Day 40 August 2

El Morro was shrouded in fog again this morning, so we couldn't even say a proper good-bye. But the seals and the gulls ushered us out with their cacophony of sea talk.

The best chunk of the Pacific Coast Highway lay in front of us. We headed up into the mist, stopping first in Cambria at Moonstone Bay. A lovely seaside town climbing down cliffs to the ocean, we promised ourselves we would spend time here on the next adventure.

Past San Simeon, we arrived at the Point Piedras Blancas, where the elephant seals lounge on the beach. Hugely entertaining, they flop around on the sand with their tonnage, fight with each other for ten seconds, then rest. Shimmying their huge bodies through the sand, they grunt and moan as they belly flop in and out of the ocean. Hunted almost to extinction, it is amazing that they survived at all considering their lifestyle.

Skimming the edge of the Pacific, Jules and Magic geared up and down the curves, into mountains and along crumbling roadway. Soaring out over the Pacific with a flock of pelicans as our guide, flying took on a whole new dimension. The fact that Route 1 still survives is a miracle. To keep this road open, there is daily removal of rockslides and continuous shoring of collapsed road.

The constant on our trip today was the fog hanging over the edge of the ocean. Like a living entity, it inhaled as we climbed cliffs into warm sun and then exhaled into our dips toward the coves and bays, locking us into the chilled road. I love the fog. The California coast is defined by it and to experience that looming cloud, about to envelop you, is part of the ride.

Along the way we passed a caravan of VW's: some Bugs, some Karmann Ghias and then of course the VW buses. At least forty strong and thrilled to be on the best road in America, they made me so happy.

Picnic at Big Sur, then onto Monterey, we finally tore ourselves away from the Pacific Coast and headed east. Driving through Salinas, another food basket, I was amazed by the size and metropoly of John Steinbeck's stomping grounds. Through the Gavilan Mountains, I tried to envision where he set his stories.

Heavily into the valley and the heat, the garlic capital of the world assailed us with its perfume. To my "garliphobe" husband, this was the antithesis of heaven. Yet, because it was getting late, he thought we should find a place. But the overwhelming smell of garlic drove us like vampires from the city. Miles and miles away, the smell still assailed us until we finally found olfactory peace in Los Banos next to a fast food sushi bar. Wine and raw fish in the room tonight. Yes indeed!

At the end of the day, the sun was at our backs. The wild coast was receding and we are heading to the calmer one. I love them both and feel so fortunate that I can traverse the thousands of miles between them freely, with the wind in my face and Jules and Magic as my guide.