I took off in a good mood, rested, listening to KISS Country FM. The sun was shining, the A/C was on, we were rolling to a new destination, yes life was good. From the moment I finally stormed the beach in New Brighton, something had changed. Something let go, something clicked, something in my soul was finally at peace. I had arrived at the section of California coastline that I had been sorely missing all my life, the one that from the moment I was here it was as if I connected with it, just plugged immediately into. I felt a deep sense of belonging as if in a previous life, that kind of belonging. If you’ve ever felt that then you know what I am talking about. If you don’t believe in reincarnation or don’t know what I am talking about, then it is not a feeling I can describe. It just is.
This also marked the only point in my whole trip that I had to purposely backtrack along my route, going back south through Watsonville. Working my way around the mouth of Monterey Bay I went through the cute but ho-hum your usual tourist fishing towns of Moss Landing and Seaside. I made my first bathroom stop in Monterey at the Vistor’s Center, finding a surprise big open paralell parking spot right in front of it and right before the light I had to eventually turn left onto - bingo, hello, I love it when that happens! Finding places to park is definitely a problem when you’re in the city towing Hammy.
I found out from the visitor’s center that it was too far to walk from there to Fisherman’s Wharf, Cannery Row, or the Monterey Bay Aquarium. It was on the other side of the tunnel. So after a brief walk across the street with the dogs to a local park to get sand on our feet and see the ocean from there, we made our way over to Fisherman’s Wharf. It was SO commercial and touristy here that I am almost embarrassed to say I was there, as I HATE tourist trap towns, but my only intention on stopping, other than to pee, was to get some fresh shrimp for dinner that night.
It took me an hour and a half to accomplish something that should have taken 20 mins. I walked all the way through the tourist crowd on the wharf looking for a fresh seafood market. One was closed already (they are typically only open in the mornings), and the ones that were still open were on another pier altogether. So I walked alllll the way back and then alllll the way up the correct pier, quickly getting a pound and a half of shrimp and plenty of ice and quickly making my way back to the dogs and the Tahoe. Goodbye Monterey, see ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya, not impressed.
I opted not to go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium due to time issues, the cost ($40), and the fact that we have an aquaurium in Denver. I realize it is world renowed, so I don’t want any hate mail from residents of Monterey telling me why I need to love your town - I didn’t. Even more so after also reading how yet again MAN almost decimated the sardine population in this part of the world with Cannery Row and overfishing. It’s always so wonderful, everywhere I go here in America, to read plaque after plaque that are dedicated to just this one topic - how the Man destroyed everything he touched in so discovering everything. Really makes ya proud don’t it Americans? Yep. No matter how much they try to destroy it, Mother Nature and its native people just keep on fighting. THAT’S the true wonder to me. Chinese or Japanese? Chumash? Get off our land and our beaches, those are OUR fish, just because we say so. (*Sigh*), sorry. My daily men suck rant, moving on.
My fresh shrimp for dinner finally acquired and secured in deep ice in the cooler, I hot footed it out of there. I went up and over the erect tip of Point Pinos - wait. Did I really just say that? Especially after just saying how badly men suck in the previous paragraph? When did this writing take a decidedly x-rated turn? Oh I see, up there in the first paragraph. OK well I apologize, I will make it a point to masturbate or something, it’s been awhile (yes like 100% of men everywhere, there are also some women out here who actually do it too and aren’t afraid to admit it). So BAM! Let’s just establish that about me totally randomly at this point in the story for no reason whatsoever, you’re welcome. Just another service I provide, giving you unexpected juicy tidbits about myself. I also can’t wait to kick the first guy in the balls who comes up to me and tries to use this on me in a come on line. Please, again, don’t even think about it. Remember the Taser. So anyway, let’s shake that off now and continue on shall we? All righty then.
After leaving Monterey, we came to the true Big Sur section of the trip that I had long been looking forward to. Oh. My. God. Disappointment never showed up the rest of the day, and expectations were far exceeded. For the next 5 hrs until I reached my campsite in Limekiln, my jaw was agape and my camera snapped over a hundred photos. I could not believe the sheer beauty that lay before me, starting first with Pebble Beach and Carmel-by-the-Sea.
To say that Pebble Beach is one of the most beautiful golf courses you will ever see in your life is an understatement, and I only got to see it from afar. It easily beat out all other golf courses in Hawaii I have seen. I did not, regretfully, take the time to drive down 17 Mile Road to see it and its accompanying houses up closer, as it is a toll road. I also had to be cognizant when getting down close to the beach or other tight spaces of being able to turn around with Hammy in tow. I had experienced this frustrating exercise last year in a dead end parking lot in Texas and it was a bitch. I was not anxious to repeat it. Besides, I’ll do it next time, I thought, as I am, most assuredly, coming back here to stay when my big check comes in. Again, oh, my god. The evident big money and houses alone in this town were enough to attract the tourists and suddenly I became one, unabashedly cruising down Scenic Drive with my Beverly Hillbillies 1950’s camper with one wheel cover missing to check it all out.
There was NOWHERE to park down by the beach in this town. Spaces and streets are close knit, so my only foray out onto the beach here was a quick jump out to take some photos with the Tahoe running and my blinkers on to let people know I wasn’t trying to park there. Two surfers were just coming up the beach so I aimed my camera at them as they talked, planning on getting them in the foreground of my shot. When one of them noticed me, I just full on trained my camera on him and snapped a photo as he made a face. He then just continued talking to his friend and walked right past me as if nothing had happened, cheeky little turd, no friendliness whatsoever. Yeah, the people here had money and were NOT afraid to show it in ANY form of pretentiousness. I could have spent hours alone just photographing every house that deserved to be in Architecture Magazine. Instead I suddenly just wanted to leave. I definitely did not get a very “you are welcome here” vibe from the locals.
It was getting late in the afternoon anyhow by now brown cow, around 4 pm, and I still had a ways to go before my final destination near Lucia. The dogs and I had another pee break and quick walk around the bend from town at Carmel River State Beach where the river meets the ocean, then we were on our way.
Until next time, I’m living small and loving it largely.
Eli “The Gonzo” Hunter
For full photo album of complete trip, follow me on Facebook @ https://www.facebook.com/eli.hunter.94
