Herb Benham: Central Coast brings me out of my fog
| Thursday, Sep 10 2009 03:37 PM
Last Updated Thursday, Sep 10 2009 03:38 PM
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My impression of the Central Coast was that it was foggy. It is, but it wasn't last weekend, and when it's not, it has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. I don't know why I've been fighting it, but I have.
Maybe it has something to do with the natural division of things. As with the Dodgers or Giants, valley residents either take to one team or the other and people in Bakersfield are either Central Coast people, Ventura people or Laguna, Newport and parts-south fans.
It's possible to like them all, and it's a clever way of hedging your bets should you find yourself in one or the other, but most have a preference. Now I see why people choose Cambria, Cayucos, Morro Bay and San Simeon.
Last weekend was cheating because the weather was fall-like, and those who love the ocean know that fall is its best season. The crowds have gone and, more often than not, it is clear and the temperatures are cool but not frigid.
In a word, it's glorious. If you're not glad to be alive, you should be. One cool, crystal-clear Central Coast day is enough to wash off a summer's worth of heat and dust.
A friend loaned us her house. My advice is to not necessarily work any harder, but work harder on your friendships with people who own at the beach. There is an art to drafting on those who are more fortunate or more successful.
Saturday morning, I parked a few feet north of the Cayucos Pier and pushed off into the brilliant sunshine and ankle-slapping surf on my stand-up paddle board. I encourage those who have been intrigued by the sight of people paddling along the horizon to try it. It's learnable (be encouraged by the fact that if I can do it, somebody who can barely stand on one leg without doing a head plant, most can). It's fun and now that there is a temporary ban on motor boats at Lake Ming, we have a perfect place to learn and practice.
I paddled to a flock of about a thousand sea gulls, pelicans and and other birds that were sitting on what appeared to be a school of fish.
They were either fish or would have to do until the fish arrived, to paraphrase Tommy Lee Jones in "No Country for Old Men."
Seals jumped in and out of the water. Porpoises too. It was like Nature Week.
The only thing missing were whales and the 13-foot great white shark that had bitten a seal in half the week before. Although the shark probably wasn't missing, it was just waiting for me to fall in the fish boil so the soup would be complete.
That night we warmed up a frozen chicken pot pie from Linn's. Talk about comfort food. That pie might as well have come with a pair of sweats and an afghan.
Sunday, our friend Harry from Bakersfield drove over and we surfed Morro Rock. That's one big rock. Surfing next to it is pretty dramatic. You never forget it's there because it's so big and it smells. That rock hasn't taken a bath in thousands of years.
Afterward we went to Wavelengths, the surf shop in Morro Bay. I was looking for a T-shirt that wasn't hot. Some T-shirts are cool and some are hot, no matter how many times you wash them.
We ate calamari and chips at Schooner's Wharf. Sue had arrived early, secured a table overlooking the pier and the ocean and had to endure withering looks from other customers until we arrived. I know that look because she gave me the same one when we strolled in 12 minutes late.
I left my credit card at the restaurant. Consider it a down payment. A down payment on a return visit.
