Walk on the Beach

Jill's Journal: Kristi and I took the kids and Cobin the Dog to Cayucos for a nice walk on the beach and quickly found, to our utter amazement, that it’s easier to take a dog to the beach than it is kids. Who knew? One by one, the girls face-planted into the water (or the sand) until they were all caked with sand and salt water. They quickly became, as Madelyn put it, “Cold and miserable.” The dog, on the other hand, was merely a little damp but happy to the end (and I guarantee Kristi was finished cleaning him up in a fraction of the time it took me to clean up the girls). Hmmm.

Fitting Farewell

Jill's Journal: It’s time for us to bid adieu not only to the wonderful city of San Diego, but also to the Pacific Ocean. After traveling almost all of the U.S. coast between Astoria, Oregon, and San Diego, California, in the last year, some 1,300+ miles of it, we’re going to miss that spectacular ocean and stunning coastline.

We’re not quite “done” with California yet – this is a massive and varied state with so much to offer! – but we’re getting close. Perhaps we’ll catch a few more glimpses of the Pacific before we leave, but we decided the girls should have one last official beach “hurrah” as a goodbye to San Diego and the Pacific. This particular beach was inside San Diego’s Mission Bay. What is better than kites and a bonfire?

The American Riviera: Santa Barbara, CA

Jill's Journal: Oh, Santa Barbara. How lovely you are. We’d stopped by here for a few hours with the girls while passing through in 2008 and I’d also been here for a handful of weekends after high school to visit a friend attending a local college. But it doesn’t get old. Santa Barbara is beautiful. Santa Barbara may even be exquisite. It’s the perfect place for adults to get away for a weekend and I imagine living here would be awfully nice. But, to be honest, there’s not much for kids here on a visit. Sure, there’s the beach and a zoo and even a teddy bear museum, but Santa Barbara’s signature activities – resorts, culinary delights, wine tastings, massages, spas, boutiques, shopping, people watching, etc. – don’t hold a lot of water for young kids.

And so, reluctantly (at least on my part!), we spent just a full day in Santa Barbara instead of a week. The Spanish Colonial architecture, the Mediterranean climate, and the unusual east-west section of coastline (instead of north-south) all contribute to Santa Barbara’s moniker as the “American Riviera.”

We hit just a few of the highlights, including State Street. This is the main drag through town and a few miles always full of action. In just a few moments, we spotted an Occupy demonstration and a crazy man having a full-on conversation with a tree. No word on the tree’s reply.

Stearns Wharf, where State Street meets the ocean, is California’s oldest working wharf and the longest deep-water pier between Los Angeles and San Francisco. Completed in 1872, it was once owned by screen legend Jimmy Cagney and his brothers. The dolphin statue is at the entrance to Stearns Wharf.

And this shot was taken from the end of the wharf looking back toward Santa Barbara. It was an unusually hazy day.

You don’t see these everywhere!

Pelicans, pelicans, and more pelicans.

Public art dominates the shore along the wharf.

Back to land...the Moreton Bay Fig Tree is believed to be the largest tree of its kind in the United States. In the 1870s, a seaman gave the tree, then a seedling from Australia, to a Santa Barbara girl. She planted it. To say it thrived in the climate here is an understatement. It’s now a city and historic landmark.

The Santa Barbara County Courthouse, built in 1929, is considered the “grandest Spanish Colonial Revival structure ever built.”

We headed to the top of the courthouse’s clock tower, “El Mirador” (or viewpoint). On a clear day, the 360 degree view is supposed to be spectacular and includes the Channel Islands off the coast. Since we happened to pick what is probably the one hazy day Santa Barbara has all year, our view was much more limited but still lovely.

The inside of the courthouse is gorgeous, with the Mural Room being the showpiece. We caught the tail end of a wedding here.

A wonderful little beach hideaway is One Thousand Steps Beach. No, it doesn’t really take 1,000 steps to get to the Pacific, but the girls counted and there are nearly 200.

The girls had such fun playing in the surf. Because we weren’t done with our day, they were under strict orders to keep their pants dry. It didn’t happen. Two of them were so drenched they had to ride home in their underwear! What fun they had.

Wild Ponies!

**I wrote this soon after arriving on Saturday night -- it's still spectacular all these hours later!**

Jill's Journal: We made it! It was a long trek over multiple bridges, in three ocean-floor tunnels (but who’s counting?), and up the Eastern Shore of Virginia, but when we pulled into Assateague State Park on Assateague Island in Maryland, it was all worth it. Immediately greeting us was the stunningly beautiful sight of wild ponies grazing. And it just got better.

Time and time again, we spotted small herds of wild ponies, some so close we could have touched them. The tiny foals, surely no more than a month or two old, earned particular “oohs and aahs” from the girls (and if I must admit it, from me too!). We quickly noticed deer as well and unlike usual deer, these creatures have no fear of people. One small one with five points on his antlers walked so nonchalantly through our campsite that I swear he nodded hello as he passed.

And if that weren’t enough points in the amazing factor, we are literally camping on the beach. Only a small sand dune stands between us and the Atlantic Ocean. This place is spectacular. We’d heard it was – this is why we had to make these reservations a year ago and why we pushed so hard to get here. I’m so thankful we did. This is an experience the girls are going to remember for the rest of their lives.

Like with anything in life, there are a few drawbacks – first, it’s hotter than blazes (where’s that ocean breeze?) and there are no hook-ups. We’re “dry camping,” which means no power, no water, no air conditioning, no nothing. Rob planned for this, so we do have our own limited power (lights and fans and refrigerator) from battery and generator and we do have a full 95-gallon tank of fresh water to use. But this is roughing it. The old me thought staying in anything less than a five-star hotel was roughing it, so I’ve come a long way. But I’m definitely still not a camper in the traditional sense and have no desire to become one. At the moment I’m enamored by the whole thing…there’s wild ponies, after all…but seven nights of “roughing it” may wear on me!

But right now, there’s wild ponies!