You are currently browsing the daily archive for May 31, 2009.
After four fun-filled days in SoCal, we started our journey up to San Fran. We blasted on through Santa Barbara (with a short stop to check out the mission) and San Luis Obispo and then did some smooth cruisin’ up the coast on Hwy 1. We stopped in Cayucos, a dusty little surfing town a little ways up from Pismo Beach, our first night on the road.
Making friends with the pier gull
We hit the road again the next morning, heading for Big Sur, which had been recommended as a stop by our toy-making neighbor, Woody, as well as a few friends in LA. On the way we had a short stop at the Hearst Castle (we decided $24 for the tour was outside our budget) and then stumbled upon a molting and napping elephant seal population at a protected beach.
Just a little scratch behind the ear
We arrived at Big Sur in the early afternoon and checked in at the Pfeiffer State Park ranger station and decided to stay at a walk-in campsite in the nearby Andrew Molera State Park.
Chris surveying the campsite from above
Petting the pygmy deer by the campsite
After a short hike from the campsite and a quick rice and chili dinner (mmmm) we decided to take the trail back to the car and check out Tonalism, the all-night ambient music fest back in Big Sur that we’d overheard the locals talking about earlier that day. Once at the fest, we were informed by the Dylan-esque female at the door that tickets were $25 each and, no, we weren’t allowed to just stand at the front and listen for a while. The show didn’t seem quite the worth of the ticket price, so instead we spent $35 for some overpriced drinks and a pastry at a nearby rustic chic restaurant. It turned out the waitress recognized Chris’s accent (?) and told us she, too, was from Atlanta … small world, right? She claimed she was living in paradise, but we sensed a bit of nostalgia for the ATL.
The next morning we packed out our site and set out on an 8-mile loop around the park. A bit ambitious, maybe, but well worth the views. We just wish paradise didn’t give us so many blisters.
Self-portrait with sore feet
