Sunday, September 12, 2004
i took the long way home from starbucks
Right then...so, I got up early and wasn't in the state of mind to work quite yet, and I didn't want to go to the gym, either. I needed coffee, so I went out to get some and decided to keep driving. It wasn't even 7am, so I knew I could get a good drive in and still be back in time for football to start. The drive over the hill was foggy, but it always is at 7am, so I wasn't too concerned. I saw no less than five cops in a 25m span...good thing I drive the speed limit or thereabouts (now).
I was going to take photos from the wharf, where if you turn to your left you have a good view of the entire boardwalk (too early for deep-fried mars bars, I'm afraid) and if you look down you can see a bunch of sea lions who live underneath the pier, but the whole area was blocked off for some reason. So I headed up Highway 1 and figured I'd take pretty pictures of various beaches. I got to the last red light on the way out of town and we waited...and waited...and waited...for a lot of cyclists to get through the intersection. Apparently, on the same day as the T-Mobile International in San Francisco, there was some other race happening, at least 60m (I saw the mile marker signs). It was a wee bit unnerving, driving up a foggy Highway 1 with a bunch of cyclists on the road. I had the cruise on, just under the speed limit, and there were people passing me, of course, but call me crazy—I just didn't want to run over a guy on a bike. Eventually, I had passed all the cyclists, and in the process saw another seven cops at various points along the road. So, if anyone wants to know where all the California Highway Patrol cars are today, they're in Santa Cruz County.
Now it gets interesting, because no matter how many times I do the San Jose-to-Santa Cruz-to-HMB-to 280 and back home drive, I invariably have to potty near Pescadero, which offers no real pottying opportunities and there's no way I can hold it until Half Moon Bay. Yes, I'm an idiot. But have no fear, because the Bean Hollow beach has a fairly clean potty spot, and thus I went. That's one reason I like Bean Hollow...not only is it a nice little beach, with both sand and surf and rocks and a little inlet off to the side, it has an ok bathroom situation.
The rest of the drive was a dud—I passed all the beaches I normally would have stopped and photographed, because it was still so dang foggy! In fact, by the time I got to HMB and made the turn onto the winding road that goes to the freeway, it was actually raining. That's too bad, because the winding road is quite photogenic—in a one-mile stretch of road you have 20-foot carved dinosaurs, several nurseries, a winery, a christmas tree farm, a large pumpkin patch, and a really old cemetery.
As I made it back onto the freeway, the sun was shining very brightly and I left the little world of the coastal highway. I like the coastal highway and all the cruddy little farms and houses and wanna-be towns, with their side-of-the-road produce stands—it reminds me of where I grew up, except for the big ocean. There's no ocean in Pennsylvania.
Right then...so, I got up early and wasn't in the state of mind to work quite yet, and I didn't want to go to the gym, either. I needed coffee, so I went out to get some and decided to keep driving. It wasn't even 7am, so I knew I could get a good drive in and still be back in time for football to start. The drive over the hill was foggy, but it always is at 7am, so I wasn't too concerned. I saw no less than five cops in a 25m span...good thing I drive the speed limit or thereabouts (now).
I was going to take photos from the wharf, where if you turn to your left you have a good view of the entire boardwalk (too early for deep-fried mars bars, I'm afraid) and if you look down you can see a bunch of sea lions who live underneath the pier, but the whole area was blocked off for some reason. So I headed up Highway 1 and figured I'd take pretty pictures of various beaches. I got to the last red light on the way out of town and we waited...and waited...and waited...for a lot of cyclists to get through the intersection. Apparently, on the same day as the T-Mobile International in San Francisco, there was some other race happening, at least 60m (I saw the mile marker signs). It was a wee bit unnerving, driving up a foggy Highway 1 with a bunch of cyclists on the road. I had the cruise on, just under the speed limit, and there were people passing me, of course, but call me crazy—I just didn't want to run over a guy on a bike. Eventually, I had passed all the cyclists, and in the process saw another seven cops at various points along the road. So, if anyone wants to know where all the California Highway Patrol cars are today, they're in Santa Cruz County.
Now it gets interesting, because no matter how many times I do the San Jose-to-Santa Cruz-to-HMB-to 280 and back home drive, I invariably have to potty near Pescadero, which offers no real pottying opportunities and there's no way I can hold it until Half Moon Bay. Yes, I'm an idiot. But have no fear, because the Bean Hollow beach has a fairly clean potty spot, and thus I went. That's one reason I like Bean Hollow...not only is it a nice little beach, with both sand and surf and rocks and a little inlet off to the side, it has an ok bathroom situation.
The rest of the drive was a dud—I passed all the beaches I normally would have stopped and photographed, because it was still so dang foggy! In fact, by the time I got to HMB and made the turn onto the winding road that goes to the freeway, it was actually raining. That's too bad, because the winding road is quite photogenic—in a one-mile stretch of road you have 20-foot carved dinosaurs, several nurseries, a winery, a christmas tree farm, a large pumpkin patch, and a really old cemetery.
As I made it back onto the freeway, the sun was shining very brightly and I left the little world of the coastal highway. I like the coastal highway and all the cruddy little farms and houses and wanna-be towns, with their side-of-the-road produce stands—it reminds me of where I grew up, except for the big ocean. There's no ocean in Pennsylvania.
