Randy trundled up along Highway 1, hugging the cliffs to my right and shying away from the steep drop to my left. The road twists and turns, following the vagaries of the hauntingly beautiful Big Sur coastline. Like most of the northern California coast, fog sat in a dense blanket a few miles offshore threatening to envelop us in its dense, dewy paws.
Big Sur has inspired generations of artists, writers, and other nature lovers, and leaving aside the freaky new-agers selling twaddle dressed up as art, it's not hard to see why. It reminded me of the harsh northwest Scottish coast. Its rugged isolation is awesome. Nature battles nature as the steely black swells smash into jagged rock crags. Sea birds surf the stiff breeze and hunt amidst the kelp blooms. Man - like elsewhere in America's great outdoors - feels insignificant, a mere speck of dust in the earth's geological history.
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