SLO County News BlogGolf, Wine, Real Estate, Business & Travel NewsUps and Downs of Highway OneFriday, May 13, 2005Found a good article written by Eric Kalb about his recent trip up Highway One through Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, and Monterey County. Excerpts about SLO County are included below.Meandering through land as diverse as its 25 million people, Highway 1 is California's most scenic highway—one that is witness to the dramatic growth that has taken place in the nation’s most populated state. I took a freeway, Highway 101, north beyond Santa Barbara and on to San Luis Obispo, where the real beauty of Highway 1 begins. While the two roads often share the same roadbed, it’s at their point of longest separation that the most intriguing part of the trip can be found. Just before I approached the Highway 1 turnoff, I stopped at the Madonna Inn for one last taste of urban consumer life. The subject of scores of documentaries chronicling the crassness of American culture, the Madonna Inn is kitsch incarnate. Its storybook faux Tudor architecture encloses 108 rooms, no two of which are alike. And that’s probably a good thing, for each room has created its own level of bad taste, from the aquamarine chaise longue of the Buffalo Room, to the bright-green carpet and walls of the Safari Room. Eating in the coffee shop, with its red banquettes and gaudy table decorations, was exposure enough for me. And for the fellow who’s just looking for some relief, there’s always the cave man’s men’s room: Instead of traditional urinals, a rock wall complete with a motivating waterfall is at your disposal. The Madonna is a far cry from another of San Luis Obispo’s hostelries, the Motel Inn. Situated a few miles up the road, the Motel Inn was the world’s first motor hotel, built by Arthur Heinemann in 1924. The Spanish-style inn was meant to be the first in a nationwide chain, but, evidently, travelers preferred the bland 1960s motif of Holiday Inns, as Heinemann’s plan never took hold. Rather than utilizing a traditional off-ramp, the turnoff to Highway 1, just north of the Madonna Inn, traverses through San Luis Obispo’s streets, past a few modest, but brightly painted yellow, purple and green Craftsman-style homes. A once-sleepy central California town, skyrocketing real estate prices have turned San Luis Obispo into a property speculator’s paradise. According to the Los Angeles Times, more homes are purchased here as investments, as opposed to primary residences, than anywhere else in the country. With its quiet atmosphere, temperate climate and sufficient distance from the chaos of Los Angeles, it’s easy to see why. A few blocks later, I was on the first rural patch of Highway 1, heading toward the cloud-enshrouded Morro Bay. The ramshackle seaside bars popular in the 1960s are now giving way to new housing developments pushing up against the road, urbanizing another area of the state. This seaside town is defined by Morro Rock, a giant stone outcropping that sits in the bay. You get to the rock via a 1930s causeway. The entire place is a state wildlife preserve, protecting the peregrine falcons that nest on the top. The land spreads out into gently sloping hills populated with a sprinkling of cattle; about 16 miles up the road on the right is the tiny hamlet of Harmony, population 18. Naturally, a town of this size needs its own post office, and it’s housed in the former and still charming Harmony Valley Creamery. As is de rigeur for any village that thrives on tourism, Harmony also has an antique store and art gallery; if you’re not in the mood to buy, you can see the entire place in about 30 seconds. Not so for the next town up the road. Until the 1980s, Cambria was one of that breed of small California towns catering to the working class. Many retired civil servants found their little bit of heaven in the town’s modest cottages, built within the area’s pine forests and along the ocean bluffs. But like so many other towns within easy reach of major metropolitan areas, Cambria now has a new constituency, as the upper middle class seeks a place for its weekend dachas. Coming from Los Angeles, Cambria’s a great place to stop for the night before heading up the more challenging part of Highway 1. You can stay in one of several single-story motels overlooking the ocean, a country house in the woods or in the five-room Squibb House, a 19th-century Victorian structure in the center of town. It also gives one the chance to explore William Randolph Hearst’s opulent Hearst Castle, just north of the town. Designed by Julia Morgan, the first female architect licensed in California, the castle and its three grand guesthouses were built with unlimited budgets. Hearst stocked them with what is said to have been the largest private collection of paintings, silver, tapestries and furniture in the world. The house itself is situated far off the road, past the oceanfront Best Western motel, the Motel Six and the Silver Surf Motel, which scar the seascape. To get to the castle, you park at the state-run reception center, a showcase of fast-food counters, souvenir shops and a movie “experience.” Did I mention they also sell admission tickets here? To take the hour-and-45-minute bus tour up to the house, it’s best to book online before you travel. I've gotten a bit of a reputation for being a wind witch. I was at the helm tonight with the spinnaker up when we saw a black cloud working its way toward us. Peter asked if I wanted to switch, but I said, “No, please, just call wind shifts!” I held on as the wind started howling and the rain started pouring down. It was such a rush. Lee said when the squall started she looked up from the hatch below to see what poor soul was on the helm. She was shocked to see me with a huge smile on my face and slightly demonic eyes. As soon as I got off the helm, the wind died. Come at the right time of year, and you’ll be mano a flipper with a den of 800-pound sea lions, as they bicker and sun themselves on the sand a few yards below. Just remember to bring a facemask if pungent ocean odors don’t agree with you Five miles farther north was the first hint of the unrelenting curves about to come. Now the road began to climb. And climb. And twist and turn. Speeds dropped to 20 miles per hour and the road narrowed. Homes suddenly disappeared from view, replaced by rural mailboxes, the only markers of habitation. The homes themselves are hidden down the seaside cliffs and sport undisturbed 180-degree views of the ocean from 400 feet above sea level. Read entire article here: Dicey curves and million-dollar views: The ups and downs of Highway One. Spirit of Aloha, Eric Kalb Read More
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