Still headed towards Los Angeles, I stopped off in Ventura to buy gas, use the library and have some very good beef Teriyaki for lunch at a Japanese restaurant.
I arrived in Los Angeles just in time to be on the freeway during rush hour - 5 lanes of traffic in each direction - the Schuylkill Expressway times two. Quite a sight and somewhat intimidating, but of course the hard part was that I didn't really know where I was going and had to depend on my GPS for the trip to the Super 8 Motel in Hollywood where I had a reservation. Fortunately my GPS lady was in top form and I arrived at my destination without incident.
If Hollywood is supposed to be the glamour capital of the world either that time has long since come and gone or I was in the wrong part of Hollywood. The hotel was located in a somewhat rundown Latino neighborhood. The good part is that the man at the desk was pleasant and helpful, the motel was very close to a laundromat and a Greek takeout restaurant, and my room was comfortable, clean, and reasonably attractive. The WIFI signal was weak, however, and the ice machine required a serious shaking before it would release its contents.
I did another blog, set my GPS for tomorrow morning's destination, took a hot shower and went to sleep on a real bed. I love my tent, but there's a lot of good to be said about hot showers and real beds in a private room.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Elephant seals and a hitchhiker
Another day of heading south towards Los Angeles. One good thing about this narrow road by the sea as well as the previous two-lane road, is that there are many "turnarounds" where a slow-moving car can pull over and let faster cars pass. I wasn't in any special hurry, but evidently a fair number of other drivers were, so I found myself frequently pulling over to the side to let drivers who were tailgating me go by. It kept me from feeling harassed by tailgaters and kept them from getting so frustrated that they would pass me in a dangerous area and risk getting themselves and others killed.
There were also areas labeled "vistas" every few miles where I could pull off of the road and enjoy the view. Most of these as I drove today had only a very few cars there or none at all. I came to one, however, where there were many cars and many people at the vista point and also along a narrow path leading off the vista. As far as I could see, however, they weren't looking at anything in particular, so after a very brief stop, I moved on. I had only driven a very short way when I saw the sign informing that this was a site from which one could view elephant seals, so I turned my car around and went back. I mean one doesn't get to see elephant seals up close every day. Sure enough, about a fifty yards down the path, one could see a very large seal just lying on the beach. It was hard to tell if it was dead or alive. About ten yards further on there was another one, and another 50 yards beyond that there were approximately forty of them all lying close together, and only one of them occasionally moving a flipper.
A volunteer guide explained that these were young adult seals who had spent most of the year pretty much by themselves in the sea and now had come on land to rest. They did not eat at all during their time on land and moved very little in order to conserve their energy. Eventually, they would go back out to sea and then return again later to mate and still again for the females to give birth. They were quite large compared to other seals I have seen, which, I suppose, is why they are called elephant seals (Duhh!), but lying there motionless on the beach, they looked more like overgrown slugs than anything else, and there wasn't much to watch once you had had a good look at them.
The first place I stopped for a late breakfast was so expensive ($10.00 for a couple eggs and frozen hashbrowns) that I walked out after a good look at the menu. To pay so much for so little only encourages the restaurant to continue overcharging, but there are so few places right along the coast that I suppose they figure they can charge what the market will bear.
As I was leaving, I saw an old Mexican guy in a sombrero sitting bent over by the side of the road. I wasn't quite sure what he was doing there but he was very picturesque. If I had had any more shots left on my camera, I would have taken his picture.
Further along, I did find a more reasonably priced place for a late breakfast. As I was driving away, I saw the old Mexican again sitting by the road in the same posture. Putting two and two together, I concluded that he must be getting rides down the coast, and I thought of offering him a ride with me.
"It would be interesting to talk with him if he spoke any English," I thought.
"On the other hand do I really want to take a chance with a hitchhiker?"
" But he does look pretty harmless and this trip is supposed to be an "adventure," so why not?"
By the time I had finished this conversation with myself, I was already a mile or so down the road, but I decided to turn around. When I pulled over to offer him a ride, he lifted his head from under the sombrero and I could see that he was not Mexican at all but a white guy in his midforties. I was surprised, but I didn't feel that I wanted to say, "Oh, sorry, I thought you were an old Mexican, so I'm withdrawing my offer." He responded to my offer simply by saying that he would indeed appreciate a ride if I would be willing to take him. He stowed his sleeping bag and a backpack with whatever else he was carrying in the back seat and hopped in with me.
We introduced ourselves - his name was Chris - and off we went.
His story was like stories I'd read about from the Great Depression of the 1930's, where people lost their jobs and tried moving on to other parts of the country in hope of finding work. He explained, "I was a forklift operator for a shipping company. I can operate fork lifts of any size, big ones small ones, it doesn't matter. A few guys were laid off at my company in Oregon, but it was a good place to work. The boss was a really nice guy. Once a year his wife made a big party for all of us, and if the work load was especially heavy, the boss would roll up his sleeves and come out and work right with us. One day, though, he called all of us in about an hour before closing and said that he was closing the business for good at the end of the day. He gave us our paychecks and that was the end of it."
My new companion explained that he couldn't find work and so he left behind his son who was with his divorced wife and was moving down the coast in hopes of finding work along the way. When he came to a town that had any place that looked like they were using forklifts, he would go in and apply for work. So far, however, he hadn't found any. He planned to just continue moving south until he reached Los Angeles, and if he didn't find work there, he would go on to San Diego. I don't know what he planned to do if he didn't find work in San Diego, and I don't think he knew either. He talked some about what a great kid his son was, and then we got into a long discussion about pool. He was evidently a serious pool player. He talked about some interesting betting situations he had seen. He also talked about how the sport was organized with major tournaments in different states around a circuit. It was more than I ever needed to know about pool, but I always find it interesting to hear someone talk about something that they really care about.
"Where do you stay at night?" I asked him.
"I just try to find some place out of the way where I can open up my sleeping bag," he explained. It wasn't too different from what I had done at Pebble Beach, but at least I had the car for shelter.
I wasn't finding any campgrounds for the night, so we stopped off in Santa Barbara at a Visitors Center to see if they knew about a campground in the area. We weren't there long, but Santa Barbara looked really beautiful, with the beach on one side and mountains on the other. The lady at the Visitors Center told me that there was tent camping at Carpinteria State Beach a few miles down the road, so off we went.
The campground looked pretty decent and there were sites available. Most of the campers had departed for home now that the holiday was drawing to an end. The campground was set on land just a few feet above the beach, and I decided to stay. I offered Chris either to camp out with me and I would take him with me in the morning as I continued towards LA, or I would also be happy to take him back to the main road if he wanted to continue on his own. He decided that he would just take off on his own from there. We had crossed some railroad tracks and I guess he figured if there was a railroad, there might be some need for a fork lift operator. I gave him a package of tuna and an apple of the little food I had left in the car. He thanked me, especially for the apple; I wished him luck and we shook hands and said goodbye. Afterwards I felt bad that I hadn't given him more.
At Carpinteria, the day was still sunny and comfortably warm. I took my folding chair and made my way down to the beach, where I just sat and read for more than half an hour. It was a pleasure!
A little later I watched another sunset, with the sun dropping down into the clouds just above the horizon - good but not perfect, just like the one in Pebble Beach.
There were also areas labeled "vistas" every few miles where I could pull off of the road and enjoy the view. Most of these as I drove today had only a very few cars there or none at all. I came to one, however, where there were many cars and many people at the vista point and also along a narrow path leading off the vista. As far as I could see, however, they weren't looking at anything in particular, so after a very brief stop, I moved on. I had only driven a very short way when I saw the sign informing that this was a site from which one could view elephant seals, so I turned my car around and went back. I mean one doesn't get to see elephant seals up close every day. Sure enough, about a fifty yards down the path, one could see a very large seal just lying on the beach. It was hard to tell if it was dead or alive. About ten yards further on there was another one, and another 50 yards beyond that there were approximately forty of them all lying close together, and only one of them occasionally moving a flipper.
A volunteer guide explained that these were young adult seals who had spent most of the year pretty much by themselves in the sea and now had come on land to rest. They did not eat at all during their time on land and moved very little in order to conserve their energy. Eventually, they would go back out to sea and then return again later to mate and still again for the females to give birth. They were quite large compared to other seals I have seen, which, I suppose, is why they are called elephant seals (Duhh!), but lying there motionless on the beach, they looked more like overgrown slugs than anything else, and there wasn't much to watch once you had had a good look at them.
The first place I stopped for a late breakfast was so expensive ($10.00 for a couple eggs and frozen hashbrowns) that I walked out after a good look at the menu. To pay so much for so little only encourages the restaurant to continue overcharging, but there are so few places right along the coast that I suppose they figure they can charge what the market will bear.
As I was leaving, I saw an old Mexican guy in a sombrero sitting bent over by the side of the road. I wasn't quite sure what he was doing there but he was very picturesque. If I had had any more shots left on my camera, I would have taken his picture.
Further along, I did find a more reasonably priced place for a late breakfast. As I was driving away, I saw the old Mexican again sitting by the road in the same posture. Putting two and two together, I concluded that he must be getting rides down the coast, and I thought of offering him a ride with me.
"It would be interesting to talk with him if he spoke any English," I thought.
"On the other hand do I really want to take a chance with a hitchhiker?"
" But he does look pretty harmless and this trip is supposed to be an "adventure," so why not?"
By the time I had finished this conversation with myself, I was already a mile or so down the road, but I decided to turn around. When I pulled over to offer him a ride, he lifted his head from under the sombrero and I could see that he was not Mexican at all but a white guy in his midforties. I was surprised, but I didn't feel that I wanted to say, "Oh, sorry, I thought you were an old Mexican, so I'm withdrawing my offer." He responded to my offer simply by saying that he would indeed appreciate a ride if I would be willing to take him. He stowed his sleeping bag and a backpack with whatever else he was carrying in the back seat and hopped in with me.
We introduced ourselves - his name was Chris - and off we went.
His story was like stories I'd read about from the Great Depression of the 1930's, where people lost their jobs and tried moving on to other parts of the country in hope of finding work. He explained, "I was a forklift operator for a shipping company. I can operate fork lifts of any size, big ones small ones, it doesn't matter. A few guys were laid off at my company in Oregon, but it was a good place to work. The boss was a really nice guy. Once a year his wife made a big party for all of us, and if the work load was especially heavy, the boss would roll up his sleeves and come out and work right with us. One day, though, he called all of us in about an hour before closing and said that he was closing the business for good at the end of the day. He gave us our paychecks and that was the end of it."
My new companion explained that he couldn't find work and so he left behind his son who was with his divorced wife and was moving down the coast in hopes of finding work along the way. When he came to a town that had any place that looked like they were using forklifts, he would go in and apply for work. So far, however, he hadn't found any. He planned to just continue moving south until he reached Los Angeles, and if he didn't find work there, he would go on to San Diego. I don't know what he planned to do if he didn't find work in San Diego, and I don't think he knew either. He talked some about what a great kid his son was, and then we got into a long discussion about pool. He was evidently a serious pool player. He talked about some interesting betting situations he had seen. He also talked about how the sport was organized with major tournaments in different states around a circuit. It was more than I ever needed to know about pool, but I always find it interesting to hear someone talk about something that they really care about.
"Where do you stay at night?" I asked him.
"I just try to find some place out of the way where I can open up my sleeping bag," he explained. It wasn't too different from what I had done at Pebble Beach, but at least I had the car for shelter.
I wasn't finding any campgrounds for the night, so we stopped off in Santa Barbara at a Visitors Center to see if they knew about a campground in the area. We weren't there long, but Santa Barbara looked really beautiful, with the beach on one side and mountains on the other. The lady at the Visitors Center told me that there was tent camping at Carpinteria State Beach a few miles down the road, so off we went.
The campground looked pretty decent and there were sites available. Most of the campers had departed for home now that the holiday was drawing to an end. The campground was set on land just a few feet above the beach, and I decided to stay. I offered Chris either to camp out with me and I would take him with me in the morning as I continued towards LA, or I would also be happy to take him back to the main road if he wanted to continue on his own. He decided that he would just take off on his own from there. We had crossed some railroad tracks and I guess he figured if there was a railroad, there might be some need for a fork lift operator. I gave him a package of tuna and an apple of the little food I had left in the car. He thanked me, especially for the apple; I wished him luck and we shook hands and said goodbye. Afterwards I felt bad that I hadn't given him more.
At Carpinteria, the day was still sunny and comfortably warm. I took my folding chair and made my way down to the beach, where I just sat and read for more than half an hour. It was a pleasure!
A little later I watched another sunset, with the sun dropping down into the clouds just above the horizon - good but not perfect, just like the one in Pebble Beach.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
On to Los Angeles - Pebble Beach
I left San Francisco during the morning rush hour and headed south on the Pacific Coast Road (Route 1) toward Los Angeles - more of twisty roads interspersed with beautiful views of the Pacific. I stopped for lunch at the Whale City Bar and Grill just outside Davenport (not to be confused with Davenport, Iowa) and had a good piece of pie for dessert. Seeing it in the display case, I thought I was ordering blueberry, but it looked and tasted like blackberry; when I asked the waitress what it actually was, she explained to me, "It's olliberry. It's a lot like blackberry and it grows just down the road." In any case, it was quite delicious. "A piece of good pie by any other name. . . ."
I also passed through Castroville and stopped off to buy some fruit at a small produce market. Castroville's main claim to fame, proclaimed in a big sign, is, "The artichoke capital of the world." Being the artichoke capital of the world doesn't seem like such a great honor, but I suppose you have to work with what you've got.
A little later I stopped at a state campground (I just didn't want to do another night of KOA) and confirmed my expectation that I would probably not be able to get a last-minute campsite on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend.
I was getting hungry around 6:30, and drove into the next town, which was Pebble Beach, in search of food. What I found was a sort of higher class New Hope. The main street was lined with expensive boutique clothing stores. My favorite one was the store selling very fancy ladies multicolored boots. Why do the ladies get all the fancy clothes in bright colors while we men are limited to blacks and browns and dark shades of other colors?
There were some cafes and coffee shops, and a bar still open, and there were many tourists just wandering up and down the streets, even though most of the stores were closed.
I walked several blocks down towards the beach so I could see the sunset. Along the way I passed a few large but very cute cottages, one of which was labeled Hansel and Gretal. I was quite surprised; it had never even occurred to me that Hansel and Gretal might have lived in Pebble Beach.
I continued my walk down towards the beach and got there just in time to see the sun disappear into a bank of clouds just above the Horizon. It was not a great sunset, but it was pretty good.
Still with no place to camp, I drove around town until I found a quiet street separated from a fancy house by a big hedge, and I parked there for the night and slept in the car. No one bothered me, and I had a good night's sleep.
I also passed through Castroville and stopped off to buy some fruit at a small produce market. Castroville's main claim to fame, proclaimed in a big sign, is, "The artichoke capital of the world." Being the artichoke capital of the world doesn't seem like such a great honor, but I suppose you have to work with what you've got.
A little later I stopped at a state campground (I just didn't want to do another night of KOA) and confirmed my expectation that I would probably not be able to get a last-minute campsite on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend.
I was getting hungry around 6:30, and drove into the next town, which was Pebble Beach, in search of food. What I found was a sort of higher class New Hope. The main street was lined with expensive boutique clothing stores. My favorite one was the store selling very fancy ladies multicolored boots. Why do the ladies get all the fancy clothes in bright colors while we men are limited to blacks and browns and dark shades of other colors?
There were some cafes and coffee shops, and a bar still open, and there were many tourists just wandering up and down the streets, even though most of the stores were closed.
I walked several blocks down towards the beach so I could see the sunset. Along the way I passed a few large but very cute cottages, one of which was labeled Hansel and Gretal. I was quite surprised; it had never even occurred to me that Hansel and Gretal might have lived in Pebble Beach.
I continued my walk down towards the beach and got there just in time to see the sun disappear into a bank of clouds just above the Horizon. It was not a great sunset, but it was pretty good.
Still with no place to camp, I drove around town until I found a quiet street separated from a fancy house by a big hedge, and I parked there for the night and slept in the car. No one bothered me, and I had a good night's sleep.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
San Francisco
I was now in Petaluma just 30 miles or so from San Francisco, so I decided to spend the day in San Francisco, which I only vaguely remembered from being there forty years ago on my crosscountry trip with Elise.
I drove the car a few miles to the nearest bus stop with a bus going to San Francisco and hopped on. It was a two hour trip for what I might have done in 45 minutes by car, but I was glad to let someone else do the driving. I also had an extended conversation with the bus driver. Usually bus drivers are a pretty taciturn lot. The best of them will give you the information you ask for with a nod of the head or as few words as possible and not much more. They never chat with a passenger as they drive. This one was an exception. We talked mostly about his previous acting career including a stint at a dinner theater in Media near Philadelphia. He was also part of a road troupe for a year that traveled around the country performing adapted versions of the classics for schoolchildren.
I could have gotten a guided bus and walking tour from the KOA campgrounds (just one of their many services including a swimming pool) but I had a copy of a self-guided walking tour from the AAA book and decided to do that instead.
It was a good decision. I couldn't begin to describe all the things I saw in my six hours of walking around San Francisco - uphill and down - so I'll just list the highlights:
First though one of the few things I do remember about San Francisco from my previous visit was that our day in San Francisco was a chilly, overcast day with a strong chilly wind blowing. Today in San Francisco was a chilly, overcast day with a strong chilly wind blowing. History may not repeat itself, but weather evidently does.
.... the two Afro-American street performers tap dancing at the intersection where one of the cable cars turned around
.... Chinatown with crowds of people up and down the main street, including one store which was selling live white birds the size of pigeons but not a bird I recognized. While I stood there, a lady bought two. The owner grabbed them and stuck them into a bag for her.
.... a walk up Telegraph Hill (with a couple rest stops along the way) to Coit's Tower and a great view of the city
.... a sign beside a parking garage that said "Electric cars charged here" Once again, California leads the nation!
.... The main headquarters of Wells Fargo, which is my bank It looked very sturdy and solid, which I took as a good sign
..... Seeing the street sign that said Jack Kerouac Street. Kerouac was one of my favorite writers from the Beat Generation back in the late fifties.The street itself was short and not very impressive. It's like the city wanted to acknowledge that Kerouac had been there without especially honoring him
.... one of the real highlights of the trip for me was stopping in City Lights Bookstore, founded back in the '50's by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who was one of my favorite Beat poets back when I was an English major at Penn in the late fifties. I must have spent close to an hour there wandering among the shelves and ending up in the poetry room on the second floor, sitting in a rocking chair and rereading poems of Ferlinghetti which I still remembered from that long ago time
.... Little Italy where I had the best pizza I've ever eaten, at least 3/4 of an inch thick with chicken and vegetables
.... Union Square where I wandered through the art exhibit
.... Washington Square with a statue of Ben Franklin and people picnicking on the grass just as if it were a warm summer day - which it wasn't
.... Fisherman's Wharf swarming with tourists wandering in an out of the various souvenir shops
.... about the only thing I missed was a ride on a cable car, but there were long lines of people waiting for their turn, and I was too eager to be on my way and seeing things to wait in line.
All in all it was a great day and a pleasant change from the natural scenery I have been enjoying.
I drove the car a few miles to the nearest bus stop with a bus going to San Francisco and hopped on. It was a two hour trip for what I might have done in 45 minutes by car, but I was glad to let someone else do the driving. I also had an extended conversation with the bus driver. Usually bus drivers are a pretty taciturn lot. The best of them will give you the information you ask for with a nod of the head or as few words as possible and not much more. They never chat with a passenger as they drive. This one was an exception. We talked mostly about his previous acting career including a stint at a dinner theater in Media near Philadelphia. He was also part of a road troupe for a year that traveled around the country performing adapted versions of the classics for schoolchildren.
I could have gotten a guided bus and walking tour from the KOA campgrounds (just one of their many services including a swimming pool) but I had a copy of a self-guided walking tour from the AAA book and decided to do that instead.
It was a good decision. I couldn't begin to describe all the things I saw in my six hours of walking around San Francisco - uphill and down - so I'll just list the highlights:
First though one of the few things I do remember about San Francisco from my previous visit was that our day in San Francisco was a chilly, overcast day with a strong chilly wind blowing. Today in San Francisco was a chilly, overcast day with a strong chilly wind blowing. History may not repeat itself, but weather evidently does.
.... the two Afro-American street performers tap dancing at the intersection where one of the cable cars turned around
.... Chinatown with crowds of people up and down the main street, including one store which was selling live white birds the size of pigeons but not a bird I recognized. While I stood there, a lady bought two. The owner grabbed them and stuck them into a bag for her.
.... a walk up Telegraph Hill (with a couple rest stops along the way) to Coit's Tower and a great view of the city
.... a sign beside a parking garage that said "Electric cars charged here" Once again, California leads the nation!
.... The main headquarters of Wells Fargo, which is my bank It looked very sturdy and solid, which I took as a good sign
..... Seeing the street sign that said Jack Kerouac Street. Kerouac was one of my favorite writers from the Beat Generation back in the late fifties.The street itself was short and not very impressive. It's like the city wanted to acknowledge that Kerouac had been there without especially honoring him
.... one of the real highlights of the trip for me was stopping in City Lights Bookstore, founded back in the '50's by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who was one of my favorite Beat poets back when I was an English major at Penn in the late fifties. I must have spent close to an hour there wandering among the shelves and ending up in the poetry room on the second floor, sitting in a rocking chair and rereading poems of Ferlinghetti which I still remembered from that long ago time
.... Little Italy where I had the best pizza I've ever eaten, at least 3/4 of an inch thick with chicken and vegetables
.... Union Square where I wandered through the art exhibit
.... Washington Square with a statue of Ben Franklin and people picnicking on the grass just as if it were a warm summer day - which it wasn't
.... Fisherman's Wharf swarming with tourists wandering in an out of the various souvenir shops
.... about the only thing I missed was a ride on a cable car, but there were long lines of people waiting for their turn, and I was too eager to be on my way and seeing things to wait in line.
All in all it was a great day and a pleasant change from the natural scenery I have been enjoying.
Friday, September 3, 2010
KOA on the Pacific Coast
As unenthusiastic as I am about KOA "Kampgrounds," I nevertheless had the camp office make reservations for me for the next two nights at the next KOA down the road toward Los Angeles. Since this is Labor Day weekend, I knew it would be unlikely for me to just show up somewhere at 4:00 and expect to get a campsite. The lady in the KOA office tried to make a reservation for me via the internet, but the computer showed that the next KOA down the road was all full. But then she phoned the KOA and got me a space in an open field. It was better than spending the night by the side of the road - I guess.
The day was spent mostly driving and dividing my attention between the curvy road and views of the Pacific Ocean.
lunch at restaurant along the Russian River, Pacific Coast Road
I did have a very good salmon sandwich at a cafe overlooking the Russian River. There was a small round brick patio with a table and a comfortable chair and I enjoyed my lunch outdoors here while watching the river flow by. I chatted briefly wiith a couple other customers and as I was finishing I saw them at the dock below the restaurant hopping into kayaks and sailing off up the river.
Along the way I also passed Moscow Road and Sebastopol. I guess all of the Latinos now in the area must have been preceded by Russians.
At the KOA I was told that the price was slightly more than I had paid at the other KOA and that there was a charge for connecting with their WIFI. To add insult to injury, they also told me that I should appreciate this high price because this price was actually ten dollars less than their regular price for this holiday weekend. I was gifted with this discount because they were putting me in the middle of a field (which was only a little less private than their regular campsites). I suppose one must be grateful for small favors - but sometimes it's not easy.
The day was spent mostly driving and dividing my attention between the curvy road and views of the Pacific Ocean.
I did have a very good salmon sandwich at a cafe overlooking the Russian River. There was a small round brick patio with a table and a comfortable chair and I enjoyed my lunch outdoors here while watching the river flow by. I chatted briefly wiith a couple other customers and as I was finishing I saw them at the dock below the restaurant hopping into kayaks and sailing off up the river.
Along the way I also passed Moscow Road and Sebastopol. I guess all of the Latinos now in the area must have been preceded by Russians.
At the KOA I was told that the price was slightly more than I had paid at the other KOA and that there was a charge for connecting with their WIFI. To add insult to injury, they also told me that I should appreciate this high price because this price was actually ten dollars less than their regular price for this holiday weekend. I was gifted with this discount because they were putting me in the middle of a field (which was only a little less private than their regular campsites). I suppose one must be grateful for small favors - but sometimes it's not easy.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Driving down the Pacific Coast
I had a couple of visitors at my table in the campground at Humboldt Redwood State Park - a curious chipmunk and a Stellars Jay who landed on my table and finally flew away disappointed when I didn't share any of my breakfast with him.
The park was so beautiful with all of those tall, broad redwoods that I stopped at a service road and just took a walk thru the woods and then back to my car for about 45 minutes.
There was more windy and twisty road down route 1 along the Pacific coast, but I did get to look up long enough to catch frequent looks at the Pacific Ocean stretched out beside me to the horizon.
At the end of the day, I was headed down a side road to a state park campground when I passed a KOA campground. I have generally avoided KOA since I remember staying there once very long ago and finding it very unwoodsy, with campsites one next to the other. I thought it might have WIFI, however, and nice showers so I decided to take a chance on it. The campsites were pretty much as I remembered them and they only allowed a half hour of free WIFI, but they did have a movie in the evening, a playground for kids, a game room. and other recreational activities, and I realized that this wasn't really a campground at all in the usual sense of that term. It was actually a sort of short-term summer camp for families with kids. There was plenty for the kids to do and the parents could mostly just relax, play cards, or kibbitz with each other. I saw a little bit of the movie. There was only one family watching. It was called "The Tooth Fairy," about a guy who somehow got himself an assignment as a tooth fairy and didn't like it. I arrived late and left early. It was absolutely the worst picture I can ever remember seeing in my whole life. In any case, I now think KOA is not so bad for what it is, as long as one doesn't confuse it with a place where you might go for a little peace and quiet and an opportunity to commune with nature.
Sunset in PacificOcean
At about 7:15, I took a walk down toward the beach to see the sunset. I had only been out a few minutes when a truck came out of the state park campground just down the road from the KOA headed in the same direction and the driver offered me a ride. I pushed some bundles of firewood aside and hopped on the truck tailgate. In a couple minutes we came to a fairly high sand dune which we climbed and from where we got a great view of the sunset. It was somewhat different than the ones I have seen in Bat Yam in that there seemed to be a halo around the sun and it was all shimmering as it sank into the sea. A perfect sunset! It was such a lovely evening that I declined a ride back and walked back to my campsite as the evening darkened.
The park was so beautiful with all of those tall, broad redwoods that I stopped at a service road and just took a walk thru the woods and then back to my car for about 45 minutes.
There was more windy and twisty road down route 1 along the Pacific coast, but I did get to look up long enough to catch frequent looks at the Pacific Ocean stretched out beside me to the horizon.
At the end of the day, I was headed down a side road to a state park campground when I passed a KOA campground. I have generally avoided KOA since I remember staying there once very long ago and finding it very unwoodsy, with campsites one next to the other. I thought it might have WIFI, however, and nice showers so I decided to take a chance on it. The campsites were pretty much as I remembered them and they only allowed a half hour of free WIFI, but they did have a movie in the evening, a playground for kids, a game room. and other recreational activities, and I realized that this wasn't really a campground at all in the usual sense of that term. It was actually a sort of short-term summer camp for families with kids. There was plenty for the kids to do and the parents could mostly just relax, play cards, or kibbitz with each other. I saw a little bit of the movie. There was only one family watching. It was called "The Tooth Fairy," about a guy who somehow got himself an assignment as a tooth fairy and didn't like it. I arrived late and left early. It was absolutely the worst picture I can ever remember seeing in my whole life. In any case, I now think KOA is not so bad for what it is, as long as one doesn't confuse it with a place where you might go for a little peace and quiet and an opportunity to commune with nature.
At about 7:15, I took a walk down toward the beach to see the sunset. I had only been out a few minutes when a truck came out of the state park campground just down the road from the KOA headed in the same direction and the driver offered me a ride. I pushed some bundles of firewood aside and hopped on the truck tailgate. In a couple minutes we came to a fairly high sand dune which we climbed and from where we got a great view of the sunset. It was somewhat different than the ones I have seen in Bat Yam in that there seemed to be a halo around the sun and it was all shimmering as it sank into the sea. A perfect sunset! It was such a lovely evening that I declined a ride back and walked back to my campsite as the evening darkened.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Bicyclists honoring the troops
Today my plan was to travel west to the Pacific Coast, having concluded that I would definitely have to pass up Yosemite and Redwoods National Parks if I hoped to get to Los Angeles in time for my flight back to Philadelphia.
I got off to a bit of a slow start by traveling 30 miles east when I should have been going west, but other than that it was another good day.
I stopped for lunch at a rest stop where there were couple of bicyclists. They looked like they were in their late twenties of early thirties. One of them came over to ask me where I got the little handle that attaches to pots so you can remove them safely from campstoves. He was the dirtiest human being I think I have ever seen. He looked like neither he nor his once-white T-shirt had seen soap and water for a very long time, but he was friendly, cheerful and talkative. He said that he and his partner were riding their bikes in honor of the troops who had been killed in Iraq or Afghanistan.
"How long have you been doing this?" I asked.
"Since 2004.We've actually ridden .over 50,000 miles all around the west. In fact at 10 miles per casualty we're actually about a thousand miles ahead of the casualty count."
"How did you get into this?"
"It was actually my partner's idea. We were at a ceremony honoring war dead who were being brought back home, and there were war protesters outside. We thought that no matter what one thought about the war, we should still be honoring guys who died for their country, so this is our way of doing it."
We talked a while longer and I noticed later that they did have signs on their bikes indicating that they were riding in honor of the troops.
We also talked a bit about our travel experiences. They said that some people did give them a little money to help support them on the road, but mostly they have found cheap ways of doing things; they knew about campgrounds that were cheaper than anything I had found or they just slept out. They had a campstove that used regular gasoline, which was the cheapest fuel available.
He acknowledged that he did get tired of doing this, but I think they might have been continuing at this point on pure momentum and weren't sure what to do next with their lives.
At Whiskeytown I stopped at the Visitors Center to ask how the town got its name. The pleasant park rangers explained to me that during the gold rush one of the mule drivers accidentally dropped a barrel of whiskey into the creek, which then became Whiskey Creek. The town then took its name from the creek on which it was located. The town had had a couple other names as well, but this is the one that stuck.
I also passed through Hayfork and Mad River on the road to Eureka, which was right on the coast. I suppose that name came from someone who was also looking for the coast and finally found it when he got to the place that he named Eureka.
I also passed thru Carlotta (pop.345), whose most noticeable feature was a sheep in the front yard of one of the houses - probably a family pet.
I had never driven a road quite like this one before. To describe it as snakelike would not be to do it justice. Pretzel-like would be more apt. It twisted back and forth, did horseshoe turns, and generally kept me very, very alert at the wheel. At many turns I was focused so fully on staying on my side of the white line that I would be surprised to see a car or something larger coming right at me in the other direction and then turning to follow the road at the last minute. I don't think I even had time to be scared at the time because each event passed so quickly. It did definitely make me nervous, however. I thought of the 40,000 Americans that die every year in road accidents and how most of them are just driving along minding their own business, when without any notice at all they are in a situation where they know they are going to die. I don't dwell on this, but this road certainly brought it to mind.
While I was navigating one more turn, I looked up and there was the Pacific Ocean. Eureka, I found it! It was quite an exhilarating experience
I drove on through Grizzly Creek State Park and into Humboldt Redwood State Forest, where I stayed at a very beautiful campground surrounded by huge redwoods.
I got off to a bit of a slow start by traveling 30 miles east when I should have been going west, but other than that it was another good day.
I stopped for lunch at a rest stop where there were couple of bicyclists. They looked like they were in their late twenties of early thirties. One of them came over to ask me where I got the little handle that attaches to pots so you can remove them safely from campstoves. He was the dirtiest human being I think I have ever seen. He looked like neither he nor his once-white T-shirt had seen soap and water for a very long time, but he was friendly, cheerful and talkative. He said that he and his partner were riding their bikes in honor of the troops who had been killed in Iraq or Afghanistan.
"How long have you been doing this?" I asked.
"Since 2004.We've actually ridden .over 50,000 miles all around the west. In fact at 10 miles per casualty we're actually about a thousand miles ahead of the casualty count."
"How did you get into this?"
"It was actually my partner's idea. We were at a ceremony honoring war dead who were being brought back home, and there were war protesters outside. We thought that no matter what one thought about the war, we should still be honoring guys who died for their country, so this is our way of doing it."
We talked a while longer and I noticed later that they did have signs on their bikes indicating that they were riding in honor of the troops.
We also talked a bit about our travel experiences. They said that some people did give them a little money to help support them on the road, but mostly they have found cheap ways of doing things; they knew about campgrounds that were cheaper than anything I had found or they just slept out. They had a campstove that used regular gasoline, which was the cheapest fuel available.
He acknowledged that he did get tired of doing this, but I think they might have been continuing at this point on pure momentum and weren't sure what to do next with their lives.
At Whiskeytown I stopped at the Visitors Center to ask how the town got its name. The pleasant park rangers explained to me that during the gold rush one of the mule drivers accidentally dropped a barrel of whiskey into the creek, which then became Whiskey Creek. The town then took its name from the creek on which it was located. The town had had a couple other names as well, but this is the one that stuck.
I also passed through Hayfork and Mad River on the road to Eureka, which was right on the coast. I suppose that name came from someone who was also looking for the coast and finally found it when he got to the place that he named Eureka.
I also passed thru Carlotta (pop.345), whose most noticeable feature was a sheep in the front yard of one of the houses - probably a family pet.
I had never driven a road quite like this one before. To describe it as snakelike would not be to do it justice. Pretzel-like would be more apt. It twisted back and forth, did horseshoe turns, and generally kept me very, very alert at the wheel. At many turns I was focused so fully on staying on my side of the white line that I would be surprised to see a car or something larger coming right at me in the other direction and then turning to follow the road at the last minute. I don't think I even had time to be scared at the time because each event passed so quickly. It did definitely make me nervous, however. I thought of the 40,000 Americans that die every year in road accidents and how most of them are just driving along minding their own business, when without any notice at all they are in a situation where they know they are going to die. I don't dwell on this, but this road certainly brought it to mind.
While I was navigating one more turn, I looked up and there was the Pacific Ocean. Eureka, I found it! It was quite an exhilarating experience
I drove on through Grizzly Creek State Park and into Humboldt Redwood State Forest, where I stayed at a very beautiful campground surrounded by huge redwoods.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)