I am at the end of the road

Not on the road, but the end of the road. I know my path to where I am has manifested itself and I know what is around me came to be from following the road, but somehow I feel a connection to Kerouac and the hippies that followed that by being here, at the end of the road, I am them. I am the last stop on the way to Muir Woods, to the coast, on Highway 1, where if you go further you have gone beyond man's world. I am the last place where nonsensical exist in a financed world of opulence. If I leave this space then trees won't talk to me anymore.