Salinas

Not all travel experience is sweetness and light.  Even the best of meals eaten out can be spoiled by bad service.  Twice recently I had to remind servers that bread and condiments came with the meal I'd ordered.  Rolls should arrive with the soup and the meal—not after one has finished it.  All waiters seem to be schooled in the art of flogging over-priced alcoholic beverages though.  The practice of requiring motorists to key in their zip code when they purchase gas with a credit card makes it problematic for a Canadian to fill up at a gas station.  This is particularly difficult when they insist that one fully pay for the fuel up front.  How does one estimate the dollar value of fuel when the price is ever fluctuating and one has a wonky gas gauge?  Rude gas station attendants don't help matters much.  And in my vehicle gassing up begins with switching my propane fridge to battery power.  Gasoline at $3.10 a gallon doesn't improve one's mood much but it's better than running out. 

 

In Monterey I drove through Fisherman's Wharf and Cannery Row while I thought of John Steinbeck.  Finding no place to park I kept driving and after reading Monterey's crime statistics not leaving my vehicle unattended may have been a wise move.  After fighting city traffic I was thankful to gain the relative calm of two-lane farming community roads in the Salinas Valley. 

 

I pick campgrounds by consulting the Woodall's Guidebook I installed on my computer and their location based on MS Streets and Trips.  I then attempt to find them with the help of my GPS.  State and National Parks that provide the address of their head office up to 100 miles distant can make finding them difficult and local names for streets that appear on no map and highways that lack street addresses add to the challenge.  Casa de Fruta near Hollister, however, is hard to miss.  A dynasty built up over 100 years this is a city state unto itself.  It boasts Casa de Everything.  Gas Stations, the original Orchards, Motels, 300 site RV Park, Winery, Mini-Railway and Carousel, Fruit Market with grapes displayed in the box of an antique Chevy, Sweet Shop, panning ore, Restaurant, grocery store, even Casa de Washroom.  The whole is 'decorated' and fenced in by a centuries' worth of cast-off farm implements and trucks.  Aside from cows there are buffalo, deer, and a peacock who brayed for his harem of pea hens at 4:30 AM and roosted for a time on my picnic table.  The girls were up a tree for the night. 

 

Thursday Morning I began the drive up to San Francisco in driving rain.  It seemed pointless to head back out to the coast at this point.  Eleven AM seems to be good timing to approach a major American City and traffic though heavy moved at a reasonable speed.  Running out of freeway and ending up on busy downtown city streets was not an eventuality I'd anticipated.  I would not push a baby carriage in front of a 5-ton moving vehicle against a red light but a San Francisco 'Mother' did just that.  After 15 miles of traffic lights and one request from my GPS to go the wrong way on a one-way-street and a precipitous climb up one of San Fran's famous hills complete with a cliffhanger red light I was thankful to reach the approach to the Golden Gate.  The air was clear and the sky filled with billowy clouds as I began my crossing.  Northbound passage is toll-free so I found.  As with most bridges one has to walk them to really enjoy the view. 

 

At the north side I chose to keep going.  Highway one leads up the coast along another narrow, winding, hilly stretch of highway.  Marked by washouts, flooded patches, and land slides this is not a road for the faint of heart and its sharp hairpin curves require close attention, slow speeds, short vehicles, and a busy steering wheel.  Once the coast is reached the view is fantastic and the highway follows the view.  After leaving Golden Gate Park one enters the domain of Point Reyes National Seashore.  Camping is provided by a local State Park and a few private outfits.  The small hamlet of Olema remains along the highway in the park and there my campground demanded cash for my site.  They don't seem to understand credit cards and the Twenty-First Century.  I still don't understand why, with pot holes one could get lost in they feel the need for speed bumps.  The buildings are ringed with sandbags in an attempt to prevent flooding.  Their power works however and their Wi-Fi is high-speed. 

 

Daffodils are in bloom here and irises shooting.  The Flowering Almond is also in full-flower as were wild purple shrubs along the highway I couldn't identify.  The sight of a cyclamen blooming in an outdoor garden reminded me I am not in Canada.  Overhead the distinct call of a red-tailed hawk sounded and at dawn Friday morning the answering calls of two Great-Horned Owls.  A walk along the highway before dark revealed large signs proclaiming the local businesses to be open despite obviously locked doors.  Five miles distant is George Lucas' Marin County Ranch, the home of Industrial Light and Magic.