Rosebud, Mr Hefner and the Sunset Strip

Hundreds of miles of this

A great piece of kit

They come out of that tube

"Rosebud"
(through the telescope at Hearst Castle)

A new monster for Dr Who

The aging Mr Hefner (centre)

Bullett

San Fransisco on the drive out

You might have guessed from the photos that I'm going to spin a long and disconnected yarn about out travels up the west coast, our time in San Fran, the trip back, the fancy hotel on Sunset Boulevarde, the mechanical bull at El Ranchos (wherein Hugh Hefner and his crew occasioned for a while) and the alcohol-free strip club.

I'm sorry, but there are no photos from the dry strip club. Jane had to see one for herself and I was the guy she had to drag in to see it. The good thing was we had to buy two orange juices after the cover charge, welcome rehydration whilst reluctantly purveying the altered ambitions of the young lasses on show. Jane's jaw was held up by a handy bar-table while the girls were performing somewhere between Okie-gormless and silky serene on the pole. It was pretty funny.

We'd just come out of the western-style bar, complete with bull-ride, where we had met four other Australians without trying. Quite the opposite really. The buzz started when Hugh Hefner and a dozen other hangers-on (and worse) settled in at a table. The gorgeous girls in the crowd decided that the mechanical bull was the place to be from that point on. Some really hammed it up. Again, pretty funny. We escaped one Australian woman who was spinning her centrifuge up to the point of black-out. A very bad influence I thought.

Before that we'd booked into the Grafton on Sunset after a very quick 400 miles down interstate five. The contrast in scenery, between the coast road and the vast, flat fruit bowl of central California was pronounced. Jane drove most of the way and it was easy travelling with the roof down in great weather. A great change from the wobbly camel ride on the Guzzi. I did my cryptic crossword as the huge orchards skimmed by at 75 mph. The orange blossom smell at one point was intense.

We used the sat-nav to take us to the foot of the Hollywood sign and it finally earned its keep. We even thought to take a picture. Not much room up there so we had to be quick.


We'd driven over the Golden Gate after the big drive up Highway One. That was a great road, like the Great Ocean Road but longer. We stopped in at the Hearst Castle, the one lampooned in Citizen Kane, too early for a tour but could see it up on the hill from the huge visitor centre. Some old guys on the front counter were a little fractious about the Citizen Kane link. They put it down to hyperbole and publicity seeking on Welles' part. But then they would.

We found the elephant seal colony after that. Thousands of cows and young bulls waiting out the change of seasons over a mile stretch of beach. There were a few more up the coast but this was the spot to be while shedding their coats. The bulls travel separately apparently and weren't due until November.

So, I guess we've had a great time, having done much more than I dare bore you with.

The only problem we've had was to be remiss enough to park at Venice Beach on the part of the road that they street-sweep between 10am and noon on a Tuesday.

$60 thank you.