West Coasting

Day Twenty: Sequoia National Forest to San Simeon State Park

It is a thrill to wake up in the morning and see the sunlight on these giants trees. I still can't get over it. They're so big, and so old. If anyone ever asks me whether or not I believe giants exist, I will answer with an emphatic yes.

This morning I wished that these giants had the stereotypical club wielding skills. As we were loading R. Girl, some tourists with familiar accents came along and started throwing rocks and pine cones at the biggest tree. They were, apparently, enthralled with the idea that the tree sounded hollow, and it took them no fewer than 50 million rocks and pine cones to prove it to themselves. Idiots. The park ranger just informed me yesterday that this is the last park that allows you to actually camp amongst these giants, and approach them as you like. It's idiots like these that will revoke that privilege. I looked at that tree and tried to telecommunicate: “if you need to drop a limb or anything, this would be a good time. Aim for their heads.” No such luck. These giants have the patience and wisdom that comes with being 3000 years old.

We headed west at about 9 am. The “foothills” between the sequoias and the coast are full of big factory farms, including orange groves and a Sunkist processing plant. While the scenery did nothing for me, it was nice to be on long flat roads and able to hit 70 mph after the 20 mph day yesterday.

We traveled through our first “wine country” on Hwy 46. This is an area with soft rolling hills the color of Golden Retrievers and sprawling vineyards with tile roofed buildings surrounded by tall skinny cypresses . It looked appealing, but I figure we'll see plenty more as we head north. At this point, I'm feeling one tracked minded about getting onto Hwy 1 and seeing the ocean.

Just a few miles outside of Paso Robles the hills haven't changed, and the sun is still shining bright, but the temperature drops dramatically. I begin to see clouds that can only be the kind that hang over vast bodies of water. Spanish moss is hanging from the trees. We crest a hill, and then all I see is misty sapphire. It takes me a second to realize it's the sea. It's as beautiful and glimmering as I knew it would be. We made it.

At exactly 3:15 pm pacific time, the Girl makes a turn to the north on Hwy 1. She is officially done with her western course. The Pirate and I are all smiles, squeezing each other and giving some triumphant yips. After a brief stop in Cambria (Blowing Rock by-the-sea) for celebratory provisions, we pull into the San Simeon campground for the night. We are having steaks wrapped in bacon and smoked over a fire, crusty bread with olive oil and some local red wine. I think the Pirate might smoke that cigar I bought him in Carlsbad NM tonight.