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.

C is for California and Conifers

Day Nineteen: Troy Meadows campground to Balch Park campground, Sequoia National Forest

We can't get enough of these trees. We decide that we want to stay in the Sequoias one more day, and head up to the northern park to see the “official” big trees. For me, these big trees are what I really want to see in California. Back home, I am a forest dweller and have been pretty much since I was about 9. I feel at home in “the woods”, and yet, I haven't ever seen “big trees”. The poplars at Joyce Kilmer are impressive, but I want to see these California giants.

After a lovely 20 mile wrong turn (“a warm up” the Pirate reassures me) a quick visit to the ranger station sets up straight. We have about 60 miles of back roads to get to the northern section of the forest, and a map that's a little more detailed than the Rand McNally.

The first 35 miles took us an hour. We climbed to about 9000 feet, riding through patches of snow (I know! And only 10 days ago we were roasting nuts in the Texas desert), boulder fields, colorful airy wild flowers and gazillions of conifers. Then we descended at about 1000 feet per 10 minutes, still only driving between ten and twenty mph. So far California has been a literal roller coaster ride. If you ride motorcycles, you gotta come out here and ride.

By the time we get to Johnsondale we're starving. The ride today is taking longer than expected. We turn hopefully into a general store, and are thrilled to discover that we can get an angus cheeseburger with bacon and jalepenos with a side of tater tots. The general store is within some sort of camp-for-cowboys, so we get to watch teenagers decked out in plaid and spurs saunter around. We also get to watch 2 feeders stay swarmed with hummingbirds. Both are intriguing.

If a quiet scene like that doesn't appeal, you can go another 20 miles or so down the road to Ponderosa. There you will find gas (one pump fed by an above ground tank) and a rowdy biker bar with all manner of fried food and eastern California redneckery.

By Springville we are cooked, and still have miles and miles to go. On a hunch (my navigatrix skills are improving) we duck in to the Chamber of Commerce. The staff tells us about a little out-of-the-way campground that has some big trees, it's free and only about 15 miles away. Without hesitating, we go for it. We get some provisions (you can get some really good peppery bacon and cheap booze at the market in Springville) and head for the camp.

Um, big trees? Check. The drive in is beautiful, and at mile 12 or so I start freaking out. These are big trees. My brain can hardly decipher what I'm seeing. It's a miracle we didn't drive off the road with me pointing and oohing and ahhing so much. This place is not even on the map, and it has some of the biggest sequoias there are. When we arrive at the campground, the Pirate stretches out for a nap and I take a walk. I can feel something pulling me. I find it: it's the biggest tree in the park. I sit in what feels like it's lap and stare up the tall, tall trunk into it's limbs. I cry, I can't help it. I've never seen anything like this. I didn't know trees got this big. I feel grateful, and spellbound, and speechless. I wish all trees could get big.

Balch Park costs $16 per night. The ranger is incredibly nice, he chatted with us and brought some fire wood, though we had expressed no interest in a fire. I'm still remembering the forest fire catastrophe of NM. He let us know that we were sleeping under the 7^th largest tree in the world, thought to be between 3000-5000 years old (this is the big tree that I sat with). He said that this was the only park that let you get close to the trees. I'm beginning to feel much better about our decision to skip the northern section of the forest.

There is a trout fishing pond in Balch park. Everyone cleans their fish into the same bucket, and so in the evening a Black bear comes predictably down for dinner. We get to see him saunter along the lake, and then decide to have his dinner later since a loud-ass family has camped too close to his fish gut supper. The Pirate thinks he's a cub since he's kinda small. Back at the camp a deer moves silently through the giant tree trunks and chipmunks scurry around a little longer before dark. We sit by the fire and enjoy our bottle of California red before turning in to sleep while the giants stand guard.

Viva Las Vegas (The Dead Kennedy's Version)

Day Seventeen: Las Vegas

Come on ya'll. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

We'll give you a hint though: leather, swimming on The Strip, jail and paranormal activity. There.