Chapter 18
Montana de Oro
“Linda Sue, I would like to go up to Montana de Oro to get some photos and feel of the ocean from there. I’ve got to get some more paintings done. You are selling them faster than I have been painting. I’m sorry I’ve been spending so much time with Duncan. I should have been concentrating more on my work. That’s not fair to you. You’ve put so much into me.”
“You know I haven’t pushed you. I understand. And Duncan’s company was doing you so much good.”
“True. I was beginning to feel more like my old self. I was even eating, like you enjoying it. But I have asked Duncan to stay away for a few weeks so I can get some work done. I am beginning to feel guilty. There is so much work to do, so many paintings I should be working on. All I have done is go out with him to all these restaurants. He had already planned to fly up to Washington to meet with a publisher. They are going to discuss a new book based on traveling the Northern Calif., Oregon and Washington coast. He tells me there is so much to see. He’s even mentioned that he would like me to join him at one time to see the coast along the way.
I can’t even imagine those giant redwoods he told me about. There is even one that a car can drive through. And, he says when you are going through the trees, there seems to be a greenish haze. That could be fun to paint and a challenge.
“Sounds great. Are you going to miss him?”
“I think so.”
“Alright, you take my car.”
“But...”
“I trust you and the car is well insured. I’m sure you have got the hang of driving on our correct side of the street. Just take it slow.”
“Well, Duncan did help me when we were driving back from the ceileh. I seemed to have managed.”
“Then go.”
Heather accepted the offered keys and went out to the little red car. After the trip home with Duncan, she felt confident that she could do this.
The drive was uneventful. It was only ten miles on the 101 to the Los Osos Valley Road, which is a comparatively uncrowded stretch of road. A few more miles and she was driving up to the area of the mountain of gold, full of golden poppies which gave the park its name. Below the high hill, she could see several surfers braving the dangerous waves. She had been told that even one of the worlds’ greatest surfers from Hawaii had lost his life in the battle.
Multi shaded blue and green waters crashing against the rocks creating unusual formations.
Taking out her case containing sketchpads and colored pencils along with her camera bag, she walked out the narrower path alongside the cliffs. She placed the sketchpad case on the ground while she took as many photos as the disc in the camera would allow. Then she changed the disc. This allowed her to take almost 400 photos. First placing a heavy blanket on the slightly damp rock, Heather began sketching the wave patterns and rocks. She attempted to put in the ever-changing colors. It was so exhilarating there with the salt wind blowing at her hair. She almost wished it were long as it used to be. Salty air, crashing waves; it was almost like home. How often she did miss her home; the only one she had ever known. In her mind’s eye, she could see the small town, see her friends and family. Everything had been so perfect before…
It was already late in the afternoon, so she felt she could wait until the sun set to gather some more colors for her sketches. Heather was glad she had brought along her heavy hand knitted blue sweater, a parting gift from her friend, Muriel. It was getting quite chilly, although she was used to that. As she sat, she thought back to Duncan’s departure that morning. He had been so sweet. It seemed as if they were close friends. At this time, that was what she wanted, or was it?
Heather thought back over the past few days, the trip to the ceileh, the ceileh itself and then the visit near Hearst Castle. Some day, she would like to visit those small towns of Cambria and Harmony. It just didn’t seem as if the man seemed at all like Ian. He was everything Ian was not. He didn’t push himself on her as Ian had always been trying to get her to give herself to him before the marriage. This man was just a more gentle man, a caring man.
Heather wondered if she had stayed with Ian out of true love or the fact that he was one of the few bachelors in the small town and had chosen her to be his wife. Although she was fairly attractive, there were many more eye-catching women in their town. But Ian had chosen her. She had to admit she was flattered. They had gotten along rather well, but he did have some habits that annoyed her. Not many, but a few. Her mum had told her not to expect him to change after marriage. That was a sad mistake many of her friends had made. Everyone had told her that she should not expect to make a career out of her art. That most artists who were remembered had died long before they had become famous. She should be a good little homebody and play with her art when there was time from her responsibilities and don’t expect any time at all. Perhaps when she was old and gray, she would have the time, if not the energy.
Now, here she was, enjoying this fabulous place. How she did love the ocean. It was the feel of powerful waves crashing and changing the large rocks. Even the wind seemed more commanding near the shore. And the smell? Who could not distinguish the delightful familiar salt sea air? Other than the ocean, it was quiet, peaceful. Those golden poppies covering the nearby hill had given the place its name of Montana de Ore, the hill of gold.
The colors of the sun setting were spectacular. She hastened to jot them down on her sketchpad after taking about fifty shots. The cloud formations were unusual and perfect for the planned paintings.
Sometimes, she had to use her mind and her memory to design the cloud patterns that best fit the paintings, but these were just right. She remembered how she used to lie on the sand watching the clouds, trying to see the animals, faces in them. Often, she would place a particular pattern in her paintings of some animal or sea creature. It was almost a trademark.
As the sun set, even her heavy sweater wasn’t keeping her warm enough. She shivered as she walked down the precarious path to the car.
With all her equipment in the trunk, she drove back to the road and home. It had been a very productive day.
What If Page 18