Day 37 July 30

The choices of paint samples today were "Irrigated Green", "Foothills Brown" and "Pacific Blue". I learned what cool colors really mean as we zigged across our zag.

The Central Valley puts the food on our tables. The scale of farming here makes our farm seem a back yard garden. Speeding by thousands of acres of laser planted crops, the rows kaleidoscoped by in perfect geometric shapes. Oranges, cotton, grape, tomatoes, nut trees, rice, wheat, corn, cattle .... All to feed us. The soil is so fertile here, it's agriculture on steroids. We passed fields with corn at least 16 feet tall.

The downside of the story is that the California and Federal governments are jealous of the water that has been allotted to the farms because the cities are requiring more. So they have been lowering the rations to the farms and after several years of drought, less and less is being harvested. In this hugely fertile place, we saw miles and miles of fallow fields. The conundrum is, do we starve America so that the cities can thrive? A huge issue.

After the green, which may be desert soon, we headed into the brown. It was hot in the valley, but the water and the plants keep the temperature down. Once up in the foothills the heat pump was on.

Picnics in 100 degrees are not pleasant, so we stopped at the first and only restaurant for lunch. At the junction of Route 46 and 41, the Jack Ranch Cafe houses the James Dean Memorial. In 1955 he crashed his Porsche there and 57 years later people are still leaving flowers and memorials. We ate surrounded by pictures of a beautiful boy whose legend is far more romantic than the 76 year old man that he would be today.

Into the oven, faces parched by desert heat. The foothills were brown, barren, hot, yet so intriguing with their mountain teases. The road was good with many switchbacks, so the journey to the sea was short.

Sweltering through 104 degree heat under perfectly blue skies, the temperature began to drop. Then the fog appeared on the horizon. We were at the ocean again and the respite from the heat was immediate. A few miles later, we were chilled at 55 degrees. My shirt was still sweaty wet, cold against my skin.

Back at the ocean, Morro Bay is home. The fog allowed us a brief view of the rock then took over. The Hitchcock movie, "The Birds", was re-released as raucous seagulls screamed at us from every roof. Tonight our window is open to the mist ..... the seals bark in the night.