Cali Road Trip 2004:


Monday March 29th:

Lovely, concrete slab you are, I-5 South. Drive and drive until we stop for lunch at the almighty Burger King. It’s Joel’s first Crispy Chicken Sandwich on a corn toasted bun. Already, deep into the heart of Oregon, we see a building with giant plaster mushrooms on top. Why? We’ll never know. It's Oregon. Joel continues to drive. I knit a booty. We drive and drive through forests (Siskiyou Nat. Forest) until we hit Crescent City, Cali. We’re on 101 officially. Do we camp? It’s only 5 pm. We’ve made good time. The weather is sunny and it gives us a boost of energy. So, we drive on. Joel’s back is bothering him--a tough time for a bad back, on a 10 hour drive. We stop where we can. We finally get to a point on 101 that you can see the ocean. We had no idea at this point, just how much of it we’d see. But, the waves engulfing the wind, the wind engulfing the seagulls, and us running to the park bathrooms while we pray they're open.

Hop in the car. 101 is going faster than we think and before we know it, for dinner, we arrive in Arcata. A very quaint little hippie town. We wonder why the homeless would choose here with the wind and rain. We wonder where the famous bagel shop is that came in 2nd to a NYC shop for best bagels in the US. After we park, a nice hippie is closing up the CD shop he works at. We, brazen tourists, pound him with:
Where is the best place to camp? Where should we eat? How far is it here, there, where are we going? Maybe because we made him nervous. Maybe it was the local weed--we heard this is some of the best stuff in the world in these parts. But his twitch was infectious. We followed his rant as he told us where to camp (go back North about 20 minutes--nah ah, Liz King never goes back). He told us, careful of Humboldt county (where we were thinking of camping)--”Crazy crazy weed protectors down there. Camp on someone’s backyard by accident and you’ll run into some dude and his shotgun.” Hmm. “And Leggitt? Weird crazy hippie hicks down there.” As he spoke, his words came out faster and faster making us believe that maybe we should turn around and go home. He rambled on about where to eat. We caught some, but just stood confused. Against his advice, we grabbed a slice of pizza and headed south to camp in Humboldt.

Night. Dark night. We imagine the Redwoods to be majestic, regal, patriotic--if we could see them. But at this hour as we drive down the Avenue of the Giants toward our campsite we just think these trees are dark. We park contemplating if we should head in further to another site, when we hear it. The sound of someone chopping wood. It’s 9 at night. Someone is chopping wood in the site.
Joel: “ I can’t stay here. I can’t fall asleep to the sound of chopping wood.” We drive in circles trying to figure out the best spot and yet the furthest spot from the maniacal wood man. We decide on the center of the site canopied by those oh-so-body guard like trees. We collapse into our bags and pass out. Until...

Liz wakes up. 3 a.m. the neon dial on her watch reads. Rain. So much so, that Joel said later, “I dreamt of pee.” Not drizzle, NW Rain. More like Asian Monsoon has come down just on our tent. So much for the protection of trees. It sounds as though our canopy has run off in search of someone else to protect. I panic. Hear voices from an RV near by. Drunk voices. Loud voices. Why are they up? My laptop. What if someone steals my laptop from the car? I wake Joel. “What if someone steals my laptop from the car?” Joel: “You’re crazy. We’d hear it.” “Can we? I can only hear rain! OK, and those drunk dudes.” That’s it. I’m panicked. So, I dart into the rain, rescue “Snow” from the car, and cradle her inside the dry tent the rest of the night. OK, I have issues.


Tuesday: March 30th: Morning.
We wake. The rain has stopped. Our little REI canvas castle is surrounded by a moat. How royal. There’s nothing to do but get up, pack and be on our way. And then we see what we drove into the night before. They are everywhere. The canopy of trees still there...so, there really was a monsoon that even these trees couldn’t stop. We clean up, and go--where can we see more trees? The Founders Area, hike, trees...whatever this area was called inside Humboldt State Park. The oldest, tallest Redwood. Redwoods toppled over. These behemoths stood tall next to old geasers who couldn’t stand tall anymore. A perfect mile and a half hike photo op--proof that we made it to the Redwoods.

Onward on 101. We see the sign for Leggit--driving slow, watch for crazy weed obsessed farmers, we look for signs for Route 1. Time to leave the trees and hit the coast. But, wait, “Look, drive through the tree!!! Let’s go!” as Liz screeches, spins the car around and heads for the second most touristy thing we have ever done after Alcatraz. Joel groans, hands the capitalistic snake in the booth his three bucks, as we drive through a redwood. A nice place to stop to use the “head” set in the most serene surroundings--lake, geese, ducks, and of course a country store. Joel, “Liz ordered some bark with a side of sap.” As we go, we see a guy in a huge SUV driving through the tree. We root for the tree--get stuck, get stuck! But, the SUV makes it. What a symbolic moment. American car doesn’t fit into 500 year old tree. Damn.
Wait, writer Liz takes a break. Joel takes over....coming soon... wait until he gets back from Vegas. No, really.


Tuesday:
Sunset. Stop at gas station. Nice woman at a gas station tells us that at 6:36 the sun will set. Go to Fisk Mill, there’s a state park. In there, there’s a bluff and the best view of the sunset. She’s right...we get pictures. We are on the edge of the earth, on a bluff with a tiny railing overlooking the pacific. Greatest sunset of all time...except for the one that Joel saw on the Oregon Coast, and Liz left early and missed it but had camera. I know, I know, sorry Joel. That sunset will be forever in your mind.

Head on to Bodega Bay.

Tuesday night: March 30th: Ah, Bodega Bay. Jane’s wonderful “Best Places” book (Thanks Jane!) says that the Bodega Bay Inn is a good cheap place to sleep--and we be tired and hungry. We zip by, it’s right on 101, and decide to eat first. We can’t remember name of restaurant in Bodega Bay--all that mattered was the little sandwich board sign that read, “Fresh Crab.” We peel out. It’s not cheap, but not too bad. Joel inhales every bit of a crab that I never knew existed. I was so tired I could barely eat my anti-Atkins meal of fish and chips. Back in the car, we drive to the wonderful Bodega Bay Inn. It’s 9. It’s closed. It’s 9. It’s closed. WHAT!? How does a motel close? No one anywhere. Should we break the glass, steal a key and maybe no one will notice if we grab a room? Nah. We head over to the Tides Inn--they seem to be the only place open. $109 a night. WHAT!? No, no, we don’t pay that. We’re campers. We just need a bed. He’s snooty. We’re snotty, turn and huff to a pay phone. Call a few other places in the next town over (about a 45 min. drive...but wait is that 45 min. normal driving? Or is that 45 min. 101 curvy can’t see driving? This is the question we ask on our ENTIRE drive down the coast. More later.) We head over to another Hotel. $109 a night. WHAT?! Is this a conspiracy? Yes. We go back to the Tides. Swallow big pride. At least we get a continental breakfast and hot tub. Yippee.. Joel and his old man back scream in unison. We head to the hot tub...yet another moment I’m having trouble enjoying...so so tired, can’t finish, sentence. Crash, and deep sleep.

Wednesday March 31st:
Wakeup. It’s an amazing day. The Tides hotel really is amazing. Huge pool is center court. Lexus. Mercedes. Porsche, oh my. In our world: Haggard tents drying on balcony, bathing suits, Rain fly draped over shower. Nissan Sentra begging us to stay. We don’t listen. Instead, frantically look for my “But they’re polarized!” sunglasses. Ugh. Can’t find them. Maybe the nice woman who told us about sunset has them. I left them there? Ugh. Maybe that’s karma. She helps us find amazing sunset. She gets my sunglasses. Seems right. Panicked. Have to get within cell phone range by 11 a.m for conference call with client. Rush our continental breakfast (oatmeal and fruit, really?) and get on the road again. Took some crazy wrong turn, so we miss Pt. Reyes. But, I don’t mind, since we’ve left Rt. 1, land of no cell service and now hit 101 again in Petaluma. We head for San Fran and arrive by 11. I get a call. Call is pushed to 3. OK...rushed for nothing. Freelance.

It’s OK, we grab cool cheap dishes at Soko’s Hardware in Japantown then meet Will Elliott for lunch at our favorite Dim Sum restaurant. Yum, yum, have no idea what we’re eating, can’t understand anything we’re given, but yum. Spend the afternoon, catching up with friends at ad agencies, dropping off books, not sure why, and sitting in San Fran traffic. As usual, the Presidio is our haven. It’s where we find Mary Michael Stewart at her office, Mad Dogs (since this print, she’s been laid off. Ugh!) We hang out with her. Then get to know the Marina again. Go back to Palace of Fine Arts--yes the swans are really that big, but not THAT big. Walk along the beach and watch Uber yuppie San Fran Ex-Dot Com CEO types windsurfing. Meet MM, Will, Steve Tornello and Jason for dinner in North Beach at Bocce Cafe. Yum. Crash at MM studio in Pacific Heights. So nice of her to let us stay, really nice, since her studio is her bed and a bathroom. Ah, San Fran.



Thursday April 1st:
Wake up early. Drive MM to work. Have lunch at awesome local breakfast dive near Marina called Home Base? Carrot pancakes. Banana nut pancakes. Eggs. Jump on 101 and we’re back on the road. Joel? Have anything to say?

Secret hike: Partington Cove: 2miles north of Julia Feiffer State Park...more, Joel?
Secret cove. History says that ships would come into this cove and pick up massive logs from loggers. Long, wooden tunnel goes underneath the bluffs and spills out to the water's edge. We walk down long tunnel, climb rocks and are at the edge of the earth, almost alone. Except for one surprise. A baby otter and his friend, the seagull are splashing about in the sun. Have we made a wrong turn? Are we inside a children's storybook? Otter dives down for fish, comes back up and hangs with Gull. Otter floats around Gull. They are inseparable.

On to Gorda, down the coast: Whale Cafe...searching for this restaurant Stephen Meyer told us about . Turns out we passed it an hour ago and never knew. Starved, we check out the menu here. Let’s stay? $20 Fish and Chips! Let’s not stay. We have a deadline, have to get to Pasos de Robles. Sunset? Where will we be, always the question. Liz is driving along Rt. 1, becoming adept at the curves. Arm workout--sexy arms here I come.

Pause. Now deep into Big Sur. No words. I am NOT adept. Pictures necessary. Can you put pictures on blog? Have to research.

Then, I see an exit with a huge tour bus. There is ALWAYS a reason for a bus that big to stop. I look down and see some weird animals writhing on the beach. Not saying a word I exit. “Oh, Liz, why are we stopping. SUNSET! There’s a tour bus....oh no, why?” says Joel. I keep telling him to just wait and trust me. We run down to the beach and see hundreds of elephant seals writhing, belching, fornicating? Orgiastic, lovable, amazing--they are so human, people I know flash into my mind. Are we like them or the other way around? Elephant seals--the perfect pre-cocktail entertainment.

Hop back into the car and keep driving. Finally, we see San Simeon. There’s Hearst Castle, hurry! We drive through old money wrought iron gates. Where is this house? We see it way up high on a bluff, we speed up, thinking we’ll just make a few turns here and there and get to it. Na a. There is a fortress at the bottom protecting Hearst Castle. An arsenal of huge tour buses and a tourist rest stop complete with bathrooms and souvenir spoons. What were we thinking...have to escape before we’re locked in. Hearst Castle--a Citizen Kane like haven of parties, money and more money now closes at 6. Much like everything else on Rt. 1. So, beauty closes at 6? We don’t think so. We make a mad dash for a sunset spot and land at San Simeon Bar and Grill. It’s cheesy, the clam chowder tastes canned...but the beer is cold and the view is divine. Overlooking the beach. Overlooking the sunset--our second memorable one this week. And we have yet again fulfilled Joel’s neurotic need for the perfect sunset.

Keep driving, take the road inland to Pasos de Robles and in a half hour we arrive. Villa Creek. A haven of fine wine, food, ambience, warmth--this is where Steven Meyer works. He’s energetic, he’s still on his shift. We’re weary. So, we have some wine and then head to his house to clean up. Shower ready we head back to Villa Creek for Halibut, Steak, Cheese plates, dessert,wine and more wine. A wonderful night. We crash on the extra mattress...it’s nice to be asleep.


Friday April 1: I got this part covered, all written out in my journal. Woke up in great sheets. Joel wants good sheets. Joel doesn’t know price of good sheets--200-300 clams. Someday, we will have good sheets. Snore...spent morning waking each other up in tandem snoring. Slumber party at Stevie Meyers. Joe’s place for breakfast. Note: Guerilla laden mugs and decor. Rush out of town to make it to Ojai--in haste Joel rolls over Meyer’s root to a tree outside house. ooooooops. Amazing drive to Ojai. Stop in Santa Barbara. Can’t find it, it’s so big. Stop for gas, Joel tries to pay, unsuccessful...language barrier. Turns out we never paid, but didn’t know it. Still can’t find downtown. Screw it. We’re partial to small towns anyway. Wait, hear that? I think it’s a cop.

Stopped in Carpinteria--the beach that Jesus built. Yummy Mexican food on the beach. Note: Loel/Jiz will retire here someday. Santa Barbara feel without the shee shee I’m so cool money. Rt. 150 is our friend...took picture of Rivendell sign that leads to amazing ranch hidden by the road. Saw Howell and Katie’s house. Note: Cool backyard, great windows, amazing house! Joel goes on bachelor hike with Howell and his friends. Ouch Calves. Liz--camp recon a success. Camp Casitas or so she thought, felt safe leaving tent with nice lesbians. Drinks on the porch. Howell/Katie scurry to get ready for dinner at Il Giatto’s. And I see Dimitri, Salina, Fiona, Stewart and other new friends at our dinner table. Not a boring name in the place. Barry’s toast (Katie’s brother) brings Howell down. Buddy (Howell’s Dad), “I zinged him.” Drinks at Pangea--cool back area romanticized with candles. Love it. We crash at packed campsite: Fear morning. Pull in at 12:30...karma is a boomerang--late 3 am stragglers just as loud.

Saturday a.m. April 2nd:
Joel awakens to sounds of Mexican families. Techno salsa, Outkast, and clank clank of horse shoes. Escape to nice view of lake, speed boats and model air strip. Enjoy pop-tarts. Go to Farmhouse--where Howell is house sitting. Joel hurts chickens with Howell. Then eat fruit of chix labor in an omelet. Back to our future retirement, Carpenteria--but this time blasted clouds. Sky heard our cries and opened up. Liz brainwashes Joel during his quick nap to actually take a walk. Scurry back to shovel Hi-Burgers in Capri Motel before wedding.

Wedding: Only pictures can do justice. At the top of a mountain at the Ojai Foundation. Buddhist statue, meditation walk, yoga yurts and hot tea. It’s a haven. An amazing place to get married with a 360 view. Actual ceremony inside the canopy of an ancient tree. Howell and Katie were beautiful, beaming, truly made for each other. Time to party. Reception at a friend’s amazing house. Apparently the cottage of a bigger mansion up the road. The whole house aglow in candles. Great tex-mex food. Some dancing. Joel’s toast about Dillard House took down the house, candles and all. Want to stay late, party, drink, but really can’t. We have to leave early in the morning to get to Ashland, Oregon by a decent hour.

Sunday April 3rd:
Take off early. I-5 how we love you...straight and fast. 90 mph is slow for I-5. Cows give off stench, I don’t mind. Stop for IHOP pancakes...yum. Keep going. Mt. Shasta is beautiful...see B&W pictures. After pass Shasta, stop in Weed, Ca. for t-shirt. Sorry, Joel...we search 3 gas stations for the right t-shirt. Keep driving and arrive in Ashland by dinner time. Do we stay or go? As we eat dinner by the babbling brook in Ashland, still don’t know. We get a call from Sean. He invites us to stay, so we do. Go out for drinks and crash. Cute kitties at Sean’s house! Joel is allergic. Get up early, skadoodle back and I’m in town for a 2 pm meeting....whew. Trip over. Are we really back?