Day 316: McWay Falls, Big Sur and Monterey

Driving along the I-1 makes you realise how beautiful California is. State Park follows State Park, and each one has its own unique set of features and attractions. It's understandable why Americans are so proud of their open spaces, and why the fines for damaging them are stringently enforced. The UK should be taking note.

We had a lot to pack into the day, almost all of it outdoor. There was no way we could hit all of the trails on offer so we picked a few, and hoped for the best. First though, there was a stop at a car park area en route so we could look at some squirrels and fat elephant seals. One of the seals was too lazy to come and say "hi", but he did give us a wave:









As the mist drew in, I thought we were in for a dreary drive, but after an ominous start the California weather realised where it was and soon brightened up.



We were heading to McWay Falls to begin with, an 80 foot waterfall located in the heart of the Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. Fun fact, Falls fans: this particular specimen is one of only a handful of waterfalls that empties into the ocean. Looking at it in isolation, it isn't particularly impressive. It's more like a bit of a leaky cliff, where someone hasn't bothered to turn off the stopcock. However, the cove and remote beach that enclose it are lovely.





The falls were a brief stop on the way to the main event: Big Sur. Recommended by Lev and Julie, Big Sur is twenty minutes north of McWay and is famous for its redwood trees. Oh, and did I mention the lions? There are mountain lions in the area, ready to eat you.



Despite my best attempts at a Kim Bauer impression no lions were forthcoming, so I was left to act unconvincingly on my own, before giving up and joining Gilly for a spot of lunch at Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant. This was not a good place to eat. I ordered a ham sandwich, and regretted it as soon as it arrived. It seems that the word "restraint" is alien to the locals here, as I was presented with two slabs of bread holding together what looked to be three pounds of sliced ham between them. To date, I have never seen so much meat in a sandwich. They must have slaughtered two whole pigs to make my lunch. No salad or cheese, just meat and bread. Ten years ago, I might have been happy with that, but these days I prefer a bit of variety. And despite us being sat in a bakery, even the bread wasn't up to standard. I managed about a fifth of the thing and had to stop. We had walking to do and I was getting meat sweats.

Big Sur isn't a tourist attraction in and of itself; it's a state park that contains various hiking trails, waterfalls and lookout points. After a bit of research, it seemed like the Pfeiffer Falls/Valley View round-trip hike at about 2.5 miles seemed a reasonable walk and would give us a good overview of the park and its flora (and fauna, if the lions ever turned up).

Coast redwoods are everywhere on the hike. You can't miss them, they're pretty big - some of them have reached over 360 feet in height.







One particular specimen had been dated at over 700 years old, and the markers outlined various historically significant points in its life (Black Death, Columbus landing, the American Revolution...). This tree had seen a lot.



Pfeiffer Falls itself wasn't much cop, even compared to McWay but - lion attacks aside - it's impossible to be surrounded by so much nature and not feel relaxed. There's a reason it's called the Great Outdoors, and Big Sur is very much a champion of that sentiment. I highly suspect the Californian sunshine may also have had its part to play in our enjoyment of the park, since we rarely get any sort of consistent summer in the UK.









All too soon the sunlight was fading, and we had to drive on. Thanks to a very generous gent by the name of Jeremy, we were able to spend the night in Monterey. He'd moved there to study (some form of naval engineering I can't even begin to fathom) and, as it turned out, was a mean poker player to boot.



His recommendation for dinner was the Persian Grill which I can heartily agree with; a huge improvement over lunch. We introduced him to Not Going Out, one of the finest UK sitcoms created in the last decade, and much guffawing was heard, mostly from me. Really, it's fantastic. Jeremy gave us all a lesson in poker which I unfortunately can't blame on the wine - I'm just not very good - and we hit the hay.

Day 315: Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo

The Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) is one of America's most iconic drives. Also knows as Interstate 1 (I-1) it stretches along the California coast for over 650 miles and covers a vast stretch of the western edge, providing an altogether nicer drive than the shorter, functional, but ultimately boring I-5. 

Ideally, it is taken slowly on a sunny day and in a sporty convertible, allowing you to appreciate the natural beauty and bathe in the warm rays whilst simultaneously being cooled by the wind. We had none of that. It was grey and humid, we were in a Toyota Corolla, and the air-con was on full blast. That's the beauty of backpacking, folks!

We took a drive up to Malibu Beach, which - in the murky weather - looked like pretty much every beach does in such conditions: drab and miserable. We made the most of it, and not far past it found a massive sand dune that just begged to be climbed. It took a good five minutes to scale it - as you can see from the size of me in front of our car at the base, it was a fair old distance.





We were heading to Santa Barbara, where our friends Wayne and Martine got married. By all accounts, it was a perfect slice of Americana and we were looking forward to experiencing it. It took just under 2 hours to get to the city, and by then the sun was shining and the whole place felt a bit more like California.

Santa Barbara is an interesting place. It effortlessly bridges the gap between "tourist haven" and "upmarket cultural centre" by offering ample instances of both. Art galleries line the streets alongside ice cream parlours. Beachwear shops take their place next to pizza restaurants housed in lighthouses. The city brings in a billion dollars a year in tourist revenue, and it's not difficult to see why. Wouldn't you love this view?





A walk along the pier threw up umpteen choices for food, but I'd already got my heart set on freshly caught shellfish. So without further ado, we planted ourselves on a table outside the Santa Barbara Shellfish Company and I got stuck in to some lobster spaghetti.



It was lovely, but the high winds took some getting used to - we soon understood why there was a huge queue for the inside tables!

Dessert? Well, we were on a pier, so naturally it had to be ice cream. Once again, we made the mistake of ordering a double scoop. In England, a double scoop is two scoops. In America, a double scoop is two portions of whatever a scoop is, which turns out to be about two English scoops. So we ended up with a literal mountain of ice cream perched precariously in a cone.



Sadly, it didn't live up to its impressive appearance and the cone tasted like cardboard, but at least we didn't feel as huge as we would have if we'd finished the whole thing. Still, a digestive walk around town was in order.



We stopped into a hotel/art gallery for a mooch around, but there was no chance of us staying the night in Santa Barbara as even the cheapest digs were more than our entire daily budget. It'd be a nice place to visit for a holiday, but the city makes no pretension of being backpacker-friendly.

We picked up the wheels and drove on. Lake Cachuma was a recommended stop-off point from Wayne, and it was lovely.





We were slightly ahead of schedule as we'd originally planned to stay in Santa Barbara, so we decided to find a hotel in San Luis Obispo instead, a university city an hour and a half north. Paul had spent many a drunken night here when he lived in California and highly recommended it. We found a Ramada at a reasonable price and set out to the centre to see what was around. It was early evening, and we were in luck: we'd arrived on a Thursday, and the weekly Farmers' Market was in full flow.





Umpteen food stalls lined the streets, along with buskers and arts and crafts stands. There was also an animal welfare booth which was offering to pay a dollar to anyone willing to sit and watch a four minute video they'd put together. We were on a budget but not that desperate; I glimpsed some pretty horrific scenes at one of the TVs of animals being slaughtered. I'm under no illusions as to how my meat gets to my plate, but I prefer to leave the act of preparation to those with stronger stomachs. For the man on the street, I think buying ethically is the best way of making a stand against dubious practices. Shock tactics have their place, but in many respects they do more harm to their cause than good.

It made me feel peckish anyway, so following the tried and tested method of picking the stall with the biggest queue, we stopped off at The Rib Line to get some eats.





Were they delicious? Oh my, yes.

Like many "cities" on the west coast, SLO (as it's locally known) had more of a small-town feel and I can imagine it being a fun place to spend a couple of nights with a group of friends. We were focused on getting up north though, not least because we wanted to spend a decent amount of time with Lev and Julie, the couple we'd made friends with in Laos and who were based in Mountain View. With that in mind, and with a CouchSurfing offer on the table from a kind chap in Monterey, we set off early the next morning back onto the I-1.

Day 313 - 314: Los Angeles, Part Two

Our good friends Wayne and Martine come to California pretty much every year, and know LA inside out. Wayne was kind enough to put together some highlights for us to hit, and given our lack of other itinerary we decided to follow his suggestions for our remaining time in the area. On the way to pick up the car from where we'd parked it the previous evening, we noticed that one of the roads was filled with bizarre leaning things, be they trees or signposts. It might seem like I've just taken this at an odd angle, but you'll see what I mean if you compare the angle of the signpost on the right with the straightness of the wall directly behind it. It was all very strange, as if a strong wind had battered through there during the night.



First up: The Getty Centre. Not to be confused with its little brother, the Getty Villa, it's as close as California gets to the Louvre. Whilst not on the same staggering scale, it's still mightily large and it's unlikely you'll get around the place in a day.





There is no entrance fee; you just pay for parking and take a gondola up to the main complex. There are a number of free tours running throughout the day, and I'd highly recommend taking at least one. We decided on the garden tour, which talks through the stunning architecture and gardens, the latter of which are designed as a work of art themselves.

















The heat was, as usual, blistering. Gilly was glad of her umbrella (provided by the museum, of course), but it was a great time to visit as we could hop in and out of the grounds between exhibits. The two main exhibitions we saw were the line drawings of Gustav Klimt, which I was a little disappointed by, and the photography of Herb Ritter, which was astoundingly good. If there was a celebrity of note between 1980 and 2000, it's likely he'd snapped them.

The Getty provided our lunch (mmm....burger), and we took a drive to Hollywood Boulevard in the afternoon and parked up on a side road a few minutes away. It's the tourist heart of the city but it pales in comparison to Vegas when it comes to souvenir tat shops and pushy ticket touts, so we felt pretty immune to their hard sell. We were in the area to see the Cirque Du Soleil show Iris at the newly renamed Dolby Theatre (Kodak went bust and the sponsorship was changed) but there are a few sights to enjoy on the same road - not least a few crazies, including a man who sits in a bin.



The gaudy Grauman's Chinese Theatre wasn't accessible, since it was cordoned off for a red carpet event - the last ever performance of the Dirty Dancing stage show. Lots of people who were probably famous were getting screamed at from a distance by fans, but we didn't recognise anyone.



Also on this road: The Hollywood Walk of Fame. Yes, if there's a film or music star, they're likely somewhere on the walk. I tried to find the late, great Peter Falk, and failed. Probably because, as I later discovered, he doesn't have one. This is an outrage. However, two important people I did spot were Dean "Al" Stockwell, and hyper=creationist and gun rights-lobbying conservative karate king, Chuck Norris. Contrary to popular belief, behind Chuck Norris' star is not Chuck Norris. Or even a fist. There's a sewer, probably.





The most important star was saved for last though:



Into the Dolby Theatre we went, grabbing some massive muffins en route and listening to a band playing in the main shopping area. The Theatre is the home of the Oscars, but it seemed surprisingly small to me.

Iris was superb. A much different beast than the spectacle of KA, it felt much more personal and less bombastic, but no less of a delight. There were a lot of acrobatics, some very clever props, and some Chinese contortionists that quite possibly had spines made from Silly Putty. All told, it was as enjoyable as the previous Cirque du Soleil show we'd seen, but for very different reasons. I wouldn't hesitate to see another. Sadly, Iris didn't perform as well as other shows and is closing in January 2013 after 2 years in the Theatre, but there are plans to take it to other cities in the country.

For our final day in LA County, we took a trip to Griffith Observatory in the morning. This is an iconic building which has featured in many films, including Rebel Without A Cause and a couple of Terminator films.







We were early - it opens at 10am. Even then we were a little unsure how to get in, as the signage was somewhat confusing.



Some of the exhibits include a Foucault Pendulum, and a wall with boxes containing all of the elements currently discovered (though I suspect the gases may not have been in their respective boxes). Downstairs, you can find a planetarium of sorts, which we skipped over since we'd seen a similar thing in Kuala Lumpur.





The ability to actually "observe" anything was sadly missing though, the one telescope that is open for public use was closed off.



Now, for lunch. Ever since I mentioned going to LA, Wayne had been insistent that we visit his all-time favourite place for pizza: Sotto.



Apparently, the pizzas here are created by angels, and some of the ingredients include faerie tears, the sparkles from a will-o'-the-wisp, the laughter of a dryad, and powdered unicorn hair. Such is their position in Wayne's esteem, that I imagined that upon consumption I would be instantly compelled to move to California, just to be within easy reach of such sublime cuisine. Having scanned the menu and found it to be slightly pretentious, I opted for Salsiccia e friarielli (sausage, broccolletti and chilli), whilst Gilly went for a mackerel sandwich.

My verdict? It was OK. I'm not really a fan of burned bits on a pizza (Wayne assures me that this means it is done in a Neapolitan style, and probably means I'm just uncouth). However, it was good enough that I ate it all, and that's praise enough consider how MASSIVE it was.



Gilly's sandwich fared equally well in the size stakes.



I certainly wasn't disappointed in Sotto; I knew my enthusiasm for the place probably wouldn't match the heady heights of esteem my friend held it in, but then such is the beauty of opinion. It certainly didn't compare to Vientiane's Aria restaurant, which I would rank as making one of the best pizzas I've ever had.

Much exercise was needed, so we drove up to the next item on Wayne's suggested itinerary - Greystone Mansion - and had a a walk around the grounds. Another popular movie location, this one has been featured in X-Men, Ghostbusters 2, and the Spiderman trilogy to name a few.











A wonderful place to stroll around, the mansion's grounds are quite extensive and have plenty of water features, and nooks and crannies to explore over the space of an hour or so.

We topped off the day with a visit to the Annenberg Space for Photography, which was running an exhibition called "Who Shot Rock And Roll?" - a huge collection of "before they were famous" shots of everyone from Nirvana to the Rolling Stones, taken by some of the world's greatest photographers. A free audioguide is definitely worth getting to make the most of an exhibit like this, as it provides a lot of background to the artists and their relationship with the snappers.

We got back to Santa Monica, and Bill put together some fantastic cheeseburgers and fried potatoes for an evening meal, and we settled down to watch a film for the evening. A more charitable host, you cannot wish for. I say that about every CouchSurfer we have stayed at, and it is never not true.

It was our last night in the city; we were heading up the Pacific Coast Highway the next day on our journey, which would ultimately end in Seattle.