Pacific Coast Highway : the road trip part 3

Back on the road, I noticed many cars towing speed boats or carrying canoes as well as an ever-increasing number of motor homes. On 101 you’re never too far from the ocean or one of the many state parks. As I pondered the idea of renting a motor home for my next road trip, Therese announced that she was hungry. And why wouldn't she be? It was 3:30 pm! Almost immediately, my tummy growled in agreement.

At the first sign of food, we stopped the car. While the rest of us stretched out the kinks in our joints, Therese scrounged under the seats searching for her left shoe. We tried to help her look for it, but nada. Watching her dismayed expression as she balanced on one foot, we all burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Who loses a shoe on a road trip?! We figured it must have fallen out when she opened her car door while we gassed-up back in sungitville (we named it so after the less-than-friendly woman behind the counter). It was too far now to turn back, and fortunately Lizzy had an extra pair of sandals that fit. Somewhere out there now is a wistful man cradling a red 4” wedge platform looking for his Cinderella.

The Riverwood Inn, is a classic 1937 roadhouse, the type you see in those biker movies where Harleys are parked out front all in a line, almost possessively and menacingly, daring you to enter. It’s location along the Avenue of the Giants in Humboldt County makes it a popular stop for motorcycle clubs and tourists. It took a while for our eyes to adjust to the dim interiors and the floor creaked under us as we crossed the bar to the restaurant where we filled-up on fairly decent Mexican food alongside bikers and firefighters taking a much-needed break from battling the forest fires that were raging in nearby Mendocino county.

I suppose this wouldn’t be much of a road-trip without the requisite speeding ticket, now would it? As soon as the patrol car parked on the other side of the road pulled a u-turn towards us, she exclaimed, “Uh-oh, CHiPs!”. But she was the picture of calm as she handed over her California driver’s license. Later blaming her distraction on the giant golden bear statues back at the Klamath bridge, Colo admitted she had gone over the acceptable speed limit. Thankfully the cop, who was thumbing through the vehicular paperwork I handed to him, turned out to be very. He sent us off with clear and thorough instructions which included a list of options for dealing with the violation later, leaving no room for questions.

At the junction near Crescent City, we turned east for the shorter route via 199 then I5. We had another 300 miles to cover before arriving in Portland and if we wanted to make it there by midnight (Therese had to go back to work the next day), we had to forego the Oregon coast and save it for another time.

It was almost 9:00 when we crossed the state line into Oregon and the sleepy border town of O’Brien where we stopped for some gas. We had barely put the car in park and climbed out when we heard a booming voice, “Here I’ve come to save the day! How can I be your knight in shining armor, ladies?”. We turned to see a jolly-looking man wearing a cap that failed to conceal the laugh lines around his eyes which deepened with his smile, purposefully striding towards us. We were helplessly drawn to this charming man who was pumping gas for us in his self-service station. Welcome to Oregon.

It was my turn behind the wheel. Wispy clouds in twilight hues faded slowly into the darkness as drove along, thoughts of hot showers and warm beds filling our minds. It was a long day and I was getting sleepy. It didn’t help that Colo napped beside me, and it had grown quiet in the backseat. I wondered how truckers managed to drive their rigs and keep themselves awake on long, lonely roads. I gained a newfound respect for them.

We stopped for a quick bite in a KFC in Eugene before finally pulling into the driveway of a Victorian home in downtown Portland another two hours later. It was midnight and Therese’s charming 2-bedroom apartment was like an oasis for the weary traveler.

to be continued...

Also in this series:

Pacific Coast Highway : the road trip part 1

Pacific Coast Highway : the road trip part 2

Pacific Coast Highway : the road trip part 2

From this point, Highway 101 takes on a new nickname, the Redwood Highway. So named because it snakes the rest of way through northern California’s redwood empire and all the way up to Josephine County in Oregon. About 20 minutes west of the Redwood Highway is the Point Reyes Seashore where we hiked over the sand dunes and spread out some blankets for a light picnic lunch of cheeses, fruit, deli meats and bread from a quick stop at Trader Joe’s earlier.

We watched lazily and contentedly from our little spot on this long stretch of beach as a couple on horseback rode past us along the water’s edge while a couple of kids dug up holes in the sand and took turns burying each other.We must have been there for a couple of hours at the very least and it was late afternoon by the time we reached Marshall, a town famed for it’s oysters.

In fact, half the state’s shellfish growers source their supply from here. Colo, being a former SF resident and frequent customer at Tony’s Seafood Restaurant, proclaimed that they served the best oysters she’s ever had. Tony’s is a family-owned roadside seafood shack set on stilts above the waters of Tomales Bay, the very source of half their menu.

For this die-hard fan of raw oysters, these super plump grilled oysters topped with homemade BBQ sauce and some garlic was indeed a revelation! After exploring the market downtown for a bit, we retired for the night with a pay-per-view move at an inn in Petaluma.

It was now day 2 of our road trip and we had a long day ahead of us. Today’s final destination: Portland, Therese’s home and where she would be leaving the group to go back to work. The increasingly familiar voice of ‘Maggie’ directed us to 101 North and past hundreds of acres of ranch and farmland to our right dotted with grazing cattle and or corralled horses. We shared the road with tractors and milk trucks and the occasional flatbed. The left side of the road was lush with evergreens that perfumed the air around us. Overhead, the signs announced our approach to Healdsburg and informed us that we were another 17 miles from the next town of Cloverdale. Somewhere about here, I should have realized we were still on the scenic route but I was enjoying myself too much. Route 101's claim to highway fame is the spectacular scenery that is bestowed upon you at every turn.

We are about 2 hours into our road trip and the yakking in the car hasn’t lost steam. As a matter of fact, we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Truck stops, fast-food joints, motels and petrol stations are familiar sights that turn into welcome pit-stops for us when we desperately need to answer a call of nature or to stretch our legs. It goes without saying that one of the best things about driving is that you’re free to stop whenever you please. Not just for a tinkle or a bite, but for all those amusing roadside discoveries. Somewhere before the big sign in which Willits proudly proclaims itself as the Gateway to the Redwoods, I spot a stand up ahead selling cherries and what looked like peaches. Freshly-picked fruits I can’t resist so I yell for Colo to stop so I can grab myself some.

It was in Leggett, CA, in the heart of the magnificent redwoods, that we came up-close and personal with these giant trees (some grow beyond 300 feet, making them the tallest – and oldest- living things on the planet!). We turned onto a dirt road and followed a trail lit by sunlight filtered through the trees. The forest floor on either side was covered in a wide variety of flora including three-foot tall sword fern bushes and horsetails. It was so beautiful we felt compelled to turn off the radio, and we were rewarded for doing so with the nature’s lovely music as performed by the songbirds above accompanied by the sounds from a nearby creek. This is why I don’t believe in wearing earphones when I travel. Ambient sounds and local music make up as much of the experience as do the sights and tastes. We emerged in a clearing where there in the middle was a 315 foot coast redwood with a 6 ft wide and 9 ft high hole carved out of it’s base. The Chandelier Tree is only one of four drive-thru redwoods in California that have become popular tourist destinations as evidenced by the souvenir shop, picnic tables and refreshment stands.

Not sure our massive SUV rental would make it without a scratch, we turned the side-view mirrors in before Colo eased the vehicle expertly through. This was actually more fun than I thought, a big part of the thrill being the fear and anticipation of hearing the sound of metal tearing. Now if that isn’t enough to lure you, maybe the rest of this little piece of paradise is. Our attention was drawn to the meadow with the duck pond at the center and apple trees forming a natural boundary. Colo and Katrina raced towards the pond then ran all the way around it chasing the wild geese while Lizzy and Therese sat on a log watching them. I walked around taking pictures, enjoying this peaceful interlude in our journey.

to be continued...

In this series:
Pacific Coast Highway: the road trip part 1

Pacific Coast Highway : the road trip

This is the unedited version of the article I wrote for Travelife about my road trip on the Pacific Coast Highway, from San Francisco, CA to Vancouver, BC Canada. I've been meaning to post about that trip so this is a good way to start, and an even better way to save me from having to write it all up again. :)

It’s late at night on a Friday, one of many typical Friday nights during the salad days of my HS and college life. I’m in the backseat of my friend’s Pathfinder pick-up which is cruising effortlessly through the dark and foggy, yet thankfully familiar, Tagaytay highway heading for the beach. The collective energy in the car is almost palpable: the windows are rolled all the way down, all thoughts of school and curfew have been cast away, Don Henley’s Boys of Summer is blasting from the tape deck, and we’re singing along with him at the top of our lungs while the cool breeze dances along in our hair.

Being on the road in a reliable set of wheels with good company and great tunes can put me in a fantastic mood. It didn’t always matter where we were going because getting there was already half the fun. So when it was decided that we would be driving to Vancouver, BC from San Francisco, I was over the moon! Not only would I finally be visiting my sister and her family again after twelve years, but I was finally going on a proper road trip! It must have been all those songs that played like soundtracks to road movies or those compelling books by Kerouac or Steinbeck that triggered my own longing to hit the road for my own adventure. There was no real agenda apart from arriving at the final destination. I wasn’t escaping anything nor was I trying to find myself. I was simply giving in once again to my wanderlusting, fun-loving and thrill-seeking nature, open to whatever the universe cared to toss my way.

The road trip gods had gifted us with the perfect sunny California summer day. Being the most experienced and confident driver of the group, Colo volunteered to take the wheel. I rode shotgun as navigator and Therese happily took the back seat. We would pick up Katrina and Lizzy in the city. The Chevy Trailblazer rental we picked up the night before was loaded with five women and five women’s worth of stuff with room to spare. Lizzy supplied the junk food and drinks and I supplied the tunes from my iPod with a playlist made especially for this occasion. My stack of printed Google maps had been discarded and stuffed under my seat, in favor of the infinitely more high-tech Magellan GPS which we named ‘Maggie’.

The plan was simple: we would drive up to Pt. Reyes, do an overnight in Petaluma, then continue on to Portland, OR, stay a couple of nights, then on to our final destination in Vancouver, BC, from where we’d take a plane back to San Francisco a week later. And as with most major decisions in life, we were faced with two options: take the longer, more rewarding scenic route via Highway 1 or the shorter but less picturesque Interstate 5. I suggested we take I5 all the way past CA/OR border, then veer west to drive the scenic route along the fabled Oregon Coast, to which everyone agreed.

But that wasn’t what happened. You see, Highway 1 which is also called the Pacific Coast Highway and Route 101 in certain parts, is the type of road driving was invented for. The type of road you see in movies or commercials where the handsome star in a red convertible has one bronzed arm draped across the shoulders of his blond leading lady with the over-sized sunglasses, while he tackles each hairpin turn skillfully with the other. It’s the type of road that makes you forget that you’re supposed to be about 50 miles east on I5. Yes, there is a reason it’s called 1.

It doesn’t matter how many times I do it, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge could never be a been-there-done-that experience for me. Whether shining brightly on a crisp and clear day with sailboats playing underneath or enshrouded in the famed San Francisco fog as it was on this day, it is certainly a thing of beauty which represents one of my most favorite cities in the world. Though the bridge isn’t very long at 1.7 miles, traversing it is like travelling to another country. One made up of sweeping rolling hills, redwood forests, rugged coastlines and craggy cliffs where you might half-expect a leprechaun to jump out at you from the side of the road. Except this isn’t Ireland it’s Marin County, and that was a wild deer, not a leprechaun.

to be continued...

Ilocos Norte road trip: the journey

Pasuquin Bakery

On our second day in Ilocos, we headed north, up along the western shoreline. The idea was to visit notable places in Ilocos Norte before capping the tour with a leisurely lunch in Pagudpud. So Gani picked us up right after breakfast and then we were off. It was a beautiful drive and we enjoyed the views of the ocean on one side and the Cordilleras on the other.

You know the saying, "happiness is a journey, not a destination"? Well, in travel, there can be as much happiness in the journey as the destination. This is why I love road trips, there are always surprises along the way. Those unplanned pitstops that yield happy little discoveries and spontaneous explorations. This particular road trip had its fair share of interesting pitstops which I felt were worthy of mention.

The first was the Pasuquin Bakery where we bought more of that delicious soft bischocho - rolled bread with a hint of anise - we tried back in Sitio Remedios. It was the perfect first stop since we pinched and pulled happily from our biscocho stash all throughout the rest of the trip. Pasuquin Bakery is a favorite for biscocho lovers because they're known for using freshly-baked bread instead of day-old bread even for their hard biscochos. Please read Rene's post about the bakery's interesting history here. If you're driving on the national highway, you can't miss the bakery, there's a big sign advertising it just off at a fork.

Aside from the Bakery, Pasuquin is also famous for it's salt factories and roadside stalls along the country road that sell the fine sea salt in large plastic bags. Salt-making is a traditional livelihood in these parts, passed down from generation to generation. Aside from salt, the stalls also carry bundles of native crops such as garlic and shallots and bottles of sukang Iloko (or Ilokano vinegar). I couldn't resist photographing the kids who were helping their mom with the business. It was their fault I bought much more than I needed. :)

The Motocross rally we chanced upon was quite a surprise. A large crowd had gathered just off the road where it was all happening, trucks, motorcycles and jeepneys were parked on both sides of the road, and various refreshment stands, including empanada and halo-halo stands, were set up across the road for the spectators. We parked for a while and joined the crowd, watching the loud action on the track through the chicken wire through which I managed a couple of action shots.

the spectators

Empanada stand across the street

Halo-halo stand

Unlike in the south where I am used to seeing rice fields and sugarcane as far as the eye can see, corn fields make up a big part of the Ilocos landscape. And ears of corn and corn kernels left to dry under the sun on the sides of the concrete road are also a common sight. Gani tells us that it's seeds will be planted for next season's harvest. I wonder if these are what's used for chichacorn too?

The kuliglig also become a familiar site as we drove up and down Ilocos. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of what it looks like, but it is basically a two-wheeled tractor with an engine used for farming, and when connected to a trailer, it is also used to transport produce.

Something else I didn't get to take a photo of were the La Paz sand dunes. It took Gani a while to find it because he said the roads leading to the sand dunes no longer looked familiar. Driving among the sand dunes made me feel like I was in another place like the beaches of North Carolina , and then later I started to picture myself riding the dunes on an ATV or starring in a Mad Max movie. Speaking of movies, this is where FPJ's Panday movie was filmed. The Ilocos Norte sand dunes is a National Geologic Monument, declared as such because of it's uniqueness in the Philippine landscape and it's significant role in educational and scientific studies. Here's a beautiful shot of the dunes taken by my friend James.

Next: Ilocos road trip: the destinations

Bale Dutung - a food trip

What happens when a bunch of folks with an insatiable hunger for the good life filled with good food set off on a food trip together and have a great time?

They immediately plan another one! And that we did. This time our bellies pointed us north to Pampanga, to Bale Dutung (literally wooden house), the home of Claude Tayag - national artist and writer by profession, chef by passion.

There were 22 of us in the Digiprint bus, making the actual trip there doubly fun. The atmosphere was charged with everyone's excitement for the culinary journey that lay ahead, and we all seemed to be yakking at the same time at some point. When you're having fun, time really does fly so that before we knew it, we arrived at Bale Dutung, barely scraping through the narrow streets of the village.

Claude and his wife, Mary Anne, were the most gracious of hosts. They regaled us with stories about the house and how it took almost 10 years to build, slowly but with loving care. As we listened, we milled around a round table replete with butong pakwan (dried watermelon seeds) and boiled peanuts. Just off the dining are was a little bar that had a seemingly endless supply of buko (coconut) juice, iced tea, beer, water, and soft drinks with a bartender helping to scoop up the ice and do the pouring. The table was beautifully set, and here we were ushered to by Mary Anne before they brought out the appetizers.

Top row: paella, kapampangan sushi, pako salad
Bottom row: paradiso, jars of fermented vinegars, the quail

This was the delectable menu: (thanks, wysgal!)
Kapampangan Sushi - taba ng talangka maki with kamias, piniriting hito at balaw-balaw (fried catfish with fermented rice and shrimp), pindang damulag (carabeef meat)
Ensaladaang Pako (fiddlehead fern salad, with slivers of tomato and onion doused with vinaigrette dressing)
Inasal na Pugo (grilled quail with shoestring sweet potatoes and carrots)
Paella Laman Dagat (Spanish paella with seafood)
Paradiso - haleyang ube, makapuno at kamote sa krema ng gatas kalabaw (purple yam, sweet coconut and yellow yam in sweetened carabao's milk)

Nothing like a slow afternoon on a full tummy

After lunch, we strolled around the house marvelling at all the pieces that he salvaged and collected all these years. Many of Claude's feria (fair) pieces were scattered around the house, lending a fun and festive feel to the place. He welcomed us upstairs and into his living room and office where we got to see where his genius is put into canvass and paper. We were surrounded by interesting pieces of furniture designed by Claude such as the rocking daybed inspired by a tennis racket (see pic above). We walked on floors made from wood from bowling lanes and amidst whimsical floor lamps and one-off chairs. This was like his own private gallery of sorts.

The artist in his office, and his other work stations

Snapshots of Bale Dutung

Before we finally headed out at almost 5:00, Claude autographed copies of his book and brought out his bottled specialties such as his XO (for extra-ordinary) sauce, pesto, taba ng talangka (crab fat sauce) and balaw-balaw (fermented rice). (As an aside: we were also in the company of another cookbook author, Catherine Jones, who cowrote the books Eating for Lower Cholesterol and Eating for Pregnancy) .

Because we couldn't make ourselves eat any more that afternoon, we decided to skip the other restaurants such as Zapatas, VFW, Cottage Kitchen , C, etc. for another time, and opted instead to buy some pasalubongs (gifts to take home). So we stopped at Susie's, home of the best tibok-tibok - a delicious and creamy white pudding made with carabao's milk and Rosing's for some yema and pastillas de leche (milk candies).

What we couldn't resist though was a quick stop at Margarita Station , fondly called "the ville" by the locals for some margaritas before heading home. The place was huge, and the Friday night crowd was pouring in. I had a jumbo glass of strawberry margarita which I shared with Joey. That hit the spot. Tired but happy, we toasted to yet another successful food trip, and I could almost hear the wheels in our minds whirring as we planned the next. I can't wait! :)

Tibok-tibok from Susie's

Nightcap at Margarita Station

See more stories and pictures here: Wysgal's ; Anton's; Mila's, Spanky's ; Anne's

Call Bale Dutung for reservations:
+63917 5355163 or (6345) 8885163

Baguio revisited

I can't remember exactly when I went to Baguio last because it's been so long. But I think it was in '99 when I went for the Panagbenga flower festival, as part of an official tour of Philippine fiestas for work. As much as I love being up in the mountains amidst the cool pine-scented air, I used to dread the long 6-7 hour drive. But my trip to Donsol last year, which had me in a car for 14 hours each way, fixed that.

So our journey last Friday was pretty much a breeze. Being in the big and comfortable company bus with the airplane seats, cozy couch in the back, dvd player and cooler filled with drinks even made it was actually quite enjoyable. Made even more so by the fact that I was with some of my bestest friends.

the backyard bathed in the early morning sun, Camp John Hay

Because Baguio city is located about 1,500 meters above sea level the climate is naturally at least 10 degrees cooler than in Manila. It was lovely "sweater-weather" for us the entire weekend. Those of you who also live in a tropical and humid country know the joy this can induce from time to time. Every morning was a struggle though, I would have to begrudgingly force myself to emerge from under my warm duvet, pondering the possiblity that gravity was indeed stronger under my bed that precise moment. But thoughts of hot chocolate, ensaymada, Baguio longganisa (pictured at left) & fried rice waiting just beyond my bedroom door was all it took to coax me out of bed finally.

While the men played mini-golf, we explored Baguio's public market, a popular one-stop shop for the freshest produce from the Cordillera mountain region, native Ifugao wood-carved souvenirs, fruit preserves and yams, walis tambo (top-quality brooms), flannel blankets, peanut brittle, raw honey, native woven handbags, plants, flowers, handwoven fabrics, and chocolate-covered corn flakes among other things. Aside from how complete the market is, what surprised me the most was how utterly clean it was. No wonder it has become a popular tourist destination in the city.

I had my first taste of binatog at the market.
Binatog is steamed white corn kernels mixed with milk, grated coconut and sugar.
It was a chewier version of mais con hielo without the ice. Yum!

No trip to Baguio is complete without the requisite visit to the legendary Good Shepherd convent , home of the most sought-after fruit preserves such as strawberry jam, ube jam and peanut brittle. If there is one thing (aside from the abundance of fresh strawberries and horses) that I love most about Baguio, it's the Good Shepherd ube jam! I have not found anything remotely as good as this sweet, smooth and creamy version.

They sell them freshly made and still warm, with a reminder to leave it uncapped until noon the next day. I barely made it back into the car, when with my finger I scooped up some of the purple goodness from the jar. Mmmm, still as delicious as ever! I wish I had bought more, but I find comfort in the fact that you can now avail of Good Shepherd products in Manila. In fact, I see a trip to Market! Market! in my future.

Some pictures taken at Mines View Park

What's in a name?

Big & small kulangot (literally translates as, -get this- booger), I know it sounds gross but it's good! Found inside the coconut shells are wads of sweetened coconut , like cocojam, which you scoop out with your finger or a tiny spoon.

The small ones also made good ammo for the new tiradors (slingshots) we bought for the kids at Mines View Park.

Did you really think I could have a post about Baguio without at least one horse picture? ;)