Day 172 -Big Bleurgh

Author - Grant

From - Pismo Beach, California

To - Monterey, California

Via - Big Sur

Miles Driven - 150

Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157617324632470/

Out of the 171 days we've been on this trip, I'd say we've had about five or six good breakfasts.  Most of this is self-imposed hardship as it's the one meal a day where we both just accept that a healthy bowl of bran based cereal with skimmed milk will easily satisfy us as the rest of the day is likely to involve copious over-eating.  Still, when a hotel such as the one we use in Pismo Beach advertises that their 'luxury breakfast' is included in our nightly rate then you'll forgive us for being a bit excited and jogging to the breakfast room.  But instead of being greeted with the smell of simmering bacon, instead all we saw was the same poxy spread as in every La Quinta, Comfort Inn and rag-tag motel we've ever stayed in.  And to think, I wore my elastic

 waist pants for nothing...

And so, fortified with damp bran, we hit the road for what our admittedly biased guide calls the

 most scenic coastal drive in the world.  Apparently it took a whopping 14 years to build but that isn't because they used the same people that built Wembley, it is because the majority of it is wedged into near vertical cliff-faces that challenge both the laws of physics and the capacity of ones boxer shorts.  As a result, the road doesn't suit either acrophobics or those with acute motion sickness but luckily the views are too spectacular to care.

Now we saw an awful lot of incredible things on this journey so I can either rant on for days or briefly explain what we saw and point you towards the appropriate pictures.  Laziness is leading me towards the latter...

So first stop was Elephant Seal Vista.  Do I really need to explain what was here?  What I

 expected was to catch a fleeting glimpse of a few of these butt-ugly creatures far off at sea but what we were encountered with was about one thousand of these foul-smelling bad boys sunbathing on the beach.  Actually there's a couple of things wring with that sentence.

  Firstly, they weren't boys, they were girls and

 juniors as the males (who grow up to a frightening 2 1/2 tons) were up in Alaska after doing their manly business to the ladies a few months previous.  Secondly, they weren't sunbathing, they were shedding which involves covering themselves with sand and rolling around to unveil their shiny, white skin underneath...much like a Scotsman on day 3 in Majorca.  The smell, however, is something that no words or picture can get across.  The strange thing was whilst I was practically gagging, Kate didn't seem to mind it - I guess years of me playing the duvet fart tent game have finally paid off for her.

Another huge highlight was Pfeiffer Beach which 

is surrounded by rock formations that act as a giant wind tunnel creating gale force winds and accompanying sandstorms that were pretty painful when dressed as inappropriately as I usually am (if it's not snowing, it's shorts and flip-flops weather).  Unfortunately the majority of the storm concentrated below the knees which meant that Molly took the full brunt of it all over and hence she finished the walk with sand seeping from every crevice.  It was all well worth it though as the sight of the Pacific crashing through the natural blow-holes was thrilling.

The sticky-out bit of this part of Central California (I never really did pay attention during

 Geography) is called the Monterey Peninsula and it curves round from Carmel-By-The-Sea (where posh people live) to Monterey (where scumbags live) but to drive the scenic 17 mile coastal road will cost you $10.  At first glimpse this sounds a bit steep but when you consider that this gives you to roam around three of the worlds finest golf courses (namely Pebble Beach, Spyglass Hill and The Links at Spanish Bay) then it seems way more justifiable...unless you're not really into golf...like my wife.  Still, I think my childish excitement at roaming round the magnificent facilities at Pebble Beach and watching players who are either members or have paid $450 a round as a guest getting spanked by the legendary par-5 18th hole was enough entertainment for the both of us.  Temptingly I had my clubs and balls in the car and I won't pretend that the thought of illegally smacking a ball for posterity did cross my mind but I'd have probably killed someone before being escorted away by the numerous security guards on duty.  It's better than going down for tax evasion though...

That's quite enough for today, I'm exhausted even repeating it all.  Tomorrow we head north to Santa Cruz but not before some more Food Network whore-like behavior.