"Has anyone seen Clint?"

SANTA CRUZ is a beach resort that turned out to be less exotic than the name would suggest. Think of Blackpool with palm trees and sunshine and you`ll pretty much get the picture! By now I have the "search for cheap motel" routine sorted. So, after finding one, doing the deal, lubing the chain, unpacking and showering, I headed to the sea front to look for the "kiss me quick" hats and candy floss. No luck there, but it did have a pier and even a small fairground with equally small roller coaster. Still, it was only a staging post before heading to the much more salubrious Carmel and Pebble Beach.



The next day I was back on Highway 1 heading for CARMEL and the highly recommended 17 MILE DRIVE, an apparently beautiful route around Pebble Beach Golf club, 17 Mile Drive ended up as 17 Yard drive when security turned me away, “We don`t allow motorcycles”, his demeanor didn`t allow for the obvious question, “Why not?” Slightly disappointed, I went in search of Clint Eastwood

"Dirty Harry Burgers and a fistful of fries......”




The town of CARMEL is famous for its former mayor (Mr. Eastwood) who not only still resides there but owns a fair chunk of properties including a restaurant and bar – The Hog`s Breath Inn. It is also a place where the “well to do” go to buy antiques, oil paintings, designer clothes and expensive wines. So obviously, I`d fit right in.



Initially, I was just going to have a look around and then head further south for cheaper accommodation. Easier said than done. This place was harder to find a parking space than in West Hampstead (just trust me!). It was getting hotter by the minute as I slowly crawled round, and with sweat testing my “ice breaker” t shirt to the limit, I finally found a place very close to a motel. Out of curiosity I went in to ask their rates. As expected, it was out of my range, but when she kindly knocked $40+ dollars off, it was too tempting to refuse! First port of call – find The Hog`s Breath Inn. Second – check out the beach. Having duly orientated myself with the important landmarks, it was back to my very nicely appointed room to catch up with the blog/e mails. Several hours later, (yes, really – just technical issues!) I went in search of Clint. Suffice it to say. He didn`t show. I waited and waited. I sampled his best beer and wine and even the famous “Dirty Harry Burger”. I think the latter explains why he doesn`t eat there anymore! Slightly disappointed and yet slightly mellow (mmm, IPA), I wended my way through the “beautiful people” spilling out of the many over – priced, mediterranean themed restaurants and bistros back to my motel.



The world`s longest BBQueue!

The following day`s ride was a pleasant meander further south along some stunning parts of Highway 1.




Riding Highway 1

Mile after mile of twisting coastal roads to the town of SAN LUIS OBISPO (or SLO as it was referred to in all the town`s literature). Initially I thought it was a reference to a SLOwer pace of life! Which would have been a useful practice to adopt on the road, as I discovered when I had an unpleasant altercation with a wasp at 55 m.p.h. (not sure what speed the wasp was doing, but it was a head on collision). Luckily I was wearing my sunglasses! The impact took the left lens out and left the wasp trapped between my head and helmet. Not content with destroying my rather pricey shades, it then proceeded to sting me in the temple until I could slow down, find a safe place to pull over, take off my gloves and then my glasses and then my helmet!( It`s times like this you wish you were a Harley rider). Still, never mind, it`s only pain (oh, and $90 + tax for new glasses). SLO turned out to be a really nice town. As I wandered downtown, I noticed a hive of activity in the main street. I`d arrived just in time for the weekly Farmer`s Market! It started at 6.00p.m and went on till 9.00p.m. As it was 5.30p.m. and obviously “beer o`clock, I thought it mandatory to sample what SLO had to offer in the way of ale and company. With a very fine IPA to quench my thirst I sat and watched a moto cross programme on the tv above the bar. Very gutsy women riders throwing themselves over huge leaps (making the Dalton Highway look like a wimp`s day out). I exchanged some observations with a man sitting next to me. It turned out that he used to ride moto cross when he was younger. The conversation developed (as it does over a beer), and so I asked him how he came to be in SLO.
“My parents were both drug dealers and so we had to move around a lot to escape the law”, he said, in a matter of fact kind of way.
“Are you being serious?”
“Yea, they were both in and out of prison in several states. As a kid I went to lots of different schools. Thought it was normal I guess”.

Happily, they had now cleaned up their acts and achieved a measure of normality and he`d survived that childhood and was applying for a job in a nuclear power plant (I didn`t want to throw in any Homer Simpson references), so I bought him a beer and left to sample the delights of the now buzzing Market. They certainly knew how to run a street market! Fantastic food, great music and a real community feel. $4 for a ¼ BBQ chicken and coleslaw! That sorted my dinner out – quite healthy I thought. Sadly, it was followed up by a chocolate and banana crepe. Doh! Probably because my hunger was fuelled by more IPA. Doh! Doh! Time for bed before the munchies take over. The next day I was leaving the beautiful coast and heading inland to Bakersfield and looking forward to what my third experience of couchsurfing would bring.