That’s the nickname for Morro Bay, referring to the gigantic rock that sits in the bay and three smokestacks from a defunct power plant, both of which can be seen from almost anywhere in town.
Morro Bay is a small fishing town (population 10,234) on California’s Central Coast. It’s about 120 miles north of Santa Barbara. a two-hour drive for most people. Annie and I made in four. I added it to my itinerary to fill in a few days between Santa Barbara and Carmel, as I made my way up the Coast. I had lunch here about twenty years ago and thought, why not stop at that place with the big rock!
I arrived yesterday afternoon about 4 o’clock and checked into the Embarcadero Inn.
I’m on the second floor in a large room with a crisp clean beachy look, a fireplace and a small balcony. Nothing fancy, but pleasant. The hotel is at the south end of the Embarcadero, which dead-ends in Tidelands Park, a small green oasis about two blocks from the hotel. When I sit on the patio or have the door open, I can hear street noises, but most of the action (and noise) is at the other end of the street.
Yesterday I had an early dinner on the patio at Dutchman’s Seafood House with Annie sitting on her mat under the table. I opted for (what else) fish tacos. So far, they are #2 on my list of Best Fish Tacos in on the West Coast.
This morning I walked down the street to get coffee at Skipper’s Brew. It’s almost as good as Starbucks and sure to become a morning ritual for the next five days. Then I sipped my coffee on the balcony with Annie in my lap and listened to the sea gulls and the foghorn.
The foghorn brought back memories of San Francisco when I lived there in the late 70s. I would listen to the sound in late afternoon as the fog rolled in and moved down the city streets between buildings. I could stand on the balcony of my third floor apartment and see the tops of buildings peek out above the fog before it enveloped them. The fog added to the city’s charm, but that foghorn sounded deeper and more mournful than this one in Morro Bay. Or maybe it just reflected my mood in those days.
These days I’m happy to be on a road trip at this stopover in Morro Bay, and I’m enjoying the cool San Francisco-like weather even if the fog horn sounds a bit lightweight.