****
"We seem to be in cattle country," said Mary, waking Ed. They were on a country road surrounded by rolling grass covered hills over which dozens of cows could be seen grazing. There was no Pacific Ocean in sight.
"We have only a few more miles to go," said Mara. "This is the interior of the peninsula that juts out into the Ocean and ends at Reyes Point." They were at the moment literally droving through an old-fashioned farm; the farmhouse was on the left side of the road and a big old barn was on the right. Parked in front of it was an ancient looking tractor.
They continued for several more miles through rolling hills of farmland before at last reaching even hillier country. They caught glimpses of the ocean before at last reaching a small parking lot that was filled with a couple of dozen vehicles. CHiPs waved them into parking spaces that had been reserved for them. "We walk from here," said Mara, as Ed helped Mary into Wheels.
The path was smooth and well maintained but not level. Ed and Doll helped Wheels along the steeper grades. Rocky hills to each side of the path were covered with bushy growth on which several deer were feeding. Further along there were views of the Ocean to their right, but there were wisps of fog that somewhat obscured their view. At one point there were also surprisingly large trees with branches that spread wide over the pathway, and solid rock outcroppings covered in colorful orange moss.
At last they came across a handful of small old wooden white-painted buildings and to a viewing platform, below which a long staircase carved in solid rock and concrete led down a ridge of solid rock to a small lighthouse and white shack far below. To the left and then further down to the right of the stairway the rock of the Point dropped almost straight down for several hundred feet into fog. A solid looking rail and fence on each side of the stairs kept dozens of tourists from wondering off the cliffs. From far below came the unmistakable sound of pounding surf, but fog allowed only occasional glimpses of waves, rocks, and circling gulls.
Ahead of them beyond the fog that was hugging the cliffs the entire Pacific Ocean went on forever. There were no boats to be seen but several other tourists on the viewing platform were excitedly pointing binoculars and cameras to a particular Ocean spot.
Doll produced a small set of binoculars which she trained on the spot. "Whales!" she proclaimed. "I can see their backs and spouts when they surface for air!"
"Migrating gray whales, most likely," said Mara. "Or possibly humpbacks or even blue whales."
"Their thoughts are amazingly strong; I can sense them even at this distance," said Ed, as Doll's binoculars were passed around. "There are a couple dozen of them. I've spoken to humpbacks on the East Coast and might be able to communicate with this bunch of grays. Usually whales can be reasoned with. I'll try to get them to swim a little closer and show themselves better."
Indeed the whales soon turned towards them and swam closer, than breached half of their great bodies above the water and pounded back down with tremendous splashes. They all took turns with the binoculars watching them.
Meanwhile dozens of other visitors to the site filed past as they climbed up and down the long stairway. "It's three hundred steps down to the lighthouse," said Mara, "but you have to go down there to get the full effect."
"I'm afraid that the stairway is beyond my capability," said Wheels, "even with Ed's help. I could modify myself to climb stairs, but that would take hours."
"Snake and I can get you down there and back, Mary," said Doll. "No problem! Easier to leave Wheels here though, as he's heavier than you are." She swept up Mary from Wheels into her strong arms, made for the stairway, and was soon carrying frail Mary down them as the rest of the party followed on. Though they paused frequently to peek down over the cliff and listen to the waves, Doll began to tire and at a small viewing platform part-way down Snake took over. Ed monitored Mary via their implants; she was comfortable and excited. Meanwhile tourists took stills and videos of the War Brother and the Warrior Princess carrying a little old lady down the long stairway.
"THIS WILL BE IN THE NEWS FOR SURE," Mara told Ed.
"GREAT FOR POLITICS BUT NOT SO GREAT FOR SECURITY," Ed noted.
Finally they reached the little lighthouse and Snake put Mary down on a bench next to Ed. Mara was right; this was truly a wonderful place to be. They were a couple of hundred feet closer to sea level but still far above it. There were gulls parched nearby and many more in the air floating on updrafts, and through the sound of the surf they occasionally heard the bark of what had to be sea lions. The cool, clean, damp air from the Pacific was wonderful.
"There are dozens of sea lions below us but they are too close to the cliff for us to see them," said Ed.
"What about your birds-eye view trick?" asked Snake.
"Great idea," said Ed. "Get your visicoms ready."
Ed quickly found an accommodating gull and shared its senses as it first flew high above the cliffs and stairway, and then glided down along the cliff to near sea level. It made several passes above barking sea lions that were gathered on rocks below the cliff. The accommodating bird then then headed out to sea to circle above breaching gray whales for several minutes. Finally the bird turned and headed back for the lighthouse.
"Drones are prohibited," said a grumpy voice.
Ed looked up to see a frowning middle-aged woman in a ranger uniform.
"That goes for everyone," she said, when Mara started to tell her who she was. "I don't care if you're the Governor himself or even the President; we can't have our wildlife disturbed by noisy machines."
"What we view is from a seagull, not a mechanical drone," said Ed.
"Putting a mini-cam on a gull is also strictly prohibited, young man," said the ranger.
"No camera is involved," said Ed. "Just bird eyes. Watch." He handed his visicam to her and she watched it as a birds-eye view of herself grow and grow until the gull landed on a nearby bench. She looked back and forth at the bird, the visicom, and Ed as the bird sized up its surroundings as shown on the visicom.
"I don't understand how you're doing this!" she at last told Ed. "This is some sort of trick!"
"State secret," said Mara.
"We could tell you, but then we'd have to kill you," added Snake.
"Just a figure of speech, ranger," said Mara. "Thank you for your diligence but we break no rules. I originated the anti-drone laws of California over twenty years ago, by the way, so I should know."
Snake and Doll took turns carrying Mary back up the stairs and to Wheels. "Thank you both so very much!" Mary told them repeatedly.
"No problem," said Snake. "Doll keeps me fit."
"I only wish that you guys could have carried the rest of us," said Ed. Though he thought of himself as being fit, climbing up the three hundred stairs was more exercise than he was accustomed to. Everyone else in their party seemed to be less effected by the ordeal than he was, even old Ken. This had been an outstandingly wonderful place to visit but he was glad when he was at last again sitting comfortably in Mack, underway, and rolling through quiet farmland.
They had lunch at a little roadside diner in Inverness, a small nearby town that Ed and Mary had slept through earlier. The food was good but Mary wouldn't eat much of it. "I'm more tired than hungry," she declared.
"How far to our next hotel?" Ed asked Mara.
"We have a nice bed and breakfast booked for you in Mendocino more than a hundred miles up the coast," said Mara.
"Over a hundred miles on Route 1 as it twists its way along ocean-side cliffs?" Ed asked. "That ain't happening. Too tiring. Much as we would love seeing more of this wonderful coastline we'll need to abandon it and also find somewhere to bed-down that is closer and easier to get to than Mendocino."
"Then I suggest that we head inland to Petaluma or Santa Rosa for the afternoon and night napping," said Mara. "From there we can then take Route 101 into redwood country tomorrow. Route 101 isn't called the Redwood Highway for nothing; there will be plenty to see. That wi
ll mean some twisty roads through the coastal mountain range at first but it's less than forty miles to Petaluma and Route 101. After that Route 101 will be straight and level compared to Route 1."
As it happened Mary dozed off anyway and the group ended staying in Santa Rosa for the afternoon and night at yet another large new hotel. Like Sausalito, Santa Rosa had over the last few decades grown beyond recognition. Being the last-stop for the High Rail line that carried commuters to the Bay area caused the construction of giant apartments and condos that dominated the landscape. From the tenth story balcony of their hotel room as Mary slept Ed marveled at the sight of hundreds of flying cars and wide-winged ultra-light aircraft coming and going from some point only a couple of miles distant.
"YOU OBSERVE THE COMMUTER TRAFFIC," said Wheels. "BASED ON THE NUMBER OF FLYING VEHICLES SANTA ROSA HAS THE BUSIEST AIRFIELD IN CALIFORNIA. WELL-TO-DO HUMANS LOVE TO LIVE AMONG VINEYARDS. FROM EVEN HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY THEY FLY TO SANTA ROSA TO TAKE THE TRAIN TO JOBS IN THE BAY AREA. THE AIRBORNE-VEHICLES OF COURSE RELY ON COMPUTER CONTROL,
Global Warming Fun 5: It’s a Dry Heat Page 24
