It was smoky all night in the campground but it brought no headache or sore throat. This was a day for travel. As ever, southward. As ever, on Highway 1, an easy number to follow.
I made a brief stop at Sand Dollar Beach. This meant walking down an impressive wooden staircase built down over the dune to reach the sandy beach below. For some reason this beach did not touch me. I think I was still in thrall to those watery pebbles on the beach at Andrew Molera. I climbed back up, passing a surfer carrying a board with some wicked looking fins (rudders?) sprouting from the underside, and got on the road again.
On impulse I pulled in at Limekiln State Park to take a walk, but when I presented my state parks pass at the kiosk the attendant treated it like foreign currency. He frowned and said, "This isn't run by the state any more. It's $5.00 to park." Now I had a new impulse and I left.
In early afternoon I pulled over at a nice wide viewing area to stand on a high cliff looking over the sea. A cheerful group of a dozen bikers from a motorcycle club in Mexico were there, enjoying the view and having their photo taken by one of the other bystanders. The shore line curved out into the sea to the south of us, forming a nice dark background for an odd bird I spotted down below. This bird rose vertically and came close enough that I could see it was a drone with the characteristic four arms and odd darting motion. I immediately thought "We're being watched," and I heard it in Michael Emerson's voice as he narrates the standard intro to every episode of Person Of Interest. For the longest time as I gaped at it and tried to film it, I didn't realize it belonged to one of the onlookers. When I think "drone" I think Afghanistan, U.S. Armed Forces, spy network, weapons of supposedly discriminate destruction. I don't think "latest fad plaything." But such it was, though I never did sort out who was controlling it. It rose and flew low over our heads, swept out to sea and went down to film the cliffs below us, then rose again.
Now for just a few hundred dollars anyone can have their very own large house fly.
Wondering what the marauding insect was going to do with those images, I climbed back in the van and headed south. It would be hard not to know we were near Hearst Castle, once the weekend getaway of William Randolph Hearst, newspaper mogul. Mileage signs had been counting down the distance for days, but it held no more charms for me than Pebble Beach had. I learned later that in nearby Cambria, there is a take-off on the Castle: a fantastical two story house built of castoff building materials, beer cans and miscellaneous junk, called Nit Wit Ridge.
That would have been fun to see, but I had no urge to goggle at the excesses of the 1%. Even the idea that the Hearst Family gave the castle and grounds back to the people of California after his death is telling. Here's what would be truly worthy of respect: the exercise of restraint from gathering all the riches within reach. I would be impressed if the Hearsts of the world made, instead, a deliberate decision not to take more than their fair share of the world's goods. The custom of the controlled dribble of charity ---"giving back to the community" after one's personal pile is amassed --- is overdue for extinction. Don't take it in the first place.
Says me.
After a time the road descended almost level with the shore and signs told me we were approaching the Piedras Blancas lighthouse and elephant seal rookery. This was worth stopping for. At this time of year the critters on the beach are females and juveniles who haul out to fast, rest and molt. All seals that I saw had skin and fur intact, so it must be early in their molt season. Occasionally the young males practice sparring to gear up for serious dominance contests later in their lives. But the beach is host to rows and clusters of smooth, tapered forms shining in the sun and moving slowly, if at all.
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| Females and Young Fasting and Resting. |
There's a deep, echoing snorting noise that can be heard when the young males are at their jousting that's fascinating to hear. Where a pig says "oink" in tenor voice, even these young guys say oink in a rich burbling bass. My video clip is wind-addled, but here's something better: Alpha Males in Song
I had no binoculars to bring the seals into closer view, but their mere presence now after near extinction a few decades ago was a cheering sight.
Further down the road I made a stop in San Simeon to get visitor information at a Chamber of Commerce. It took me a while to find this VC but as I stood outside it picking brochures from a rack by the door, a woman came out and gave me such a friendly welcome I felt repaid for all my wrong turns. Asked where a full grocery store could be found, she said,"Well, you're out of the Boonies now. Morro Bay has an Albertsons. There's also the Cookie Crock in Cambria, but it's smaller." I think of dark forested mountain hollers when I hear "boonies" and her phrase lingered in my mind. To me this coastal journey was a Mediterranean cruise, bright with blue sky and water. On the other hand, there was that 2-pack of AA batteries for $5, that tank of gas for $75, and nothing but cafes and snack food racks to offer sustenance.
Morro Bay State Park had good camping space left, and I got settled in time to take a walk out of the park and over to the harbor. I crunched along an oyster shell beach and back up onto the road to pass under towering eucalyptus trees that the herons and others have made their rookery.
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| Morro Rock across the bay; oyster shell beach. |
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| Outside a natural history museum up on a hill overlooking the bay. |
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| Approaching the heron rookery. |
By order of the governor, state parks have been taking measures to control water use. I had encountered spigots and restrooms that were closed down and all showers were coin-op to honor the ruling. I was surprised, therefore, to come upon this lush carpet of green adjacent to the park:
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| It turns out Morro Bay S.P. has its own 18-hole golf course. |
Cut off the drinking water if you must, but don't mess with the entertainment.
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