November brought cool winds and occasional rain – the California winter is upon us. Somehow we spent almost every weekend on the coast, from wind-swept Point Reyes to the mellow beach town of Morro Bay. Though I like to whine about how cold it is I do realize how lucky we are to live in close vicinity of such natural beauty, and I know it’s not really that cold.
Weekend 1: Half Moon Bay, Big Basin, to Davenport
These are familiar grounds. Once in a while we’d drive down the coast to Pescadero for our favorite artichoke soup at Duartes Tavern. This time we made it as far south as Davenport, another quaint little coastal town with a few restaurants and art galleries. According to Wikipedia:
“The town is presently noted for the spectacular cliffs and bluffs above the Pacific, beaches in between cliffs, surfing opportunities, the cement plant run by Cemex (shuttered in January 2010), and the former headquarters of Odwalla, a company that makes fruit juices.”
There is a stretch of railway along the coast here as well, relic from a different era.
On the way back we witnessed one spectacular sunset, a study of color from Montara beach all the way to Pacifica.
Weedend 2: Point Reyes to Bolinas
It was 10 years ago when we first came to Point Reyes. We were into hiking then and quickly going through our hiking bible “101 Great Hikes in San Francisco Bay Area”. As the book gave a high rating to this trail (the Estero trail I think) in Point Reyes so we brought an out-of-town guest along. Both the guest and us were a bit shell shocked by the reality of the hike – a wind-swept, sand-blasted trail through hostile cow country. There was a television commercial at the time featuring milk from California cows, with the tag line “Happy cows come from California”, and visuals of cows in bucolic surroundings, looking pretty and content. It was not so on this trail in Point Reyes. The cows were numerous, big, intimidating creatures that stared at us most unfriendly (as if we were going to compete for their grass). After the hike we would take our hiking bible’s ratings with a grain of salt.
Ten years later the wind was still powerful on this rugged strip of land. Our hiking days were long behind us and we sat in the comfort of our car so the wind chill and sand blast did not affect us. The cows were at a safe distance and looked like pretty dots on the hills and cliffs. We saw many “Historical ranch” signs and I started to wonder why no one had started a “milk tasting” stand on the roadside. Wouldn’t that be a brilliant idea for an enterprising cow farmer (this sounds wrong but what do you call them)? There are wine tasting, coffee tasting, even olive oil tasting all over the place, why not milk? As a tourist I know I would love to taste some fresh, local milk, and I’m not that original so surely others would like the same thing too?
We saw another species in Point Reyes – the Tule elk. Native to California. According to National Park literature:
The tule elk herds of California had virtually disappeared due to intense hunting by 1860, 13 years before the state awarded them complete protection.
I find it amazing in two ways: 1) Elks are native to California! I always thought they’re from up north, just because I met my first elk in Banff. But thanks to the Tule elks my ignorance on this subejct is cured. 2) The state awarded elks protection in 1873! How advanced is that? Slavery was just abolished and it would be another twenty years before women first won the right to vote anywhere (in New Zealand), but elks were awarded protection by the state. Isn’t that something?
We did engage ourselves in one somewhat physically challenging activity: walking to the light house. It was 300 windy steps down the cliff and back up, very good exercise. Afterwards we came to the point of this expedition: oysters – we had embarked on this trip because Matthew wanted to eat some oysters, and now seemed a good time as any to have them. We turned in the closest oyster farm and got us half a dozen. I had never been an oyster fan so eating a cold shellfish in an open air shack on a cold wind-swept shore really did not compute for me, though I thought it was to be done at least once in a life time so I had one. It was slimy and tasted like sea water. Well, the good news is I don’t have to do that ever again.
On our way back we visited the secluded little town of Bolinas, a town a little tricky to find because locals tore down the signs pointing to it, according to a NYT article:
“Long known for its live-and-let-live attitude (except toward visitors, whom it would just as soon not let live), this spirited community of surfers, poets, artists, writers and aging mavericks…”
The town gives a rather un-bay-area like vibe, almost feels like the Pacific northwest. Perhaps it’s the drizzles and the crab traps on the roadside. There was a “Mini show” opening party at the Bolinas Museum, with lots of guests and artists roaming through rooms of “mini” paintings (smaller than 6×6), wine glasses in hand. A pretty interesting town.
Thanksgiving: Carmel, Big Sur, Morro Bay
It was overcast and raining intermittently on Thanksgiving day as we drove down to Carmel. We got there just after sunset and the little upscale tourist town was pretty like a … jewel box, or film set – Ocean street with all the little galleries and restaurants and shops lit up in warm lights, Monterey pines silhuetted against the fading color of the sunset. The air was brisk but not chilly. I remembered how charmed I was the first time I came to this area, fresh from my first winter in Waterloo. I remember my first West Coast sunset on Monterey Bay.
Interestingly there are no street lights in Carmel, and after the shops petered out the street became completely dark. It was a mini-adventure walking down to the beach after dinner (in my slightly high heeled boots). The ocean roars at the end of the streets. There were many many stars. I saw a pale green shooting star leaving a faint trace, disappearing into the milky way.
There is something unique about the scenery here. Just an hour south of Santa Cruz and the ocean seemed bluer, the sunlight seems to have more depth, and the cypresses and pines with their distinctive forms seemed to be individual artistic expressions themselves. Then there was Big Sur, where the cliffs meet the sea in dramatic fashion, for miles and miles down the coast. Every time I see it it takes my breath away.
At San Simeon we stopped by Hearst Castle but tickets were all sold out for the day so we went on. Morro Bay lies just down the coast, the rock sticks out of the land like a mini version of Gibraltar (thought there’s no continent just on the other side). We experienced another beautiful sunset, with the rock and sailboats mooring in the bay silhouetted in the foreground; pelicans, egrets, and herons patrolled the water and the air; at the docks children threw out fishing nets as far as they could into the water. It felt very relaxed here. This is a touristy town, with many seafood restaurants and shopping lining the street by the marina, but thankfully didn’t feel overly husled. Unfortunately there is one big eyesore on the shoreline just opposite the rock – a large powerplant with 3 tall smoke stacks!
The next morning, with a little bit of persuasion Matthew agreed to go paddle boarding with me. The sun was shining and the temperature was mild, there was little wind and the water in the bay flat as a lake – it’s got to be hard to find better paddling conditions this side of Mexico. We made our way through the moored boats to the sand dunes that separates the bay from the ocean, and walked the dunes to the beach, where the waves were pounding, with a lone surfer riding them. It was such a lovely day, walking on the beach in shorts. Why can’t we have beaches like this in the Bay Area? Sigh.
After this excursion it was naturally time for lunch. At Tognazzini’s Dockside Too live music was playing, beers were flowing and locals and tourists alike were lining up for BBQ oysters and fish. Everyone in town and his dog seemed to be there. It took us a while to get a seat and waited even longer to get our food, which was yummy. Even I liked the BBQ oysters, which were ginormous, the hugest I’ve ever seen. Next door at the Morro Bay Fishing Co, freshly caught fish were being unloaded, attracting groups of tourists and pelicans. The fish in question was Vermillion Rockfish, a tasty flaky white fleshed fish (which I had for dinner the night before) are really very red.
On our way home we had to take a slight detour to our favorite roadside market at Moss Landing (another seaside town with a powerplant for an eyesore). $1 for 10 grapefruits! We got 20.
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