Monterey to Monterey – 29 miles
It turns out that 17-Mile Drive is about 24 miles long, if you keep getting lost the way I do.
Rising at six, I resolve to ride 17-Mile Drive around Pebble Beach.
“We thought we were getting the day off,” my legs complain.
“You are.”
“Not if we’re pedaling seventeen miles. Probably more.”
“I’m leaving the heavy luggage in the hotel room. It’ll be just me and the bike.”
photo credit: KSBW 8
They aren’t fooled in the least.
Anyway, by eight o’clock I have a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon and hot chocolate in me. By eight-thirty I have made my first wrong turn of the day, missing the approach on Lighthouse Avenue in Pacific Grove. A resident out for her morning walk graciously gives me directions and I correct my course, passing several yard signs warning about the presence of local deer during fawning season.
Even following the resident’s directions I manage to get lost again, then finally reach the main attraction of the drive—the Pacific Coast—at The Restless Sea point of interest.
The drive deserves all of its fame. It’s a series of sharply manicured golf links, craggy rocks adorned with the guano of ages, long stretches of roadside ice plant, the stately mansions of celebrated exploiters and ordinary zillionaires who just got lucky, numerous pull-outs for parking to enjoy the coastline and a winding path with plenty of pedestrians even on a cloudy Monday morning.
At the south side of the peninsula, the drive goes inland and travel alternates between short climbs and dips. Baronial estates crowd the shore side, obstructing the view of Pebble Beach and Carmel Bay. Signs of construction—new homes, remodels, add-ons—abound. Along the route is the main entrance to The Lodge at Pebble Beach, the renowned golf course, the resort and the shops. Naturally, I fit in perfectly.
Then comes the unexpected, grueling climb to the Pebble Beach Highway 1 Gate and the end of 17-Mile Drive. I’m pleased that the bike is only lightly laden but worried about how many similar hills I’ll face over the next few days with the bike fully laden. Fretting and sweating over that, I miss yet more turns and log several unnecessary miles attempting to return to my hotel.
Monterey is also my opportunity to do something about dirty clothes, and with 17-Mile Drive behind me, I turn my attention to laundry for an hour. Other business includes grabbing a nap, sourcing the next day’s meals and dealing with the unexpected loss of a credit card somewhere along the route. “I picked a bad day to get lost in Pacific Grove,” I mutter, watching my day of rest tick away.
At dinner in a fast-casual Italian place downtown, I sit near a table of energetic but well-behaved teenagers tended by their responsible adult. They depart after eating, leaving one of their number to wait for a to-go order. Seeing me scribble away in a diary, he starts a conversation with me about keeping journals. He and his mates are on the golf team of a San Francisco high school and their coach is showing them Monterey’s courses for a couple of days. The lad, Jade, asks what I’m writing about.
“Mostly notes about the bike trip I’m on,” I reply. I tell him briefly about the route and the miles.
“What’s the best thing about journaling?” he asks.
“Nothing now, really. It’s just a stream of notes and things I want to remember.”
“Huh. Will you write about this conversation?”
“Maybe. If you say something I want to remember.”
Jade thinks a moment. “Why are you doing the ride?”
I laugh out loud. “Now that I will write about.” I laugh again.
“Why is that funny?”
“Because I don’t have an answer to that question. On one level, I’m doing it as a fundraiser. On a deeper level, I’m doing it just to do it. Because it’s harder for me not to do it.”
I can see that I sound like somebody’s ridiculous Uncle Wally, so I back off and ask Jade about sports in high school and college. He believes he’ll land a golf scholarship to a four-year school in the coming year. At length, the restaurant staff hands him his to-go boxes, so he and I shake hands and wish each other good luck.
I watch him walk across the room and out the door. He conveys the cool discipline, strong ambition and great expectations that we prize in young people. We too had those characteristics when we were that age, but we didn’t think them extraordinary. They were just part of who we were.