Since our last report, your pilgrims have entered California. It has proven to be a land of stark contrasts. On the one hand, we have met very friendly and helpful people. We have also been in magnificently beautiful natural surroundings: rugged coastline, warm sandy beaches, huge redwoods in thick forests, and bright, arid desert land. On the other hand, we have been around heavy traffic and long stretches of shops, garages and malls. Our first night in California was spent in a campground taken over by "yippies" or similar folk with dozens of dogs: drinking, taking drugs and playing loud music they trashed the bathrooms and roamed the park all night, tearing down any piece of wood they could. There have also been many homeless people: those we spoke with seem like gentle and kind people. Perhaps they are too sensative and gentle to cope in a world increasingly run by Mammon and bureucracy. Yet they seem lost, on an apparent dead-end in life's paths, and witnesses to Mother Teresa (of Calucutta's) statement that poverty in America is primarily spiritual poverty.
As has been the case throughout our dozen years of pilgrimage, the experience of the wonder and beauty of God's creation and the essential goodness of His people stands side by side with the experience of the bitterness of mankind's fall and its consequences. The first experience strengthens our hope; the second strengthens our resolve to heal and help.
In San Francisco, we visited the Cathedral housing the relics of St. John Maximovitch, Russian Orthodox bishop of Shangai and San Francisco. We were able to sing for and speak to the children of the Christian School which is housed there. Financially, it is a miracle that the school is still running. Yet a bigger miracle is the growth of the children in genuine piety, love of God and fellowman, and heartfelt interest in the world.
Later, in the Big Sur area, we were directed to a Benedictine Monastery, New Camaldoli Hermitage. The driveway there rises from the sea to 1,500 ft (c. 500 meters). Some one told us it was only a quarter of a mile to the hermitage. actually, it was two miles, which confirmed two principles we have learned on the way: 1. Never trust car-driver's to give accurate estimates of distance. 2. It is sometimes better not to know how difficult a journey is going to be: otherwise you might turn back and miss a very important experience. The brothers took us in with true Benedictine hospitality, and we spent two days in the blessed, prayer-filled silence of their home, perched between the sea and the stars. Then it was back onto Highway 1: cars, motorhomes, steep hills, seals, fantastic sea coast and fellow cyclists from as close as California and as far away as Switzerland and Germany.
Farther south we stopped at a Japanese Buddhist Church, and received a warm welcome from the priest there, and spent the night in the contemplative atmosphere of their retreat house. It was late in the evening, we were quite tired, wondering where to spend the night...and then saw the sign for the church. We later discovered that a sister church in nearby Guadalupe (California) was celebrating their one hundreth anniversary. It played a very important role in the lives of the Japanese-Americans who had their property confiscated and were imprisoned in camps further inland during World War II. After the war, when they returned to the coast, the churches were havens and meetings points for individuals and families struggling to build new lives from themselves.
From there, it was on to Lompoc to visit William's brother, sister-in-law and twin nephews, living on an Air Force Base. We rode our bikes straight up to the main gate--full of luggage, guitar and bright green reflector sticking up in back. For some reason, the sergeant came running out of the guardhouse, greeted us personally and sent us to the visitors center. Soon, we were at their house, catching up on the news with the adults and meeting the four-year-olds for the first time. The little nephews are unbelievably cute in their good moments, and something like a combination of a tornado and an earthquake when less well behaved.
In San Diego, we were guests of the Greek Orthodox Church of St. Gregory of Nyssa. The priest, Fr. Simeon and Presbytera (matuschka) Joy-Ann are a source of light and strength not only in their parish, but also in the general community, and even in Mexico where they help support a Christian orphanage. Once or twice we sat on the patio behind the church, drinking Greek coffee made in a real "briki", eating "koulourakia", enjoying the warm the dry weather and the sun, taking in the dust and traffic noise. It was amazingly like being transported to a city in Greece. We attended a baptism down-town, sang for the patients in a mental health clinic and met with two classes of a local charter elementary school.
After cycling into the desert, we spent the night tenting behind the bicycle shop in Alpine, CA and meeting the owner. He is not only a friendly host and good mechanic, but also a role model for a number of children, drawn to the shop by the lure of bikes and finding a good-uncle figure there who teaches them explicitly about bikes, and by example about life and virtue.
The original name of El Centro, CA was "El Centro de La Palma de La Mano de Dios", that is, "the center of the palm of God's hand." It actually lies below sea level--like the low point of the palm of a hand--and would be a desert were it not for water brought from the Colorado River by canals. Here we visited the Episcopal Church, learned something of the disagreements within the Anglican Communion, and even met the local bishop who was visiting from San Diego. We also toured the amazing irrigation system and agricultural oasis, as well as the U.S.-Mexican border which is heavily guarded and patrolled. From there, it was on to Arizona.
As always, our thanks go to the many people who have helped us along the way with spiritual, emotional and material support. They are in our hearts and prayers.
Alexandra and William
12 November, 2009
