California Highway 1

From Portland, I flew back into Oakland. Thankfully no one had taken off with my home (the pathfinder) and she was in just as good shape as when I left it. The sunshine was shining strong, with nothing but an easy drive (breaking it up every day with minimal driving in between) down the coast of a beautiful state in front of me.

Santa Cruz was the first stop. Some random little motel gave me a bed for the night and were probably the friendliest people I've ever met. The motel was conveniently located just 2 blocks off of the boardwalk (every tourist's dream & every local's employment). The view was really the best of both worlds, every amusement ride you could dream of with some sort of greasy delicious food stand adjacent, and the open ocean, with just enough beach to tempt anyone, lining it all. A soft pretzel and a couple games of bowling later and it was time to rest my little eyes and prepare for the next stop, Monterey, Ca.

On the way to Monterey, it seemed as though we were in the middle of nowhere-land. There was nothing around but miles and miles of crops (oh and the 1,000+ men-and I'm sure women-hunched over picked and boxing them). This scenery was somewhat poetic and every bit repulsive. However, it soon became clear what the primary crop for this part of the country happens to be, and I just so happen to have a love affair with it...THE ARTICHOKE (Castroville is apparently "The Artichoke Center of the World"). mmmm! mmmmm! This delicious treat seemed to be most commonly deep fried at all of the local eateries, so I resisted every bit of temptation and kept on keepin on.

Suddenly the crop-field-after-crop-field turned into hillside ending abruptly (yet perfectly) at oceanfront. WOW! And this is where we are staying for the next 2 nights. Monterey, CA. I booked a room not quit as conveniently located as it could be, based on the price and the pictures on a certain hotel-wrangling-web-site. I pulled up to "broke down palace" all blue. This shack of a motel was blinding to anyone, but the first thing that was truly upsetting was the fact that a decrepit washer and drier unit from 1807 were sitting in the middle of the parking lot (you see, laundry had become a necessity at this point, and the phone call that I had placed to the establishment the night before had not only assured me of laundry facilities-but also the pool that was MIA). Suddenly I felt my skin start to boil as I went in to check-in with the (lying bastard) owner. Oh wow, I think this is when that expression-"the shit hits the fan"-is defined-if you will. (sorry for the foul mouth to save the eyes and ears of all I will refrain from telling what happened inside the man's office and skip to the ending)...so I was chased out of the office with my life flashing before my eyes...and went to the hotel next door to book a room for the night. When I shared the events of the last 10 minutes with the lady at this H-otel, she assured me that her relationship with the owner next door could only be described by 4-letter words, though she shared this with me, smile on her face (%50 of her business comes from the people like me who have been chased out of that retched place).

In the end, we drove around a little more to find a better location and a better price-aka a little piece of heaven, just blocks off the beach and a warm, welcoming front desk. This morning, my laundry is done, belly is full of free continental breakfast and coffee, and I plan on laying by the pool before exploring all that Monterey and Pacific Grove have to offer.