Returning from San Francisco’s NOVA conference was a case study in how you cannot get here from there. Cupcake insisted on taking the Route 1 Coast road. It has more turns than a pissed off sidewinder. The only positive feature is that it doesn’t move or strike like one. A massive traffic jam in Petaluma for road construction caused us to miss the first opportunity after Sausalito. We finally took a cuttoff down a mule track to Bodega Bay. Some may remember Alfred Hitchcock’s movie on that but we sure didn’t see the same town. Typical Hollywood. Go to Victoria BC to get the ambiance and “feel” for something in California.
After about four hours @ 20 mph, we decided it might take two weeks to get home. Sadly, we decided to make the break from the lovely view and return to the game plan. Unfortunately, we didn’t have one of those Doc Brown DeLoreans with a flux capacitor. In California, they have roads that do not necessarily go where you want to-on the order of a hundred miles backwards to get fifty miles sideways. All this time we thought they just suffered a dearth of water. Check this little 78-mile nightmare backtrack towards San Francisco out.
We arrived in Corning at 2100 hrs., did the choke and puke at a Mexican restaurant and then hit the Holiday Express Inn.
Now, for all of you Veterans, I wish to warn you. In spite of what Holiday Inns say, they do not, I repeat, do not offer a discount to military or Veterans. The young lady in Corning indicated they do offer AAA and AARP discounts but when queried, I was told categorically the Mil/Vet discount does not exist. Holiday Inn advertises to the contrary so do not depend on their ads. Thank you for your service. That will still be $116 samoles.
The high point of the whole road trip, and the primary raison d’etre, in my book, was the last stop. I have not had the opportunity to visit my Uncle Jay for twenty four long years. Sunday, the 19th of April, I was able to do so on a glorious sunny afternoon. I still remembered my way to the old Comstock Cemetery in Curtin, Oregon.
Too bad we couldn’t just click our ruby red high heels together and keep repeating “There’s no place like home” to speed our journey back to Gig Harbor. One last question for Brad. What in heck are these flowers? My term for what they resemble is unprintable. They infested the coast road in both deep blue and purple.