Twenty hours on Foam Street - Monterey
Loretta and I visited one of our favorite places this past weekend. Well, I suppose it really wasn't technically a weekend since we got there late Sunday morning and left to come home late Monday morning. It was all too short as always.
I am not alone in my thoughts that Monterey is a special place. Why? I guess I could just say, "It just is", but that wouldn't do it justice. The word ambience comes to mind. The words by the ocean seem appropriate. In fact, I made this comment to Loretta and our friends while we were there, "Why would anyone NOT want to live by the ocean...specifically, Monterey Bay?" We have been very lucky with the weather...it has always been prefect. We've been there in November. We've been there in April. And now in August. It has always been clear, sunny, and mild...it was "perfect", as all of us stated to one another several times. I'm quite sure it gets nasty in Monterey at times! We've just been very fortunate. But, it wouldn't matter to me.
Loretta and I have been there by ourselves a few times. This last little trip included our friends Sue and Gene...the third time in two years with them.
This photo was taken in one of our favorite spots for lunch, we usually end up there soon after arriving. It's called Isabella's...a very pleasant, mid-sized restaurant on Old Fisherman's Wharf. The menu is simple and relatively affordable (for lunch). The $3.00 margarita specials (all the wharf bistros do it on Sunday) are just right. The decor is somewhat nautical, but not campy or obnoxious. There is always Frank Sinatra music playing. And we just like it! We always seem to sit at the same table, right around the corner from the front door, so we can watch the Sunday crowd stroll by on the pier. The remainer of the restaurant toward the back affords harbor and marina views. I believe it is owned by an Italian family that runs a few other places in and around Monterey...they've been there for a while and seem to know what they're doing.
After a little lunch, we'll wander the wharf for a while checking out the seafood shops, sampling the chowder hawked in little plastic cups to passersby. Slowly making our way back, we pass the huge wharf plaza and into that end of town. There are a few shops there that Sue and Gene like to frequent...mostly touristy, curio places. The plaza had some sort of Turkish festival going on while we were there. It was noisy, smokey, and nothing appealed to us to stop. A mainstay of that section of Monterey on weekends was not there...an organ grinder with his monkey. Yes, there are still people who perpetuate that old tradition. The monkey has the little hat and outfit that includes a red vest, he runs out into the crowd at the end of his little leash collecting coins...and, of course, tipping his little hat each time! Once in while, a small child will attempt to pet him and he'll let out a short screech of surprise until the organ grinder guy disciplines him a bit. Then the monkey will reluctantly sit there for one small tactile moment by all the children in the crowd...scampering back to his owner, sometimes jumping up on the little organ box perched on a monopod.
The walk back to our motel on Foam Street from the wharf is about 1/4 mile or so...seems longer after all the $3.00 margaritas, clam chowder, and sourdough bread. We pass by another part of the marina and a park on the way. It's a nice walk on a wide, Monterey-pine-shaded bike/walk path.
BTW...Be sure to obey the usual traffic laws (right and left lanes, slower traffic keep to right, etc)... because one of the locals whizzing by on his bicycle will surely scold you if you don't! Or, run into you, causing great bodily harm I'm sure. Sometimes foreign tourists just don't get it!
You'll see little harbor seals basking on the rocks and marina structures. Some of them hang out unseen under the wharf squawking (I assume at one another) in a beligerent tone. Boats come and go...some sportfishing boats as well as whale-watching excursions.
There's even a glass-bottom boat or two that we have yet to try. And a lot of people, especially on weekends. Even weekdays are somewhat busy during the summer...though never really what I call crowded. This ain't Disneyland!
Our stroll back toward Cannery Row and our motel passes by the Monterey Plaza Hotel. It's very nice, but quite pricey...maybe we'll stay there someday. We always seem to end up at the Plaza Bar at the end of our day for an after-dinner cocktail. Only one though, as the drinks there run about $8.00+ each!
Our Monterey Sunday afternoon then includes checking into the motel...2:00 or so. Loretta and I generally break out the portable bar and mix a bloody mary or two for us, Sue, and Gene.
Then, a leisurely stroll through Cannery Row. This means, Sue and Loretta go shopping...Gene and I hit one of several restaurant bars! They don't have the $3.00 margaritas that the wharf offers, so we'll generally pound a few beers on one of the outside patios. And just sit...and relax. That's one of the things about going with Sue and Gene that make it enjoyable for us...the girls like to shop, and Gene and I are content to plant our asses in a chair and do nothing.
Later, back at the motel...we retire to our rooms for an hour or so. Gene takes a nap...Loretta and I sit in the spa for a while...then dinner.
The next morning, very early (6:00), I usually get up, grab a cup of coffee, and head down to Cannery Row by myself with camera in hand. There is something quite soothing about strolling the daytime-busy thoroughfare as the sun comes up that makes me feel detached from the rest of the world. The tourists are gone. The shops are closed. But the restaurants are already busy with early morning activity...putting out the trash, receiving the morning produce and seafood deliveries, hosing down the sidewalks. I headed down to McAbee Beach, a small sandy area in front of the Spindrift Inn.
The weather was calm and mild...t-shirt and shorts. And this is where the incident occurred.
I was having a great time, snapping photos of the pre-dawn tidepools and bay...no wind, the water was calm, the seabirds jockeying for position amongst the exposed rocks, the lanquid tide surging in and out. I had almost filled up my digital memory card and decided it was time to head back. And then...being a little too confident, I made an ill-advised move. I attempted to make a long step from one wet, barnacle-covered rock to another...and went down! Hard! Pretty much head first. The $3500 Canon EOS 20D (and equally costly lens) went flying ( I can still hear the clippity clap of it bouncing across the rocks). My right foot had slipped out from under me, raking my shin across the barnacles. My left shoulder and elbow hit another rock and settled in the wet sand, my head hit another rock (a glancing blow, fortunately)...and I found myself almost standing on my head, wedged between barnacle and seaweed covered boulders, feet still up on the rock I was once standing.
My first thoughts just micro seconds later? Geeze, I hope no one was watching this (there wasn't another soul around)! My second thought? Holy shit...I can't afford another expensive digital camera right now.
Yes...all 235, 56 year old pounds went down like a stack of jenga tiles at a drunken frat party.
After a second or two of analyzing my predicament...let's see...I'm face down in the sand, feet in the air, in a lot of pain...but I'm conscious...alone, blocks from the motel...I hauled myself up to a standing position. I quickly surveyed the situation...sheepishly picking up the camera. It seemed to be OK...the lens was clear, avoiding any rocky contact...only a couple of small nicks on the edges. Myself...not so lucky.
Although nothing truly serious transpired, I was beat up. There was sticky blood everywhere...on my hands, my knuckles, my elbow...and my right leg. Chunks of barnacle and skin were hanging off of my kneecap, sand coated my left elbow and the side of my head. I was a mess. But, I had to trudge back to the motel. I headed up the beach...blood dripping from a dozen areas...chunks of skin...and holes. The lower shin abrasion swelling up to the size of an ostrich egg. I needed bactine and ice...fast.
Yes...the camera survived. I survived...with fodder in tow for a blathering blog entry about Monterey. We had a nice time in one of our favorite places...despite my studpity.
I got my clam chowder and bay shrimp cocktail. We ate some crab sandwiches. Drank some $3.00 margaritas (too many in my case). Breathed some fresh, Monterey Bay sea air. And I took 150 photos.
We had a great Twenty hours on Foam Street...and I got to walk in the footsteps of one of my mentors once again: John Steinbeck. His image is everywhere on Cannery Row.
I just hope they will let me back in that restaurant bar where one of the other incidents occurred...another time, another blog for that story!
I am not alone in my thoughts that Monterey is a special place. Why? I guess I could just say, "It just is", but that wouldn't do it justice. The word ambience comes to mind. The words by the ocean seem appropriate. In fact, I made this comment to Loretta and our friends while we were there, "Why would anyone NOT want to live by the ocean...specifically, Monterey Bay?" We have been very lucky with the weather...it has always been prefect. We've been there in November. We've been there in April. And now in August. It has always been clear, sunny, and mild...it was "perfect", as all of us stated to one another several times. I'm quite sure it gets nasty in Monterey at times! We've just been very fortunate. But, it wouldn't matter to me.
Loretta and I have been there by ourselves a few times. This last little trip included our friends Sue and Gene...the third time in two years with them.
This photo was taken in one of our favorite spots for lunch, we usually end up there soon after arriving. It's called Isabella's...a very pleasant, mid-sized restaurant on Old Fisherman's Wharf. The menu is simple and relatively affordable (for lunch). The $3.00 margarita specials (all the wharf bistros do it on Sunday) are just right. The decor is somewhat nautical, but not campy or obnoxious. There is always Frank Sinatra music playing. And we just like it! We always seem to sit at the same table, right around the corner from the front door, so we can watch the Sunday crowd stroll by on the pier. The remainer of the restaurant toward the back affords harbor and marina views. I believe it is owned by an Italian family that runs a few other places in and around Monterey...they've been there for a while and seem to know what they're doing.
After a little lunch, we'll wander the wharf for a while checking out the seafood shops, sampling the chowder hawked in little plastic cups to passersby. Slowly making our way back, we pass the huge wharf plaza and into that end of town. There are a few shops there that Sue and Gene like to frequent...mostly touristy, curio places. The plaza had some sort of Turkish festival going on while we were there. It was noisy, smokey, and nothing appealed to us to stop. A mainstay of that section of Monterey on weekends was not there...an organ grinder with his monkey. Yes, there are still people who perpetuate that old tradition. The monkey has the little hat and outfit that includes a red vest, he runs out into the crowd at the end of his little leash collecting coins...and, of course, tipping his little hat each time! Once in while, a small child will attempt to pet him and he'll let out a short screech of surprise until the organ grinder guy disciplines him a bit. Then the monkey will reluctantly sit there for one small tactile moment by all the children in the crowd...scampering back to his owner, sometimes jumping up on the little organ box perched on a monopod.
The walk back to our motel on Foam Street from the wharf is about 1/4 mile or so...seems longer after all the $3.00 margaritas, clam chowder, and sourdough bread. We pass by another part of the marina and a park on the way. It's a nice walk on a wide, Monterey-pine-shaded bike/walk path.
BTW...Be sure to obey the usual traffic laws (right and left lanes, slower traffic keep to right, etc)... because one of the locals whizzing by on his bicycle will surely scold you if you don't! Or, run into you, causing great bodily harm I'm sure. Sometimes foreign tourists just don't get it!
You'll see little harbor seals basking on the rocks and marina structures. Some of them hang out unseen under the wharf squawking (I assume at one another) in a beligerent tone. Boats come and go...some sportfishing boats as well as whale-watching excursions.
There's even a glass-bottom boat or two that we have yet to try. And a lot of people, especially on weekends. Even weekdays are somewhat busy during the summer...though never really what I call crowded. This ain't Disneyland!Our stroll back toward Cannery Row and our motel passes by the Monterey Plaza Hotel. It's very nice, but quite pricey...maybe we'll stay there someday. We always seem to end up at the Plaza Bar at the end of our day for an after-dinner cocktail. Only one though, as the drinks there run about $8.00+ each!
Our Monterey Sunday afternoon then includes checking into the motel...2:00 or so. Loretta and I generally break out the portable bar and mix a bloody mary or two for us, Sue, and Gene.
Then, a leisurely stroll through Cannery Row. This means, Sue and Loretta go shopping...Gene and I hit one of several restaurant bars! They don't have the $3.00 margaritas that the wharf offers, so we'll generally pound a few beers on one of the outside patios. And just sit...and relax. That's one of the things about going with Sue and Gene that make it enjoyable for us...the girls like to shop, and Gene and I are content to plant our asses in a chair and do nothing.
Later, back at the motel...we retire to our rooms for an hour or so. Gene takes a nap...Loretta and I sit in the spa for a while...then dinner.
The next morning, very early (6:00), I usually get up, grab a cup of coffee, and head down to Cannery Row by myself with camera in hand. There is something quite soothing about strolling the daytime-busy thoroughfare as the sun comes up that makes me feel detached from the rest of the world. The tourists are gone. The shops are closed. But the restaurants are already busy with early morning activity...putting out the trash, receiving the morning produce and seafood deliveries, hosing down the sidewalks. I headed down to McAbee Beach, a small sandy area in front of the Spindrift Inn.
The weather was calm and mild...t-shirt and shorts. And this is where the incident occurred.I was having a great time, snapping photos of the pre-dawn tidepools and bay...no wind, the water was calm, the seabirds jockeying for position amongst the exposed rocks, the lanquid tide surging in and out. I had almost filled up my digital memory card and decided it was time to head back. And then...being a little too confident, I made an ill-advised move. I attempted to make a long step from one wet, barnacle-covered rock to another...and went down! Hard! Pretty much head first. The $3500 Canon EOS 20D (and equally costly lens) went flying ( I can still hear the clippity clap of it bouncing across the rocks). My right foot had slipped out from under me, raking my shin across the barnacles. My left shoulder and elbow hit another rock and settled in the wet sand, my head hit another rock (a glancing blow, fortunately)...and I found myself almost standing on my head, wedged between barnacle and seaweed covered boulders, feet still up on the rock I was once standing.
My first thoughts just micro seconds later? Geeze, I hope no one was watching this (there wasn't another soul around)! My second thought? Holy shit...I can't afford another expensive digital camera right now.Yes...all 235, 56 year old pounds went down like a stack of jenga tiles at a drunken frat party.
After a second or two of analyzing my predicament...let's see...I'm face down in the sand, feet in the air, in a lot of pain...but I'm conscious...alone, blocks from the motel...I hauled myself up to a standing position. I quickly surveyed the situation...sheepishly picking up the camera. It seemed to be OK...the lens was clear, avoiding any rocky contact...only a couple of small nicks on the edges. Myself...not so lucky.
Although nothing truly serious transpired, I was beat up. There was sticky blood everywhere...on my hands, my knuckles, my elbow...and my right leg. Chunks of barnacle and skin were hanging off of my kneecap, sand coated my left elbow and the side of my head. I was a mess. But, I had to trudge back to the motel. I headed up the beach...blood dripping from a dozen areas...chunks of skin...and holes. The lower shin abrasion swelling up to the size of an ostrich egg. I needed bactine and ice...fast.
Yes...the camera survived. I survived...with fodder in tow for a blathering blog entry about Monterey. We had a nice time in one of our favorite places...despite my studpity.
I got my clam chowder and bay shrimp cocktail. We ate some crab sandwiches. Drank some $3.00 margaritas (too many in my case). Breathed some fresh, Monterey Bay sea air. And I took 150 photos.
We had a great Twenty hours on Foam Street...and I got to walk in the footsteps of one of my mentors once again: John Steinbeck. His image is everywhere on Cannery Row.
I just hope they will let me back in that restaurant bar where one of the other incidents occurred...another time, another blog for that story!
posted by James | 5:45 AM
1 Comments:
May the curse of the Hansen photography barnacle blunderings be forever lifted now that you, too, have felt its brunt. Yikes.
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