Hi Gram,

We got up in the morning and headed to breakfast with my friend Kevin who lives in Mountain View. His family and our other friends weren’t available on such short notice, so the three of us sat and recounted stories from college while we shared some great food. Well, to be honest, two of us caught up on old times and reminded each other of our college days. The third person, Zibby, smiled along and let a couple of old friends tell some of the same stories she’s heard from me a dozen times. Kevin’s wife (and my college friend as well) Caryn and their daughter Joanna came and met us as we were leaving, and we all stood around and talked a little before going out separate ways.

Zibby’s parents have been to Carmel, CA before and suggested we check it out, so we pointed the car southwest toward the coast to go see this gem. Small towns, especially those with a lot of people going in and out of the shops, are easier to see on foot so we parked the car by a grocery store and put our feet to work. The sun was shining and there wasn’t much of a breeze on this Sunday late morning, so we did quite a bit of people watching as we strolled down toward the beach. When I say “down” toward the beach, I mean it. We both noted that we were really sloping downhill and we’d need to save a little energy for the hike back up. A few blocks later, the beach presented us with sand, people, and sunshine. Kids were giggling and throwing sand at each other as older couples carried their tiny dogs and chatted. Carmel is very dog-friendly, and we saw many people out walking or carrying their dogs. One couple even had matching doggie backpacks with their furry little friends peeking out the top. The tide brought a stiff wind with it, so we pulled our hats down and got closer as we walked along the packed sand.

I don’t know if the ocean is always so strong and dramatic, but today the waves were crashing over one another. Like clockwork, each new wave would come charging in like a high school running back going for the touchdown, ready to knock through anything in its way. By the time it reaches shore, though, it’s worn out like a middle aged has-been player, resigned to slough off back into the sea. On its way back out, it trips up the next incoming wave as if shouting, “what’s the use? just settle for mediocrity like I did and let’s settle the waters for that big shot coming our way.” Then every few minutes, when these waves have compromised and settled the waters , one of them will get through bigger and stronger than the others. It’ll chase the children and dogs up the sand before rolling back out and scrambling with the young waves crashing in looking for their big chance. We watched this dance repeat itself over and over as we walked along, every now and then scrambling inland away from a feisty frothing finger of the sea then decided to head up some stairs back toward town.

Away from the shoppes and saloons, we wandered up the middle of the street between houses that could have made up a neighborhood back home. Some had been here for years, some were just finishing final construction. Some were dilapidated and needed some TLC, some could have been on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. Some cabins were so small, the owners would have to step outside to turn around, some mega-mansions were so big, the owners would have to stop for a nap on their way outside. The difference between these houses and the ones in my neighborhood back home was that you could buy my entire block for the price of the smallest, dingiest hovel we saw here. The people we passed were all very friendly, waving and exchanging pleasantries. I don’t know if they were other tourists like us or neighborhood residents, but they added to the small town charm we were feeling. The slope wasn’t as steep as we remembered on the way down, partly because we zigzagged our way back to the car instead of going straight uphill then turning and going straight across. The boutiques and bistros starting peppering in and soon we were back in the shopping district. Zibby stopped and got some magnets and postcards on the way back to the car and we stopped at the high school to get a photo with “Carmel” in the background so we could prove that we were there.

We continued south and saw more massive rocks along the shore and out into the ocean a little. I don’t know if they tumbled there from the hillside eons ago, or formed there from lava but some of them are hundred of feet high and would be islands if they were further out in the water. All along the coast, you could see where the road had been shored up and reinforced after a mudslide or earthquake. One of the most recent mudslides happened a few years ago and shut the highway down for a while. We drove over the bridge they’d constructed to connect the highway back together, and it was massive. It was the only modern covered bridge I’ve ever seen, and must have been a feat of engineering wonder. Concrete and steel jutted out from the cliff face below to hold up the roadway. Thick pillars continued up on the ocean side of the road to hold a massive shelf that served as a roof for the roadway, a table to catch the sliding gravel and rocks from above, and anchor point to tie the whole thing back into the cliff. Hopefully it will hold strong through future weather disasters and keep the community there from being cut off from the world like they were after the mudslide. Since we’d driven up from the south a few days ago, we started seeing some familiar sights and towns. It was great seeing the terrain from a different angle and comforting to recognize some of the landmarks. I’d heard that Big Sur was famous for epic waves and was hoping to see some surfers chancing their luck. Unfortunately, the road carves inland around there and it’s a bit of a detour to actually get out to the surf. We decided we’d seen a lot of waves and beaches already, so we didn’t take the detour and elected to keep driving. Our hunger was building so we stopped for lunch at Whale Watchers Cafe. We sat near the window and looked out on the ocean as we decided what to order. The place looked like you took a typical New York diner with the counter and stools up by the kitchen, then tables scattered toward the window, but dipped it in a 1960’s beach movie with schtickey decor such as the whale carved out of driftwood, surfboard mounted on the wall, and wicker furniture against the walls. The food was good, sort of what you’d expect from a diner, but nobody told the prices that we were at a diner. We split a chicken sandwich with lettuce and tomato and drank club soda but it still cost almost $30.

With daylight to burn, we made our way down the coast and saw a couple more little towns before the sun was bobbing just over the horizon. As we got closer to Cayucos, we saw signs advertising their unique brown butter sea salt cookies. The bakery was right there on the main drag and with our appetites whetted, we got there before they closed up for the night. We sampled a few flavors, and they melted in the mouth and left a zesty aftertaste that just made you want more. Before we knew it, we each had a shopping bag filled with individually tied morsels and walked back to the car. Zibby brought some back to the office to share with her coworkers and I rationed mine to last me for days. In Morros Bay, the next town south, we checked into a clean and friendly motel (The Morros Bay Inn), turned on the heater in the room, then headed to their downtown area looking for dinner.

After browsing a few menus, we settled on a unique spot that served a variety of Cuban dishes and sandwiches during the day and became a Thai restaurant and bar at night. We split some delicious pineapple curry, and I would have liked to try their Cuban sandwiches if we had been there for lunch. Full, we headed back to the hotel. Finally having learned our lesson, we shut off the heater and let the room cool overnight as we slept. When I woke up in the morning, I turned the heater back on to bring it back up the few degrees it had cooled off, we cleaned up, then got back on the highway.