The road less travelled

So I've been travelling for 3 days and it feels good to be out of the city into the wild far reaches of northern California and, now Oregon.  I always feel the road less travelled offers greatest rewards, and as I have time up my sleeve, I've opted to take the scenic route wherever possible.  


Prior to hitting the road however my first conundrum struck when the car rental lady, seeing I was a guy on my own, enquired as to whether I'd like to upgrade the very sensible non descript Nissan sub compact I'd selected online, teeny weeny by American standards but quite normal for Europe and kind of mid sized for Australia, to a Ford Mustang for just an additional $8 per day.  For a good 30 seconds or so I stared at the picture of the Mustang, the boy inside me urging me to go for the Ford, but the environmentalist (bit hard to blog about sustainability driving around in a Mustang for 18 days...), budget conscious and sensible older me putting up a solid argument for the compact.  In the end the compact won comfortably, in part because I was nervous already about driving on the wrong side of the road through San Francisco and the Ford looked like it wasn't going to smooth out the experience.


Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, the fog cleared, the sun came out and the temperature rose.  The classic rock of the 70's, 80's and 90's, which seemed to be on every channel, suddenly made a lot more sense as I headed up the scenic Highway 1. 


The Highway hugs the northern Californian coast and winds in and out and up and down rocky outcrops, densely forested areas and open pastures.  The scenery is stunning at times and seems like an endless Great Ocean Road.  I stopped for lunch in picturesque Jenner (popn. 136), checked out Fort Ross (southern most outpost of the Russian land holdings in America around the 18th century) and then rolled into Mendocino just after 6pm, about 200 kms and 8 hours after I started (the road less travelled may not however be the fastest...).  The radio options had gradually declined until I was left with the Christian channel (1 verse), country and western (3 and a half songs), and the baseball channel (rest of the drive).  I think baseball plays the same role in American society as a cricket does for ours, it's on, but no one is really listening, it's very good to drive to in that respect.


Mendocino (or Mendo as everyone called it) is a small little town with colourful painted wooden American style buildings and wide streets perched on a piece of land that juts into the sea, with the land behind and adjacent swathed in dense forest.  I'd read there were a range of accommodation options available, and after an unpleasant previous nights sleep in my dorm sharing a bunk with a large, hairy, y-front wearing, flatulant Latino businessman, I decided to upsize to my own room.  I was drawn to the Didjeridoo Dream Time Inn and Meditation B&B given the Australian reference.  Checking in I enquired as to the Dream Time name to the floaty lady at reception.  She wasn't sure, but thought it might be something to do with Australia, ah ha.  I then asked about the meditation aspect, to which I was informed there was someone who was thinking about doing this, but she couldn't anymore.  

Heading out for dinner to the local pub I sat at the bar and was soon talking to the chap next to me, a tall Jesus like fellow in a robe. Tul Khoo (a name of Tibetan origin, although he hails from Wisconsin dairy farming stock, so I suspect this may not be his birth name) runs music and spiritual events around Mendo, with his forthcoming event being Enchanted Forest.  We spoke for an hour or so and I indicated that I felt I wasn't seeing the real America being in San Francisco and now Mendo.  Tul replied the real America is at home watching TV, eating rubbish food and driving big pick ups, so I wasn't missing out on much. Coincidently it turned out Tul was also staying at the Dream Time, so after a few beers we headed back and he introduced me to Charles the ageing hippy owner. After a brief introduction to Charles and having spoken to Tul I understood why it didn't matter that no one knew why the place was called Dream Time, or that the meditation lady never appeared, in Mendo these are just trivialities and people just seem glad to be living there.


Next morning there was a delicious communal breakfast (highlight being the brown sugared bacon with pecan nuts) where all guests gathered around one room and chatted.  I sat next to a retired guy with a snowy white beard and binocs, who I took for a twitcher.  Striking up conversation he indicated he'd never been to Australia, but his great uncle had who was into mining.  This twigged my memory of a documentary I'd seen about US President Herbert Hoover and his time in Western Australia setting up mines in Kalgoorlie in his early years around the turn of the last century. As such I asked if his great uncle was former President Hoover, to which he replied he was.  He was surprised I knew of President Hoover's time in Australia, and that there was a documentary on this, and I was surprised to be sat at breakfast with the great nephew of President Hoover.  His wife then introduced herself and invited me to stay with them if I end up making it to Santa Cruz.  I think I will towards the end of the drive, so will be looking them up.


I left Mendo about midday, having also bought a postcard off the former photographer for the Grateful Dead just after breakfast, reflecting on the array of characters I'd encountered in the 18 hours I was in town.  I could have stayed for a week or so, it had a very relaxed and welcoming atmosphere, but I was keen to head to the Californian Redwoods up the road.