The Weekender

We drove up to San Francisco in the middle of the night, the milky breathing of a sleeping babe providing our soundtrack.  Our entrance to the bay was misty and mystical, we crossed the red bridge as languidly as possible.  Two days spent lolling about Golden Gate Park and a quick afternoon of whimsy in The Castro and we were back on the road, heading to Big Sur.

Ahh Big Sur.  The place of my dreams, the place of fantasy and fir trees and giant waves crashing against rock.  So much beauty and always too little time.  I picked up a copy of Jack Kerouac's Big Sur at the The Big Sur Lodge gift shop. As always, Mr Kerouac had it right.  Pristine silence and self-reflection followed me around, hidden in the beauty of this place. After a few hikes and some night-time single malt whiskey, we awoke groggy and giddy.  Our trip back home began with a meal above the clouds at The Post Ranch Inn . What a stunning view!  And the most delicious lavender lemonade with fresh sprigs of lavender.

Driving back along the Pacific Coast Highway, Mister YaYa seemed to recall something about a pod of elephant seals along the way.  We kept our eyes out and sure enough---the most surreal moment of our trip thus far.  There were about a hundred of them, nestling and wrestling and snuggling one another.  They made the most curious sounds, something out of a Ray Harryhausen underwater adventure flick.  We gazed upon them for what seemed like forever, and I could have stayed for another forever.  
The perfect end to the perfect weekender.

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