Leaving the Sierras

17 July

It was a cold morning. Sadie barked at something at 4:45am. I didn't get up for another hour to pee. By sunrise I was awake and read more of Eric Foner's book as Mary slowly got up.

We departed at 8:15am. I decided instead of hiking right away, to get on the road and make it as close as possible to the Monterey Bay. Instead, we both left together and our last combined stop was at Sonora Pass (9676') where Mary took a photo of Sadie and me. I was still wearing my purple fleece pants I had slept in. It was cold and windy at the pass!

It was the last I saw of her after we hugged and contined our drive. It was a gorgeous drive across the Stanilaus National Forest, a forest I had never been in before, as the road meandered slowly downhill toward the San Joachin Valley.

At 10:20am I stopped in the small town of Strawberry. The Strawberry Inn advertised free WiFi so I decided to stop here and download my pics. I ordered a cappuccino at the bar, tended to by a young blond Czech whose accent sounded Polish. I was his first customer of the day as I got my electronics set up, although I couldn't find my sD chip that held my White Mountain pics. Where had it gone? And where was my Canon S90 charger?

The time quickly passed. I got hungry, but lunch wasn't served until 11am. Then by 11:30 the pregame to the World Cup finals started and the crowd quickly grew. Twenty years ago no one would have cared for women's sports, let along soccer, and here the bar was filling up with a spirited audience that stood when the US national anthem played. The women played against Japan and both teams played their hearts out. Japan eventually won in double overtime, but by then I was on the road again facing the valley traffic.

I wanted to stay in the foothills as much as possible, but instead of staying on CA49, I missed the turn for that and stayed on CA120 west, driving right toward the Bay Area that I wanted to avoid. It was hotter here now, and more heavily trafficed. Small towns were separated by short stretches of farmland, roadside vegetable vendors and golden hills. There were also three small fires off the road, a sight and smell I don't want to see anytime soon! The dry grasses across California and the high winds in the valley could make a wildfire very possible.

I was in unknown territory. I drove into Oakdale and took a southern turn that took me through more suburbs I had never heard of before. Certes, and all I wanted to do was get on the road toward Hollister/Los Banos, towns that were at least familiar to me.

I couldn't enjoy being back in the coastal area yet as I hadn't come to familiar grounds yet. I found the road to the San Bautista reservoir, where golden eagles are known to fly over, but by now the high winds were getting dangerous and I had to concentrate on the road. Although the land around te lake was dry, I found this place beautiful, as the golden grasses swayed in the winds in wavelike formation.

Even Los Banos and Hollister, when I drove through the towns, seemed so different tthan from what I remember, namely even larger with more cookie-cutter homes right on top of each other.

It was getting late and I wanted to see the ocean before it got too dark. When I made it past Watsonville I had to decide where to go: toward Santa Cruz to find Karen, or Monterey to find my other friends? My first choice was Santa Cruz, but traffic prevented me from pursuing that. I pulled into the La Selva beach and saw the ocean at 6:51pm. This is a small beach bordered by huge cypresses, the landmark tree along the central coast. I had reached the Pacific Ocean in time!

Now I was stoked. Although La Selva was not a beach I went to often, I decided to make it to Monterey afterall and overnight at the presidio. After a few awkward turns on country roads that meandered around fields of strawberries and red cabbage, I reached the Monterey area and saw the sun set over Pacific Grove and Lover's Point, another landmark that I often walked to from my apartment just for exercise.

I never felt the euphoric "I'm Home!" feeling when I got out of the truck to walk around Lover's Point. A sign posted stating NO DOGS was ignored by several visitors who had their Chihuahuas with them. Except for the nameless strangers around me, everything else looked the same to me, and driving around the area reaffirmed to me that very little had changed since my last trip to the Monterey area in May 2002. I may have forgotten the streetnames, but I remembered the major landmarks.