The snatch was successful. We left early on Tuesday morning, 6/9, Dalia’s 64th birthday. Only when we were on Rt 17, headed towards Rt 1, did I reveal our destination: Big Sur.

The (willing) captive was excited and happy.

Clouds dominated the morning sky. But I had ordered perfect weather for our time away, so I was confident that the sun would soon dissipate the overcast.

We drove south on Rt 1, enjoying the changing scenery. Strawberry picking was under way in numerous fields, recalling our days in fields in Israel.

Soon the road grew narrow, to one lane in each direction. And the ocean came into view–the glorious Pacific. Even under the pall of clouds, it was a deep blue-green. Lots of whitecaps. And huge rocks just off-shore, as if they had tumbled in from the shore. (Maybe they did.)

We began to stop at the frequent turnoffs, to view the incredible ocean, to catch glimpses of the wonderful private homes along the cliffs overlooking the water.

After the fifth or sixth such stop, the sun came out, as if on queue. And the beauty of the ocean took our breath away–again, and again, and again.

Something happened to my consciousness. The past, the future, concerns about other commitments, all disappeared. I brought no computer, and my iPhone’s battery retained a charge just long enough to tell me there was almost no ATT signal in Big Sur. And it didn’t matter at all. I was just there, fully present in each magnificent moment, taking pleasure in the redwoods, the rocks, the beaches, the birds, the people… and in Dalia’s glowing pleasure.

There was no time. There was wonderful food, magical moments, joyful intimacy. Lots of photos; see them soon on my Facebook page.

The next day, we stopped in more parks (Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park is particularly recommended for its gorgeous waterfall and views of the ocean). We drove home by heading south past Cambria, then taking Rt 46 east to 101, and 101 north back to Mountain View. (Stopping to collect a whole flat of strawberries en route. There were actually some left when we got home… )

Now we are home, blessed and changed by the experience.

What does this have to do with writing books? It’s a pattern: Kidnap yourself. Plan your route and your lodgings; campsites and motels in Big Sur are booked months in advance. Prepare as well as you can. (I left our traveling-snacks cooler in our kitchen in Mountain View.)

More than anything, commit: Give yourself to the process. The results will be life-changing.