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San Francisco/Monterey, California July 10 -- July 14 The Story Photo Gallery

It took us the better part of a day to get from Fort Bragg to the Monterey area. As we approached the bridge to Oakland, we could see a huge cloud in front of us just off to the right. Crossing the bridge, I could just make out the obscured skyline of San Francisco. It took a long time to get out of Oakland due to accident traffic, but we eventually made it through, went past San Jose, and wound our way down California Route 17 before ending up at Henry Cowell State Park. We set up camp and Deanna looked through her notes to plan for our next day`s visit to San Francisco. Towards the end of the evening, we realized that while I had turned on the switch to run the camper`s refrigerator off the propane tank, I had forgotten to turn off the switch for running the fridge off of the battery (the fridge uses power from the battery during our drives from place to place). We corrected the problem but wondered how much of the battery`s power had been drained: it seemed all right for the moment.

So the next morning we headed north to San Francisco. Our first stop was on the southern outskirts of the city at a place called Fort Funston. The dog travel guide described it as "dog heaven" because dogs could run off-leash throughout the park. As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw ten to twenty dogs romping through the field next to the parking lot. We also observed a few hang gliders finishing up their flights: the cliffside of the park must have a a fairly constant updraft. We unloaded the hounds and starting walking along the first path we saw. We met many dog owners and even more dogs: one guy was in charge of at least a dozen dogs, a few of which he was apparently dog-sitting (as he didn`t quite know their names). We did have to explain to a few of them why our guys were still leashed. While we could see the top of the Golden Gate Bridge from the park, there wasn`t anything really scenic about the place, and we had other places to see, so we returned to the van and headed into the city.

Upon entering the main city area, we went north on CA Route 1, past stone rowhouses painted in various pastel shades of yellow, blue, and even pink. We made our way into Golden Gate Park and parked briefly to decide where to go next. Deanna`s guidebook had a number of suggestions, but we decided to head to Baker Beach, a stretch of beach just west and south of the Golden Gate Bridge. So we drove out of the park and then a few more blocks to Baker Beach. We took a blanket from the van to sit down on and settled on the beach, with the famous bridge in full view off to our right. As we ate our lunches and the hounds relaxed, we observed flocks of pelicans passing by from our right to our left. They were not the large stocky birds with droopy lower bills depicted in drawings and cartoons: these pelicans were sleek and aerodynamic. Deanna took many pictures of them in an effort to capture their graceful flight. After we finished our lunches, I wanted to walk further down the beach, to get closer to the bridge. Deanna wasn`t interested in going, so I took Carrie with me. As we made our way down the beach, she nudged me a few times with her head. I thought perhaps she was indicating that she wanted to get her paws wet in the surf, but when I brought us closer to the the water, she veered away from any waves that came close.

After reaching the end of the beach and taking a few pictures, we headed back. It had been a longer distance than I had estimated, so I decided to have some fun with Carrie. I started to run down the beach. Carrie ran to catch up, passed me, and then slowed down again as she reached the end of her leash. Still running, I passed her again and the process started all over again. Carrie seemed to enjoy it, so we kept going. Deanna took some pictures of us as we came close and then rejoined them.

We packed up and headed back to the van. Once there, we decided on our next destination, Fisherman`s Wharf. We drove back south and then east towards the marina area and found a $15 parking lot three blocks from the docks. We joined the crowd of people milling around the shops and restaurants. We found a billboard map of the wharf that indicated that Pier 39 had an area where sea lions came to haul out. So we headed over to Pier 39, which is full of shops and restaurants facing the interior of the pier. Fortunately we were able to find our way to the outside of the pier on the east side where the docks were but the people were not. When we reached the end of the pier, we had a good view of the bay, with Alcatraz Island in front of us and the Golden Gate Bridge off to our left (Alcatraz Island doesn`t allow dogs on the island, otherwise we might have hopped on the last tourist ferry out there). We took a few pictures before continuing on, walking against the stiff wind coming off of the bay.

Turning the corner, we found the sea lion`s hangout. There were only a few of them sunning themselves on the dozen or so floating docks. In the summer, most sea lions head south to mate, leaving few left in the area. At least today observant onlookers got to see some greyhounds as well.

We left the pier and walked around the wharf some more before deciding that we should try and find a place to have dinner. We found a little Italian place with some outdoor seating and sat down to eat. At first, the hounds were comfortable on their travel seats. Near the end of dinner, however, the boys (who were closest to the sidewalk and hence more exposed to the harbor winds) began to shiver, especially Frazzle. Deanna ended up putting her pullover sweatshirt on him, rolling up the sleeves so he could walk without his front legs tripping on the material. After paying for dinner, we hurried the hounds back to the warmth of the van. We decided that our last stop of the day would be Crissy Field, noted in Deanna`s guidebook as a good place to take in the sunset. We drove out of the wharf area, climbing and then descending one of San Francisco`s notorious hills. We headed east and entered the grounds of the Presidio. We wound our way through several streets before finding parking in the East Beach parking lot beyond Crissy Field. We were about thirty yards from the water and had a great view of the bridge, so there was no need to expose the hounds to the now-biting wind that even discouraged us from being outside of the van for too long. We stayed until the sun went just behind the hills on the other side of the bridge, then started our way out of the city while we could still see the street signs clearly. It was past 10pm by the time we returned to the camper. As we got ready for bed, the red indicator light appeared again: my mistake with the fridge`s power supply had taxed the new battery. With recharging the battery now added to our agenda, we turned in for the night.

Deanna slept in the next morning while I got up and took the battery to the NAPA store in town to get it recharged. After I returned to camp, we headed south, past Santa Cruz and onto the Monterey Penninsula. We then paid the entrance fee for the 17 Mile Drive through Pebble Beach. The 17 Mile Drive is a designated roadway through the communities and golf resorts of Pebble Beach that keeps tourists from straying onto residential roads. We followed the roadway to the first designated scenic spot along the shoreline. We took the hounds out to let them walk for a bit, but there was a lot of seaweed along the beach (along with the body of a dead seal) so it was not an ideal place to let the hounds get their feet wet. We got back into the van and drove to the next point, which had a smaller but seaweed-free beach. Deanna took the hounds to the edge of the surf one at a time. The water temperature was about the same as it was in Lake Tahoe (chilly) and the hounds all reacted the way they had in Tahoe. The real novelty in having them wet their feet was that they had experienced both the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean.

We continued on the Drive. Our next stop was listed on our 17 Mile Drive map as Bird Rock, where seabirds and harbor seals congregated. The rock in question was indeed covered with birds, but the few seals there were on a more distant rock, too far away to see clearly. We observed what seemed to be a sea otter swimming amongst the seaweed: we could only see its head above the water. We were beginning to get hungry, but the nearby picnic tables were fully exposed to the sun, and we didn`t want to subject the hounds to that. The next few vista points didn`t interest us, so our next stop was the 14th point, Cypress Point Lookout, listed on our map as one of the most scenic views along the Drive, so we made the turnoff and parked the van. The beautiful view of the coastline was visible right away, but when we joined the other onlookers, we saw that the real attraction, at least today, were the dozens of seals hauled out on the rocks practically right below us.

After taking a great many pictures, we continued on our way. We were still looking for a place to have lunch--it was now almost the middle of the afternoon. There were some picnic tables on a grassy hill outside one of the buildings at the Pebble Beach Golf Course complex, but there were no indications that dogs were allowed on the immaculate lawn, so we kept on going. Having finished the 17 Mile Drive, we exited Pebble Beach through the gate that lead to the town of Carmel-by-the-Sea (also referred to as simply Carmel). We turned right on Ocean Avenue, the main street of Carmel, and headed west to Carmel City Beach, another dog-friendly beach. We were fortunate to find a parking space close to the beach, and we took the hounds and our beach blanket to the start of the beach. The sands of Carmel City Beach begin at the top of a fairly steep hill then follow the hill down to the shore. We found a shady spot beneath a tree just before the hill sloped downwards, so we were able to watch the ocean and the beachgoers from afar as we ate lunch. We could also see the 18th hole of Pebble Beach off to our right.

Even here, at a popular beach for residents and tourists alike, there was no one actually swimming in the ocean: the currents and waves in many parts of northern California are just too strong to be safe, and even if they weren`t the water itself is too chilly to be fully immersed in for an extended period of time. Folks seemed content to just sun themselves or play in ths surf.

After lunch, Deanna took Frazzle and Carrie down with her to the beach. Wren and Tyler didn`t seem interested in going, so I stayed with time at our picnic spot. A few minutes after they left, I noticed the arrival of a middle-aged man in casual slacks and a beach shirt, followed by a young woman in a bridal gown holding a lean bouquet of flowers. At first, I couldn`t tell if they were coming from the wedding ceremony or going to it, but they were definitely standing there waiting for something. Eventually I overheard the gentleman (the father of the bride, apparently) say into his cell phone that the bride was getting cold waiting in the breeze. A few minutes later, they started making their way down the hill, just as Deanna and the older hounds were returning. Deanna said she saw two tall bamboo poles set up in the sand on the northern end of the beach (hidden from our vantage point). Apparently that`s where the ceremony was to take place.

We decided that it was too late to do anything else, so we got back in the van and returned to camp for dinner.

After breakfast the next morning, I unhitched the propane tank from the camper and drove into town to get it refilled on the way to pick up our battery from NAPA. It turned out that despite using propane for all of our cooking, for heating our water and for powering the fridge when we didn`t have an electrical hookup, we had only used about four gallons of our 20-gallon tank. I returned to camp, we reconnected the battery and the propane tank to the camper, and headed south once again. We drove past Santa Cruz and Carmel and onto the stretch of CA Route 1 that hugs the coastline. Deanna negotiated the curving roadway as we passed in and out of coastal fog. After about twenty miles, the road turned inland and the skies became clear once again.

After passing the entrance to Big Sur State Park, we took the second right turn onto an unmarked road that headed downhill. A quarter of a mile down that road was a the sign indicating that this was the road to Pfeiffer Beach. The one-lane road wound down the hillside to the entrance fee station. We paid the fee, parked, and headed to the beach. Pfeiffer Beach is known for its large rocks just off-shore. We instantly noticed the largest rock outcropping, with its doorway-like tunnel through which waves would come crashing through, as soon as we entered the beach. After determining that it was worth staying, I went back to the van to get our beach blanket while Deanna led the hounds through a shallow stretch of a large pond in the beach formed by a stream leading into the ocean. When I returned, we settled down and had lunch. Since the hounds had readily waded through the pond, Deanna took each of them back to the pond, one at a time, into the deeper parts. Unlike their encounters with the ocean and Lake Tahoe, none of them made a fuss about wading into the knee-deep water. Deanna splashed some water on their backs and rubbed some water on their stomachs to help keep them cool despite the sun, and none of them minded in the slightest. She then took a walk around the beach with Frazzle and her camera while I minded the other hounds. I spent some of that time watching a guy clad in a wetsuit trying to ride the waves coming off the rocks with an ocean kayak. He spent more time in the water than he did in his kayak: unless the kayak was perfectly perpendicular to the impact of the wave, the kayak would tip over and dump him out.

Once Deanna finished taking her pictures, it was my turn to go and check things out. I decided to try and take pictures from vantage points Deanna could not have reached with a greyhound tethered to her. I scrambled over some rocks close to the mouth of one of the rock tunnels to get a different view of the waves coming through it. Earlier, I had seen a few people on top of a large rock formation on the beach. I considered what kinds of things I might be able to see from up top, but I couldn`t see any easy way of getting up there burdened with a camera, and I had even less of an idea as to how I would get down again, so I passed on that opportunity. I took some more pictures of waves impacting the rocks before returning to Deanna and the hounds. Deanna showed me a freshly dug hole in the sand. During my absence, Wren had spontaneously felt the urge to dig, which Deanna caught on film. The hole was deep and narrow, just big enough for a greyhound to fit her head in (which Wren and Carrie did briefly) so we don`t know what purpose it served, if any. It was now the middle of the afternoon, so we shoved some sand into the hole and made our way back to the van.

We drove back up Route 1 to Carmel and found a public parking lot on Eighth Avenue. Deanna`s guidebook touted Carmel as being one of the most dog-friendly towns in California. A number of the shops that lined the downtown streets had water bowls outside for the dogs, and one store we passed had a steel bucket of dog treats ("one per dog," the sign over the bucket requested). We were stopped numerous times by folks who wanted to pet the hounds, more so than in other places. Northern California is home to a lot of art studios, and Carmel had its share. We stopped by the Roderigue Studio as suggested by Deanna`s guide to see artwork involving the Blue Dog. The Blue Dog is a dark blue dog with wide yellow eyes that represents the artist`s dog who used to stare at him while he painted: after the dog passed away, he started to incorporate its image in his work. From the gallery doorway, we could see a number of paintings containing the Blue Dog, but we weren`t comfortable going in: there were no signs indicating that pets were allowed, and the woman minding the studio saw us and gave no indication that the hounds were welcome to enter.

We strolled around town for a while longer until we happened upon a dog and cat store. It had countless dog treats, toys, collars, and other items. The store carried Doggles, UV-blocking goggles with straps that fit around a dog`s head. Frazzle has cataracts and tends to squint in strong sunlight, so we tried one out on him. He didn`t seem to mind wearing it, so we bought it for him. He also took the initiative and picked out a squeaky toy for himself. Deanna also bought dried beef tendon treats, one for each hound.

After that, we decided to do dinner. We ended up at Lenny`s Deli, one of the many restaurants that allow dogs at the the outdoor tables. We found out after dinner that some places in Carmel even have special rooms inside where dogs were welcome: an older couple we encountered after dinner told us of an Italian place in town where dog owners and their dogs went upstairs to eat, and of a coffee shop where the dogs were also allowed inside.

By the time we were done with dinner, it was almost 7pm. Since many of the shops were already closed, we decided it was time to leave. We made our way back to camp, fed the hounds their dinner, and called it a night.

Friday was our last day camping in California. The morning was spent taking care of a few things. Deanna dropped me off at the local laundromat, then dropped the van off at NAPA for an oil change: the trip odometer was over the 5,000 mile mark. She had the hounds with her: they walked across the street to the local park to explore and hang out until the van was done. They then picked me up at the laundromat and we returned to camp. After that, it was time for lunch, but we no longer had any bread to make sandwiches with. Deanna went out again to pick up some sandwiches and to check out what the railway cars on the dog-friendly Roaring Camp Railroad were like. I stayed at camp and continued to recount our travels until she got back. She reported that the railcars had lots of space between the benches along the sides for the hounds to occupy, so she ahd booked us on the 3:30 train to see the redwoods. We used the time between lunch and our rail trip to break down the x-pens and put away our patio awning so there would be less to do the next morning when we broke camp, then made the short drive to the railroad.

We walked over to the train depot and waited for the train. Some of the children waiting with us petted the hounds as they relaxed in the shade of the depot. Soon the train rolled into the station. We waited for most of our fellow passengers to get on before boarding ourselves so we could get on the least crowded car. We sat down in the middle of the car, on opposite sides, and put down the travel mats between us. As we waited for them to attach our locomotive (the oil-burning steam locomotive Dixiana) to the train, we tried to get the hounds to lie down on their mats, but all of the activity and the occasional jerks of movement as they tried to hitch up the train proved to be too much of a distraction...except for Frazzle, lying with his eyes closed, indifferent to the commotion. We were relieved when they finally hooked up the engine: we were all feeling hot sitting out there in the sun. The conductor gave the signal, and the train blew its whistle and started down the track. That`s when the hounds got the message that they were on a train. Carrie shakily laid down, and Wren soon followed suit. Tyler, however, seemed to prefer standing up (and did so for much of the journey).

The train began climbing up Bear Mountain, home to countless redwood trees. We relaxed in the shade of the forest as the conductor told us about the history of Bear Mountain and the railroad itself. The redwoods of Bear Mountain, he told us, were first-generation redwood trees. The wife of the businessman who bought Bear Mountain in the 1800s in order to start a logging business made him promise to protect the trees from ever being cut down, so that`s what he did (other nearby redwood forests had been logged in the early 1900s to rebuild San Francisco after a great fire, while Bear Mountain had been left untouched). The original track up to Bear Mountain was laid in 1963, but a fire in 1976 destroyed the main trestle. Because of that fire, they had to build a new track with switchbacks in order to get up the mountain. We had to travel past the switching lever on the side of the track, wait for the conductor to hop off and throw the switch, then back up onto a holding track so we could be switched again to the new track up the mountain.

Finally we reached our destination near the top of the mountain. We all disembarked and gathered in a grove of redwoods called the Cathedral Grove. As we gazed up, the conductor explained that these trees all sprouted from the roots of a 2,000 year-old redwood tree whose stump he was standing on. He explained how redwoods collect almost all of their water from the coastal fog, almost 1,000 gallons a day each. He pointed out the tall blackened remnants of a redwood that had been struck by lightning: the strike had vaporized all of the water in the redwood, causing the 200-foot tree to explode. The nearby trees, only a few feet away, had been scorched but otherwise undamaged: redwoods do not burn easily because of a natural fire retardant in their bark, and usually recover from fire damage. The hounds were not impressed or affected by the magnificent trees. Frazzle however did live up to our expectations: he picked one of the trees, lifted his leg, and peed on it just like he would any other tree.

We climbed back on the train and headed down the mountain. After returning to the station and getting off the train, I took some pictures of Deanna and the hounds next to the locomotive.

Returning to the van, we decided to head down into Santa Cruz and try to find West Lighthouse Beach, a place surfers supposedly liked to frequent. Deanna`s guidebook listed the streets near the beach, but we didn`t have a street map of Santa Cruz, so we ended up driving around the beach and harbor area looking for it. We eventually saw a lighthouse, but we didn`t see any surfers or an open parking space anywhere, so we gave up and headed back to camp.

That was the end of our stay in California. The next morning we headed east towards home. It would take several days of driving before we reached our next destination, the greyhound farms and racetrack in Council Bluffs, Iowa.