A Day on Route 1
We have given Christine the title of: Saint Christine the Fog Slayer. She did not let us down. The fog was thick as we descended Carmel Valley Road before turning south on Route 1. But we had not gone five miles before we were in gleaming sunshine.
We stopped just south of Big Sur at the Julia Pfeiffer State Park, always one of my favorite places. Anita had never seen the waterfall there. It was one of the few times I got to show her something.
From there we headed south and had lunch at The Lucia Lodge restaurant, the only restaurant for that matter... in fact the only buildings, in the metropolis of Lucia, perched on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. If you put aside the cost of the $15 hamburger, it was nice. (Ah heck, I guess they are entitled to charge something for the view.)
We drove on. The highway through this area is for the most part carved out of the cliff faces anywhere from 500 to a thousand feet over the ocean. Evidence of winter rock slides is everywhere. It's exciting and scenic.
We arrived in Gorda, home of the most expensive gasoline in the United States I am told. Fortunately, we were not in need of any of that product. It is a popular whale watching location.
Christine by this time was getting pretty tired of our road trip. We had to remind her this was a "No Whining Zone." She did pretty well all things considered.
The we turned around and headed back north. At Big Creek, south of Big Sur, there is a huge double arched bridge. Anita and I stopped to snap some shots. I'll have to forego posting mine as all I was shooting was 35mm today, and that will need to be developed.
Now I'm home, doing laundry and getting ready to face another week of work. The trip helped heal the soul from the damage of the last week of similar effort. I'm ready to go.
San Francisco and the USS Iowa
However, I became aware of something today that has got me really upset:
Regarding San Francisco's Board of Stupivisors deciding NOT to take in the USS Iowa, I admit the first I heard of it was the post this morning on this on another blog. That is rather astounding given that I live 90 miles south of San Francisco and am a native of that fair city. It just makes me sick.
Forty plus years in the East and in Flatland / Flyover Country never took San Francisco out of my heart and being. This just might do the trick. I'm going to violate one of my ironclad rules, that being that I will never use profanity (apologies to Penelope). What a bunch of a$$holes! This old veteran is not amused.
I posted this on this blog not more than a month ago:
The City by the Bay
In 2000 I came back to San Francisco for the first time since I was a child. I was
born across the Bay in Berkeley. (Friends who know me well think that is just a
riot.) I have always loved the area. San Francisco is weird, outrageous and the
people who run it seem to be in closer touch with the mothership than they are
with the rest of this country. Long gone are its roots with the Italian
immigrants, the railroad robber barons, the Chinese businessmen, merchants and
fishermen, the military and everything else that made the city what it once was.
Yet it remains great, cutting edge and one of the most beautiful and
cosmopolitan cities in the world. I love the place.
I'm not so sure about that anymore!