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hill of the hawk in hock
[Big Sur, part three] All weekend up at Fernwood in Big Sur, people kept talking about Hill of the Hock and how we were going to go there and it was going to be wondrous and astonishing, and I kept trying to figure out what a hock is exactly. All I could think of was something being “in hock”, and I couldn’t fathom why you’d want to name an allegedly “special” hill after that, unless maybe the land was bought by pawning something. (Of course, “hock” is also a verb that means “to disable by cutting the tendons in the ankle”. Nice.)
When we eventually arrived, after much hoohah and kerfuffle, the sign above the gate read “HILL OF THE HAWK” and I remembered that I’m very far from home and don’t really understand a word anyone says out here.
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oh, rachel, that is absolutely funny. It really reminds me of something that I would fall prey to. I empathize because I’m constantly straining to understand just what people are saying.
ps. was this before or after colin began rolling down the hill?
I’d like to Hock everything we own and rent that house on the bluffside. 10grand; you in?
Colin rolled down that hill, too? I thought he only rolled down the hill at the party the night before, and then over the bank of the creek by the fire? He made it home uninjured, I take it? Somehow I managed not to roll down or fall off anything, which is verging on miraculous.
I loved that house. I sat there for a while by myself and realised I should’ve been hiding out a lot more during that trip. I like a certain amount of solitude. People make me crazed.
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Rachel, I know what you mean. This house inspires the need for solitude. I lived up there for nine years in a house near here, and it was very soul-satisfying indeed, if not very practical. Love your photos of Big Sur and hearing of your experience there.