A Sunday Drive

The Sunday after Christmas, Cowboy H forced me to shower, put on real clothes, get in the car and go somewhere.

I was pretty reluctant about it; I was having a fine ole time in my flannel pajama pants and baggy t-shirt, with my greasy hair and jr. high glasses since I had left my current pair at The Homestead.

But, I obliged and boy was I glad I did.

We drove up to Montana de Oro, which is a State Park not too far from my parents' house. We used to camp here when I was little and I have some crazy fun memories of this place. They also have a horse campground, which I never got to test out, but I'm pretty sure it would be an amazing place to trail ride.

You could see clear across to Morro Bay and Morro Rock, which is rare because it is very often foggy up there.

It was such a beautiful day, I couldn't believe it. We walked along this beach for a few minutes while I snapped some pictures. It was great because no one else was out there.

He just can't help himself.

We drove a little further into the park and along the coast and discovered this.

This is a section of the coast that hardly ever breaks, and when it does, it breaks BIG. You can't see it (I left my zoom lens at home) but they were towing the surfers into the waves with jetskis!

After watching these guys for a little while with several other spectators, we headed back to the main beach of the camp grounds.

This little cove is really rocky and craggy, but unfortunately it was also very crowded.

The waves were HUGE in here also. I remember coming to this beach when I was little. I also remember having to tow a friend out of this beach once in high school after he got stuck. Good times.

Luckily I have Cowboy H now, so I won't have to be doing anymore towing. He can do it!

The sun was getting closer to the horizon, so we hopped back in the car and drove over to Morro Bay, since we wanted to be at Morro Rock for the sunset. Morro Rock is a landmark up here and is pretty cool.

In school, I remember a story about a bear cub who fell asleep on a small rock, and when he woke up the rock had grown to be as big as it is now, and he was stranded up top! The area was inhabited by Native Americans years ago, and this was one of their stories. In reality, the "rock" is a volcanic plug.

You used to be able to go all the way to the top, but throughout the years access has become more and more limited. Today, no climbing or hiking of any kind is allowed. Cowboy H was pretty bummed, especially when my dad told him that evening stories of climbing/hiking the rock when he was a kid.

Instead, we hung out at the base of the rock, and watched the sun set.

Look, more surfers!


And the jetskiers.

And now, I'll shut up and just let you enjoy this sunset the same way Cowboy H and I did.

At least I didn't change out of my jammies for nothin'.