Atascadero, CA to San Mateo, CA (8/18/06)

When I woke up the next morning, I found it to be Friday the 18th of August. I also found there to be a face peering in my passenger side window. All sorts of thoughts ran quickly through my mind about who this face might belong to and for what reasons this face may be peering, all of which led me to lower my head further down below the face’s line of sight. It left quickly and I sat up. I wondered briefly what to do next, then I organized my things and headed out. After all, I didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary, I felt that I’d already over-stayed my welcome at the grocery store parking lot, especially considering the fact that I hadn’t bought anything. Oh well. I got back on the 101 and headed for whatever was next. After exiting somewhere else, I went to a Home Depot, used their bathroom for tooth-brushing and other, then went outside and proceeded to change my truck’s air filter, with the new one I’d bought nearly three weeks prior because of the dust storm nearly four weeks prior. It was about time. Then I left that place and made best speed to the Hearst Castle. I had a date with destiny. Maybe that’s a little more grandeur than is needed, but back in October ’05, two of my sisters, my mother, and I all went to the Hearst Castle, and two among us had bought cups of free-refillability. They were the hard plastic kind of cups that are meant to be kept as weird souvenir sorts of things. We kept them, and I figure that, since I was heading back in that direction, I’d see just how extensive their policy of free-refillability really was. The only hitch had been that I’d forgotten the cup at home. Fortunately for me, and the experiment, my mom was kind enough to send the cup via some FedEx or other down to my sister’s apartment. I think there was a saddle in the package too, but who cares about that? There was a purple Hearst Castle Cup! Back to the story at hand (which really, that was a part of), but first, the stuff before I actually got to the Hearst Castle:

I had decided that, since I was in the neighborhood, I would revisit some of my old haunts, you know, from the time I was there for about a day last fall. My first stop was at a deer crossing. A giant deer crossing sign. And, just to warn you, I mean it was a ‘giant deer crossing’ sign, not a ‘giant deer crossing sign.’ I hope that clears things up. If it doesn’t, maybe this will:

From there, I drove passed the motel that we’d stayed at, then through the town of Cambria, then up a bit of a winding, steep hill, where there was a sign indicating just how dangerous rock slides can be (note the fear in the driver’s posture):

After that, I drove down to the tiny bit of beach access the residential area of the town had to offer. The access is limited, and by that I mean that there is a set of three or so parking spots on a hill, with a staircase down to some rocks and some sand. The public beach is sort of horseshoe shaped, with the water being the open end of the horseshoe. At that end it was probably about twenty or twenty-five feet across, between small boulders (oxy-moron not intended, but noted and pointed out), and there were these really neat holy rocks. I’m guessing there’s some kind of sea-worm whose food pyramid includes four to five servings of granite and other minerals per day. I’m open to suggestion, however. Have a look for yourself:

My next stop was at the gigantic Hearst Castle Visitor Center. I’d been to the Castle before (I even took two of the tours), and felt that I had neither the time, inclination, digital camera battery life, nor funds to be pursuing such a grand pursuit. Instead, I chose to explore the visitor center at some length, and get my drink. I went in first to diagnose the situation thoroughly cupless. It was a wise decision that I took such a course of action, for the café was not yet open. I asked at the visitor center’s information desk, and they told me (with some scorn in the voice of the older gentleman that told me) that ‘that café should be open by now.’ I hung around a bit, investigated some of the other buildings, looked at the people as they were having their picture taken at the ‘Hearst Castle pre-bus ride backdrop,’ and also found a green screen booth where (when in operation) one can have their photo taken on a green chair in front of a green screen and be digitally superimposed into a home-y photo of various interior portions of the Castle to which regular visitors and other such tourists are not generally allowed access. It was a neat little outfit, but their prices were horrendous for what I was guessing would be about five minutes of time, a sheet of photo paper, and some printer ink. Anyway, I went back to the main building, found the café open, and headed back to my truck. I got the cup out. I took a ‘before’ style picture of it, but upon looking at it now, I’m not sure if the casual viewers will be able to conclusively decide whether or not it is actually empty. If no decision can be reached, you’ll just have to view the picture and take my word that it was empty at the time. The Hearst Castle Cup was empty at the time this photo was taken:

And full when this one was(!):

Now then, it wasn’t as simple as all that to get my cup filled with delicious Hearst Castle Visitor Center Café ice and root beer. There were a cup-le (ha! –I know it’s lame, but I just couldn’t resist) of metaphorical hoops I had to metaphorically jump through. Mostly the m. hoops were just asking different people, however. Firstly, I placed my cup on the counter (when it was my turn, of course) and asked the girl behind the counter as to “How extensive the free-refill policy” is, when someone who knew better than the girl who answered said that they don’t have those cups anymore, and that they’re not allowed to pass cups back across the counter anymore. I said it was a sort of family bet, and said that I’d been all the way from Seattle to Chicago to L.A. and that I had this cup, and wanted a free refill. When the cup was bought there were free refills, why wouldn’t there be now? There may be a little bit of a logical fib in the above, because it sort of implies that the cup had been with me the whole time, but that’s just how the conversational chips fell. Then, someone else, who appeared to have been there even longer than the second person who’d appeared to have been there much longer than the first, said, ‘well, it’s just one, why don’t you go ahead and give it to him.’ Since it all worked out alright, I went ahead and ordered a Hearst Beef Burger. I sat down to my meal of costly burger and free drink, and was promptly harassed by the avian assemblage that played host to the outdoor dining facility that the Hearst Castle Visitor Center Café had to offer. The birds themselves weren’t that bad, the closest they came on their own was the ground around my small table, or the other benches. It wasn’t until some stupid kids tried to visit with the filthy birds that they (the birds) got all up in my grill and I had to fend them off with my mighty shoo-ing gestures. It was a sight to behold, I assure you.

And here, because I felt like it, is a picture of the people getting their picture taken in front of a picture of the Hearst Castle. Now, I get that people want to remember that they went to places of majesty such as this, but why not just wait, take the bus ride up the hill, get off, and take your own picture in front of the real castle? It seems like a dead giveaway to me that the proportions are all wrong. Plus, as I recall, the real Hearst Castle doesn’t have those words floating above it. Oh, and if you look closely at the woman’s face, I believe you’ll see that she knew me, and obviously didn’t want me to recognize her. She did a darn good job, because I have to admit, I have no idea who she is. Kudos to you, mystery woman!

Alright, alright, you got me, the next picture is completely staged. There is nothing candid about it. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, I’m the one who took the photograph. I took great care, as I recall, to include certain aspects of the setting. I wanted to prove, beyond all reasonable doubt, that I was in fact at the Hearst Castle, and that I had in fact gotten my drink on. Unfortunately, there was no way of proving that I didn’t pay for it with still pictures. Which, if you read that the wrong way, is true as well, I did not pay for the beverage with still pictures. Mores the point however, I can’t very well take a picture of myself not giving someone money, that doesn’t really prove anything. So, again, you’ll have to take my word for it. As for the staged aspects of this next photograph, however, let me see... I took special care to be in front of the visitor center, with the building name clearly visible, I took special care to show me drinking the liquid within the cup—visible in the straw—and I’ve just realized that one of my failings is that I meant to have the name on the cup be clearly visible to the camera. However, and I mean this with all seriousness, I have another picture that shows the cup with the words. Also, you can cross reference the picture below with the ‘empty cup’ picture above. That should satisfy you. Now, enough talking about the picture below, here it is:

Man, I feel like I’ve written a lot, and the day that I’m writing about isn’t even half over by the point that I’ve written to yet. Hmmm... that sounded awkward. Enough of my mental meanderings, here’s a picture of a bird:

I took that picture of a bird a few miles north of the Hearst Castle Visitor Center. There’s a beach in the area where the Elephant Seals (or Sea Elephants, as they’re also, less commonly known) make their home. And here, for your enjoyment, is a photograph of the above mentioned Elephant Seals/Sea Elephants. Just so you know, they are the shiny lumps at the water’s edge in the distance just about in the center of the picture.

After getting away from the lowland coast, I headed up into the hilly, winding roadway that the California Highway 1 had to offer. In my notes, I referred to them as the ‘coast roads of death.’ Along the way, I stopped at a couple, nay, several scenic view points, and was astounded by the number of signs saying ‘please don’t feed the animals.’ Actually, I wasn’t so much astounded by the number of signs, but more astounded by the number of people thoroughly disregarding those very signs. Here’s a typical instance (maybe a little more than typical) of what I saw at these viewpoints with small scurrying animals and various avian assemblies.

There are at least six people visible in this picture, and I know for a fact that at least five of them were in the act of feeding animals at the time this picture was taken, and I have my suspicions about the sixth. I took special care with this photograph—I did think the woman throwing the food into the air for the birds was kind of neat-looking.

Further down, up, and around the road I stopped and took a picture of this fairly awesome bridge:

And this fairly similar looking one that, when looking at the picture as a whole, has a certain irony about it...

After stopping at the bridge, and most likely several others, I found myself on the same Pacific Coast Highway, but a little more inland. I saw a car with what I presume to be a personalized license plate, and I thought it was funny.

The best I could come up with was that the person was in Real Estate, and fancied themselves the number one expert in the field. Unless it’s a joke that’s completely lost on me, I think that much ego is silly. Oh well.

Later on I was forced to go into a town or two to check on motel prices, because I didn’t want to stay in another parking lot. I forget now what town I was in then, but I didn’t find any motels there, nor did I find any in the next town over. What happened, however, is that I decided to stop and get gas. The gas station was alright, nothing special, mind you, but there was something out of the ordinary there. There was a sign taped to the pump stating that the station’s varieties were somewhat limited on the day in question.

You see, at first glance, I saw the ‘l’ in ‘unlead’ as a ‘d,’ because of the little loop. So, I saw the sign to read, “Sorry, we only have regular undead.” My immediate reaction was to want to be out of there before they got any ‘super undead,’ to say nothing of the ‘premium undead.’ Needless to say, I got the heck out of there. I figured I’d hole up in a motel, to you know, try and withstand the invasion, but the motel I stopped at wanted $125 for a night. I was told that those were the best rates around. I decided to put more distance between myself and the source of the regular undead, and continued on. There were quite a few campgrounds that I stopped at, but all were full. I really didn’t want to stay in another grocery store parking lot, so I consulted my map, and found that there was basically only one rest area in the whole of the greater San Francisco area. I made my way there, and I eventually got there. As I recall, it was in the San Mateo area. Yep, I got there, was thoroughly concerned about the supposed 8 hour parking time limit, and slept fitfully until about 3, and then it became the next day, and you’ll have to read that after I write it to find what happened after that.