Paul:
After breakfast we listen to new guests from 'Noo Yawk' complain to each other that the outdoor lights should stay on until 0300 so, 'you can see what you're drinking', say goodbye to Greg, Mrs Greg, our Florida neighbours and Steve and Alex the owners. Steve draws a rough map which should cut two hours off our planned journey.
Amanda drives the first two and half hours leaving me to map read from a paper map and take photos. There are so many eagles and vultures here I have stopped staring at them. They are too high to photograph but the scenery is straight out of every Western TV series I have seen including Bonanza and Alias Smith & Jones. At a steady speed we passed through two cowboy towns: La Grange and Waterford [population 250] dating back to the 1850s.
As I take on the driving out comes the SatNav and the cabling. Amanda has a real yen for local fruit and nuts and within minutes of my driving we stop at Robertsbridge where Amanda has a nut buying frenzy, including almond nuts coated in lemon chocolate. Amanda starts on the coated nut and spots a cherry farm just off the highway. The farm is run by people who only speak Spanish and by pointing and nodding Amanda buys pounds of red and yellow cherries both of which are really juicy. Happy with our healthy purchases we head for MacDonalds at Salinas.
The MacDonalds is spotless clean, a lad permanently cleans tables and collects diners' left rubbish. Marlee the server loves Amanda's accent saying her friend lives in Surbiton and she hopes to visit there someday. She'll have a shock over the state of the MacDonalds there.
The drive then takes us to the Monterey Peninsula and onto Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway [PCH]. The Pacific ocean is a vivid blue green colour and there is a strong smell of seaweed as we hurtle along the road towards Big Sur.
At 17.00 we fill up with fuel at Big Sur, book in at reception with Jeannie who tells us we must help ourselves to coffee anytime.
The wooden hut is really well designed with a large bed dominating the small room surrounded by a kitchenette and shelf/wardrobe space. The toilet and shower are just off the main room.
We anticipate using our fire pit tonight so we're on the lookout for some really good bread and cheese from a local deli to go with our last bottle of red from Sonoma. The deli doesn't sell such things. The two local checkout girls are battling to make themselves understood with a Chinese woman in her 70s. They ask for Master or a Visa card and each time Chinese woman frowns, then points at a car outside and smiles. After three goes I show Chinese woman a Visa card and point to the staff.
Amanda is not happy one bit with the cheese selection and baulks at cheese string. I always try to head off her (understandable) frustration with shops that do not sell what she wants. Our dinner will be Monterey Pepper Jack and Organic Monterey cheese to be eaten with crisps and pretzels. On the upside the deli does sell Graham biscuits, Reece's Peanut Butter cups and marshmallows for Amanda to make something called s'mores.
The cold bottle of fizz goes down far too easily. The fire pit is kicking out some heat, the flames licking the logs and sending smoke across to the wooden hut opposite us. We are surrounded by a forest of Redwoods and Pines of differing heights and girth and the last of the sun streams into the forest at 20.26. The logs turn to embers and glow for hours as we eat our cheese and glug the red. Amanda makes the s'mores toasting marshmallows on the embers and sandwiching them between two biscuits and a peanut chocolate cup. It's nice. I fall asleep at 22.00, 'totally zoned out man'.
Amanda:
I start the driving again today round some very twisty roads. We are soon into nut country - something we hadn't realised and I screech into a car park to buy more almonds than anyone really ever needs. Still, there are a couple of varieties I regret not buying after the event. Paul reckons I have squirrel tendencies as I eat some and wrap the rest for later. Then it's fruit groves - white peaches, apricots, cherries and more. We pull off a road along an orange dustball field, following a sign for cherries and find a shed with big, fat red and yellow varieties. Through sign language I buy some of each - I don't speak Spanish and that's all the vendor does speak. It feels like being somewhere more 'foreign' than America.
We arrive at our log cabin in good time. It really is a little shed amongst redwoods - lovely. Paul's eyes light up at the opportunity for some sanctioned pyromania - we have our own fire pit. Neither of us wants to drive out for dinner and although the nearest restaurant is only just over a mile, it's along a busy and poorly lit road. We decide on a fireside picnic and go to buy provisions to go alongside our nut stash.
It's the second of our poor cheese buying experiences. They actually have cheese in an aerosol. I would have bought it as a curiosity if it weren't for the fear of it exploding in my suitcase and coating the contents in some 'faux cheese' monstrosity. We end up with the American staple of cheddar-lite - a plasticy, bland block - but the wine from our Sonoma adventures is great. I introduce Paul to s'mores. I'm not sure I made them right but I know it's a big part of the great American outdoors. He's initially dubious but takes to them with alacrity.
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