Moss Landing

My bed at the hostel was amazingly comfortable and I slept like an angel drifting on a cloud, the room was filled with other guys, not one bed empty, but no one snored or if they did I was undisturbed by it. I really hope I don’t snore loudly, I would hate to be the guy known for snoring in the hostel dorm, everyone dislikes that guy. I was in little hurry to get back to the aquarium, as I remembered the line that had formed before opening the prior day. I took my time making breakfast and getting ready before heading out. It was a beautiful day outside, sun shining, making it just hot enough that the cool ocean breeze felt delightful, nearly Caribbean, as I took the short walk to the aquarium. 

Clown Fish

Big Fish

The others decided to venture out for the day, some off to new places, some just off to explore the beautiful city of Monterey. I decided to return to the aquarium, hoping the crowds had decreased by now. The morning had been somewhat chilly, forcing me to dawn a coat, but the sun had now warmed the landscape and its beating rays mixed with the cool ocean breeze created a perfect climate outside. 

We'll start with a baby sea turtle.

Monterey Bay Aquarium

The Monterey Bay Aquarium was just a couple blocks down the street from my hostel. I decided to walk down and check out one of the world’s largest aquariums, a sprawling facility that sits along the shore on a site that used to be a sardine cannery, which lends its name to the shop lined street leading to the aquarium, Cannery Row. I walked to the aquarium along Cannery Row, the touristy shops just opening at this early hour. When I got to the aquarium there was already a line, stretching out the door and part way down the sidewalk. 

I was taken aback by the lines length, I figure at such an early hour, on a weekday, I would have been joined by few others. The line moved along briskly and soon I was inside the aquarium, feeling giddy at the prospect of seeing amazing sea creatures up close. Most of the crowd headed to the right, eager to get to the sea otter tank, so I headed to the left in an attempt to find some solitude in the meandering facility, the effort was futile, however, as I found myself surrounded by a herd of school students out on a field trip.

Where's Whale-do?

It had been the coldest night I had dealt with since the redwoods, but I managed to get a good nights rest in, it was daylight before I could no longer stand it. I walked over to the car, turning it on to allow the heat to get working. I packed up my tent and belongings as quickly as possible, trying desperately to get out of the cold and into the fractionally warmer vehicle. I had only one trail that the ranger had suggested to me left to explore. I drove to the trail head as the sun crept its way over the mountains, graciously filling the valley with its warm light. 

Me taking pictures of myself!

Golden Gate Park

I returned to the hostel and made dinner, it was still just me and the two ladies, the building was silent other than the crackling of the fire in the living room. I cooked and had dinner alone watching the waves crash against the bluffs out the dinning room window. A haze hovered low in the sky adding a misty glaze to the peaceful panorama. After dinner I headed out to have a look at the lighthouse, it’s blinking beacon illuminating the dark evening. I walked down out to the edge of the bluffs, the splash from the waves nearly reaching the top. Away from shore the ocean seemed calm, a rolling plain of blue stretching into the darkness. I sat on the bluff for awhile, a group of kids searched a cove below, trying to find some life in the rocky shelter. 

View from my dorm window.

Tidal Pools of Fitzgerald Marine Reserve

I awoke to the bright sun sneaking in through the cracks in the drapes, I had slept far longer then I had been as of late, the lack of noisy roommates letting me slumber undisturbed. The sky was blue and clear, a hopeful sign that my outing to the tide pool wouldn’t be a repeat of the prior day. The hostel had a strange policy where you had to leave while they cleaned, although I had little intention of spending the beautiful day cooped up indoors. 

Low tide wasn’t till 3:06, so I drove off in search of something to do, pulling off to go explore Milagra Ridge County Park. I choose this place simply because I saw the sign for it. The park didn’t even have a parking lot, so I pulled over to the side of the road and headed up the trailhead. A cold wind was blowing in from the sea, a boil of hawks drifting in the updrafts. I ambled about the park, admiring the wildflowers and plethora of avian species. At the Milagra summit the wind whipped violently, forcing me to descend rather quickly as the cold air nipped at my exposed flesh. Lower on the ridge were old military bunkers tucked into the side of the hill, abandoned they were, a seeming trend in the area, coated in graffiti. The wind erased all the sound from the air, creating a haunting silence as I sauntered about killing time. 

Rainy Day

I awoke to the sound of rain playing music on the stone driveway outside my window. The ambient dripping a soothing alarm clock. The others in the room were still sleeping so I headed out into the living room, making my self a cup of tea and returning to the indent in the couch I had started working on the evening before. I had planned on camping out once again, but the weather called for persistent and heavy rain for the rest of the day, so I abandoned that idea and looked around for another hostel. 

While driving up the Pacific Coast Highway, I saw two hostels that were lighthouses, I knew at least one of these options was not terribly far away, and staying in a lighthouse overlooking the ocean on a stormy night seemed like a perfect way to spend the evening. I took my time getting ready in the morning, not terribly eager to venture out into the wet weather. When I finally got my stuff packed and headed out, I found my car surrounded by a gang of turkeys, who seemed rather upset by my unexpected appearance. The turkeys scattered as I packed up my car and started the engine, running frantically, erratically in all directions, a mass chaos of gobbling. 

Marin Headlands Day Two

The fog horns from the lighthouses had lulled me to sleep. I listened to their unceasing serenade trying to pinpoint the unique blasts of each one, the chorus of bellowing horns was surprisingly calming as I drifted off to dreamland. 

Having gone to bed so early I arose at an ungodly hour, but decided to take advantage of the fog less sky and the morning lighting to try and get a photograph of the sun rising over San Francisco. It was still dark down at the campsite as I negotiated my way up to my car. I stopped short when I heard growling coming from the bushes. I pulled out my flashlight, it’s weak beam unable to penetrate the thick shrubbery. The campground was covered with flyers warning of mountain lions up at my camp in Mt. Tam, which was just a 20 mile drive away, and my mind started fearing for the worst. I scrapped my feet on the ground and waved my flashlight around, hoping this would disorient the unseen predator. Soon the growls were followed by the alarming sound of a bird, panicking as it struggled in the brush, apparently the creature had found it’s prey and it wasn’t me. The brush quoted back down and I continued you up the path, periodically looking around me to make sure I wasn’t being stalked. 

I grabbed my camera from the car and set up along the bridge capturing the sunrise as it crest over the cityscape and ascended the tall tower of the bridge. The sky glowed a magnificent orange, attempting to match it’s hue to the that of the famous bridge. After a moment of glory the show was over, and the day began, a clear blue sky overhead and the distant skyline of san francisco diluted by the bright rays of the low lying sun. I had a quick breakfast and decided I should take advantage of my early rise and go for a hike while the park was still empty. 

Mount Tamalpais

I’m not sure why I didn't continue exploring Petaluma after I got my tire situation worked out, maybe I was afraid I would spoil it if I looked too deep, maybe I was just addicted to the road, either way I headed off with no particular itinerary. I decided to head to Marin Headlands, although I knew it being a Saturday my chances of obtaining a permit were low. Petaluma is only about 40 minutes drive from Marin Headlands, but I had spent much of the morning waiting for my tire to be fixed and didn’t get to the visitor center until mid afternoon. The ranger informed me of what I had feared, all the campsites were occupied, I would have to find somewhere else to sleep. I booked a site for the following night, unwilling to give up a free nights stay in the beautiful park, and headed into the town of Sausalito. 

I had driven through Sausalito back when i was exploring the bay area and had made a point to return if I had the chance. I drove into town and parked, the streets were packed with pedestrians and bikers, non of whom seemed to be speaking english. It felt like I was in a European city. Bikes out numbered cars and restaurant seating spilled out into the sidewalks. A small path led along the shore, the bay filled with sail boats on the calm water. Houses stacked upon each other to get a view of the water and the San Francisco skyline in the distance. 

The End.....of the PCH!

The fog was missing! I hurried down to a vista to confirm it, the Golden Gate Bridge was in full view, a striking contrast to the day before. I had only seen it in pictures, although I had driven over it a couple times, but every time it was shrouded in fog, this time though it was undiluted, in full effect. I jumped in my car to cruise across the bridge and back. The towers rose up, for the first time I was able to see their apexes, reaching high into the sky, holding up the enormous steal ropes that suspended the highway above the water below. 

I returned happy, I had crossed a fog free Golden Gate Bridge, a feat I’m sure some San Franciscans have yet to achieve. I packed my stuff and hit the road, I had a long day of driving ahead of me, as I intended to put the last miles of the Pacific Coast Highway behind me, although this leg of Route 1 was referred to as The Shoreline Highway, running north along the coast up to Leggett, California, where it would meet up with The Redwood Highway, or Route 101. 

The road was slow, packed with people out to enjoy the beautiful day. I decided to check out the seaside towns that hugged the Bays northern shores, creeping along from one town to another. Each town had the same mix of old time charm and new money ritzyness. Each house had a commanding view of the bay, as the road climb higher and higher into the hills. If you are looking for where the 1% live, I found a small community, each boisterous house trying to out do the one before, each jockeying for a better view of the bay. I climbed higher and higher, the road so steep I start to wonder how it was built, or if anyone had ever dared to try and walk up it, it’s steep flanks not unworthy of a mention by those who had dared to summit them. 

San Fran Part 2

My roommates were still sleeping when I awoke, so I quietly made my way out of the room to breakfast. The hostel offered a free breakfast, in the cafe which overlooked the bay. The cafe was nearly empty, a group of Austrian girls the only other patrons. I sat looking out the window, watching as the bay steadily picked up activity. After breakfast and what can only be described as an excessive amount of time staring out the window, I decided to head back out for a walk. I took the same route as the night before, but this time it was mostly filled with men working to get the shops and restaurants stocked for the day. Delivery trunks jostled for position along the narrow boardwalk street, while a series of men ran in and out of closed shops with the days shipment. 

A small exhibit of old ships caught my eye and I decided to walk down the pier they were moored to and have a look. A few of the ships I was allowed to go on and look around. I had the ships to myself, walking through their historic quarters. The Eureka use to be a ferry that ran across the bay, before the bridges took over her duties. In fact, the Eureka use to be part of Route 101, it’s place taken by The Golden Gate Bridge. Her cargo hold was filled with classic cars, representing cars that would have been ferried across in her heyday. 

The second ship was a large merchant ship, in the style most associate with pirate ships. The San Francisco bay use to be much more abustle with activity, which of course begs the question how they didn’t all manage to collide in the fog. The ships tall masts climbed into the clouds, behind her outstretched the city of San Francisco, glowing softly in the cloud defused sunlight.

San Francisco Part 1

I decided to forego doing anything around the Monterey Peninsula, instead hitting the road after a quick shower and raiding the motels pathetic breakfast selection. The weather was beautiful the sun shinning down on the landscape, the temperature perfect for driving with the windows down. The most talked about stretch of the PCH is the stretch from San Simon, just South of Big Sur, to San Francisco. Admittedly most of the southern portion of the highway was inland, with a far higher percentage of monotonous rolling hill landscape than the jaw dropping beauty of the ocean vistas along the cliffside routes through Big Sur. Above the Monterey Peninsula the rout began to flatten out, cutting between rocky beaches and hilly farmland, waves crashing violently onto the shore as cattle grazed peacefully in the fields. 

The beaches were empty as the water was cold and the air not much more pleasant with the brisk wind coming in off the open sea. I decided to pull over at a cove, and went down to explore some tidal pools. The tidal pools were a buzz with life, but it was mainly just crabs, snails and clusters of mussels. I meandered around the beach for awhile watching the waves smash against the rocky outcrops sending sea spray into the air. Birds searched the title pools for a quick meal, flying away as the waves crashed. The only sound in the air was that of the crushing surf, the only smell that of the sea. I stood alone in the cove enjoying the solitude, the peaceful serenity of this unfiltered corner of the Earth.

Big Sur

I awoke in the morning refreshed, having slept all but undisturbed through the night. The morning breeze coming in from the ocean was brisk and invigorating. It felt good to have slept so well in such a beautiful place. I packed up my stuff and went for a slow drive along the park’s coastal road. The blue waves smashed against the hardened rock sending spears of white into the air. I reached the southern end of the road where a group of hikers was getting packed up to hit the trails. I too would be hiking again today, but first I had to reach my trailhead, about two hours drive up the coast. 

As I headed north the vegetation around me changed. The rolling hills of short shrubbery was replaced by the ancient trees from the night before, visible in the fog-less morning air. I had reached what seemed to be the biological divide between SoCal and NorCal, where the desert rides right up the the forest. The road led me out of the park and into the a series of small towns before spitting me back out along the coast towards Big Sur. Big Sur is a roughly 90 mile stretch of coastline, where mountain rise directly out of the ocean, offering amazing views that draw tourists from around the world. It is well known as one of the most beautiful drives in the world.

Pismo Beach, PCH2

I awoke to a beautiful ocean sky resting peacefully atop a calm ocean, the world still for a moment. I stepped out of my car to stretch and take in the beauty. The waves gent ally crashed into the rocks below, seagulls sat perched on the concrete barrier, awaiting the tide to recede so they could dig up their next meal. I sat on the hood of my car and let the cold ocean breeze waft over my body as the sun slowly moved along it’s daily trek. 

The view from where I slept. 

It was still early when I hit the road, but traffic was already slugging along as I reached the outskirts of Santa Barbara. The town was still yawning as I drove thru downtown, shopkeepers were casually opening up for the day, as bikers sped along to work. I nestled into a cafe and had breakfast, watching as the empty diner filled up with morning patrons and then emptied again. I had planned on spending the day in Santa Barbara, but the city, which I had been to multiple times before, seemed dull so I headed up the coast, back along the Pacific Coast Highway.

Los Angeles and the start of the PCH

I was excited to get back on the road after the hiatus of Las Vegas and San Diego, but the knowledge that I might not see a bed again for a couple days kept me from getting up terribly early. It wasn’t of much importance anyways, I had only a few hours to drive each day, needing to only cover less than 700 miles in the next four days. When I did awake I lazily got things together. I finally headed out onto the road just before lunch, but forwent eating anything as I had come down with a stomach bug the evening before. 

I was headed onto the Pacific Coast Highway, a drive I have covered a good portion of on past travels, which I planned to follow from it’s beginning in Dana Point, California till it’s terminus in Leggett, California. The trip would be split in half, with a weekend spent in San Francisco Bay Area.

I jumped onto the highway and whizzed through San Diego, passing places I had been over the past couple days and paces that I had yet to explore, allowing me to take notes for any future visits. The highway out of San Diego is quite barren, not unlike the thousands of miles of road I covered in New Mexico and Arizona, and like those places it was also flanked with military facilities. However, it was sunday, which must be a down day for the bases as I saw no activity to arouse me from the boredom of  monotonous landscape.