Running Away Returns - the Central Coast
With sap running in the trees and the hills alive with the rustling of wild flowers, it seemed the perfect time to take off and see what there was to be seen over a weekend trip. Since East and North still seemed a bit Wintery, we headed South down the coast.
 A quick three hours down 101 and we were in down the coast in Cambria country, where we enjoyed a local farmers market ramble and an excellent cheese shop where were able to taste our cheese before buying (I love that). Mmmm…cheese.
Ahem.
We then headed inland where rambled between wineries. I don’t know if it’s like this all the time, but just about everywhere we stopped had a least one notable wine. Driving down Spanish Moss hung country lanes, curving past horses and cows and wine country architecture, heading for that glimpse of the sea.
After checking into our hotel in Cambria, we dressed (of course) in 50s ish circle skirted style before heading up to the Enchanted Hill, Hearst Castle, for our evening tour.
 We arrived at the perfect time, just as sunset tinted the main house of the complex, I was amazed as always that someone built this…bizarre wonder. Like coral, it’s growth was only cut short by Hearst’s life. Leaving behind a little rich man’s version of a Mediterranean village. Because you know, all Mediterranean villages have Egyptian statuary and rambling cottages.
The night tour is a bit of a combination of several tours. But the best bit is that a number of the docents dress in costume. I must say I was amazed, given that there weren’t all that many of them, how they managed to race ahead of us to strategically drape across lawn chairs and sit playing gin rummy while not so much drinking their plastic martini’s. Most of them attempted period conversations as we walked by (it’s the cat’s meow, don’t you know), which had their wonderful weird quality as we strolled through splendor rooms and gawked at what fabulous riches and the willingness to spend can buy.
After the tour, we were happy to grab a bite to eat and perchance dream. Note: Cambria isn’t exactly the big city. So, if you go on your own evening trip, have an idea where and when you’re getting dinner. Our 5:40 tour, letting us out around 8:00, left only one restaurant in town open for us to eat.
The next day we took the short strolling way back, continually heading back by the most oblique method possibly. In part because we wanted to avoid the gridlock that seems to accumulate on 101 North by Gilroy, but in part because the day was lovely and young and full of flowers.
 Fields of lushly blue lupin and rambunctious mustard, waiting in faith to later seed. Fields and rolling and, did I mention there was also wine. We tasted our way from the Contra Costa region, into the equally delightful Monterey wine region, ending up by circuitous route in Carmel.
The way back had this wonderful sense, of being, well, not that far from home. We were just dawdling. And when the way became weary. Hop. Skip. Jump. Home.
 With plenty of pretty pictures and oh the lovely wine.
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