"Джек Керуак. Big Sur (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

off at last. Then I crawl thru the barbed wire and find myself trudging a
sweet little sand road winding right thru fragrant dry heathers as tho I'd
just popped thru from hell into familiar old Heaven on Earth, yair and Thank
God (tho a minute later my heart's in my mouth again because I see black
things in the white sand ahead but it's only piles of good old mule dung in
Heaven).

4

And in the morning (after sleeping by the creek in the white sand) I do
see what was so scary about my canyon road walk - The road's up there on
the wall a thousand feet with a sheer drop sometimes, especially at the
cattle crossing, way up highest, where a break in the bluff shows fog
pouring through from another bend of the sea beyond, scary enough in itself
anyway as tho one hole wasnt enough to open into the sea... And worst of all
is the bridge! I go ambling seaward along the path by the creek and see this
awful thin white line of bridge a thousand unbridgeable sighs of height
above the little woods I'm walking in, you just cant believe it, and to make
things heart-thumpingly horrible you come to a little bend in what is now
just a trail and there's the booming surf coming at you whitecapped crashing
down on sand as tho it was higher than where you stand, like a sudden tidal
wave world enough to make you step back or run back to the hills - And not
only that, the blue sea behind the crashing high waves is full of huge black
rocks rising like old ogresome castles dripping wet slime, a billion years
of woe right there, the moogrus big clunk of it right there with its
slaverous lips of foam at the base - So that you emerge from pleasant
little wood paths with a stem of grass in your teeth and drop it to see
doom... And you look up at that unbelievably high bridge and feel death and
for a good reason: because underneath the bridge, in the sand right beside
the sea cliff, hump, your heart sinks to see it: the automobile that crashed
thru the bridge rail a decade ago and fell 1000 feet straight down and
landed upside-down, is still there now, an upside-down chassis of rust in a
strewn skitter of sea-eaten tires, old spokes, old car seats sprung with
straw, one sad fuel pump and no more people...
Big elbows of Rock rising everywhere, sea caves within them, seas
plollocking all around inside them crashing out foams, the boom and pound on
the sand, the sand dipping quick (no Malibu Beach here) - Yet you turn and
see the pleasant woods winding upcreek like a picture in Vermont - But you
look up into the sky, bend way back, my God you're standing directly under
the aerial bridge with its thin white line running from rock to rock and
witless cars racing across it like dreams! From rock to rock! All the way
down the raging coast! So that when later I heard people say "Oh Big Sur
must be beautiful! " I gulp to wonder why it has the reputation of being
beautiful above and beyond its fearfulness, its Blakean groaning roughrock
Creation throes, those vistas when you drive the coast highway on a sunny
day opening up the eye for miles of horrible washing sawing.

5

It was even frightening at the other peaceful end of Raton Canyon, the