On the happenstance and advice of West of the West we were off to hit the coast. That necessitated a twisty mountain drive up through sun-dappled towering redwoods, and down again through darkly wooded caverns to the sand-cliffs along the shore. For some reason it always amuses me to see big agricultural equipment parked along dusty farm roads, roads that lead to a 50-foot cliff with an ocean at the bottom.
That land you see is all worked to the ocean’s edge, planted with everythign from ‘chokes to ‘sprouts to cabbages.
Out past Pillar Point the waves were braking big in the area where Maverick’s goes off, and the large shore-rocks were evident in the bright sun from a good distance.
Never noticed that before…
The green of the golf-course at The Ritz contrasted vividly with the sand and cliffs and the 70-degree weather. It made the local craziness seem almost worthwhile – to sit in contentment looking across the vast ocean.
At the parking valet every third person didn’t speak English and tall gangly super-models vaulted from Ferrari’s and other exotic vehicles. I guess the Europeans who still have a Euro or two parked in offshore accounts like to vacation here.
We had a nosh of chowder and a round of drinks that cost a friggin’ unbelievably obscene amount of money but tasted so good.
Probably not going back anytime soon — but for some reason (maybe this one?) we haven’t been to the coast in a while, even though it’s just a short drive – oh well…
Drove up the coast to The Miramar, and the chowder-house was jam-packed with people. They had expanded their service to include the side-yard and the tables were full. People were everywhere, walking up and down the road crowding the beach, throwing sticks to dogs splashing in the calm Pacific water. Cars were parked everywhere, and at odd and inappropriate locations, it just made a huge traffic jam. We drove for home to escape the crowd.