Drove yesterday from Pismo Beach, where we woke up to a foggy chill, to Bakersfield, where the temperature mid-afternoon was 107 degrees. Every rare rustle of breeze felt like a furnace. You could just melt on the asphalt if you stood in one place too long.
Got to Monterey just in time to see the Sunset. This is John Steinbeck country — remember he not only wrote Grapes of Wrath, but also Cannery Row and many other wonderful novels.
…Monterey, but with a stop in San Jose?
But first – all about the heartland. A quick breakfast at the hotel. Still worrying about those eggs. But my, oh my, the fruit in this area is enough for any meal. We saw orchards of cherries driving in, And watermelon–all kinds of melons–raspberries, sweet oranges.