We beat the Saturday breakfast crowd by heading over to Lily’s Coffee House at 7:30. We had slept in, which meant there wasn’t a walk along a dramatic coast or into a mysterious forest before eating either. The entire process we typically rely on during these travels is all akimbo as we have forsaken the rising sun in order to lazily get moving when the light of the day or the tension of bladders finally pulls us out of slumber.
Sitting at Lily’s with the locals, easily understood by the conversations, we spent two hours sipping our coffee after finishing our first meal of the day. What remained the same out of our habits was Caroline pulling out her knitting and me the computer to write about the previous day. Now, with the absolute necessities out of the way, we drove back to our measly motel of mostly meh (and convenient parking) for a walk along the Moonstone Beach Boardwalk.
Walking, walking, and more walking…discussing how we are likely entering the phase of the trip in which we panic and take photos of every single thing we see to capture all the important details. This was followed by a conversation about the quality of the images we take, and when I say “we take,” I mean that I feel unable to take photos alone as nicely as I can when Caroline is by my side. I’m certain I’ve written about this before, but we have a new take on the subject, and that is when we are together, the images when viewed at some future date, have shared memories embedded in them. When I’m off taking photos on my own, we don’t share what the experience was, and only I was taking inspiration from what I was seeing. Out here on the coast, or anywhere for that matter, when we are together, our experience is laden with love, and so it must be the lingering memory of these special moments that seeps into the images and reappears when we gaze upon them years into our futures.
Allow me to introduce you to Dipsacus Greenstein, joining the likes of great conductors Leopold Stokowski and Herbert von Karajan and currently conducting the Cambrian Coast Ensemble, bringing the roar of the ocean, the subtle breezes of offshore cool winds, and the waving plant life into full orchestration for us visitors’ enjoyment. We offered a standing ovation for the incredible piece we were enjoying. The second number performed for all those present was Teasel’s Dream; you should have been there.
We’ve passed through Cambria a number of times and, for some reason or other failed to ever visit this stretch of ocean. Maybe it was our enthusiasm to reach Big Sur or Monterey or the thought that had we headed down Moonstone Beach Drive; we would be in some wealthy enclave with views of the ocean thwarted by mansions along the shore. It turns out that the majority of the beach here is wide open, and about a mile of boardwalk above the cliffside offers everyone an easy path along the shore.
Icicle, you sickle, we all suckle for ice cycle! So that was goofy, but that’s what came to mind before I learned that these succulents are now called ice plants. When I was a kid growing up in Southern California, we called them icicle plants. Speaking about growing up and not being totally effective in that endeavor, when I learned the Latin name of this plant, I chuckled. It’s Delosperma, and yeah, there’s a part of me that’s that childish.
And no, I didn’t post this photo to indulge my inner idiot. Caroline loves the green-to-red transitions on these beautiful plants that populate so much of the California Coast, and so it’s here to bring us back.
Finally, she took off her shoes to walk along the ocean, and after about 30 feet of nice soft sand, we were walking on gravel that wasn’t as nice or as soft, but she was committed and endured a million ticklish and moments of painful pebbles that made up this section of beach.
Indulge me with my broken record, but once again, I have to wonder out loud: why are two of only a few people out in this spectacular landscape? By midday, I’ll struggle to take photos of the environment without people obscuring the view, but right now, we are essentially alone on a beach in Cambria.
The Monterey cypress tree is named as such as it’s native to the area between Carmel and the Monterey Bay of the California Central Coast. These trees down here and farther south in the San Luis Obispo area are transplants and help control soil erosion. They are well suited to high winds, but the number one reason, in my view, that they are here is found in their aesthetic value.
Can you sense my grabbing at more images than I should be posting? I often wonder how many will be enough when, some years down the road we no longer live near enough the places we currently love to visit. Or maybe our state of health precludes us from ever returning. And so I’ll continue pushing up what will hopefully be an adequate number to bring smiles to our old faces about those days we stood here holding hands, pinching ourselves at how lucky we were to be somewhere so beautiful.
Dear humanity, please continue your obsession with watching and listening to streaming life instead of being out here polluting the outside world with your inanity. Instagram is your friend, your mentor, and your god. You, as an average mortal, only require your drive-thru Taco Bell and more stickers from your favorite coffee shops. Experience is well over-rated. Can you sense the loneliness of visiting such a forsaken place without others to affirm how amazing you are to yourself?
Continued from above. The water leaps out of the ocean due to boredom, as there are no otters, dolphins, whales, penguins, giant sea turtles, or polar bears that might otherwise make this place cute. Nobody of any particular note ever comes here to showcase anything of value. Bands don’t play out here, there are no Buffalo Wild Wings for over 100 miles in any direction, and you’ll notice we don’t shoot selfies out here as it’s embarrassing to have fallen into such a void. So, in closing, you will serve the rest of humanity well by telling others to veer away from the California Central Coast. Thank you to the victims of being tricked into visiting this area.
We now return to our regularly scheduled program already in progress.
Pink, white, and yellow flowers framing a wooden boardwalk with a blue sky and the sea in the distance are part of a well-balanced diet that feeds the soul and staves off premature old age. Holistic dietary requirements depend on age, physical activity level, and happiness goals. Only consume under the supervision of love and know your limits.
Why, oh why, have I given myself such a steep ladder to climb so close to the end of this vacation? Worse still, I’m writing this five days after we were here, and I’ve already shared so many impressions on the previous posts that I feel that I’m not really adding anything new other than the sights of what we saw.
Finally, we are about to transition to something else…
…but not all that far away. We are across the street from the boardwalk for some lunch at the Moonstone Beach Bar & Grill. Should you consider visiting, please heed our warning; it is not cheap here along the coast. As a matter of fact, it’s downright expensive. Our room a few doors down from here was $191.25 a night, and a lunch of 1 beer and iced tea, calamari appetizer, three oysters on the half shell, an avocado bacon cheeseburger, fries (they are separate), a vegetarian sandwich, and a dessert of a scoop of vanilla ice cream topped off with hot berry compote came in at a hair over $100 including tip. Now add about $35 for breakfast and $150 for dinner, and without any shopping or other drinks/snacks the price of a day out here is quickly surpassing $500.
I’m reminded of the days when we avoided these pricey enclaves and instead headed to Seaside north of Monterey to find the cheapest motel we could (we did that here in Cambria for this stay, too), and we’d kind of choke on the idea of paying $79.95 not including tax for the night. Nature’s Valley Oats ‘n Honey granola bars were our breakfast, turkey sandwiches made from ingredients in an ice chest and backseat were our lunch, and just as often our dinner, too. But when we got tired of the cold meals, we splurged and hit Burger King.
After lunch, we headed into the quaint old shopping area around Cambria’s Main Street, off Highway 1. After driving by those other years, it was time to check out just what is here. Of course, the coolest things we found exceed our comfort zone of what we are willing to spend on such treasures, but these redwood objects pushed a few buttons. (Never mind that we have no space in our apartment for any of these things.) Lucky for us, you can only shop here by appointment, and we had to satisfy our curiosity by looking through the windows.
This is the Squibb House Bed & Breakfast, and while not across the street from the ocean, it is in the wonderful Main Street area at a fairly reasonable price of between $195 and $225 a night.
This was an essential stop in town and our second time here at the Ball & Skein yarn store. Caroline lost a needle required to knit my socks, so why not buy more needles and other stuff while we’re here, supporting the local economy?
Then it was back over to Lily’s Coffee House for a second time today, taking a coffee break to knit and spin yarns. Caroline is doing the knitting while I’m responsible for the stories. Part of the winding down is not wandering more than two miles away from our motel. There’s no special meaning behind this total slowdown other than maximizing relative laziness.
It’s a cool 64 degrees (18 Celsius) with a calm breeze under clear blue skies. Other than it being perfect out here, there’s not a lot to report. But I do have a lot left to write about yesterday, so I’m turning my attention to that page.
After some temporary leisure-induced writer’s block, I was able to open the spigot of words and sat for nearly two hours with my cold coffee, which had been boiling hot, to hammer out another thousand or so words, thus completing the tale that was yesterday’s adventure.
On our way to the other side of town that we were supposed to explore too, I caught sight of this object out of the corner of my eye and had to make a quick U-turn to verify that I had seen what I thought I had. Wow, this is the Fresnel lens from the Piedras Blancas Lighthouse (now Light Station) that we had walked out to yesterday. I had bet Caroline when we were out there that I believed there had been a lighthouse atop the tower in the past, but she was disbelieving. I was right.
We didn’t make it to the other side of the shopping area as it was getting late, and we were wanting to walk the other half of the boardwalk we hadn’t explored yet. So we’ll postpone the remaining window shopping and browsing in that part of town to a subsequent visit. I’m hoping it is obvious to most people that you are looking at a closeup of the Fresnel lens.
This is where we would spend the next two hours as we walked into the sunset on our last full day on the coast. It also turns out to have been a photo I stared at for two hours as I tried to kick-start what I wanted to write for the remainder of this blog post. I’m sitting in a coffee shop four days after our return from this adventure and my difficulties are being compounded by the fact that it’s also the fourth day of a fast, so the thinking circuits move with the speed of cold molasses.
From above, so below. In the previous photo, we were just above this cliff that can be seen left of center, but Caroline wanted to walk along the water’s edge instead of on the boardwalk, so we headed down. It turned out that we were already at the end of the boardwalk anyway.
This recurrent theme of me focusing on the low sun to set my exposure in order to shoot something in silhouette is an old favorite of mine. It also helps in yanking down the reflective brilliance of blinding white light coming off the ocean, creating a warm ambiance that makes the already molten sea appear even more metallic. The sense of the late day also feels amplified, and to me, this type of image is a kind of exclamation point signaling that we’ve reached that perfect moment in the golden hour.
We are at Moonstone Beach, and while these rocks look a bit like Swiss cheese that might come from the moon, these are not what the beach is named for. Little white speckled gem-looking rocks are scattered across the stretch of beach here in Cambria.
These are happy people wearing the faces of gratitude for all that we get to do and for the privilege of being with each other to share these experiences.
This is sad kelp on its way to desiccation as it has been dislodged from its grip on the ocean floor for this journey onto land. While we can appreciate our encounter with the still fresh, fly-free, and shiny sea plant, I can only imagine the turmoil it must be suffering as it realizes it has no ability to bring itself back to its watery home.
On the other hand, there’s this beautiful creature already well versed in navigating the land who I’m fairly certain will bring herself back to the car where I’ll be able to return her to our desiccated desert-dwelling hundreds of miles from here that we call home.
But hey, isn’t home where the heart is? If it is, that’s Caroline sitting out on the bench while I soar overhead, trying to poop on her.
Yeah, I had to go there on that last bit of writing just so after Caroline reads it while proofreading the entry, I can hear her over at her desk ask me, “Really? You seriously wrote that you see yourself pooping on me?” You can rest assured I will laugh my ass off, and then years down the road, after this is long forgotten, we’ll both laugh at the folly of youth…even though we are already approaching old age.
And with that, the sun set and we peeled away from the golden ocean as we finished winding down another amazing vacation.
