Monterey

The main reason for spending two nights in Monterey was to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium, which is widely billed as one of the best in America. I don't know who is responsible for cultivating that general opinion, but they've obviously never been to AQWA (Underwater World). It didn't help that we were there on Veteran's Day, the 11 November public holiday, along with every school-aged child from the area.

Jellyfish

Sardines

The Sea Otters were easily the (only?) highlight, and unlike anything we've ever seen before. These marine mammals were nearly hunted to extinction for their thick fur - there are only a few thousand remaining off the Californian coast today, all of which are descended from a single colony of fifty discovered near Big Sur in 1938.

Sea Otter

Sea Otters

The most exciting thing that happened in Monterey was Daniel nearly getting eaten by a raccoon after dinner. We were walking back to our Motel along a footpath next to some trees. I, being closest to the trees, spotted the creature and announced "look, there's a raccoon just there." Daniel's reaction mirrored the way my mother reacts when she comes across a snake. He jumped, screamed, grabbed my hand and tried to pull me into the middle of the road. Perhaps he thought the oncoming traffic posed less of a threat than the terrified raccoon, which had now retreated further into the tree and was trembling as it watched Daniel flailing his arms in panic. Poor little thing. The Raccoon, that is, not Daniel.

Mendocino to Monterey

I woke up in a world of pain this morning - as soon as I tried to roll over my back seared and snapped me out of that groggy moment in which you're not yet awake. Daniel just smiled smugly and said I'm not the cowgirl I thought I was. Luckily, all I had to do for the day was sit in the car for near on eight hours and gaze upon more coastal scenery.

Part of California State Route 1

At one point mid-afternoon, after I'd been typing and not concentrating on the road, I looked up and realised we were many miles inland and no longer on the 1. I'm a little incredulous at dear Daniel's lack of a sense of direction - he can't even manage to stay on the one road, the 1, the one we're taking in the one direction for hundreds and hundreds of miles! It's lucky I'm somewhat fond of him... He had no idea where he'd left the 1, but it ended up being a relatively scenic detour through farmland and past lots of cows (I love cows).

Later than planned, when the light was already beginning to fade, we caught our first glimpses of the Bay Area. We were to pass through San Fransisco before returning some ten days later after returning our hire car - it's simply too expensive to park.

The Bay Area

We did, however, get to drive over the famous Golden Gate Bridge. It really is the most beautiful colour, but our camera (or the person wielding it) didn't capture the light very well.

Driving across the Golden Gate

From the outskirts of San Francisco the road was flatter and wider, which we appreciated as we lost the sun not long after passing over the Golden Gate. We made it to Monterey a couple of hours after dark, which meant we got to appreciate the sunset along the way.

Lighthouse

Horsing Around

This post is dedicated to Gretchen, Ben, Claire and Doug, whose extremely generous wedding gifts made this awesome day possible - thank you so much!

Didjeridoos aside, we stayed in Mendocino because it was close to Fort Bragg, where Ricochet Ridge Ranch is situated. We'd looked at going horse riding in a few different places, but this particular ranch seemed to have an excellent reputation so we booked a private, four-hour trail ride that would take us through the forest and along the beach.

Before I rang to book I asked Daniel if he had any riding experience - I had to let the ranch know so they could pair us with suitable horses. The conversation went as follows:

"Not really, but I'm fine - horses don't scare me," he said.
"Have you been on one before?"
"I think I went on a pony ride as a kid. No problems."
"Right."

Needless to say, when we got there and they brought out Cloud, a rather large white mare, he turned a vivid shade of green and all the bravado of the earlier conversation disappeared. I was to ride the feisty Voltaire. He's fifteen or so now but didn't come to the ranch until he was five and at that point had not been gelded (chopped). According to our guide, this meant he'd had plenty of time to learn and retain typical male behaviours (sulkiness, unnecessary aggression, showing off, general disobedience etc). It took me a while to stop being too timid and actually take control of him - Daniel was/is much easier to break.

Voltaire

The ride began up in the forested mountains (or very large hills), from where we could see down to the beach and along the coast for miles. We rode through the redwoods before heading back down past the ranch and onto the beach. From there we could see colonies of seals sunbathing on the rocks offshore, and there were at least two whales playing beyond them.

For the most part we walked, but we had a few good trots - once Danny worked out how to post he was brilliant. I was lucky enough to get in a small (involuntary) canter when Cloud managed to get in front of Voltaire and Voltaire was not having any of it. I may not have looked particularly graceful, but I managed to stay on. To be honest, I would have loved a deliberate canter, but we had to stay at Daniel's pace...

By the end of our ride Daniel was feeling much more comfortable, but I have no doubt he was pleased to get his feet back on the ground. He prefers the company of smaller, more cuddly animals.

Like the cat that got the cream

Hopefully there will be more (significantly better) photos to come, as we were accompanied by equine photographer Shawn Hamilton. She was researching, photographing and writing an article for Trail Magazine, and she has very kindly said she will send us some of the photos she took.

Killer Cali

We crossed the border into California not long after leaving Gold Beach, OR. It's not somewhere that I'd been particularly excited about visiting - I guess I assumed it would feel too much like Perth, too beachy, too familiar. But when we drove past the 'Welcome to California' sign it was a momentous moment - we had entered one of the most ubiquitous places in the world, and our stereo was blasting Californication by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Today we would transfer from the 101 to the start of California State Route 1, the parts of which are known as the Shoreline Highway, Cabrillo Highway and, most famously, the Pacific Coast Highway. We would travel down it until we reached Los Angeles.

The 1 begins just outside of a small town called Leggett. There we drove into a tree. Then we drove out the other side. I think I've already mentioned just how many things in America are drive-through - apparently trees are among them.

The Chandelier Tree

I'd love to show you a more complete photo, but it took me five frames to get from the bottom of the tree to the top. This Giant Sequoia (also known as California Redwood) is 315ft (96m) high, has a diameter of 21ft (6.4m) and is up to 2400 years old. Wow. We drove through a few Redwood forests down the coast - these magnificent trees make you feel so small and insignificant, especially in their abundance.

To get to the coast from Leggett the 1 took us through Redwood-covered mountains and the road seemed perilously high and winding. It was a good thing Daniel couldn't see through the trees - I could, and it didn't help that I was on the outer edge of the road. No photos from that section, for I was hanging on for dear life. It was nice to finally hit the coast again, although it wasn't a much easier drive thereafter. Our first impression of the 1 was that it's hard work. The scenery is spectacular, but it's tough driving - small, winding roads, steep gradients and hairpin turns.

Also in abundance along the coast is visible marine life. It was a still, clear day and we kept spotting water spurts out in the ocean. They were, of course, whales. Apparently they migrate up and down the coastline, mainly humpbacks and blues at this time of year. We stopped to watch one for a bit - oh how I wish we had a monster telephoto lens. Alas, ours had to do.

Whale

We'd booked accmodation in a small coastal town called Mendocino. Only 900 people live there, but it's on a headland and such a beautiful spot. It was founded in 1850 and many of the town's buildings are Victorian. It's a popular spot for weekending from the Bay Area, and it also felt like a hippie wonderland. We stayed here:

It's called the Didjeridoo Dreamtime Inn and Meditation Center. I didn't just make that up, but now you understand why we had to stay there. It's run by Charles, his wife Mary and his business partner Miranda. They're lovely, interesting people. Charles makes didjeridoos and Miranda plays them, very well - she played for us over a home-cooked, organic breakfast one morning. I didn't have the heart to point out to her that in Aboriginal culture women don't touch, let alone play, didjeridoos, as it's bad luck to do so and they supposedly make women infertile. We were upgraded upon arrival (no doubt for being Australian - that blew Charles's mind) and our room was gorgeous. Conversation over breakfast was great - we had a fascinating chat with Charles about the state of America, environmental issues and its healthcare system (or lack thereof). If you ever find yourself in Mendocino, I can't recommend it enough.

Onwards Through Oregon

We'd done Portland, the Historic Columbia River Highway, mountains and waterfalls. Time restrictions had left us unable to go inland to Hells Canyon, so only the Oregon coastline remained. Most of our travel in the Pacific Northwest had been on Highway 101, and we greeted it again like an old friend. It runs along most of the west coast of America but we only planned to take it as far as the start of Highway 1 in California, for as it goes south it becomes a busy commuter router. In Oregon, however, it hugs much of the coastline. And the coastline is worth hugging.

Our first stop was Lincoln City, a small coastal town which, back in 2000, developed one of the most innovative ways I've ever heard of to mark the new millennium. Seven miles of beaches make Lincoln City a popular place for beachcombers, especially during winter, after storms and very high tides. The prize finds have always been colourful Japanese blown-glass fishing floats, which have made their way across the Pacific. These are becoming increasingly rare as they're no longer used, even in Japan. So, Lincoln City decided that it would randomly scatter 2000 replica floats, hand-blown by local artists, along the beaches over the winter months. A few everyday (weather permitting), at different times and in different locations. The Float Festival has now become a tradition, with one extra float being added to the total each year. We scoured the beach but, alas, if there were floats around at the time they eluded us. We did, however, find a couple of harbour seals playing in the shallows.

We sat and watched them for a while - they were surfing the waves where a small river hit the water. Lincoln City also has an epic skate park. Really, Daniel looked like a kid in a candy store. This thing was so gnarly I was worried he was going to break an arm just by looking at it (or climbing all over it despite it being wet and thus slippery).

Luckily his limbs are all still intact, but he's talking about taking up skating again... We'd been planning to stay in a treehouse at a place called Treesort (no kidding), but we soon worked out we weren't going to make it before sunset - there was simply too much to see and do along the way. There was also a burning truck blocking the road - apparently American cars don't only catch fire in the movies.

We got a pretty good view and some awesome footage - should have sold it to a local news station. Slightly sad that we weren't going to be sleeping in a treehouse, we pulled up stumps at a place called Gold Beach, just north of the California border.

Highways and High Ways

Leaving Portland was easier than finding our way in. Getting from Portland to the Historic Columbia River Highway was then not supposed to be a problem. "It's easy," Daniel tells me. "We just take Exit 17 into Troutdale and follow the signs to the Highway." We take the said exit and he then proceeds to drive past all the said signs, in the wrong direction, even though I'm pointing them all out.

The Highway itself was extraordinary - it's an old road which winds alongside the river and takes you past multiple waterfalls. I was a bit waterfall-ed out by this point, to be honest, but these were pretty good. Unfortunately, being a Sunday, every other person in the area thought they were good. The best was the two-tiered Multnomah Falls, which has a total height of 189 meters. You can imagine the power with which the water falls, but the streams below are so still and clear that you can see the salmon just hanging out.

Multnomah Falls (upper tier)

Salmon

We took a detour off the Highway to visit Sherrard Viewpoint, from which you could supposedly see five mountains. Of course, we didn't consider that the lookout itself was probably in the mountains (Larch Mountain, to be exact). We may or may not have ignored the snow and ice signs on the way up, but with about four miles to go more and more white stuff began appearing around the road...

Snow...

Snowy...

Snowier...

Snowmageddon...

As the road became whiter so did our knuckles. In hindsight we probably shouldn't have been up there, but oh my god are we glad we were. It was a small hike from the car park to the viewpoint, and we were slipping all over the place in the ice and snow. We passed two people coming back down as well as a hiker who left as we arrived. Then it was just us and the trees, on top of the world.

Top of the world, or at least the 4056 feet below it...

As far as the eye could see...

Nothing moved other than the odd branch shaking off a snowy burden and readjusting itself. The resulting rustle was the only sound. When still and quiet the atmosphere was so palpable it was as if you could hear the mist, smell the snow and view the silence. We could see Mounts St. Helens, Rainier and Adams. Unfortunately, Jefferson and Hood, in the other direction, were obscured by cloud. We finished our travels for the day by driving the Mount Hood scenic route, but the cloud never lifted and we didn't actually see the mountain. Another time.

Things We Wish We'd Never Eaten #2: Paseo

Paseo is a Seattle institution. Daniel apparently came across this little Carribean eatery on the internet and wouldn't have looked twice (ok, thrice) except for that it has more than 1500 reviews and a 4.5 star rating on Yelp. It's not in Seattle proper but a suburb called Fremont, which has a reputation as a sort of artist's enclave (much like Fremantle). It didn't look like we were going to get there (see previous posts about our mood in Seattle) as it was our last night, late, dark and raining. But, feeling adventurous (and hungry), we somehow managed to get on a bus that took us in the right direction but dropped us off ten blocks early. We walked up a dark, deserted hill in the rain and amazingly found this place. It was tiny and absolutely packed. We both ordered their most popular sandwich - the Cuban Roast. This concoction of marinated, slow-roasted, pulled pork shoulder with lettuce, caramelised onions and mayo was life changing, and I don't usually like this sort of stuff.

It was even better than it looks. By the time we'd finished it was 2100 and there were no buses in sight, so we walked back down the hill and in the direction of the Fremont Troll, which lives under the Aurora Bridge (it's a giant statue). Somehow, subconsciously, we decided it would be a good idea to walk across the 898 meter-long bridge, into the nothingness on the other side, to try and flag a taxi. No luck, but a bus arrived and took us pretty much straight back to our hostel. One delicious adventure.