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'We like your T-shirt', says the woman at the campsite. I look at my T-shirt and see that I wear the one I bought at the Mendel Museum in Brno (Czech Republic). 'Mendel's Hereditary Pea Soup' is written on it.
'Do you know Gregor Mendel?', I ask hopefully.
'We are fond on peasoup', says her husband.
'Mendel was that monk who lived in the 19th century in Brno', I say (still hopefully). 'He did those very important experiments with green peas. He found our laws on hereditary.' I look at them to see if they remember the story.
'In California we also make nice peasoup', says the woman again. 'We have a company here nearby. It is called "Alessandro(???)". We will show you on the map where it is. You can easily visit it from here. As a peasoup lover you definitely have to do it.'
While I look at the map, I regret I put my Mendel T-shirt on today. Maybe it was better not to wear any T-shirt at all. It is so hot here in Death Valley, that even Linda, who is always complaining about the cold, sits in the shadow of a
tree. Next day we leave at 6 in the morning, because we are afraid the motor will get overheated now we have to climb from the lowest point in the USA to one of the highest. We like to see the 5000 years old Bristle Cone Pines, the oldest trees in the world, at the eastside of the Sierra Nevada, about 3000 meter high. But once we are there we see that the road is closed, because there is 1 meter snow up there. Disappointed we drive all the way back again and head to Sequoia National Park to find out that our motorhome is too big for the road uphill to the park. It takes us several hours to hit another road, which leads to the Park. Once in the park we find out that all campgrounds are closed. Finally, when it is allready dark, we put our motorhome on the parkinglot of the Visitor's Center.
'When I entered this sublime wilderness the day was nearly done, the trees with rosy, glowing countenances seemed to be husked and thoughtful, as if waiting in conscious religious dependence on the sun, and one naturally walked softly and awestricken among them',
writes naturalist John Muir, who explored the Giant Forest and found the 2200 years old General Sherman, the biggest Sequoia. Why these trees can become that high?, we ask ourselves. 'It is because of a rapid growth and because they hardly die' we read on the information boards. They can withstand fire and also insects with their high contents of tannine. When we look around we see that all pines but the Sequoia's are overgrown by lichens. And how remarkable it is that just such a gigantic trees have such a little cones. We had expected huge ones.
Now we are in California we would like to see the Andreas vault. The best chance to get a glimpse of it is around the Carrizo Plain, southwest of the Temblor Range, we find out. It is far of the beaten track. When we pass the Temblor Range we are afraid to run out of gas. There is nothing here, so also no gasstations. The sky is dark and rain and thunderstorms are looming. It must be in the flat plains at the other side of the mountains, but once we are there we see nothing what looks like a vault.
We ask some guy we meet along the road, if he knows where we can find the Andreasvault. 'Never heard of it', he says. A bit farther we bump into a company which is working on some construction along the road. Everyone is looking at us when we arrive. Apparently there has never been a tourist in this wildernis. 'I will ask it to my boss', says one of them. The boss wears a big helmet and safety glasses over his sunglasses. He has a yellow jacket and a walky talky.
'The Andreas vault?' Yes I know it. It is here. When the earthcrust breaks open here, we are all gone. But you cannot see it. It is not so pronounced. Only from an airplane you might see it. You came all the way from Holland to see it? What a pity!'
Disappointed we drive on. A few minutes later we see some ruptures in the earthsurface. They run all the way through the landscape. This must be the Andreasvault! We take some pictures and wonder why no one bought the vault and made a touristic attraction of it like they did with meteorcrater. Just in time we
find a gasstation at Santa Margarita.
From Santa Margarita it is not far to Morro Bay at Highway 1, the road which leads along the coast. It is a beautiful road with at one side the mountains full of flowers (like the orange California poppy) and at the other side the Pacific Ocean. We drop our motorhome at the Fernwood Resort Campground amidst the Redwoods along the Big Sur River. The sequoia's here (Sequioa sempervirens) are approximately 2000 years old and even higher than the sequoia's in the Sequia NP (Sequoia gigantea), though less massive. The cones are even smaller. While we are sitting along the river we see beautiful birds. In the evening we make a campfire and Linda prepares a delicious Slovakian barbecue together with an excellent Californian red wine (Merlot, Paso Robblers 2005). It is one of our best moments in the USA.
We drive further northwards along highway 1 and than eastbound over highway 92, pass the enormous San Mateo - Hayward Bridge over the San Francisco bay. In San Leandro we deliver our motorhome. We have driven about 6000 km.
The last days in the USA we spend in San Francisco (in
the excellent Adelaide hostel). We like San Francisco, as we like New York. Maybe it is because of the tolerant atmosphere we feel. But unlike the dynamics of New York San Francisco is leisurous. You can hear it in the music they produce. The East Coast Jazz is full of tension, while the West Coast Jazz is easygoing. We like the food (so much better than in the rest of the USA), the chowders, the cablecar, the boulevard along the coast from where you can see Al Capone's Alcatraz, the sealions at Fisherman's warf, we even see some prehistoric hippies. Linda shows a weird interest in the slopes in the town and takes hundreds of pictures of them. She even makes a study how the cars are parked on these slopes.
When we leave the USA at the San Francisco Airport we are witnesses of a drama at the counter of our aircompany. People have to check in via the computer. If they do not succeed they can ask for help at the people behind the counter. Lots of people do not succeed, but the people behind the counter are not able to help. We see people shouting, crying,
missing their flights. Also we need assistence. It took us one hour and a half to find someone. Just in time for our flight to Vancouver (Canada). Is this America?
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Gré rn Ruud
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Groetjes uit Nederland
Hallo Andre en Linda, jullie hebben al weer veel gezien en ook weer mooie foto's gemaakt. Leuk dat we weer kunnen meegenieten van jullie belevenissen. Veel reisplezier verder.