Here we go a-wandering ...

Adventure day!

I was ostensibly conducting research for a novel I may or may not be writing during NaNoWriMo.  The novel begins with the heroine standing on the shore at San Simeon state beach.  Since I could not actually remember what the beach at San Simeon looked like, it was of course necessary to take a road trip to see it.  And to relive the experience of driving Big Sur.

Not that I really need an excuse to drive Big Sur.  I just need an excuse to give everybody else, when they ask why I am spending an entire day driving Highway 1 to San Louis Obispo.

Actually, from the novel standpoint, it was a good thing I did.  The beach (which is not San Simeon State Beach, but W.R. Hearst Memorial State Beach) is not nearly as pretty as I remembered it.  It is in a cove, so it has small quiet waves, rather than big crashing dramatic ones.  It also has a pier, which I totally did not remember, as well as a couple of very nice cypress trees off to one side with very low hanging branches, which I have plans for, fictionally speaking.

Still, not so pretty.  Considering that the heroine ended up there by tossing a coin between San Simeon and Mendecino, maybe I should shift course and relocate her to the Sonoma Coast.  Which would mean a road trip north next weekend.  Hmmm. Something to ponder.  And a great excuse to drive Highway 1 north, at least as far as Mendecino.  Or at least a great excuse to tell everyone else as to why I simply have to drive up that way.

Herewith, some notes from today's journey:

Rats, getting a late start.  That means I'd better not drive 1 south from Santa Cruz to Monterey.   Oh, well, I can do that at a later time, and it is not nearly as critical as driving 1 south from Monterey.

Dear KFC:  That thing with the two pieces of chicken, bacon, and cheese?  Not bad.  But it's NOT A SANDWICH.  It has no bread.  No bread, ergo no sandwich.  Got it? If you can't hold it and play whist at the same time (you can't - you'd get grease on the cards), it doesn't count.

Dear lady in the pale blue late-model Toyota:  If you cannot both drive and look at the scenery, use the vista points.  If you are not looking at the scenery, but are white-knuckling this stretch because you cannot handle driving both hills and curves -- and drop-offs with no rails -- use the turnouts so those of us that actually can drive this are not stuck behind you.  Going 30 mph on piece of highway marked 50 creates a lot of very irate drivers in your wake.  Including me.  Which is totally harshing my squee and making me cranky, when I had been hoping to enjoy this. Oh, and if the turn says suggested 30?  You do not have to slow down to 15. Or if you do, you should be letting someone else drive.

Actually, driving this is so much better than being a passenger, because you are watching the road (and occasionally the distant waves) and not looking over to your right thinking "That's a looooooong way down there."

Dear guy in the white pickup truck: Not you, too?  See advice to the lady above.  And I thought that, having managed to pass you once, I would have gotten far enough ahead of you that I could stop at the state park to use the restrooms.  I was wrong, but a person's gotta do what a person's gotta do.  So here I am, stuck behind you again.

Dear lady in the maroon minivan, and guy driving the camper:  You use turnouts.  You win your good citizen points for the day.

Oooooooohhhhhh! Condor! Condor! Has to be. The wingspan is too massive, the wingspan/body/head ratios -- it can only be a condor.  I've seen one once before on this stretch, and I love watching them.  I just wish I had been near a vista point so I could have stopped.

The sky is cloudy, and the clouds lie close to the road.  On the one hand, that is making the ocean less striking than usual, on the other hand, it is making the trees in the ravines on the eastward side of the highway look mysterious and wonderful.  "The woods are lovely, dark and deep..."

Just as I came down from Big Sur -- just above Cambria --- the clouds lifted so that the ocean turned its normal deep Pacific blue, from the slates and silvers it had been earlier.  I could feel every muscle in my body joyfully relax.

All these people looking at the elephant seals.  I guess I can understand that, if they've never seen elephant seals before, but really, they're just smelly, noisy brown blobs lying on the beach.  They do absolutely nothing for me.

The zebras, on the other hand..... Zebras.  Lots of zebras.  Baby zebras.  Oh, William Randolph Hearst, you may have had more money than sense (you certainly had more money than taste), but the zebras you imported are just so way beyond cool.

I did the obligatory stop at the Castle Visitor Center.  The night tour was sold out (just as well, the place does have a strange fascination for me).  I nonetheless paid my eight bucks and caught the last showing of "Hearst Castle: Building the Dream."  I am a sucker for all things Imax, even forty-minute love-letters to megalomaniacs. Which it was, considering that they basically stated that WRH was a co-architect of the place with Julia Morgan. And they ignored the seamier parts of the man's life (such as the actress he left his wife for).

Speaking of Morgan, I've seen other pieces of her work, and she really is a better architect than this.  The conflict between the various influences at the Castle is simply jarring, and her other work is so much more coherent.  I do love both the indoor and outdoor pools, though, even if the rest of the place makes me want to scream a little bit. 

Ahhh.. time to go.  It actually is a good thing that I got such a late start, otherwise that last line on the highway sign in SLO -- "Los Angeles   200 miles" -- would be oh so tempting....

Let's see... I know people in Pasadena, and G & D live in Riverside, and even if that didn't pan out I could always crash in my car.  I know! I could drive "Route 66" backwards! San Bernadino.... Barstow.... Kingman... don't forget Winona!.... Flagstaff, Arizona...  I could be in Flagstaff tomorrow evening.  Oh, Sarah.....

But no.  It's late.  Too late to head further south, and besides, I am needed elsewhere tomorrow.

As the man said, "I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep."