The Struggle of Los Angeles

Three years removed from calling myself a resident of Los Angeles, I still find myself fully consumed with thoughts about my time there. I often linger on what might have been. No matter how I attempt to wrap myself in the fabric of Seattle, Los Angeles persists.  

Los Angeles is unlike any place I have ever called home. It is bustling and overwhelming. It feels boundless, and its impact stretches far beyond the limits of the city. My complaints with the city mirror those expressed by people who have called LA home their whole lives. The traffic is a pain. Urban sprawl makes quick travel impossible. Crowds are everywhere you go. Solitude does not exist. Homelessness, a challenge arising from decades of failed policy, has consumed the region. Beauty exists in pockets, but one must wade through garbage and graffiti. Finally, owning a home in Los Angeles seems to be a luxury only afforded to the well-connected and wealthy.   

Yet, Los Angeles is a world of endless opportunity. Creativity abounds on every street corner. Such a large city represents cultures from all over the world. Street after street offers new culinary experiences. Festivals and food bring people together in beautiful ways, allowing cultures to blend organically. The weather is a dream. Every artist, musician, musical, and exhibit you could desire visits Los Angeles. And the list could and does go on.  

Despite the chorus who thumb their noses at this city, community and friends came easily for me. The work was meaningful. And there were endless opportunities to explore my passions. Los Angeles was not a city I expected to love so deeply. But when I fell in love, I fell deeply. Taking negatives and positives together, I thought I found a city I could call home for the rest of my life. Now, no longer living there presents a struggle I thought I would have exercised by now. Yet, the struggle remains.  

Three years removed from calling myself a resident of Los Angeles, I struggle with no longer being able to do so. As I sit here, I do not know what the future holds. Amid an eight-year relationship, the story I am writing is no longer my own. Perhaps we will write another chapter in our story of Los Angeles. Maybe we will never call LA home again. Maybe my struggle will morph into acceptance. The end of this struggle is unknown.

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

Captured: Romero Canyon Loop & Santa Barbara

Be good to each other,

Nathan

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Out/Back: Romero Canyon Loop

Above Santa Barbara

High above Santa Barbara, California with a trailhead beginning in a neighborhood sits the Romero Canyon Loop. Frequented by trail runners and mountain bikers, I was one of a handful of hikers on a quiet Saturday in early January. As the trail climbed higher and higher, I found myself making tremendous time. Then, things crawled slowly to a stop. Not because the trail became physically demanding, because of the vista. A few hours in, you reach a point when you can see all of Santa Barbara below you and the Pacific Ocean at its doorstep. Sitting down to drink some water, eat a snack, and admire the view, I considered myself lucky to once again find a view to admire.

All Trails

I should have learned by now. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Yet, I continue to trust that All Trails will deliver me to an unforgettable hike. Throughout most of the day on this trail, I battled with runners and mountain bikers for space. On the backside of the trail, I found myself competing with ATV riders. For me, nothing spoils the beauty, calm, and peace of a hike quite like someone screaming past at 40-miles per hour while they throw dirt in your face. Yet again, All Trails failed me. Not once, but twice on this trip.

Missed the Loop

Arriving at a parking lot on top of a mountain at the end of a dirt road, I lost the trail and missed the loop. I spent 20-minutes or so searching for it and even asked a couple of ATV riders for help. I followed the All Trails map to no success. Frustrated, I began walking down a dirt road I assumed would lead me to the trail. After an hour or so of searching, I began hiking back toward my car. With a head hung in anger, this will be the last time I let All Trails ruin my day.

2nd to Last Training Hike

The Romero Canyon Loop was my second to last practice hike before attempting to hike the Pacific Crest Trail in March. As you know by now, I only spent four days on the PCT thanks to COVID-19. As disappointed as I was to quit, I do not look back in regret at all those practice hikes that were meant as training for the trail. Over the course of a year and a half, I explored California and fell deeply in love with the natural beauty of the state. Now, I find myself living back in Washington and I miss it dearly. I sincerely hope in the next chapter of my hiking adventures I can fall deeply in love with the trails of Washington in the same way.

Not Yet, Nathan, Not Yet

After stepping off the trail, I began the drive back to Los Angeles via California One. Hugging the Pacific Ocean, I felt compelled to exit the highway, sit on the beach, and admire the sunset. As I snapped photos and watched the sun vanish behind a pier, I was overcome with emotion. Despite all of the challenges, I had fallen deeply in love with Los Angeles. I realized I was not ready to leave and the prospect of doing so was breaking my heart. Seven months later, I am not fully healed and still find myself longing for my former home. At this point in time, I have no idea what to do with these feelings.

Be good to each other,

Nathan 

Point B: California One

As we left Los Angeles during rush hour traffic, The Lumineers and their song “Sleep on the Floor” silenced the conversation in the car. The lyric, “Cause if we don’t leave this town, we might never make it out alive” rang truer for the moment than any other could attempt. I needed to escape, at least for a little while. The weight of LA was beginning to break me and the only thing that could redeem would be a trip up California’s historic Highway One.

The next morning, restoration began early as we watched the sunrise over the Pacific. Given the Pacific Ocean lines the west coast of the United States, it may not be your first choice for a sunrise. The sun doesn’t necessarily rise above you. Instead, you have to look behind. Still, the mixture of salt in the air, rolling hills, the vastness of the ocean, and watching the sky explode with color was all that I could hope for and more.

Settled into the moment, we continued our journey north. Winding roads hugged the coast, as we drove in and out of wooded, exposed, and beach areas. The sheer beauty of it all is hard to describe. On several occasions, we pulled off the road and tried to fit what we were seeing into a picture frame. I have since uploaded those pictures to my computer. Despite my meager talents as a photographer, nothing I captured did justice to what I was experiencing.

Hours on the open road soon led us into the heart of Monterey. After checking into our hotel, we headed for the Cannery District. Like lots of former industrial districts in towns across America, the Cannery District has been repurposed. Once home to a lively fishing, smelting, and canning community, the district is now home to shops, bars, restaurants, and residential living. This has given new life to the area and made it economically viable again. Of course, none of those thoughts were going through my mind at the time. All I could think about was food, cocktails, and taking in the scenery; which there are ample opportunities to have all three of those desires met.

Before this trip, I had not been to San Francisco since I was a few months old on a cross-country trip with my family. Needless to say, all I knew about San Francisco is gleaned from movies, television, books, and other random corners of the pop culture universe. Returning and ready to experience the city with a fresh set of eyes, filled me with an indescribable excitement. When this trip ended, and it was time to return to LA, it was easy to say that I had found a new city to love.

When you go to St. Louis, you see The Arch. When you go to Seattle, you see the Space Needle. When you go to San Francisco, you go to the Golden Gate Bridge. Our Uber driver dropped us off on the far end and we walked the expanse back toward San Francisco. As photographers, we were in love. Before and in every direction was an opportunity to challenge yourself and find a unique angle. As a human being, I marveled at man’s ingenuity and creativity. In an odd sort of way, the Golden Gate Bridge made me proud. It was proof that man can do massively impossible things when we set our minds to it.

The friend I took this trip with is big into the Tiki scene. For me, this means a lot of delicious drinks, but also means searching out Tiki Bars in every city we visit together. In San Francisco, this meant a trip to the Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar in the basement of the Fairmont Hotel. As you walk into the lobby of the hotel, it is hard to believe a kitschy tiki bar has any place in a building so exquisitely designed, yet as you take an elevator down a few floors, there it sits in all of its irony and juxtaposition. Somehow, it works. Delicious drinks, attentive servers, and a pool keep you occupied. As you walk out the door and back into the hotel lobby with the intention of writing about your experience, you realize this is an essential and quintessential experience; something that must be done rather than read. 

If I have one regret for this trip, it’s that we didn’t get to spend a ton of time in The Castro. Beyond a few landmarks and a quick bite to eat, I wasn’t able to give one of America’s most iconic LGBTQ communities a lot of attention. When I return, I plan on devoting as much time as I can to the neighborhood.

Of course, no trip would be complete without a little disappointment and the Mystic Hotel royally disappointed. A friend of mine from Seattle told us about this spot featuring a speakeasy and a secret drink if ordered would grant you access to an Uber Black car which would shuttle you to another location. Overly excited, we visited Mystic Hotel with the intention of making some magic happen. After waiting 45 minutes for our order, we decided to abandon ship. If the secret drink thing still works, I have no idea. From what I read online, this one may have been retired.

As we made our way back to Los Angeles, I couldn’t help but think about the place I want to make my forever home, Seattle, and how it compares to San Francisco. Experiencing the Bay Area filled me with the same level of excitement that I felt when I visited the Emerald City for the first time. The intense focus on neighborhoods, nature, and experiences above all else felt familiar. Driving away, San Francisco made me long for Seattle. I can’t wait to call the Pacific Northwest home again.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

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Captured: Southern California