The sea mist here is really incredible, I've never seen anything like it. It hangs up to about 100 feet above sea level and is thick that inside it it's like a gloomy day in November at home, but once you're above it it's bright 90f California sunshine. Really weird.
Anyway, Hearst was obviously an odd man, as the again-excellent American tourism machine explained to us. One guide described him as a "collector, not a connoisseur" and he undoubtedly built a one-of-a-kind house. The views out over the Pacific are stunning and his pools, both indoor and out are otherworldly.
But while he proclaimed to be a great fan of the regions and histories he imported wholesale into the house, he had no emotional attachment to any of it. He would buy 14th century Italian castle ceilings and 15th century German cathedral choir stalls out of New York dealers' catalogues and then add to them or cut chunks out of them so they fitted the house. And if that didn't work, he'd move the walls until everything fitted. A clear case of more money than taste, but the whole effect is impressive despite of his lack of finesse.
And weirdly, in the main dining room, where some rennaisance antique long table dominates, Hearst would insist on cheap china, paper napkins and condiments out of their normal packaging.
Once we'd done the castle we headed down the rest of Highway One into Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara is another seaside resort town like Santa Cruz, if a little bigger and not quite as 'Blackpool'. We managed to find a really lovely little hotel called Villa Rosa, just back from the seafront - really lovely rooms, a great little pool and complimentary wine and cheese served from 6 until 7. You don't get that at the Super 8!
Off into downtown SB, which was full of students returning to university. And bizarrely meeting a couple of girls, one of whom's best friends is a girl called Lucy who lives in Sway. A small world as they say!
The highlight of the evening's social though (well for me anyway, Alan may disagree) was finding a bar with one of those 'How hard can you punch' machines with a punch bag. For those of you who know mine and Alan's relative physiques would think this to be a fairly one-sided contest. And indeed Al smashed the machine's record with his first punch. Step up mighty Morgan who managed to throw a lucky shot that beat Al's, the machine's and everyone else who used it that evening's efforts. Go me.
Tomorrow, the bright lights and big city of Los Angeles. Although to be honest we're running out of steam a bit now and will be glad to finally arrive and give the driving a break.
