“… As we approach Monterey, there are sand dunes between the roadway and the coast. Huge in places, smaller in others, and they form nice contrasts on the landscape. Monterey Bay comes into view, and the road we are travelling on winds its way through Monterey and then skirts around the bay towards Pacific Grove. We pass near Fisherman’s Wharf and PZ detours down Cannery Row, a once popular Sardine Canning area of the city which has transformed into a tourist Mecca for the trendy and popular sets. The road we are on then hugs the edge of the bay past the bulk of the city. Here the sky is a soft dove grey, but the waves just offshore to our right are breaking madly as they collide with rocks next to the elevated rock paved walkways. There is a huge swell further out. The sea there heaves rhythmically and throws it’s bulk about with breaking crashing rolling surf. PZ says she hasn’t seen waves so big here before, and she visits Monterey several times a year,
I get out and take photos, and two surfers running along the footpath by the sea’s edge pass me by and then scramble through rocks at the water’s edge to enter the surf again further up from where they exited the churning white foam and turquoise water. We watch them paddle out and one catches a wave and surfs a fair distance before falling back in the water to paddle back to where he started …”
Day Sixty Two – 15th. November – Tuesday – The take off and flight is smooth today and immediately we are heading over cropping country. Below I see huge circles where farmers irrigate farmland and tiny orderly settlements are scattered across the landscape. Two and a half hours into the flight we pass over rugged mountains and as I look out the window I see below the peaks of the highest ridges are brushed with a blanket of snow. They look so close I feel I could reach out and touch them, but we are so high up that I can see the areas that also surround the mountains, far off into the distance on all sides. The landscape then falls away to more subtle rises, and I can see rivers cutting their way below between the massive peaks, eroding their way via the lowest points, and joining forces as they journey downwards.
I am heading to San Fransisco to visit with PZ, an American friend whom I met on my trip to Southern Spain, Portugal and Morocco in 2014 and I’m very much looking forward to staying with her and her dog Eva in Castro Valley, which is a suburb of San Francisco. Like MB and KP, PZ also has a myriad of adventures lined up for us over the next ten days and I’m thrilled to be both seeing her again and to be sharing this experience with her.
It is a fabulous flight, and I have a window seat. The plane treks first above Tarkio Missouri; Atwood Kansas; Carbondale, Basalt and Grand Junction, then Colorado. And below the landscape is impressive. Varying rock formations, and flatter areas, towns and cities in the standard square block grid layouts, rivers and long threads of highways that track their way across the dry and mostly brown landscape below.
By three hours into the flight we are above the clouds again, as an impenetrable layer of white settles between the aircraft and the ground below. Then ten minutes later the cloud cover below falls away and I can see for miles again, rugged hills and smoother valleys, forests thick on the rises.
We fly over Mesa County and Grand County Utah and Colorado; then finally Tonopah Nevada and San Francisco County and San Mateo County in California. As we near San Francisco we cross the Sierra Nevada’s and they are capped with snow. Beautiful. The plane crosses farming land again, grid patterns of varying colours, greens, reds, and browns, and then as we approach the city cloud forms again, a barrier of vision obscuring thick white, and as we arrive near our destination the is cloud below completely hides San Francisco.
I know the pilot is looking for a hole in the cloud as he banks left, then he banks right. He then goes up, then down. He banks again. Then we completely change direction. Finally after a tense fifteen minutes of more manoeuvres we pop down out of the clouds and are situated directly above the city. We are not too close to the hills which is a relief as from the air, just before we went above the clouds for last time, the mountains and hills seemed to be rising up into them. I admit I was nervous. Very very nervous.
We land, I get my bags and go straight to the shuttle point where I catch a bus which then heads to the city with a small group of other travellers. The Handlery Hotel, my overnight accommodation, is about a hundred metres from Union Square, and it’s in the hub of shopping and activity in this vibrant city. As I disembark the shuttle I turn around, and PZ’s immediately there standing next to me as she’s been waiting for me to arrive and spied me pulling up in the taxi out front through the hotel’s main windows. It’s like two years have not passed. PZ and I got along famously in Spain, Portugal and Morocco and I know, without a doubt, we will also get along fabulously well on this trip.
We check in, and then hunt and gather next door for dinner. I have Roast Chicken and Vegetables, PZ Turkey. It’s a simple, filling and inexpensive meal, and having missed lunch, I enjoy it greatly especially as it costs only $14 USD, including tax and tips. We chat and have a quick catch up, then head out by 6:30 pm to catch a tour bus a few minutes later at Union Square. We are rugged up with scarves and jackets, and I am wearing a beanie, then we sit on the top level of the double decker open topped “hop on hop off” bus. The bus’ eftpos machine was not working as we clambered aboard so it’s actually a free ride for us. The guy is generous to do this so we plan to tip cash generously as we leave two hours later.
The tour takes us past all the high points, and I get some nice night pics but it’s bracingly cool out, not unpleasant but cold, and we really enjoy the fresh air and balmy evening. The city’s lights are spectacular, especially on the more prominent architectural buildings and bridges so the two hour tour is a fantastic way to end a very long day.
Day Sixty Three – 16th. November – Wednesday – PZ and I have had a great start to our ten days together. We are in good company and starting our Californian journey in a fun city. Breakfast this morning is included at the hotel and I enjoy a generous pot of green tea with a full American Breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon, potatoes and spinach. Sour bread toast and butter and jam. PZ has yoghurt, fruit and granola (my chosen breakfast for the previous three weeks in NewYork State then Wisconsin). I really enjoy the change.
We catch another “hop on hop off” bus, which is taking a different route today, at 9:30 am. This morning though, our journey is to be bathed in sunshine, blue skies and a mildly temperate gentle breeze. PZ is astounded at the weather and tells me several times that it is highly unseasonal and, she also adds, “it is so clear, the air is transparent for a change”. San Francisco apparently is often foggy with limited vision.
There’s Christmas in the air. Union Square has a huge tree and decorations. It’s not lit yet however, so PZ and I are crossing our fingers for next week that it is, when we return to The Handlery Hotel and have one more day and one night to spend here.
The tour bus today is driven by our guide who is a very entertaining negro American and he’s upbeat and very cheery, and as we begin our trek along the route he gives us a full recitation of facts and useful San Francisco anecdotes. PZ and I plan to get off the bus at stop four North Beach so we can walk to some of the sights near the stop. We have already passed stops one, two and three which are Union Square, Chinatown and the Financial District.
North beach is the stop where we head to the crookedest street in San Francisco. It is a street that zig zags it way down a very steep slope and as we are walking to it, the rise in land is so hard going we have to pause every fifty yards or so to catch our breaths. But upon our arrival at the base of the street that crosses the road from side to side, there’s a magnificent view over San Francisco and rose gardens flanking the sides of the road above us. It’s very very pretty.
From here we head back to the bus stop then we walk a little further on and go around a corner. Ahead is the church made famous for Marilyn Monroe having not been permitted to have her wedding inside, the Saints Peter and Paul Church. Located at 666 Filbert Street it is directly across from Washington Square and is administered by the Salesians of Don Bosco. The church is more commonly known as “la cattedrale italiana dell’Ovest”, or “the Italian Cathedral of the West”, and has served as the home church and cultural center for San Francisco’s Italian-American community since its consecration. The church is not as architecturally challenging as those I’ve seen in Europe, but nevertheless it’s a lovely building and I enjoy the visit.
We return to the pick up drop off point at Stop Four then PZ and I head on to stop Ten to “The Palace of Fine Arts” on a different “hop on hop off bus” bus. On the way there we pass by Pier 33, Pier 39, Fishermans Wharf, Ghirardelli Square, and Fort Mason.
After disembarking at stop ten, we head directly on a walk around the lake and the main body of the structure that we briefly saw on our night tour last night. It is a magnificent building. It is generous in proportion and has graceful, flowing lines, and I am captivated. The Palace of Fine Arts is in the Marina District, and was originally constructed for the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition in order to exhibit works of art presented there. Today it is one of only a few surviving structures from the Exposition as it was rebuilt in 1965 to withstand earthquakes and today, still meets 2014 standards. It is also situated on its original site, but there was a renovation of the lagoon and walkways in later years and these were completed in early 2009. The Palace of Fine Arts is set in a tranquil and very beautiful position and PZ and I enjoy an impromptu picnic lunch gazing at the building’s graceful columns and adorning sculptures which are reflected in the tranquil surface of an adjoining lake.
In the early afternoon we head back to bus stop ten where we board yet another “hop on hop off” bus and this time the driver is extremely personable. The bus then heads across the Golden Gate Bridge to view the city skyline from the other side. As we cross I simply cannot see for my hair tumbling wildly around my head from all the wind on the bridge from the top of the open roof bus. It’s hilariously funny but awfully inconvenient as I have to put my beanie on my head and hold it in place one handed as it threatens to blow off. In the end I simply slump in my seat using my head to hold my beanie in place against the head rest so I have two free hands to take pictures.
The city is stunning from the other side of the bay today. The skies are blue, with clouds to the rear, and it colours the surrounding bay a vivid soft blue. Alcatraz is across the way in the distance, and boats dot the harbour. We stop at our next stop for twenty minutes which is enough time for everyone to disembark and take photos. Then all too soon we are back on the bus and crossing back over the bridge to return to the hub of the city where we can continue our explorations.
The next points of interest are Lombard Street, the Civic Centre, the Downtown Hilton, and three stops further on, in Golden Gate Park, we see a museum, then further on Japanese Gardens and the Science Centre. Haight Ashbury, Alamo Square, and The Filmore. PZ and I disembark a third time after the bus has trekked through the flamboyant hippie district of San Fransisco and from that bus stop we walk to the famous Painted Ladies, six Victorian homes that front the city from another elevation. There are fences erected though in front of them, so any images shot from a distance are not exactly the “classic” painted ladies images one might expect. We don’t venture too close as the road nearer the houses is lower than our perch from a distance so I know the drama of the San Fransisco skyline behind these beautiful structures would be lost up close. Still. They are very pretty through the longer lens.
From this last Stop, PZ and I then resume our journey back on a fourth “hop on hop off” bus back to Union Square. It’s been a fabulous full day of fun, laughter and sunshine, all set under a glorious blue sky. We walk around Union Square upon our return and visit Saks on Fifth Avenue, Tiffany’s, Macy’s and Swarovski Crystal and then we sample Hot Apple Cider in a shop. PZ gives a young homeless person in the street $10. We then look at the period building Nieman Marcus, and end our jaunt with a window shop at Gucci, Michael Kors and Bulgarvi.
PZ and I head back to The Handlery and pick up my small suitcases and her backpack but I leave one suitcase full of souvenirs behind to pick up next week. Then we walk three blocks to the BART entrance, the name of the San Franciso subway. We are catching the BART and travelling thirty minutes to Castro Valley where PZ lives. PZ came into the city on the BART, saving her the headache of finding parking. So we board the train and are soon on our way. When we disembark at Castro Valley, we walk to PZ’s house some three blocks away, then head out a short time later to Trader Jo’s to buy some dinner. PZ generally doesn’t cook so we buy some semi prepackaged meals and groceries and wine, and for dinner I buy a simple pasta dish for $6.99. It’s good.
At PZ’s home we chat and watch TV for a short time. Eva PZ’s dog sits with us. I made friends with her when I arrived and she seems to like girls. We then retire early as it’s been a long day and my internal time clock hasn’t yet adjusted from from Wisconsin time to California time. And I really need some sleep.
Day Sixty Four – 17th. November – Thursday – Napa is our destination this morning and we leave at 8:30 am to drive north from Castro Valley. We plan to visit several wineries, but they all charge hefty fees for tastings, so there won’t be much wine drunk today. I’m really keen to simply just see the area, so we plan ahead and take another picnic lunch.
The drive to Napa is through peak hour traffic and is intense. PZ stresses in traffic so despite our plans to avoid it as much as possible it is actually worse than normal this morning as there is a power supply breakdown to a series of traffic lights in the Alamo area so traffic feeding in towards the freeway and other roads is super super slow. We decide to deviate from the route we’ve chosen to find a quicker route and along the way we stop at a Starbuck’s to use their restrooms and to get a coffee. It is packed inside with others however, all apparently with the same idea. Our order takes twenty minutes, which is also painfully slow, but after we leave the road traffic seems marginally better and PZ seems more relaxed.
Our day’s tour begins at Beaulieu Winery on the Helena Highway at Rutherford. (In fact all the wineries we are visiting today are on this road). In Napa you pay to taste unlike in Australia. So I’m reluctant as I’m thinking they’ll only give you a tiny taste but I’m not sure, and as we’ve come this far I decide to pay $20 USD to taste four wines at the first winery. The amount I’m given however, per taste, combined, is actually less than one standard glass so, to my mind, it’s a costly experience, and one I decide not to repeat again today, as a pub would be better value and I’m just not wanting to waste money. But this winery I’m told, actually offers, in “wine tasting in this regions’ terms”, one of the cheapest taste options. The tastings PZ says, can go up past $60 USD for half a dozen. Some wineries include professional tastings, as well as tours in their prices.
Our second stop this morning is at Charles Krug Winery. There’s a stunning huge barn like structure here which has been revamped into a restaurant, tasting centre, bar and huge wine barrel storage facility. We don’t taste here but use the restrooms and look around. Outside there’s beautiful grounds including a vast lawn area shaded by old mature trees and some stunning outbuildings including a coach house and other shedding. It’s a popular wedding venue and the setting really is lovely, and the winery is a relaxing spot to visit, if nothing else.
The main road in the Napa Valley goes straight through the wine growing region and through several towns, and there’s literally winery after winery both sides of the road for many miles. Our third stop today is at a parking area to eat lunch which we packed this morning. It’s a sunny day and we sit in the car briefly munching on our makeshift picnic.
Just up the road is Castello Di Amorosa, a castle built to look like it’s been here for hundreds of years, but it is a modern reproduction. The castle is as far along the Helena Highway as we intend to go, so we head in, planning to drive back the way we’ve come upon our departure as we are aiming to visit some other wineries on the opposite side of the road that we have been travelling on.
PZ and I don’t go into the castle as its $25 USD entry but, I note, that does include a wine tasting. It doesn’t say how many but I don’t see the value in paying for any more wine tastings today at more than one winery as I’m not able to buy wine to take with me, and the value for money is simply not there. The castle has a magnificent old and very dark woodland off to one side and vines surrounding its other three perimeters, so we walk towards the castle on a footpath which meanders around a small moat, then we head up the drawbridge and through the front doors to take a peak. This is as far as you can go without paying to go further. There’re animals here, sheep, goats, roosters and chickens and I get some nice shots of them, meandering free range in their own environment.
Number four winery stop for us is Beringer Vineyards, a gorgeous German architecture building, featuring a rambling rooms with turrets. To the rear are coach houses and cellars converted to wine tasting rooms, a gift shop and facilities for the winery’s wedding venue. It is a beautiful estate. The house has manicured gardens, fountains, hedges, entertaining areas, steps, an open paved area and multiple levels of brick which form sweeping walkways and pathways through stunning extensive gardens. And everywhere I look there’s a photo on this exquisite estate. As we leave, driving along a curved driveway which takes us past several large stately trees, and past a stand of tall Californian Redwoods, both PZ and I imagine this would be a very nice place to live.
Further along the road we find the Robert Mondavi Winery, a winery that looks like it should be in Mexico. There’s a sweeping straight driveway into the winery, a grand building with archway and art on pedestals nearby, and in front, on a large roundabout is a massive modern art sculpture of a mosaic decorated robed figure with extended arms. The gift shop here is full of interesting buys, including thousands of Christmas decorations and somehow I manage to refrain from purchasing anything and simply enjoy a stroll through its displays.
Outside the day is glorious with clear deep blue skies and sunshine backlighting the rich hues of the autumn coloured vines in the area behind the structure in a brilliant display of riotous colour. It’s different, and very quirky here, and obviously the owner loves art, as there’s some interesting sculptures dotted here and there as well as throughout the building.
We leave at 3:00 pm to head from Napa to Bay Point, our next stop, and fairly quickly we get tangled up in peak hour traffic. PZ says some residents finish work at three, more at three thirty, others at four, four thirty and most of the rest, at five, so the journey is much slower than we expected as traffic keeps increasing in volume and joining our route every half hour.
The hills in the distance, and the vines flanking the roads we travel leaving Napa are beautiful. The roads become broader however, and the roadsides are more built up as we go, so Napa and our relaxed day of leisurely paced activities, quickly falls away as do the gorgeous Napa landscapes in the rear vision mirror as we progress.
We arrive at Bay Point just after four as we have had a few places on the trek here driving at snail’s pace. At Bay Point we meet AN, who immediately tells us to call him called Art, and his grandson EN. Art’s wife is away in Santa Monica and although Art’s daughter is introduced to us she chooses to leave us visit with Art and his grandson alone. Art, a friend of Swiss native PT, hails originally from Bosco Gurin and speaks Ticino. He acted as translator between PT and myself when I first contacted PT earlier in the year and started conversing with a Bosco Gurin ex-local with a view to my going on a personal pilgrimage to Switzerland. So it seems strange to meet this Ticino man turned American who lives in California half a world away from both the Swiss and Australian Tomamichel’s. But then that’s modern technology for you. The world today is relatively tiny when it comes to the far reaching tendrils of the facebook, facebook messenger and the internet.
Art welcomes us both warmly to his home and he offers us a drink of Grappa, and wedge of watermelon. We are told to swallow in one gulp then follow it with the watermelon. The drink tastes like the moonshine I had in Ireland, is potent, and fumey but after downing the watermelon I follow it with a really nice Cab Sav. I’ve brought Art a bottle of a nice Californian wine from San Fransisco. It’s the same wine that I’ve been drinking at KP’s and as it’s a gift we leave it untouched as we share the Cab Sav Art has supplied of his recommendation.
I ask Art about himself and he asks me about myself. And his grandson is like a jack in a box, jumping up and down, interjecting with information he deems relevant to the changing conversation every few minutes. EN is a nice kid and I’m happy to indulge him. Art lets him go, drawing him in to be quiet as he feels is necessary, but it’s easy conversation and soon it’s dinner time. Art makes a delicious BBQ, meat as promised, and serves salsa and guacamole with it. It’s an interesting evening and all too soon it’s time to head back to Castro Valley. Eva is thrilled to see us back, and for me it’s another early night.
Day Sixty Five – 18th. November – Friday – This morning’s journey takes us to Yosemite National Park near Modesto. PZ and I leave Castro Valley at 10:30 am and it takes just over three and a quarter hours, with us arriving in Modesto, at around 1:45pm. The traffic at times is very slow. The bus that is taking us to Yosemite is called the YART, Yosemite Area Rapid Transit, bus. We park the car and board at Mariposa and the trip up the mountains takes around an hour. By the time we arrive at Yosemite however the sun is almost behind the mountains and light is fading fast.
The trip through the mountains to get to Yosemite is lovely, with tall conifer trees, rushing streams, and unusual rock formations outside the coach’s windows. Yosemite Village sits in a valley between almost vertical granite rock formations that tower up some three thousand feet in height so Yosemite is a rock climbers paradise, and a practice ground for the serious climber. (It has a rock climber’s shop amongst other shops). There are stands of Sequoia trees, the famous tall Californian Redwoods, and there is evidence of fall having almost finished everywhere. The only colour left in the natural deciduous stands of trees is brown, although the occasional pop of colour occurs where there are planted varieties.
The air is cool, crisp and wonderfully fresh as we disembark the coach. We are given the keys to a canvas cabin, a cheap, camping style tent, but which has actual beds and linen, but little else in them. There’s a heater much to our relief as it’s going to drop below freezing tonight. There are a lot of people here camping, and we learn there’s an Alcohilics Anonymous conference being held over the next few days. That’s probably why there were no actual extra cabins available for hire. We ask about upgrading, “no” they are completely booked out.
There are bears here, and we watched a video upon arrival and follow advice not to take any food or toiletries into our tent. Bear boxes are lockable, and situated outside the tent to house all things “bear appealing” including soap, perfume, and shampoo, medications etc. not just food. PZ puts her medication in the bear box as she believes the sugar and sweet smell of the throat lozenges may appeal to the bear’s sense of smell and make us vulnerable if we don’t. We stand outside our tent shortly after arrival, in the fading light and put a quick dinner together, then sit on the steps of our tent to eat. No cooking is permitted in or around the tents, and a list of other rules is on a huge board on the back of our door. We have brought yoghurt, granola and fruit for breakfast, cold meat, cheese and salad to make sandwiches in pita pockets or on bread for lunches, and pre made salads and some cold meat to eat for dinners.
We tidy up, put the rubbish in the trash can then catch the village shuttle bus to have a look around and to get our bearings in the village. There’s very little street lighting however so to see anything is a challenging task, even close to the buildings. The buses run as a hop on hop off system and every few minutes there’s another bus, all heading along the same circuit route. We visit the shops and restaurants, grocery store, and recreational area. Then we catch the shuttle back to Half Dome Village and go to our tent. It’s too cold to have a shower, so we head to bed early at 6:30 pm.
Day Sixty Six – 19th. November – Saturday – We are both awake early and up out of bed, and dressed before the sun makes its way through a break in the trees. Breakfast is had sitting on the front steps to our canvas palace, and with no tea or coffee to follow, we quickly tidy up then head out. Showers can wait til Monterey. It’s just too damn cold. The sky is overcast but the day is fine and there is no inclement weather expected.
In the light of a new day the full scenic vistas of the high walled canyons of Yosemite become apparent and there’s a photo most directions I look and indeed, every where I walk. We decide to do the shuttle route and visit each spot more in depth. Our first stop off is the Majestic Hotel. We wander the old hotel and visit it’s favourite haunts, the large generously proportioned high roofed lounge with its huge fireplace, the bar, the dining room and restrooms, sweet shop, and finally the gift shop. There’s some really nice Indian jewelry and art in there as well as Christmas decorations, so I select a couple of small things to take home.
Our next stop is the Yosemite General Store. I purchase an item I saw last night then soon we are on our way to the Ansel Adams Gallery and Gift Shop. An outstanding photographer, Ansel Adams is well known throughout the Yosemite area, indeed America, and many of his stunning early photographs of Yosemite’s mountains and waterfalls, hang proudly on the walls.
Some original prints here are selling for $28,500 USD. Our next stop is the Yosemite Information Centre, and nearby is a Museum and replica Indian Village complete with Sweat House. The Museum in particular is really interesting and houses North American Indian artefacts, displays and jewelry. There’s also another photographic exhibition next door and we wander the gallery enjoying the artwork showcasing the drama of Yosemite.
Catching the shuttle again we then head to Yosemite Falls, and walk to the viewing platform area of the Lower Falls. Again there are photographs to be captured everywhere and the trees, leaf fall, dramatic rock formations and granite outcrops all successfully frame the falls splendidly. The trek we are walking on to find the Lower Falls meanders around and rejoins the path we arrived on, further on, so we walk back to the shuttle and rejoin the service.
Hopping off again at the Half Dome Village No: 20 Stop, we walk across to the Meadow area, and take some photos in both directions as we walk of the enormous towering rock faces directly behind and in front of the canvas village. There are hiking paths everywhere throughout Yosemite and walking tracks that meander here and there. We trek from there back to our tent and make a sandwich lunch, around 2:00 PM, and then tidy up before returning to catch the shuttle back to the Majestic Hotel. We plan to have coffee and chill on the lounges in front of their gigantic open fire for the rest of the afternoon.
The lounges have a few people on them when we return around 3:00 pm. More than this morning, but it’s not crowded. We order a Mocca each and it’s disgusting, really disgusting, as the upmarket coffee shop has closed and it’s bar service only now. The bar attendant doesn’t know how to make coffee let alone Mocca. She asks the other bar tender how but stuffs it up completely, and I find I’ve paid for two undrinkable Mocca’s.
We sit in the huge lounge area, the fire is so hot we move twice until we are some twenty feet from the huge open hearth, in the middle of the room, to enjoy a chillax. I write up my notes, PZ , feeling bit sinus”y”, snoozes, as do others around us. No less than four people are sound asleep in the comfortable chairs within a few feet of us in less than half an hour. Later a man comes in and uncovers a baby grand piano situated behind the couch we are sitting on. He plays for about half an hour, lovely melodious music, then he puts the cover on again and leaves. A couple come in and set about doing a jigsaw they’ve bought from the gift shop, they are industrious and it takes two huge glasses of wine for them to really settle into the project. A wedding is on at the far end room, and guests have been trickling in through the room along the walkways for the last hour. We don’t see the bride or groom.
At 5:30 pm PZ and I head to the bar, buy a drink and something small to eat, Tomato Bruschetta, so that we can stay a little longer, but as we finish half an hour later the fire alarm goes off, so we pay cash for our visit, and then quickly head off, back to the shuttle pickup point, to travel back to the village. We need to eat dinner but bring it inside the tent, a no no as a bear’s sense of smell is twenty times better than a bloodhound. It’s warmer inside. We eat quickly, get rid of all the packaging into the trash, then completely air the tent. Our dinner was cold meat and salad, so not as smelly as hot food. Hopefully we will be alive in the morning when we awaken to go onto Monterey. An early night tonight.
Day Sixty Seven – 20th. November – Sunday – We wake and early it’s raining lightly. Breakfast is in the tent and we decide to shower then pack as we are leaving Yosemite on the YARTS coach at 9:30 am. I accidentally leave my reading glasses on the seat as we depart though and only notice, a half hour later. Too late to hope to get them back. The journey out of the park is scenic with tantalising glimpses of waterfalls and rock formations that are typical Yosemite on all the posters one sees, and they pop through the trees, as the coach twists its way along the village trek then the exit road. Then we pass El Capitan, a huge rock formation near the park’s entry and as we head back to Mariposa and the car, we pick people up at multiple stops.
PZ and I arrive back at the car to find the car locked and untouched, but my side window completely open. When we arrived two days ago it had been quite warm and I had obviously forgotten to close it again before locking the car. Nothing is missing and we had put everything of value out of sight in the boot. Lucky. We are very lucky.
We load our things and drive toward Monterey, and as we go the rain gets heavier. The trip is not that far, only a couple of hours, but it’s a pleasant drive through fairly plain landscapes until we pass through Merced and drive into cropping country. The soil here I see is a rich chocolate brown. Fields or paddocks are laid out in rows. I am told it is artichoke country, and further ahead, garlic. The growing season has past however and the fields are freshly fallowed and bare.
The road gets busier and divides into freeways as we drive into hills nearer Monterey. The rises are bare, and gently curving but become more compact as we get closer to our destination. The hills are very pretty with a greenish tinge but they are blanketed in mostly brown grass. Soon they become round, jolly, rolling hills with higher gradients and uniform shapes like bread rolls ready for the oven with little dips between each of their non uniform robust rounded patterns. There’s a huge reservoir to the right, and trees start appearing. It’s very scenic.
As we approach Monterey, there are sand dunes between the roadway and the coast. Huge in places, smaller in others, and they form nice contrasts on the landscape. Monterey Bay comes into view, and the road we are travelling on winds its way through Monterey and then skirts around the bay towards Pacific Grove. We pass near Fisherman’s Wharf and PZ detours down Cannery Row, a once popular Sardine Canning area of the city which has transformed into a tourist Mecca for the trendy and popular sets. The road we are on then hugs the edge of the bay past the bulk of the city.
Here the sky is a soft dove grey, but the waves just offshore to our right are breaking madly as they collide with rocks next to the elevated rock paved walkways. There is a huge swell further out. The sea there heaves rhythmically and throws it’s bulk about with breaking crashing rolling surf. PZ says she hasn’t seen waves so big here before, and she visits Monterey several times a year,
I get out and take photos, and two surfers running along the footpath by the sea’s edge pass me by and then scramble through rocks at the water’s edge to enter the surf again further up from where they exited the churning white foam and turquoise water. We watch them paddle out and one catches a wave and surfs a fair distance before falling back in the water to paddle back to where he started. There are sea lions near here, but I’m not seeing any at the moment.
The houses which hug the coast along here are very picturesque and I’m told, are worth millions. It is high end real estate and the views of the bay from the beautiful classic American style homes are gorgeous. I was crossing the road here, says PZ and said good morning to a gentlemen in a hooted sweat jacket, one day. When he said good morning back, I realised it was Sean Connery, she said. Sean Connery!
Our hotel tonight and tomorrow night is the Butterfly Grove Inn, as it’s near a Monarch Butterfly Grove and the room we are given for our two night stay is generous and warm, and has a spacious bathroom. Breakfast is included. We unpack our things, then head to Trader Joes to buy dinner to take back to our room and heat in the microwave later, then we head back into town to walk the streets and look at some shops. It’s completely dark by 5:30 pm now and there is little open, but it’s a pleasant walk, and it’s stopped raining. The air is clear, fresh and thickly moist, humid even. It’s much warmer here than in San Francisco or Yosemite.
We eat dinner and I have a wine upon returning to the hotel. It’s another early night, very early.
Day Sixty Eight – 21st. November – Monday – Breakfast this morning is fresh home made waffles, so fresh that I made mine myself, and it is delicious. There’s fruit, yoghurt and breads, bagels and fresh bakery cakes. A wonderful breakfast spread, small but tasty, and eaten in the tiniest of dining rooms, as it seats no more than twenty people. The breakfast room is in the reception area of the tiny hotel.
After breakfast we head to the butterfly grove and look for Monach butterflies. The sun is up and and above you can see them flitting about, from tree to tree in the early morning warmth. It is quite mild after a day of rain, and the air is deliciously moist and fresh, so PZ and I pack a snack and grab our jackets, then head for a day out seeing the local sights. We trek first to 17 Mile Drive, a road that takes us from Pacific Drive to nearby Carmel. It is, if course, seventeen miles long. If you see somebody that looks like Clint Eastwood around here, says PZ, it is. He lives near here and has a resort in Carmel. We talk about Scott Eastwood and Clint’s acting for a bit.
The drive this morning winds its way snugly along the beautiful coastline that the area is best known for. There golf courses all the way and they all have stunning coastal views and many of the greens edge the actual shoreline. We stop and start as we journey along the shore, me walking along a beach at first, then I climb a little onto some rocks. Lookouts, perches, and more rocks, the viewpoints of this beautiful coastline are stunning. We are listening to The Beach Boys as we drive and hit after hit, Surfing USA, Californian Girls, Good Vibrations, Help Me Rhonda and Little Deuce Coupe sets the mood for us and the day as light and fun, and entirely carefree.
There are several main spots to visit on this drive, Lone Cypress, a grove of Ghost Cypress, and Pebble Beach Golf Club, where the 18th. Hole is on the edge of the beach and a round costs $550 to play, a cart is $80 and a caddy another $80. Tips are a hundred minimum. So I guess we won’t be doing a round today. The Lodge there is old, beautifully furnished and there are people drinking coffee on the terraces between the building and the 18th. hole where they are enjoying the resplendent sunshine that has decided to settle in after the rain of yesterday.
We walk past a string of boutique shops at Pebble Beach, all exclusive and full of items for the well heeled and wealthy. We look in a realtors window, and see properties advertised for sale that range from several million dollars to twenty three million, depending upon the location and views. There are some stunning homes here.
The 17 Mile Drive Road takes us into Carmel from Pebble Beach which is a tiny resort town steeped in history and unusual architecture. The houses here are quaint, fairytale-like dwellings, with some extremely whimsical, and over the top. As we drive some of Carmel’s streets I take pictures. There’s no real enticement to leave the main thoroughfares and the powers that be discourage visitors to visit in residential areas. Every house here though has a perfect garden, and every property is manicured and up kept within an inch of its life. This is prime real estate. Every house, bungalow and cottage is worth millions of dollars and the potential to earn money from summer and holiday rentals is huge.
We walk Ocean Avenue the main drag through Carmel. The shops are beautiful, full of interesting and lively things, furniture, furnishings, clothes, jewellery, food, and, at the moment, Christmas paraphenalia. There are several shops that are brimful of trees, decorations and everything Christmas. PZ buys an elf for her collection. The ornaments are expensive here though exquisitely different. Fortunately for us, there are not a lot of people here today, which is pleasant and we have time to amble.
We drive back along 17 Mile Drive the opposite direction from which we arrived but don’t stop anywhere on our return trip as we haven’t had lunch and we’ve decided to eat at Fishermans Wharf in Monterey.
We drive along Pacific Drive then stop at Cannery Row. I see Bubba Gump, the name of the company Forest Gump started in the movie with his friend Bubba then I see more specialty and boutique shops, but it’s a lovely walk and there’s much to see.
After we head to Fishermans Wharf where we are offered Clam Chowder to sample at one restaurant, then another, another and yet another. Soon we have sampled around eight different clam chowders. It is a fun exercise and it takes the edge off our hunger. The pier is full of pretty restaurants and bars. There’s also some shops and boating activity options, like whale watching, kayaking and fishing. We walk to the lookout at the end of the pier and then turnaround to head back to the first restaurant we tried clam chowder at, as we deemed it the best. I have fish and chips and a beer, PZ, Salmon, vegetables and a Bloody Mary and we sit next to a window overlooking the bay. It’s not too bad, price wise, $25 AUD for me, including tax and tips. I’ve been trying to save money, so haven’t eaten out in a restaurant since San Francisco so today I’m splurging.
We head back to the hotel, and rug up. Then we drive to a viewpoint on Pacific Grove to photograph and watch the sunset. It’s stunning. Rugged rocks, thrashing surf and clear skies except right on the line of the horizon. Beautiful. There’s several car loads of people here doing the same. The colour in the sky is rich, yellow near the sun, but there’s pink tinged clouds just above the horizon in the opposite direction. We head back to the hotel about 5:30 pm.
Day Sixty Nine 22nd. November Tuesday – The Monarch Butterfly’s are hard to spot this morning as we walk the butterfly grove before we leave Pacific Grove. It is another clear, sunny morning and today we are heading to Santa Cruz via Capitola. The drive is lovely leaving Monterey. Sand dunes to the left this time as we retrace our drive and we depart this beautiful city. The traffic is heavy from the get go however as it’s Thanksgiving on Thursday. PZ says many locals are making a long long long weekend of the holiday this year.
Capitola is a tiny seaside town a few miles from Santa Cruz. It is a quaint, beachside resort and has some really quirky architecture and colourful community projects including a long hand painted tiled wall, that fronts the beach area. As I stroll through its streets I am reminded a little of Italy with its small bright cheery painted buildings, and terraced seaside cottages that join together higgilty piggilty fashion. And everything today is awash with colour as the sun shines brightly above.
Santa Cruz is only a few miles down the road, and when we arrive there we park close by the boardwalk area as it is completely devoid of the throng of people that visit it’s hallowed ground in the summer months. Today we virtually have the place to ourselves. Santa Cruz is a renowned amusement centre, with rides, entertainment, games of skill, theatrical sideshows, food and the typical sideshow prizes. The main boadwalk area is ridiculously, spotlessly clean hoowever as it’s “off season” and almost nothing is open. Repairs and touch ups have been made, cobwebs removed, dust has been swept away and bins emptied. There are workmen patching a small gap in the pavement with silastic as we walk past. They are getting ready for the next influx of people that will literally mob the park when it reopens.
Lunch today is at a Mexican restaurant. It is ridiculously cheap, and my appetiser of Nachos with beef, salsa, beans, cheese, guacamole and sour cream is gigantuous. I only eat half and take the rest to go on a coverned plate. As PZ and I walk near the beach we find public toilets. PZ waits outside for me with the food and whilst I am using the restroom a young man comes up and asks if he can take the leftover food in the bag PZ is looking after. He is homeless. PZ tells me what he said to her when I return. She wasn’t sure if I would be happy to part with it, so had said no but when I see him a short while later, I call him over from the opposite side of the street from where we are walking and give it to him. He was obviously very hungry and I was glad to give it to him. I’ve seen a lot of homeless people on this trip, particularly in San Francisco, Edinburgh and Italy. It’s a terribly sad fact of life, one which should not be the case if mankind in general was simply more generous of spirit.
We leave Santa Cruz and head back towards Castro Valley via the Santa Cruz mountains and it’s a pretty drive through conifer forests. PZ says the area is very prone to earthquakes, but we drive through safely and arrive back at her house to a very excited dog, who has missed her mistress these past four days. It’s early afternoon, and we spend the rest of the day drinking wine and Sangria, and eating some savoury nibbles, chatting and passing the time with our feet up.
Dinner tonight is Sushi for me (bought at Trader Jo’s on the way past earlier this afternoon) Salad for PZ. I wash my clothes and put them through the drier and begin repacking ready to head back to San Francisco tomorrow. It’s been a busy week and I fall asleep on the couch a short time later, with Eva next to me, her doggie head heavy on my leg.
Day Seventy – 23rd. November – Wednesday- I’m up early this morning and join PZ for breakfast. Eva is pleased to see me this morning and we enjoy a leisurely start to what is to be a busy day. I put the clothes I wore yesterday in the wash with my bed linen, then after coffee and green tea, PZ and I drive to Red Wood Park, to look at some Californian Red Woods only a few minutes from her house.
The air this morning is clean and crisply fresh as rain overnight has settled on the landscape leaving the dirt, grass and leaves wet with moisture. It’s a short walk into the forest, and there’s a few people about walking their dogs, jogging or enjoying time out with friends and family. It’s peaceful here. The nearby freeway seems a million miles away, the frantic pace of holiday traffic is entirely absent, and there’s time to breathe and smell the pine needles. Such a pretty place, with towering red woods, other trees and a meandering creek. There’s pale green Spanish moss thickly dangling from many branches overhead, leaf litter underfoot is slowly decaying upon the forest floor, and bright green velvety moss decoratively coats railings, trunks and branches of both some living and gradually decaying dead trees. We even see half a dozen giant toadstools growing in the shadows.
A calm start to a potentially crazy day. When we return to the house I dry the last of my clothes, we have a bite to eat for lunch, then I pack my final items. It’s time to say goodbye to Eva. She seems to know we are leaving again, smart dog, so she sort of ignores me. We then walk to the BART pickup point, a short three blocks away and about ten minutes later we are on a train heading back to the city of San Francisco.
The trek to our hotel is simple, we reverse what we did last week, and soon we are in our new room on the eighth floor at The Handlery Hotel. We leave everything we don’t need, grab jackets and jumpers, and head out to catch a cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf.
We were advised to simply catch the cable car a couple of blocks from its start as the waiting queues to get on at the start points are quite long. So we hop on the first cable car that comes to Union Square that is heading to the wharf at a stop one hundred metres from our hotel. There’s limited seating, so I stand at the rear, an excellent position for photography. The cable car goes up a series of step rises, coming to a stop at the end of each block which levels out at every intersection before climbing the next slope. We continue to rise in elevation, stopping and starting for several blocks, before cresting the route’s highest rise and starting the downward run towards the Wharf. At each intersection, if you look down each road, you can see city highlights, like the city’s famous bridges off in the distance, the blue sparkle of water in San Francisco Bay, tall and historic buildings, or the bustle of this vibrant city. Seven miles by seven miles, San Francisco is a small city, but it’s colourful, pulsing with life and activity, and it’s pretty, very very pretty with its gorgeous Victorian and Queen Anne homes, apartments, and many modern and historic period buildings.
We arrive at the Ghirardelli Chocolate store. PZ used to work for Ghirardelli. We order a salted caramel and hot chocolate fudge sundae with icecream, and share the delicious treat together amongst the throng of visitors to the square and shop where we are sitting. From there we then walk the Esplanade that fronts the Wharf area. The shops are geared towards the tourist here and there’s dozens of restaurants and souvenir outlets.
I keep seeing life sized model pirates as I walk, so we pose with each one doing a series of selfies, it’s lighthearted and fun. We see nearby Alcatraz and San Francisco Bay, yachts and ships at anchor and boats sailing on the harbour. Today the water is a resplendent blue, again, reflective of the sky overhead. Next we pass boat tour operators, boats advertising dinner cruises and night harbour cruises, and there’s even a cute tiny yellow boat chugging along taking guests to the lighthouse restaurant across the way to dine. As we near one of the Wharf’s most famous areas, Pier 39 and its boardwalk, we see multitudes of visitors and locals, all out enjoying the beautiful autumn weather, and shopping. It’s been a pleasant balmy day. A good day to be out and about. I put on my leather jacket. It’s not cold but it’s getting cooler.
There’s so many quirky things here, topiary reindeers, an enormous baubled and beribboned Christmas Tree, Santa’s, surfboards, fireplaces and out door dining, a stairway painted like the keys of a piano. Mini donuts and fresh cooked seafood that is so fresh that live crabs are tied up, sitting piled high and off to the side, waiting to be immersed in boiling water and cooked. The smells along here range from very fishy, salty and pungent like a just landed fish or slightly overripe seaweed that has sat in the sun for a time, to savoury with the smell of cooking pizza, and sickly sweet, like sugared toffee or hot chocolate that has been cooked on a stove. It’s not unpleasant, simply rife with vibrant coastal seaside and food odours.
Ahead there’s a carousel. It is beautifully decorated on the top panels and on the ceilings under its verandahs, with dozens of painted famous San Francisco landscapes, The Painted Ladies, Golden Gate Bridge, The Palace of Fine Arts, several famous Church’s, Pier 39, other famous buildings and Cable Cars. Further along a magician is holding his audience spell bound with a series of tricks. And there’s shops all around, some decorated ready for Christmas, others, decked out in their own styles but most are either beach or San Francisco themed. There are one hundred and ten specialty shops here, food shops selling fresh cooked delights including mini donuts and pizza, fish and cakes, and bakeries like the Boudin bread shop. There are art galleries, jewellery shops, massage therapies, phone, shell and clothing shops. A sock shop, shoes and toys. And of course, plenty of dine in or eat outside, restaurants.
PZ takes me down a side access on the Pier and there we see sea lions lolling on a series of floating wooden platforms then she says they have been culled in large numbers as they were sinking the man made platforms with crowding together and their massive combined bulk. There’s a lot of people with children in the viewing area today, and the birds here, Gulls, Pelicans and Albatros are very cheeky around the milling crowds with a few flying close to people, or landing next to them on railings and the wooden walkways.
There’s a gigantic pink and white love heart at the end of the Pier, and I see couples posing in front of it as it’s supposed to be representative of the saying “I left my heart in San Francisco.” The pier right now, is bathed in the light of a low setting sun and there’s a clear blue sky as we stroll about, it is beautiful. And as the sun dips below the horizon, we walk to the other side of the pier and see more yachts lying peacefully at anchor across the way, as the sky turns pink and then slowly violet, and the city’s night lights begin to light up the city’s buildings.
PZ and I seek out a seafood restaurant for dinner. We return via the route we trekked to get here, passing Christmas lights and busker’s. A lady blowing up and tying sausage balloons into animals for children. A homeless man beating plastic buckets, sounding out a tune on his makeshift drums. Others singing and performing. Some are entertaining others are not. Several men are dressed in silver with silver painted faces and are street performers, but all are vying for some attention, and more importantly some dollars from the passing crowds.
We have dinner at Alioto’s, a restaurant that has been on the Wharf, it seems, forever. There are dozens of famous celebrities’ pictures on the walls, dining at this restaurant, some from over fifty years ago. We enjoy a seafood dinner, PZ has Salmon and vegetables, I have cold fresh boiled crab. It is delicious. We both drink wine. It is our last night in San Fransisco and our table is two floors up, and overlooks the Golden Gate Bridge and harbour. My one course meal with wine tax and tips is well in excess of USD $100.00. But it’s a memory to savour as I dine with a friend watching the evening’s light fade into night, and the city come alive with vibrant night lights and vivid colour.
After dinner we catch the cable car three blocks away from the restaurant, and although decidedly chilly out now, once again it is wonderful to ride the old historic cable cars and watch San Fransisco fly by the moving car in every direction. This late in the evening it is completely dark outside. The city seemss lit from within and in the distance are bridges, visible only with their night lighting, sky scrapers, defined by their lit window recesses. I sit in the open air on a side seat, facing out at the front of the cable car. PZ is cocooned inside the cabin. There is no front safety rail where I sit, no side on the vehicle and in front of me is the open street. It is dangerous, but sort of safe, and I feel vulnerable yet part of history, as I ride along and try to balance juggling my camera, enjoying the ride as patrons have done for umpteen years, all the whilke trying not fall out. It’s great fun.
San Francisco has been levelled by earthquakes and razed by fire several times in its short history. Each time it has risen from the ashes of destruction like a splendid Phoenix, and the locals are colourful, resilient and steadfast. It’s an expensive place to live, with homes in the inner city costing millions and rental dwelling costs astronomical. Homelessness is rife. It’s a wild juxtaposition of contrasts, vibrant and dark, lively yet slow paced. I simply love this city. As we disembark the cable car, Union Square is bathed in Christmas lights and decorations. In the week I’ve been away, more Christmas trees have appeared in stores and lights have been installed on the outsides of many of the buildings. The countdown to the 25th, December has started.
We walk for several blocks, enjoying the early San Franciscan evening. Macy’s has a gorgeous lights display along one side, and to its rear. A huge Christmas tree is above the front entrance and tiny puppies and kittens are playing in boxed areas in its Christmas window display. There’s a large crowd of people, many with children looking in. It’s a cute variation in their normal displays. A road has been completely blocked off, artificial turf has been laid and internally lit opaque seating blocks have been put on the turf for people to sit on. The city is preparing for something, whether it be a concert, a fair, exhibition or parade, it is certainly a deviation from the norm.
Tonight we head back to the room, make tea and coffee, and I repack my bags. An early night, as tomorrow I head to Los Angeles then Waikiki in Hawaii.
Day Seventy One – 24th. November – Thursday – Thanksgiving – The alarm is set for 7:30 am but we are both awake this morning before it rings. PZ is finished before me but I’m packed and out the door by 8:30 am. Breakfast is included so we enjoy a leisurely breakfast downstairs in the dining room. Back to get my bags then down again to the lobby. I have a transfer booked which is picking me up at 9:30 am. I say goodbye to PZ and thank her for her hospitality and generosity taking me about to see some of California’s best haunts. It’s been a busy, and fun filled ten days.
My flight leaves for Los Angeles at 1:21 pm so I am through the airports front doors early by 10:00 am. I check my bags in and head for custom’s. There’s a security guard posted on the entry to customs and he tells me two bags not three. I’ve already checked my suitcases through so I unpack my handbag into my carryon and back pack and then walk through. It’s all the same to me. Same weight same bulk. Seriously. I take it personally but there’s a rule on the smaller internal flight aircrafts in the US. They simply don’t have the room to put anything much in storage. I check in my blue carryon for under plane storage, and am told it’ll be transferred in LA to go to Honolulu, and just pick it up there.
I have quite a wait, and buy coffee, then start to write up my notes from yesterday. I board the plane, a turkey and cheese roll in hand for lunch (well it is Thanksgiving) as there’s no food on the flight, and with a departure time of 1:15 pm it’ll be soon time to eat. The flight to LA is a short one, of one and a half hours duration. I arrive 3:00 pm and depart 5:00 pm. Typically this flight was ten minutes late leaving so I imagine I will have a shorter wait ahead for my flight to Honolulu. It’s clear skies as we take off, unlike my arrival, and we are soon winging our way towards the busy city of Los Angeles, The City of Angels. We arrive twenty minutes early, apparently there was a tail wind all the way, and I can see the city out my window. My only real glimpse at this bustling city.
Departure for Hawaii is on time but it’s almost dark as we lift off, and the last of the day’s soft evening colour fades into blackness as we gain elevation…
Please go to Part Eight – Hawaii – Round The World in Seventy Five Days https://www.travelessae.com.au/part-eight-hawaii-around-the-world-in-seventy-five-days/ for the final leg of my adventure trekking around the globe …