After an hour and a half tour of Tor House, Phil and I were ready to eat. Phil remembered driving to Pebble Beach on a public road, but we couldn't find it, so we stopped at the Carmel entrance to the 17-Mile Drive and imagine our delight when the guard there told us that we would be reimbursed for the $9.25 entry fee if we bought a meal at the Lodge at Pebble Beach, which is why we wanted to take the road in the first place. We rode away with our receipt tucked safely in Phil's wallet so we wouldn't forget and an impressively illustrated brochure with a map of the many landmarks along the 17-Mile Drive.
Turns out that map came in handy because despite the fact that it costs almost $10 to drive the route, no one seems to have put a dime into new road signs in the last twenty years or so. Between the faded print and the haphazard placement and the flat-out non-existence of signs at many intersections, we got sidetracked several time, affording us views of several multi-million dollar estates not listed on the brochure. It's been decades since I've been on the 17-Mile Drive and my memory was of non-stop spectacular views. This time, I was disappointed that many residences are surrounded by high walls or hedges which block the ocean views.
Pebble Beach did not disappoint however. Once we meandered around the access road to the visitor's parking lot, we walked into the Gallery Cafe and got a table at about a quarter to twelve with a view of the putting green and the first tee. The meals were pricey but absolutely delicious. I got fish and chips with three different sauces and Phil got the chicken pot pie, which had amazingly flakey crust and delicately seasoned sauce. There was an aura even in the cafe that we were all sharing a special experience of a place where legends were born.
After lunch, we walked down to the pro shop and Phil got a score card. We watched a few golfers tee off and then Phil reassured me it was okay to proceed on to the club house, which houses the check-in desk for the spa and the more expensive restaurants. We walked through the lobby for a drop dead gorgeous view of the 18th hole and Stillwater Cove sparking like topaz just beyond it. Phil guided me down a back stairway and out to the lawn where grandstands are set up for the big tournaments. We watched two foursomes finish up their golf round to end all golf rounds. Frankly, several of them seemed a little shell-shocked. Golf is one of those cantankerous sports that charges the most impossible courses. Phil told me that this one costs $495.
We got turned around again getting back on 17-Mile Drive but once we got our directions straight, the road up Monterey was truly memorable. The surf seemed especially wild because of the recent storms and around each curve of the rocky coast a new angle on the frothy breakers rushing toward the shore came into view. This part of the drive is less residential (more woods and golf courses) so the views were never obscured. It was a perfect way to say good bye to this majestic part of California's coastline.
Our minds were kind of blown by all the breath-taking scenery, so we took it easy back at Steve's house. Phil had a nap and I downloaded a new audio book. We had leftovers for dinner, trying to use up some of the stuff we'd brought with us or bought in the last two weeks. Then we went out to the Aptos Cinemas in the Rio Del Mar Shopping Center and watched Crazy Heart. Both of us are 57, so we were attracted to the story of a man that age who thought of himself as washed up. The story was predictable, but the acting was so convincing, we had lots to talk about on the way home.
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