We avoided the ugly excesses of Black Friday yesterday and indulged in Back To Nature Saturday today by heading for Big Sur.
And it is quite big, in case you wondered. Very tricky to find the spot where Kerouac took that spiritual crap then wiped his ass on scratchy ferns but that’s because it never happened. Or did it?
I suppose there may be a Medium Sur or even just a Regular Sur out there somewhere but we didn’t want to visit them so we found the Pfeiffer State Park thing (who knew she was so rich she could own the land?) and spent a little time beside the virgin clear waters of a smallish river which was meandering its way through the trees down to the shore. We didn’t meander, just ambled. I’m a broken old man, remember. We didn’t get to see the shore either – too popular on a Saturday and the parking lot was full.
but we did find a road house called Roadhouse which will make you wet yourself endlessly if you watch Family Guy. I made friends with a Redwood there so I now feel slightly better qualified to sing Woody Guthrie tunes.