As you can perhaps guess from the photos, We've Moved On. At least physically.
Marge & I left Big Sur & drove along Highway 1 ,finding ourselves & the car stopping at a Gate House containing men dressed like the Park Ranger in 'Yogi Bear'. They were there to take $9.25 from us so we could enter the exclusive Golf Enclave, Pebble Beach.
We both Hate Golf. We are Not Aligned with It.
So that might explain why we had such a Crap Time there. But it was only a couple of hours. First, we wanted to eat something but spent ages driving up long winding roads full of Enormous Homes that probably contained Rich Old People quietly rotting.
Did Pebble Beach have adequate medical facilities for The Elderly, we wondered?
Finally, we found a restaurant overlooking what appeared to be The Last Hole. By that stage we were starving but I was desperately trying not to eat because there weren't any Mexican Choices on the menu. I settled for a lousy bruschetta.
Then Marge's phone died. When she tried to re-charge it by plugging it into the wall of the Wells Fargo Bank near The Last Hole, the bank's Official Nasty Woman said Absolutely NOT. I was waiting in the car listening to a car alarm go off nearby. Even though it was noisy, I was glad that I chose not to go into the bank with her.
By now we realised that it was definitely time to leave.
But it was like we had descended into some Labyrinthine Golf Rabbit Hole & couldn't get out. On & On we drove through even more winding roads with Enormous Houses. It was then that I suddenly discovered how Environmentally Concerned I could be.
'Imagine the energy bills of these joints', I sneered.
'And, there's probably only one & a half people living in each one of them', Marge added.
Finally, we found the Exit & Smugly drove off in the Hybrid.