WEST COAST ADVENTURE - DAY 8 of 9

LOST IN PEBBLE BEACH – July 18

The Villa de Shelly was nice but the breakfast nook was rash-inducing.  When you hear that breakfast is included in the stay, you are pleased with your frugal find and your looming food budget savings.  But after spending several mornings with the turn-key Frosted Flake dispensers, passing up the bulging bowls of hard boiled eggs, and pouring medicine-cup sized batter into the handy-dandy flipping Belgium waffle makers, it starts to get a little old.  I’m sounding spoiled, I realize (and I feel a little guilty about that) but the piercing alarm beeps associated with the waffle baking cycles at this particular hotel were sharper to the ear than any fire alarm, intravenous infusion pump or McDonald’s French fry siren I've ever experienced. It was positively deafening, driving Isaac and his half-banana out onto the ledge of the Villa de Shelly prematurely.  Or maybe he was trying to put some distance between himself and his family because all this togetherness is becoming a chore.

After breakfast we drove to Carmel-by-the-Sea, an adorable little seaside town.  There were quaint shops, art galleries, and fabulous well-kept cottages skirting the white sandy beach. 

To the right of the beach we could see the greens of Pebble Beach golf courses right against the sea cliffs.

We paid a toll to drive up through Pebble Beach.  The road signs were confusing to say the least, the streets cutting paths between expensive homes, golf courses, and on the most scenic route, bordering the sea. Looking at all that green grass right up next to the ocean, I wonder how many golf balls have been lost at sea. 

Though I appreciate being able to see the dark birds against a lighter background, the large sea rocks that have become completely white with guano are more than a little gross.

There is a large cypress tree in Pebble Beach named Charles Crocker.  I get that this guy was some famous tycoon and important somehow to the area.  But is it somehow an honor to have a tree named after you?  I must be missing something.   

And speaking of cypress trees, we stopped to see the legendary “Lone Cypress”.

This tree is such a big deal, they’ve made it part of the Pebble Beach marketing and built a little stone wall around it.  It’s a cypress tree, and it’s alone.  So what’s the attraction? I’m telling you, it looks just like any other cypress tree in California. The 17 mile scenic drive through Pebble Beach proved too much for us. 

After the Lone Cypress, things deteriorated quickly and we started realizing we were all turned around on our silly little map.  It felt like we were stuck in a Pebble Beach sand trap.  We had seen enough and wanted out but we were lost in a maze.  After much consternation and trying to cue the handheld navigational tools within our possession, we finally found route 1 again and dragged our road-weary selves to the Point Pinos Lighthouse.

There was a slight detour for some ocean rock climbing in Point Pinos. While my family was climbing, I was accidentally attracting sea gulls.  This big fella landed squarely on the hood of the car and looked at me in hopeful expectancy.  He thought I might share one of the M&Ms upon which I was snacking. (It’s always wiser to pull out the chocolate when your family is off climbing rocks.)  After some inner deliberation, I did opt to launch a multigrain cracker as far out the window as I could fling it in order to get him off the car before he added his own white adornments to the hood. My family mercifully returned before the beggar had a chance to return to the scene and fly into the open SUV window. (Jim had the keys...)

Point Pinos Lighthouse was under renovation so this is as close as we got.

Monterey Bay Aquarium was definitely the nicest aquarium I’ve ever visited.  But there were WAY too many people who had the same idea today.

Touching starfish and bat rays was fun.  The bat rays steered a clear path away from poor Jim and would not allow him to get his fingers near enough to reach them. 

It was mesmerizing to watch the jellyfish swim. The elegant jellyfish and the dainty seahorses were my favorites.

This enormous fish caught everyone by surprise when it swam by the large tank window.  I have no idea what it is. Not to disrespect the fish, but his weight alone could make enough fish sticks to feed several small villages.

Jim and Aubrey had a captivating close encounter with a penguin. I surprised Aubrey with a stuffed penguin on the Santa Monica pier earlier this week.  It happened to be in her backpack when we were at the aquarium.  She decided to introduce the real penguin to his stuffed counterpart.  Through the glass, the penguin was immediately intrigued by this smaller fuzzy newcomer.  Aubrey shot a great little video of the encounter and I’m hoping the link below works so you can see what I mean.

It was inconceivable to me that thousands of anchovies can spend their entire lives swimming in one direction in their compact tubular tank.  It was like a shimmering merry-go-round of fishy silver going by (and at a pretty rapid clip.)  But I guess swimming in circles at an aquarium is preferable to resting atop the cheese on somebody's pizza.

The speedy murres flying through the fishy water of the large tank were so fast it was impossible to capture a picture.  They look like small penguins but are speedy beyond imagination and are masterful swimmers, flapping their wings and zooming through the water, zipping around all manner of fish as though everyone else was standing still.

Isaac enjoyed watching the schools of fish swim by in the large tank but was more delighted when we left the crowds of the aquarium behind to go find some lunch. We ate on the patio at First Awakenings where forward pigeons paced around our table, hoping for some generosity.

The sound of Pop Rocks sizzled from Isaac and Aubrey in the back seat on the drive to Capitola.  This was a cute little place but we only stayed for a few minutes before continuing our drive north.

Drove on to Natural Bridges State Beach and gave a final salute to the beaches of California.  With the sand blowing directly in our faces, we trekked down the beach, barely pausing to admire the huge bridge-shaped rock in the sea. 

There were flat sandstone (and other) rocks along the far side of the beach (which of course to certain male persons in our party meant MORE CLIMBING.)

Continued on to Santa Cruz Boardwalk, which was sadly not a boardwalk at all, but a long cement portion covered in amusement park rides and unhealthy food selections. 

Because we haven’t done enough traveling, we rode the Sky ride down to the other end of the park.   A distant lighthouse was the point at which I chose to fasten my gaze as it was a lot nicer to look at than the alternative (looking down and seeing my life flash before me in the form of a fall to the very hard concrete slab so very far below.) 

Aubrey ate a deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich (with powdered sugar and a side of dipping chocolate, no less.)

 Not to be outdone, Isaac ingested a glazed donut nearly the size of his head. Boardwalk nutrition at its finest.

Walked the wharf where locals were catching mackerel and harbor seals were barking beneath the pier. We spotted a second lighthouse from the Santa Cruz wharf (which was also disappointingly paved in blacktop.)

It seemed surreal that only ten minutes from the beach we entered the serpentine roads through the Henry Cowell State Park redwood forest. Route 9 north was almost magical. We found our hotel and it was positively adorable, the chilly pool area delightfully adorned with roses and tucked right into the middle of a redwood forest. Doesn't get any better than that. 

WEST COAST ADVENTURE - DAY 7 of 9

ON THE EDGE - July 17

Hopefully we have hit the bottom of the barrel with the hotel accommodations last night.  Not what I’d hoped when I made the reservation. When the movie watchers returned in the wee hours of the morning, there were no parking spots at our hotel.  Jim had to go searching and it was not an easy task to find something nearby.  The “pool” is about the size of our family room and would be better used as an additional parking space. (An easy renovation as that small patch of blue is already conveniently located in the parking lot.) Sleep-deprived Aubrey consoled herself with some Haagen-Dazs coffee ice cream for breakfast, a new and improved way to consume morning caffeine.

Driving north on route 1, the sleepy clouds were still resting in the valleys; mountain peaks barely poking through. Cows and sheep were browsing on the rolling hills, some of the sheep successfully camouflaged in the dry brush upon which they grazed.    The clouds were so thick we were unable to distinguish the ocean views directly to our left all through Morro Bay. That misty marshmallow fluff persisted for the next 15 miles into Cambria.  It was frustratingly sunny almost every time route 1 turned inland yet as soon as we curved out toward the coast again, we were met with more pea soup. 

Stopped at Lampton Cliffs County Park in Cambria.  This sheltered rocky inlet was filled with pebbles and rugged rock.  Tide pools were abundant and Aubrey communed with the anemones by placing her finger in the midst of their tentacles to be seized in a hospitable “handshake.”  There were about a gazillion little snails, many of the shells now roaming covertly in and out of the tide pools, having been hijacked by impossibly petite hermit crabs. Aubrey befriended one miniscule crab, who despite his new shell had not quite attained the size of her smallest fingernail.

Jim and Isaac spotted a rather large starfish which was incentive enough for me to risk the hazardous trek over slimy and vertical rock surfaces to snap a photo. 

At the top of the beach was a graveyard for multitudes of thick sea vegetation and driftwood.  There were huge tubes of firm plant matter with bulbs that had been ripped from the floor of the sea by the mighty waves.

Complicated weavings of plant netting and great ribbons of seaweed carried in at high tide were glistening in the morning sun.  Aubrey found several pieces that appeared to have been tie-dyed by idle clams with nothing else to do. 

We discovered delicate shells, hearty purple flowers growing right from the rock, and fawns foraging for breakfast still sporting their white spots. 

Jim and Ike initiated a tide pool improvement project for sea creatures, relocating some marooned starfish and the strange eyeball-resembling creatures earlier discovered by Aubrey. 

By the time we’d driven as far as San Simeon, the fog was lifting and we could fully appreciate the gorgeous aqua hues against the yellow dune flowers.  Who knew blue could be so blue?  We paused to take some pictures and a video and it was so windy I could scarcely hold onto the camera.

We decided to forgo the Hearst Castle and its exorbitantly priced tours of the mansion for the free breathtaking and self-guided tours of the coast.

Said hello to the enormous elephant seals draped lazily over the sand and slumbering lethargically on the beach.  A few were playing boisterously in the surf and gave the impression they wanted to cause some serious damage (if not eat each other.) 

It was molting season and some of the large reclining blobs were scratching themselves with their flippers and tossing sand over themselves to quiet the itch.  Oh for a bottle of Caladryl and some heavy duty cotton balls….

Aubrey accurately captured the spirit of the sighting.  “Oh my gosh, it’s so cute in a really ugly sort of way.” The bark of the beasts sounded like a short drumroll on the surface of a timpani drum which was badly in need of tuning.

The speed limit on Coastal route 1 suddenly dropped to 20 mph.  And it was an essential thing. Because as we curled up the mountain on the two lane road, the drop to the left was at some spots straight down into the sea.  Rockslide signs were disconcerting and when the rocky cliffs above the road had no warning signs, Isaac mused that perhaps all the rocks in that area had been “glued in.”

When the sign reported road narrowing, we had to insist that Isaac stop eating Cheetos and put two hands on the wheel.  I’ve never felt so much like I was literally on the EDGE of the country as I did on that road.  I do appreciate guardrails and sorely missed them today in many locations. 

There is something nerve-wracking about driving around a corner and seeing nothing but blue in front of you.

It may be the worst place to be in California during an earthquake.  The netting over the loose rock and the construction causing only one lane are also things to make one pause….

Abby was regularly torturing herself with her quest to spot a whale.  She accused many a stray rock of whale-like characteristics, though it is the wrong time of year to spot a migrating blue whale. 

If you can drag your eyes from the stunning beauty of the scene, note the dinky little road on the shot above….

 

Here’s an oddity.  After an hour or so of the most amazing seascape you can imagine, you begin to get immune to its beauty.  It is as though your eyes reach their fill and can’t begin to absorb any more.  About that time we began a catchy Shelly four-part rendition of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” and soon thereafter, Jim (who had been trying not to lose his cookies as a rear passenger) began to melt down with “curvy-road, backseat syndrome.” “It’s lovely, but it makes me sick.”

Fortunately for Jim, our next stop was coming up.  Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park was positively spectacular.

The colors in the water, the gentle wash of the waves over the secluded beach, the rocks, trees and the long vertical drop of the slim falls all combined to fill the senses with awe. 

Jim was nearly despondent at the many signs prohibiting cliff descent to the falls. (note the itty-bitty man below who managed to get down there without a citation.)

Several teens ignored the signs causing serious envy in my husband’s heart.  Being thus teased by the rocks and waterfall off-limits to him, he put on a brave face as we continued north through Big Sur.

 

We passed maybe the 100^th VW van of this trip, leaving me to wonder why all of them seem to migrate to the left side of the U.S.

It is easy to see why this stretch of highway is one of the most scenic in the country.  Colorful rolling hills and sea coming together on one highway.  It’s got everything except for restaurants (and gas) and we were all getting a little hypoglycemic in spite of our Cheetos snacking. 

The bikers on route 1 are seriously hardcore. Just watching them haul their gear and strain with the suffering of climbing some of these hills makes ME weary.

Views from the road next to Bixby Bridge (AKA Jim’s bridge as he has been admiring it in the tourism literature for weeks) were awesome.  Standing north of the bridge and looking out over the sheer beauty of the land and sea caused unchecked tears to form and fall over my cheeks. Wordless emotion from looking at a landscape has only happened to me once before.  It was years ago in Glencoe, Scotland.  People who can look at something like that and say there is no God are out of their minds.

 

Point Lobos State Park was at first uneventful save a few chubby starfish and some crabs clicking their claws in the tide pools. 

Isaac was mildly distressed at missing the last game for the US women in the women’s world soccer finals and tried to glean information from his iPhone on the rocks.

Jim convinced us to hike the Cypress Gove Trail and we did so to the sound of the sea lions barking on the distant rocks.

The cypress trees were majestic and windswept along the trail and shore cliffs.

Aubrey's weed hair accessory made her look like a Who from Who-ville.

The best surprise came when we spotted a spout of water rising from the sea.  It was at least one humpback whale, spouting (AKA pluming) and sounding beyond the rocks.  A more experienced whale-watching couple gave us some observation lessons and Aubrey got her biggest West Coast wish with a whale sighting. 

I didn’t have much luck catching a photo of the tail, but I did manage to capture a couple of unpolished shots when the water was being forced up through the whale’s blowhole. 

So by this time it was 4 pm and we still hadn’t happened upon a viable lunch spot.  We found our hotel in Monterey first.  We were terribly hungry.  I’d say starving, but that word really has little meaning in our country.   It was marvelous to discover we were only blocks from Fisherman’s Wharf. 

Had a tasty dinner at Old Fisherman’s Grotto and from our table we had a great view of the harbor. 

Isaac had his first risotto dinner while harbor seals bobbed in the water entertaining us with their rubbery heads.  Huge pelicans swooped down by the window while we ate.

We were by this time exhausted and very happy to laze about in our bedroom suite (which we named the Villa de Shelly in keeping with our recent inclination to exercise our Spanish skills.