Monday, June 28, 2004
Thank You, Deadly Cobras
Okay, so no bears attacked us. I can only attribute this to the long-held belief that bears are scared of deadly cobras. Of course, I'm speaking of my biceps. I'm sure our skewers contributed something, too. And for your records, barbecued Morning Star Farms dogs are better than Smart Dogs dogs, in that they're generally more beef-like. That's my new criteria for food testing: how beefy is it?
So camping. Big Sur may be my favorite place in California. Because when you're not driving on the 1, watching cliffs over the Pacific, you're looking at dense forests, and when you're not doing that, you're hiking through redwoods or along peaks watching waterfalls, and when you're not doing that, you're laying on a small secluded beach, and when that's not happening, you're drinking retarded amounts of beer and challenging yourself to eating contests (I had no illusions of beating the precedent set by Chachi Mueller who, while camping in Joshua Tree several years ago, ate and drank his weight, respectively; I merely wished to throw my hat in the ring). Our site was sunken. A stream gurgled. Bluejays screeched. Goddamn those birds are obnoxious. Nary a mosquito bite. Thank you, DEET. And deadly cobras.
Something else I learned. Central California is crawling with poison oak. Marah had superhero powers of detection for the stuff, as a result of being traumatized by it as a kid. It's pretty nasty, actually. Up close, most of the leaves look red and infected. Kinda like this.
After 2 days, we finished off the 1, ate in Santa Cruz at a glorified Denny's, got lost in downtown San Francisco because of some kind of trolley celebration, and ended in Marin County at Marah's parents' place. Their rad house sits in less claustrophobic Hollywood Hills, and has a view of many a bridge in the San Francisco bay. We ate, drank, Muir beached, toured Mill Valley, ate, drank, picked up her parents, ate more, drank, drank, ate breakfast, slept a few times, and then went home. Not necessarily in that order.
And then I blew a tire about 15 minutes from LA. But at least we didn't have poison oak. Thank you, deadly cobras.
Okay, so no bears attacked us. I can only attribute this to the long-held belief that bears are scared of deadly cobras. Of course, I'm speaking of my biceps. I'm sure our skewers contributed something, too. And for your records, barbecued Morning Star Farms dogs are better than Smart Dogs dogs, in that they're generally more beef-like. That's my new criteria for food testing: how beefy is it?
So camping. Big Sur may be my favorite place in California. Because when you're not driving on the 1, watching cliffs over the Pacific, you're looking at dense forests, and when you're not doing that, you're hiking through redwoods or along peaks watching waterfalls, and when you're not doing that, you're laying on a small secluded beach, and when that's not happening, you're drinking retarded amounts of beer and challenging yourself to eating contests (I had no illusions of beating the precedent set by Chachi Mueller who, while camping in Joshua Tree several years ago, ate and drank his weight, respectively; I merely wished to throw my hat in the ring). Our site was sunken. A stream gurgled. Bluejays screeched. Goddamn those birds are obnoxious. Nary a mosquito bite. Thank you, DEET. And deadly cobras.
Something else I learned. Central California is crawling with poison oak. Marah had superhero powers of detection for the stuff, as a result of being traumatized by it as a kid. It's pretty nasty, actually. Up close, most of the leaves look red and infected. Kinda like this.
After 2 days, we finished off the 1, ate in Santa Cruz at a glorified Denny's, got lost in downtown San Francisco because of some kind of trolley celebration, and ended in Marin County at Marah's parents' place. Their rad house sits in less claustrophobic Hollywood Hills, and has a view of many a bridge in the San Francisco bay. We ate, drank, Muir beached, toured Mill Valley, ate, drank, picked up her parents, ate more, drank, drank, ate breakfast, slept a few times, and then went home. Not necessarily in that order.
And then I blew a tire about 15 minutes from LA. But at least we didn't have poison oak. Thank you, deadly cobras.
