Monterey: Pebble Beach & Del Monte Forest

Highway 1 between Santa Cruz and Carmel is dotted with side-open trucks and small shacks selling fresh produce. I see an artichoke stand; I want to stop and buy some, but we can’t get any fresh produce home. But it’s all about eating locally, isn’t it? “Getting it home” defeats the purpose.

We stop at Old Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey to stretch our legs. We walk halfway down the wooden pier and watch the kids play in the water below.

Happy to contribute to California’s economy, we opt to pay the $9.25 to take the 17-mile Pebble Beach. That is the only toll we pay the entire trip and I think about how much more it costs to drive down the East Coast’s lovely I-95. There really is no East Coast comparison to California’s scenic coastal drive.

Continuing on, we drive through the Del Monte forest. I’m not sure who we should be looking for, The Keebler Elves or the Jolly Green Giant? The name “Del Monte” is carved so deeply into our brains as commercial products, I can’t think of trees, only canned corn and green beans.

I follow the “Points of Interest” map we receive at the toll booth like a treasure map. We stop at several of the recommended vistas: Huckleberry Hill, Point Joe and China Rock. We cannot see the harbor seals because it is pupping season, April 1 to June 1. Temporary opaque fencing guards their privacy. This is the first of many closures we encounter on our trip.

Closures become an ongoing inside joke on our trip. If it’s Monday, then whatever I’ve planned is closed Mondays. If it’s Tuesday, our destination is closed Tuesdays, and so on.

California Hwy 1: Santa Cruz

This morning, we pick up a rental PT Cruiser from downtown San Francisco and point it south toward Highway 1, beginning our drive down the coast to Los Angeles. The view is indescribable. I can’t capture its beauty on camera, nor do words do justice to it either. Only hackneyed phrases come to mind: “rugged coastline”, “craggy black rocks”. Ocean waves beat against the rocks; the spray creates a liquid fan. The California coastline must be experienced.

Just sixty miles down the coast, is crunchy Santa Cruz, on the northern edge of Monterey Bay. Santa Cruz, a hip haven with a well-scrubbed downtown, invites us in for lunch. The shopping village exudes sanitized bohemian quaintness.

The prices in the local parking garage are quaint too. At first, the sign “No $20 Bills” seems odd, but when our parking tab is $1.50, we understand.

We have lunch alfresco at Chocolate. After salmon sandwiches, Gene and I split a slice of Chocolate Ecstasy Cake and if you consider thick fudgy chocolate ecstasy, then this cake makes the grade.

We return to Highway 1, passing strawberry farms, lettuce fields and bent-back workers. We pass a paintball headquarters and a rickety military supply shop.

In Monterey County, we encounter dust clouds from tractors. Moss Landing State Beach looks a little swampy. We are surprised to see a monstrous power plant looming ahead of us across from the Moss Landing Marina. It reminds me of the monstrosities in New Jersey. I find it comical that a section of the highway is sponsored by Stardock Document Shredders.