Motorhome News from North America 6

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Motorhome News from North America 6

Wonderful Yosemite!
Moss Landing, Monterey, Pebble Beach, Pacific Grove, Carmel, Laguna Seca and Hearst Castle

From summer to winter to spring - all in March.
March 7th - 16th 2006

How are you guys doin’ today?

We have heard it so many times, from so many people, ‘If you only visit one place in California, it has to be Yosemite’. There is no escaping Yosemite National Park. It offers 1,200 square miles of spectacular natural landscape to explore and savour, though it’s not all accessible in winter; the higher passes are closed until late spring when the thaw brings water gushing forth from streams and falls. Earlier lessons of snowy conditions learned, we chose a ‘Kampgrounds of America’ (KOA) campsite outside the park and took the morning bus along the steadily rising 40 miles of the Merced River valley, a classic high-sided valley in the form of a sharp V, with steep hills of rock-strewn grass and delicate canyon live oak, silver grey in the mist of early morning. Tourists congregate in the wide valley at the top of the pass where hotels and tour busses disgorge their flock to wander amongst the stately trees, Ponderosa pine with its alligator bark, cedar, and California black oak, following the river along the valley floor between the vast vertical granite walls that line the canyon on both sides. These are no ordinary granite walls. Snow capped ‘Cathedral Rocks’ rise high above the meadow, ‘Half Dome’ dominates the skyline to the east…. as does ‘El Capitan’ to the west, its 3,000ft sheer cliff-face topping out at 7,569ft - a world renowned challenge for rock climbers, taking up to four days to complete. We have to move on if we’re to get to New England by the fall, so that’s out for us on this trip.

The National Park has its equal perhaps in Lauterbrunen in the Swiss Alps, but here, the stately sequoias point ever upwards piercing the sky, adding a further dimension to the splendour of this wondrous mountainous place. And we were fortunate indeed to capture it in snow. Yes, it snowed, and it snowed,….and it snowed; large flakes the size of half-crowns (you do remember those, don’t you?), but we walked and trudged for several hours along well-worn slushy tracks through the forest, determined to get the most - and the best from our visit whatever the weather; it might be our only chance. It was indeed spectacular. We returned to the campsite as the last light of an overcast day faded, rather wet and somewhat dejected that we had been robbed of our opportunity to fully enjoy the true spectacle of Yosemite in vivid sunlight, but none-the-less satisfied. Our evening review of the day left us with the decision to move on next day if the weather had not improved.

At six-thirty the following morning there were signs of sunshine through the blinds and we decided to stay another day. That’s one of many advantages of our mode of travel. What we don’t do today, we can (hopefully) do tomorrow! Showered, fed, boots fully laced and backpacks filled with goodies, we caught the early bus for another chance to see more of the park. Steam-clouds were rising on the east facing slopes of the valley in the morning sunlight, welcoming the new day like a fresh pot of English tea, and rocks glistened in the river beside the winding road as we took the long journey back. That hearty walk through virgin snow on a sunlit spring morning is one of the many treasured moments we shall remember awhile. Past Yosemite falls, the tallest in North America, thundering down from 2,425ft above the valley floor in a great shower of spray, along the river through great stands of pine, necks strained to view blue skies above the sun-blessed canyon walls, with snow drenched trees perched high on white capped mountains. There had been more snow overnight and as temperatures dropped the surface had become frozen and it crackled under our boots, breaking the surface to soft snow beneath with the feeling of walking on wedding cake. That’s spectacular with a capital Wow! Now, we can move on!

Black bears can be a problem in Yosemite. Notices throughout the park warn visitors to keep food out of sight and scent as bears will rip open car doors with their strong claws, smashing the frames and glass in their search for titbits. We’re OK; Todd stands guard over us day and night.
When John Steinbeck travelled America in his motorhome with his dog, named Charlie, (“Travels with Charlie”) he made a point of visiting a different church each Sunday. I’m sure that wasn’t too difficult even then. There are 17 Churches in nearby Mariposa, (population perhaps a few thousand); Assembly of God, Cathy’s Valley Baptist, Church of Christ, First Baptist, Grace Community Church, Hillside Baptist, Little church in the Hills, Lutheran, Revival Centre (Charismatic), Midpines Bible, New Beginnings (Foursquare), New Life Christian Fellowship, Ponderosa Basin Chapel, St Andrews Episcopal, St Joseph’s Catholic, Seventh-Day Adventist and the United Methodist. I’m confused to say the least. Religion is extremely important here in the USA and the Church is well supported, but I just get the impression it’s all a bit commercial - and our perception of the all-American accent is that it’s hard sell. But religion is a strong part of the American culture - and along with the ever-present Stars and Stripes, they need to believe it. I read somewhere they choose their president from just two candidates - and Miss America from 50. That explains some of it.

California is trying hard to make us feel at home. After a day of snow and another of glorious sunshine, it rained the following day - time to be travelling, out towards the coast at Monterey, where we will be turning south for the next week. It took a few hours for us to reach the Pacific Ocean, passing over the Diablo Range of high rolling hills to the east of San Francisco, clothed in green, green grass dotted with sparkling trees; a picture of Cumberland to delight William Wordsworth and walking country fit for Wainwright to wear out his best walking boots.

Just to throw those of you who follow our route on the map, our journey will take us south of San Francisco down the coast on Highway 1 as far as Hearst Castle, where we’ll about turn and head back to the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s a bit of coast that shouldn’t be missed, we’re told - and we don’t plan to miss it. Our first sighting of the Pacific was at Moss Landing just north of Monterey, a very ‘English’ boating and antiques resort of nicely matured timbered dwellings in soft pastel shades. We climbed over the sand dunes amongst wild dusty blue ceanothus, and oxalis, bright yellow in the mellow sunshine. Despite another night of heavy rain, the morning was warm enough for surfers to be out, barefoot and bare backed, riding the breakers.
Flocks of tiny snowy plovers darted along the golden beach, marbled godwits rushed in-and-out with the tide and a pair of northern harriers coursed low over the grassy slopes. Across the spit a group of fifty sea otters lazed on their backs in the water, warming their tummies in the sunshine whilst breakfasting on juicy local clams. News of this social gathering hit the local TV headlines we’re told. There were sea lions and harbour seals in the bay at Monterey that afternoon and lots of sea birds - but I’ll leave Janice to tell you about those.

What did you see on the way to work today?


There’s a rather fine Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey, a sort of Skegness on a short pier, with timbered gift shops and Italian restaurants, Mexican fast-food and Japanese sushi parlours and, of course, the English Pub's not too far away. ‘The London Bridge’ had Union Jack tablecloths and a red phone box - and ‘The Mucky Duck’ was decked out in shamrock ready for St Patrick’s Day on the 17th. Away from the bay, smart shops and many lovely buildings line the downtown area of this rather pleasant resort. A visit to Safeway for our daily bread surprised us with its cosmopolitan offerings from around Europe and we found the Lewis and Moore English Shop, selling Yorkshire Tea, Marmite, Ovaltine, gravy granules (chicken and beef now in our larder along with one bar of Fry’s Peppermint Cream which won’t last long), Ironstone china, Caley’s Chocolate, Quality Street and Terry’s Chocolate Oranges. Now, why don’t we have shops in the UK selling hash-browns, Hershey Bars, peanut butter-cups, jerky and Oreo cookies?

The Spanish gave up this part of Mexico to California in 1846, just three years before the Gold Rush. Big mistake! There is still much to remind us of the Mexican heritage in Monterey: the adobe buildings, signs in Spanish and a large Mexican population. It had not previously occurred to me that the ‘Monterey, in Old Mexico’ in the song was this one.
Robert Louis Stevenson found inspiration for Treasure Island along the Monterey coast and John Steinbeck’s novel, ‘Cannery Row’, was based on the lives of the people of Monterey and the canning factories. It is said that the Sicilians founded America’s sardine industry at Cannery Row, Monterey, and the Italians have also left their mark on the town. Sardines have long since vanished from these shores but it’s strange isn’t it; before cans, sardines came from the sea. Steinbeck’s ‘East of Eden’ also evolved a short way inland from the bay, on the fertile lands of Salinas Valley, where ripe strawberries are ready for eating in March and the signature crop of the area, the earthy artichoke, flourishes. (Norma Jean was crowned the first ‘Artichoke Queen’ here in the 1940’s before her days in Hollywood as Marilyn Monroe) Monterey County is vegetable country from head to toe; in addition to artichokes they grow copious quantities of broccoli, sprouts, carrots, celery, fennel and lettuce and some 40,000 acres of vineyards produce fine Californian wines.

If you wanted to play golf at Pebble Beach, you would want to do it on a warm spring day with wispy white clouds hanging out to dry in a Pacific blue sky, wouldn’t you? Well, so it was for us. Yes, we wanted to play golf at Pebble beach, but at $425 a round (each - plus cart and caddy), we thought we could find better ways to spend our money. But the sun did shine for us, the fluffy clouds swept across the blue skies and white stallions line-danced on the waves along the rocky shore. The 17mile drive through the private estate of Pebble Beach and Del Monte Forest is subject to an $8.75 entrance fee for each car, but it’s worth every cent. There are eight superb golf courses along the route set amongst the forest and along the beach, some exceptional houses, (going for $1m-15m in an agent’s window) and a magnificent rocky shoreline. If you’re looking for somewhere to retire, you might consider lovely Pacific Grove along the road a bit. Janice really fell in love with the pastel houses and the cultural ambiance.

I have always been intrigued by migration; terns that circumnavigate the world, English cuckoos that winter in Africa without parental guidance, wildebeast that cross the East African Plains each year - and monarch butterflies that fly the length of the USA to reach the same spot, two or more generations down the line. The butterflies winter along the coast here and we set off early one morning to find them amongst the Eucalyptus trees in Pacific Grove. Various guidebooks suggest they leave for Canada in February or March as temperatures rise to around 55degrees. Just our luck, they left a week before we arrived this year; though diligent use of our binoculars revealed a grand total of two, one on the eucalyptus and one in the air, but other visitors were not so fortunate and left totally disappointed. There were a few more on the Pacific Grove Golf Course where we enjoyed 18 holes on a fine course beside the sea in the company of Tom, a local teacher (retired). Golfers amongst you will not be surprised to learn there were no birdies, though we did look a bit like drowned rats after an unexpected downpour on the seventh.

If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll remember we were heading south along the coastline of Monterey County and a must see along the bay is the little town of Carmel, all dressed up like a Cotswold village by the sea, with a few mock-Tudor houses thrown in for good measure. Sounds expensive, doesn’t it? Yep, it sure is. You’d need three arms and three legs to live here, and another of each to spare if you want to shop in town. Beautiful shops with spectacular window displays line the grid of shady streets with clipped box hedges, Monterey cypress trees and flowering shrubs adorning every corner. The opulent shops and sidewalks sag with wonderful art, fabulous clothes you would hide from the sun in your wardrobe, watches and jewellery to keep in the safe, and fine furniture you wouldn't want your favourite corgi to sit on. There are three pet boutiques, thirty-two art shops, sixteen clothes shops, eleven jewellers and forty-one fine restaurants. If you could afford to live here you’d be in good company of course; Jack London, Henry Miller and poet Robinson Jeffers all lived here and Clint Eastwood was Mayor a few years back you might remember. There’s no sign of a soggy cigar shop or a rustler anywhere in town. We camped overlooking the Mazda Raceway at Laguna Seca that night, before heading south to take a peek at William Randolf Hearst’s monumental home, Hearst Castle as it’s known today.

California’s Highway 1 hugs the rugged coast where the rolling green hills of the Santa Lucia Range drop dramatically into the surf and the snaking road rivals that of Italy’s dramatic Amalfi Coast, hanging on to the cliff-side above the surging sea. There were migrating grey whales blowing out at sea, heading north to their summer feeding grounds and elephant seals lazing on the beach admiring the tourists.

Constructed between 1922 and 1947, Hearst Castle resembles an outsize Portmerion with reinforced concrete walls to sustain potential earthquake threats. Hearst ostensibly built the property on the family ranch to house his vast collection of antiques and art, but it’s quite clear that it eventually became sheer self-indulgence. Today, it is run by California State Parks and sold by the tour guides as, ‘The American Dream’, with art; and there is much of it, quite secondary. Antiques were brought from Europe, mostly Italy and Spain, to furnish the house, a whole coffered ceiling from a Spanish castle, doors, wall panels, paintings and marble statues, to fill 135 rooms and two extremely opulent swimming pools. It has to be seen to be believed; but if you’ve been to Las Vegas, you’ll get the idea, though most of Mr Hearst’s bits of old Europe are real.

We’ll be passing by San Francisco in the next day or two, going north with the Monarchs and Grey Whales, following the path of the snow geese and cranes as spring breaks out its cloak of green to tempt us into the wilderness. It’s the time when a young man’s fancy turns to other things of course and our 6am call today was the sound of a huge male wild-turkey, blowing himself up like a puff-ball and displaying his grand tail to his mate outside our front window.

Dreaming of spring in England, but loving it here,

David & Janice- the grey-haired nomads.

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Photos

Yosemite
Merced Valley towards Half Dome

Yosemite
El Capitan

In Monterey
English pub

In Monterey
Cannery Row

Pebble Beach Golf Club
They even let us inside

Shopping in Carmel
Hang on to your credit card

More shopping in Carmel
Quaintly English Shoppe

Elephant seal
Here's lookin' at yer, kid!

Swimming pool at Hearst Castle
Now ain't that sumthin!

Hearst Castle
In the Californian rain

Wild turkey
Outside our front door