources to pursue creative interests like this, and it’s so important never to forget that. Thank you for the reminder!