Paul:
The Glen Oaks diner in Big Sur serves a very good Mexican breakfast, which I have with toast. It is so filling I don't eat until 11 hours later at 19.30. In between those times Amanda and I drive, with the hood down, south along the PCH to the sprawling castle of William Hearst perched on top of a mountain.
William Hearst made his money from a variety of very successful business interests that included films and publishing but at the age of 56 decided to spend the next 28 years building this castle. His architect Julia Morgan stuck with him for the whole period as he continually changed his mind about how the castle should look. Even when it was open to the 1920s and 30s stars of the silver screen and VIPs in industry and government the house remained under construction. Visitors arrived by a private DC3 plane on the private airstrip built specially. Provided guests stayed in the cars for the short journey to the 165 room castle they would avoid being attacked by Hearst's private collection of wild animals left to roam in the 225,000 acres of surrounding land.
The remainder of the day was spent looking at Elephant Seals lolling around on the sandy beach. For the most part they were motionless but occasionally a few would square up to each other or shuffle their huge bulk into the sea. Amanda and I loved the Elephant Seals.
It is rare for me to be able to drive along a coastal road in a fast car. The Swedish Mustang's 225bhp engine roars into life when floored and careers towards Big Sur at alarming speeds negotiating the elevated coastal hairpin bends with ease.
Our stop at a different deli was less successful. We had anticipated buying some nice bread and smoked fish pate to go with our bottle of white. The staff speak only Spanish and Amanda, who is holding a chocolate bar, is beginning to sound despairing. We make a decision to buy something: Amanda gets a Enchilada thing and I buy a Tamale pie and we return to the wood hut.
At about 19.30 I send Scott at work an email with a photo of Hearst castle and then make the fire. My Mexican takeaway was alright and mostly filling but brilliant. The last bottle of fizz and a Chardonnay helped it along. Amanda said hers was just okay but she is hugely pleased that Steve and Alex at Blackberry Inn found her sapphire stud in their washing machine. It must have got deeply embedded in the bathroom rug. They will send it to our home address. Amanda will send Steve his Yosemite book back as a fair trade off. Last full day tomorrow. At about 21.00 two black and white weasel like animals appear near out porch. Amanda says they are skunks. They don't stay long and surprisingly to me don't smell either.
Amanda:
The tour guides here are almost comically banal: my favourite comment today was about the Roman mosaic floor "It's neat: they didn't even have a tile shop but the weird dolphins are kinda cute". Heroically I remain silent as she expands on how Romans couldn't buy tiles from shops but I think my eyes bulge slightly It's delivered in a voice like Minnie Mouse on helium so possibly difficult to get a serious point across - she certainly didn't try. All the guide really told us was which were her favourite antiques and not to walk off the matting. And to tell us gum was banned after they found it stuck to priceless antiques! She tells us Harry Potter was filmed there; it wasn't but two Spanish girls gasp in excitement.
Hearst Castle seems to me to be the ultimate folly. It's a hotch-potch of styles and antiquities which feels oddly impersonal. The story behind it is fascinating - and not covered by the guide! I come back and do some research online and regale Paul with facts, theories and scandal. Then I order Citizen Kane to watch when we get back.
We drove back along the very twisty road at alarming speed, only stopping to admire the comical elephant seals. They are amusing to watch; they mostly loll but occasionally flick sand over themselves to block out the sun, scratch or square up to one another. We watch them for a while and console ourselves a bit over not having seen a bear. Later that night we see two little black and white faces peering over a ridge at us - at first we think they are possums but from Paul's description it sounds more like they are skunks. My knowledge of skunks is largely based on Pepe le Peu but I hear no trace of a French accent as they go off to peer in another cabin.
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