We’d traveled somewhere nearly every month this year, and as Christmas rolled by, we were considering just staying home for New Year’s. Matter of fact, while we could have left on Friday, Saturday, or even Sunday, we were still of the opinion that we’d just chill out at home. Then Monday hit this morning, and we just had to do something. “I know; let’s go to the ocean!” We were an hour up the road when Caroline realized that in our haste to pack and leave within 5 minutes, she hadn’t put shoes on and was still wearing her slippers. Well, we were not turning around at this point, and we figured we’d find something along the way. The only problem was that we were heading to the sticks.
Getting familiar with those bits of Route 66 back in August had us wanting to discover more of the old route, and so here we are south of Interstate 40, visiting Essex, with a population of about 80 and not a shoe shop in a long sight. If only the cafe would open on occasion, I’d make the journey back here again.
We are still in Essex, but now we’re in front of the Road Runner’s Retreat Restaurant, which was able to operate for about another ten years after Route 66 was retired in 1972. The restaurant itself appears to have opened in 1962 or 63.
Roy’s Motel and Cafe in Amboy looks like it’s in great shape, alas, it is closed down like most everything else along Route 66 out here.
The trains still run through this remote corner of California while commerce withers. Back on the I-40, we pressed on to Barstow not seeing anything from the freeway that looked like we’d find shoes, and who was worried anyway as we had plenty of time. Then, in Bakersfield, at 5:45 p.m., we find a Sears that closes in 15 minutes, and it dawns on us that it’s New Year’s Eve, and maybe places are closing early. No time to be very picky, so Caroline grabs a pair of sneakers from the sales rack, and we are again on our way.
We made it out to San Simeon around 11:00 p.m. and hung out to midnight to ring in the New Year with a bunch of elephant seals. We had to be content with listening to them because it was too dark to see them, even with the full moon. From the grunts from the males and the squawking from the pups, it sounded like they were having a great time; we did, too.
Our overnight is at the Piedras Blancas Motel on 16420 Cabrillo Highway, also known as Highway 1. The number resonates with us because that’s also the street number of our place in Scottsdale, Arizona, where we live. We’ve dreamed of staying here many a time but thought with it being oceanfront that it would be too expensive, but it turns out to be very reasonable. Notice the flash on the camera? This might be the only photo you ever see of us using that stupid thing. Happy New Year.
