Saturday, July 14:
So we woke up on Saturday ready to hit the Pacific Coast Highway. Given that the direct route we ended up taking — from Half Moon Bay to San Luis Obispo — was about four hours, we decided we could take our time and enjoy the sites as we headed south.
As a quick side note, it’s funny how quick you can be accustomed to such long, all-day drives, so much so that you get to a point when a four-hour drive is like a dream.
Driving the highway and snacking on berries
The first place we stopped was off the highway and on a side road. We saw a sign for fresh strawberries. We came upon an old rundown farmhouse with an old man and his old dog. He sold us a crate of strawberries for eight bucks and asked what our last name was and then asked where in Italy my grandfather was from. He was Sicilian.
Unfortunately, his strawberries weren’t that good, which we discovered down the road when we actually started eating them. They were mostly absent of any flavor, but had a dry aftertaste that made you go looking for a glass of water. We should have tried a couple before we bought a crate of them. Oh well.
Our next stop was prompted by a sign that said, “Olallie Berries pick your own.” Well first, we didn’t know what olallie berries were, which intrigued us. And second, one of the things Bea loves to do is go to these pick-your-own stands, whether it be for blueberries, strawberries, peaches, whatever. So we were sold.
So olalllie berries are blackberries. Technically, it’s a cross between a youngberry and a loganberry, which are themselves crosses between a blackberry and some other berry. But basically it’s a blackberry. The guy running the pick-your-own stand told us that “olallie” means berry in Chinook Indian. So when you strip it all down, an olallieberry is a berryberry. So Bea and I went to pick some berryberries.
They were good. We didn’t spend too long there — maybe 15 minutes — but we picked quite a few berries and paid a couple bucks for them. Then our hands were covered in black and as we drove down the Pacific Coast Highway, our mouths quenched by delicious berryberries.
More of the same
So the guy working the berryberry farm said they had a storefront about six miles south, so when we got there, we stopped in. They had a pitcher of strawberry lemonade in the cooler and you could help yourself for $1 a cup. I got some of that, Bea got some strawberry cider (tasted just like regular apple cider, we thought), and we bought some jam. And then onward and upward.
Santa Cruz
Our next stop was in Santa Cruz, the town famous for surfing and skateboarding and punk rock and liberal politics. We both enjoyed driving through it but didn’t have too much time. We stopped at a sandwich place because we were starting to get hungry, but we didn’t like the look of the menu so we busted out. That’s one thing about a road trip; you often don’t get to spend as much time in every place that you’d like.
The Whole Enchilada
So we continued down the Pacific Coast Highway and ended up stopping for lunch at The Whole Enchilada in Moss Landing. We sat outside, where it was chilly, but they had portable heaters on the patio that warmed us up nicely. It was interesting to watch flies hover close enough to the heaters to get warm but far enough way to not get burned. As long as they left us alone, which they did, we were fine.
So we split some deep-fried artichokes as an appetizer. They came with a ranch-like dipping sauce and were delicious. Then I got fish tacos and Bea got salmon.
Monterey and Pebble Beach
Next was Monterey. We drove into the northside of the peninsula and into the center of town. It was busy with a lot of traffic, so we went north and around the peninsula until we got to 17 Mile Road, which takes you into the Pebble Beach area. The only thing is you have to pay a fee just to drive on that road. What a rip. So at first we decided to forget about it, but then as we went south we had better thoughts and went back. We’re glad we did.
So we drove to the Pebble Beach Golf Links and parked. When you walk toward the course, you enter a V-like area with gift shops and the clubhouse on either side and the golf course and putting green before you. Off to the left was the first tee by the clubhouse, and so Bea and I stood there fealing jealous while watching a few groups tee off.
We went into the gift shop and looked around, and then we went into the clubhouse. Bea bought a golf glove with a ball marker attached that was a magnet rather than the traditional button. It’s a lot easier to remove and put back on. The guys in the clubhouse were very friendly; I was expecting some level of snobbery but there wasn’t any to be found. They were talking about the eyesight defects of various ESPN personalities; in particular Stuart Scott and Dan Patrick (they said he went to radio exclusively because of some eyesight defect, but I couldn’t find anything to confirm that).
Then we walked through a path and down some stairs to the 18th green. They have a fence set up to provide some distance between the players and the ogling spectators like us, but we were still right on top of the action. The 18th hole looks like a bear — on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. I can only imagine how the wind might affect your shot if it picks up.
Big Sur
Soon after we had left Pebble Beach, we entered the Big Sur region of the mid-coast, where every turn brings with it a new amazing view of the ocean. This is where the Pacific Coast Highway winds and climbs and drops, and you dip in and out of fog and clouds along the way.
We took our time here, stopping several times to snap photos, get some fresh air and then continuing on our way.
Hearst Castle
We got to Hearst Castle late and the tours were done for. We were upset about that. Took a look out the back of the visitor’s center and saw it from a distance. It looks cool. William Randolph Hearst was a crazy recluse with a sled obsession. We’ll go back eventually.
Morro Dunes, no way; county park, ok
We were supposed to camp at this place called Morro Dunes. I’m not going to even link to it because it was that bad. Our “campsite” would have been on a patch of pavement next to a Dumpster. Yeah, I don’t think so. So we drove south.
Eventually we ended up at a county park in San Luis Obispo and were able to secure some overflow camping, which was basically people setting up their RVs and tents in a random field. Not too great, but better than having the Dumpster rats clawing at our tent all night.
