Santa Cruz and Cannery Row

After the incredible scenes witnessed along the Big Sur I was exhausted. We opted against sleeping up there in the big old wilderness with the invisible bears and the stars, and instead decided to lay our heads in Santa Cruz. We pulled up in a trusty Super 8 motel and got some much needed rest.

That night I dreamt about what I had seen. My mind replaying back to me all the awesome and spectacular sights, which are etched on my retinas and my brain. Hopefully never to be forgotten. These sights were no less-impressive the second time 'round.

Santa Cruz was a nice place, just nice. The local art-house cinema still payed homage to the Lost Boys, which was filmed in the town. They screened it daily! Though we were not fighting a gang of teenage vampires, we did have a battle of our own. It transpired you cannot smoke on the streets there. And being heavy smokers we found ourselves being rashly informed of our wrongdoing by the local police force. Fortunately they showed none of the heavy-handedness their peers are so famous for down the road in LA. And we came out of the scrape with no visible wounds. We couldn't, however, have another smoke in town so decided to abruptly move on to Monterey, the scene of Steinbeck's masterpiece, Cannery Row.

My arrival in town was crushing. There was no sign of Doc, Mack and the gang. Not even of the cannery despite the seafront avenue being re-named after that great novel. The whole place had been moved on and replaced by five-star hotels and golf courses. Such is life, I guess.