Travel-blog, Day 2
JLowe gave up on his driving efforts at 4:30 or so in the morning, having worked a long day on Friday, coupled with trying to accomplish adequate sleep in his car to prepare him for night driving. At 4:30, The Missus assumed control, and maintained it until just short of San Francisco, where I took over.
Driving into San Francisco, we saw skies pregnant with rain (that would never materialize) and I cursed the large roof rack which JLowe had installed, which obviously had managed to accidentally catch some clouds on our trip down. When the rain never came, I realized that one thing I love about home is the fact that when you see clouds pregnant with rain, you get rain and not just a dread of something that actually will never come.
Once in San Francisco, we decided we should go somewhere for a hearty breakfast. By hearty breakfast, I mean Denny’s. Fortunately, once we got off of the toll road (insufficient warning given, in my opinion), we were unable to find a Denny’s and ended up going to a place called the Palamino (or something like that) just about a block from The Cannery.
We had planned on going to the place next door, but a flamboyant sort of gent greeted us from above the café, wearing a fancy hat and an otherwise incongruous outfit, and told us that we needed to enter for the best breakfast in the world.
So, we took him up on it. Inside, we found a wide selection on the menu, fresh-made jams on the table, and a bathroom which beckoned to us all.
I almost ordered the peanut butter omelet, out of shock at even seeing such an offering, but instead opted for a more traditional Denver-style. The wives, predictably, had waffles, and JLowe had a cheese omelet. In the end, we got a bill for $60. And then I almost fainted.
Not that I didn’t like the food. But you could go to Fat City and get the same stuff for about $35, I think, and it would be every bit as good. So, to my wife’s chagrin, I spent the next hour talking under my breath about how that wasn’t a $60 breakfast, and voicing my hopes that meal prices would be getting more reasonable as we went. I would end up being disappointed when lunch came around.
The Missus and I jumped on the gas bandwagon early, noticing a few good prices as we hit the road (and also hoping that being early-birds would pay off when we hit some more expensive points). We bought the first 3 tanks, as we were awake at the first three stops and also thought that the good kharma would pay off. It ended up that we screwed ourselves, as we ended up having to buy gas in a lot of distant locales.
I drove us out of San Francisco, where I almost came to fisticuffs with my travel buddies as we tried to interpret our map of the town in order to get to Highway 1, which we intended to drive down on our way to our next stop, which was Santa Barbara. After getting directionally-challenged advice from a local (proving that not all men are too stubborn to get help), we headed west, then south, and after achieving the highway began looking in earnest for a Starbuck’s to present itself.
Finding a Starbuck’s can be particularly tricky, especially when you need one. However, eventually, the Evil Empire forced it’s way into our path and we stopped long enough to gain refreshment and to change drivers.
The ladies took the front, while JLowe and I sat in back watching “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” on his portable DVD player. A fine film, I would have made it through the whole thing if it hadn’t been for the curvy road and its effect on my tummy.
Getting precariously close to car-sickness, I managed to force myself to sleep before crossing the threshold from green-faced to green-shirted. I woke up just in time for lunch, at a place called the Lucia Lodge.
The Lucia Lodge is in an area called Lucia, CA. It is directly on the roadside as you travel Highway 1, and lends itself readily to a lunchtime stop as you make your way from point A to point B.
As we walked in, we found that there was a deck below the restaurant with a spectacular ocean view, and with the sun having broken through the clouds, we marched our way down to a bar which had us seated directly looking at the ocean.
I suppose this view is how the prices were justified, because all burgers on the menu were approximately $14. I was quickly becoming disenchanted with California cuisine.
Nonetheless, we choked down our food, and got a nice picture in the process. Then, back on our way, with JLowe at the helm.
As we headed south, we saw a beautiful viewpoint just north of San Mateo. We pulled off and were pleasantly surprised to see that the beach was littered with thousands of elephant seals. We got out and appreciated the awesomeness of it all, and then were accosted by an “information” person who grilled us on where we were from while also mixing in a couple of interesting nuggets (like the fact that all the seals currently on the beach were females or juveniles, and were small in comparison to the males coming in about a month, which would be triple the size of what were were seeing, or about 4,500 lbs each).
The wind was blowing, we were all visibly cold, and she just kept on prattling on. My wife’s teeth chattered to the beat of some inaudible melody, and still the lady just talked. Finally, I came up with a touristy question about how to get to a touristy place (actually, the Hearst Castle), and used this as a way to beg out of the seal talk. And then, just like that, she turned to some new victims, and we ran like hell.
We did try to go to the Hearst Castle, on the recommendation of my friend BT, but were not-so-pleasantly surprised to find that, unlike the Pittock Mansion, you have to park in a distant lot, take a bus up, and go on a formal tour. We weren’t interested in such foolishness, and quickly went on our way. In the distance, however, we saw the castle, and I suppose it looked interesting enough. I guess I’ll never know.
In Santa Barbara, we completed our first thousand miles, as we made our way to the home of Stevie T, my brother in law. He and his roommates live in some rich lady’s guest house, which they rent while they engage in various twenty-something activities (for Stevie T and a couple of others, this means going to photography school). Once at ST’s, we all took turns showering and cleaning up, and then went to dinner at a nice place called The Brewhouse. There, we sampled fine foods and microbrews. Diassapointingly, I got trashed on only two, and made an ass of myself as I worked to rate every comedy movie that I could think of, while explaining to others why there opinions were wrong.
Once back at the homestead, we all quickly embraced unconsciousness, mine bolstered by my beverage selections, and waited for the next day to come.
Driving into San Francisco, we saw skies pregnant with rain (that would never materialize) and I cursed the large roof rack which JLowe had installed, which obviously had managed to accidentally catch some clouds on our trip down. When the rain never came, I realized that one thing I love about home is the fact that when you see clouds pregnant with rain, you get rain and not just a dread of something that actually will never come.
Once in San Francisco, we decided we should go somewhere for a hearty breakfast. By hearty breakfast, I mean Denny’s. Fortunately, once we got off of the toll road (insufficient warning given, in my opinion), we were unable to find a Denny’s and ended up going to a place called the Palamino (or something like that) just about a block from The Cannery.
We had planned on going to the place next door, but a flamboyant sort of gent greeted us from above the café, wearing a fancy hat and an otherwise incongruous outfit, and told us that we needed to enter for the best breakfast in the world.
So, we took him up on it. Inside, we found a wide selection on the menu, fresh-made jams on the table, and a bathroom which beckoned to us all.
I almost ordered the peanut butter omelet, out of shock at even seeing such an offering, but instead opted for a more traditional Denver-style. The wives, predictably, had waffles, and JLowe had a cheese omelet. In the end, we got a bill for $60. And then I almost fainted.
Not that I didn’t like the food. But you could go to Fat City and get the same stuff for about $35, I think, and it would be every bit as good. So, to my wife’s chagrin, I spent the next hour talking under my breath about how that wasn’t a $60 breakfast, and voicing my hopes that meal prices would be getting more reasonable as we went. I would end up being disappointed when lunch came around.
The Missus and I jumped on the gas bandwagon early, noticing a few good prices as we hit the road (and also hoping that being early-birds would pay off when we hit some more expensive points). We bought the first 3 tanks, as we were awake at the first three stops and also thought that the good kharma would pay off. It ended up that we screwed ourselves, as we ended up having to buy gas in a lot of distant locales.
I drove us out of San Francisco, where I almost came to fisticuffs with my travel buddies as we tried to interpret our map of the town in order to get to Highway 1, which we intended to drive down on our way to our next stop, which was Santa Barbara. After getting directionally-challenged advice from a local (proving that not all men are too stubborn to get help), we headed west, then south, and after achieving the highway began looking in earnest for a Starbuck’s to present itself.
Finding a Starbuck’s can be particularly tricky, especially when you need one. However, eventually, the Evil Empire forced it’s way into our path and we stopped long enough to gain refreshment and to change drivers.
The ladies took the front, while JLowe and I sat in back watching “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” on his portable DVD player. A fine film, I would have made it through the whole thing if it hadn’t been for the curvy road and its effect on my tummy.
Getting precariously close to car-sickness, I managed to force myself to sleep before crossing the threshold from green-faced to green-shirted. I woke up just in time for lunch, at a place called the Lucia Lodge.
The Lucia Lodge is in an area called Lucia, CA. It is directly on the roadside as you travel Highway 1, and lends itself readily to a lunchtime stop as you make your way from point A to point B.
As we walked in, we found that there was a deck below the restaurant with a spectacular ocean view, and with the sun having broken through the clouds, we marched our way down to a bar which had us seated directly looking at the ocean.
I suppose this view is how the prices were justified, because all burgers on the menu were approximately $14. I was quickly becoming disenchanted with California cuisine.
Nonetheless, we choked down our food, and got a nice picture in the process. Then, back on our way, with JLowe at the helm.
As we headed south, we saw a beautiful viewpoint just north of San Mateo. We pulled off and were pleasantly surprised to see that the beach was littered with thousands of elephant seals. We got out and appreciated the awesomeness of it all, and then were accosted by an “information” person who grilled us on where we were from while also mixing in a couple of interesting nuggets (like the fact that all the seals currently on the beach were females or juveniles, and were small in comparison to the males coming in about a month, which would be triple the size of what were were seeing, or about 4,500 lbs each).
The wind was blowing, we were all visibly cold, and she just kept on prattling on. My wife’s teeth chattered to the beat of some inaudible melody, and still the lady just talked. Finally, I came up with a touristy question about how to get to a touristy place (actually, the Hearst Castle), and used this as a way to beg out of the seal talk. And then, just like that, she turned to some new victims, and we ran like hell.
We did try to go to the Hearst Castle, on the recommendation of my friend BT, but were not-so-pleasantly surprised to find that, unlike the Pittock Mansion, you have to park in a distant lot, take a bus up, and go on a formal tour. We weren’t interested in such foolishness, and quickly went on our way. In the distance, however, we saw the castle, and I suppose it looked interesting enough. I guess I’ll never know.
In Santa Barbara, we completed our first thousand miles, as we made our way to the home of Stevie T, my brother in law. He and his roommates live in some rich lady’s guest house, which they rent while they engage in various twenty-something activities (for Stevie T and a couple of others, this means going to photography school). Once at ST’s, we all took turns showering and cleaning up, and then went to dinner at a nice place called The Brewhouse. There, we sampled fine foods and microbrews. Diassapointingly, I got trashed on only two, and made an ass of myself as I worked to rate every comedy movie that I could think of, while explaining to others why there opinions were wrong.
Once back at the homestead, we all quickly embraced unconsciousness, mine bolstered by my beverage selections, and waited for the next day to come.
posted by Rusty at 11:59 PM
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