One of the most famous roadtrips in the U.S is to follow Pacific Highway 1 up the coast from San Diego to San Francisco. It really felt like we had arrived in California once we got our first view of the ocean, despite having been in the state for over a week already. Driving down from Palm Springs, having just driven through the mountains and desert felt like emerging from the back of beyond. The coast is much busier than anywhere else we have been in the U.S so far.
We had a perfect start in San Diego by visiting one of Monika’s old workmates and his wife. Caleb grew up in Seattle but ended up working with Monika in Leytonstone via studying in Thailand and a stint in the army in Iraq. He has now moved into his uncle’s vacant bungalow in San Diego, right next to the University of San Diego, surrounded by a typically student-orientated combination of bars and restaurants. After enjoying beer and burgers on their balcony we wandered down to a Thai restaurant to enjoy a beer tower, the latest craze in Thailand when we were there, a craze which seems to have been caught by Thai restaurants worldwide.
Leaving Caleb and Ren the next day we headed into the centre of San Diego. Although with an obvious Mexican influence I was surprised to find San Diego a very compact, organised city with a conservative feel. The highlight of the centre is obviously the pretty Gaslamp quarter, a few blocks of bars, shops and restaurants where the pedestrian almost rules over the driver! It also feels like it is in a state of constant redevelopment, despite being an historic area of the city.
North of the city lies the coastal Torrey Pines State Park. This is a natural beach area with forest trails leading to the colourful cliffs and the beach. Unfortunately the weather was poor on our visit. This did not stop the hordes of visitors but it did curtail our enthusiasm for a dip!
I was prepared to hate Los Angeles. I don’t know why but I have never expected it to be a nice place to visit and I had heard from so many people that it was just an ugly tar slick on the side of the coast. In the end of course I really enjoyed our visit, which is generally the way these things work out. Pacific Coast Highway No.1 heads up the coast through the obviously affluent, appealing suburbs of Laguna and Newport beach and the slightly more down-at-heel surfing mecca at Huntington beach. Between Huntington and Long beach a freeway took us up over the gangster rap ‘hoods of Compton and South Central and past the much maligned downtown of L.A straight into Hollywood.
Hollywood is a rough, dirty place. The trash-lined streets are full of beggars and hustlers and a bunch of people that came to seek fame and fortune and ended up totally burnt out on Sunset Boulevard. The Walk of Fame that lines the pavement along Hollywood Boulevard, Vine Street and Sunset Boulevard is a total con as well. I saw Bob Hope and Angela Lansbury on two of the stars. Did either of them warrant a double starring? Nevertheless the whole place exudes an excitement which obvious attracts people, either those that want to be the next star or those content to take one of the Celebrity homes tours offered by the hustlers as you walk along.
A perfect example of the appeal of L.A. is the fact that just ten minutes drive from Hollywood is Beverley Hills. The contrast between these two places could not be more distinct – the streets of Beverley Hills are shiny and polished with each one lined with perfectly symmetrical trees, a different species for each street. Along the streets the mansions and castles sit, with intimidating guard dogs standing to attention on their perfectly mown lawns. When the housewives get bored I guess they pop down to the boutiques of Rodeo Drive.
Overlooking all of this juxtaposition from a perfect location perched high in the hills is the Getty Center, opened in 1997. A cable-tram pulls visitors up the hill from the car parks down below and amidst its astounding architecture the Center houses part of the Getty art collection. The views are also part of the attraction, not only of L.A. itself but also of the mountains and the Pacific Ocean as well.
We left the city via the northern beaches. We stopped at Venice beach, admiring its pretty little wooden houses and not quite so tacky souvenir stalls along the beach boardwalk but were disappointed by Muscle beach, no budding Arnies on display. Just up the coast Santa Monica is a little more well-to-do and seems to be a place that people aspire to move to. Certainly I wouldn’t mind coming home from work each day and going for a jog along the cliff overlooking the beach. Way out of town we stopped at famous Malibu and then questioned why we had bothered. The beach seemed narrow and dirty compared to others and there were none of the famous surfing waves on display.
So after all this I came to the conclusion that I could live in the much maligned city of L.A. I think my first choice would be a little flat on Venice beach but of course I would not turn down Laguna, Newport or Santa Monica either. They just need to get some of the traffic issues sorted out.
Our next stop up the coast was at Santa Barbara. It felt like a kind of alternative, leftie town with its cafes and independent cinemas nestled in the low, Mexican style adobe buildings of State Street, the main artery that runs from downtown to the wharf. There seemed to be a lot of homeless guys around and a lot of people that probably turned up in California in the 60’s and got stuck here. In one cafe we sat next to a wizard who had popped in to avail of the free wifi. It was the cape, hat and scarf that gave him away. The homeless guys here seem to have more possessions than those in Europe as well. Each one has either a bike with a trolley on the back full of weird and wonderful things or else they have a shopping trolley packed to the gills with their worldly wares.
Whilst making these road trips it is amazing to see the other vehicles making similar trips. I love how road trips are such an integral part of life here, for many people being the only way they take their holidays. Whatever the size of vehicle it will be packed to the gills – from the small compact cars with the entire back seat and boot stuffed with camping gear to the station wagon with two bikes attached to the back and a couple of kayaks on the roof. Probably the biggest ones are the 50-feet RV’s that are towing a 4x4, just in order to have something ‘small’ to nip around in once they arrive wherever it is they are going.
North of Santa Barbara the Pacific Coast Highway splits from the main interstate to wind along the coast. This stretch is one of the world’s great coastal drives, up there with the Great Ocean Road in Australia and I guess the Garden Route in South Africa. After passing through San Luis Obispo the first stops are at the colony of enormous elephant seals and the opulence of Hearst castle. (Un)fortunately we arrived too late in the day to take a tour of the castle. From here the views get really spectacular as the road winds up through the cliffs of the Big Sur coastline. I was already familiar with this area from books by Jack Kerouac and also that song by the Thrills. It really does live up to the claim that around every corner is a different breathtaking view. It makes driving along the road that much harder with the distraction. For much of the year the coastline is enveloped in thick fog however so we felt lucky that during our visit the fog cleared mid-morning each day.
Emerging north from this stretch of the coast the fist small town is Carmel-by-the-Sea, made famous by the fact that Clint Eastwood used to be the town mayor. Carmel exudes a sort of English air, probably a weekend refuge for stressed execs to pop down to from San Francisco, relaxing by browsing the cutesy shops and indulging in the tasty treats from the various bakeries and cafes.
Monterey is at the other end of the famous Pebble Beach Drive from Carmel but as a cynical $10 fee is charged for access to this road we decided to go the other way around. We walked along the coast from Pacific Grove past Ed Ricketts old laboratory and down to Cannery Row. This is the home of the sardine industry of Monterey, the setting for a couple of John Steinbeck’s best novels – Cannery Row and Sweet Thursday. This is real Steinbeck country. Cannery Row survives today in a new guise as a collection of fancy bars and restaurants but thankfully the main structure of the place is intact, which makes it easier to imagine its previous incarnation. Apart from Cannery Row Monterey has a beautiful stretch of coast from the rocky headland of Lovers Point round to the wharf area on the other side of town.
We made an unplanned detour to the town of Salinas on the way to Santa Cruz. Salinas is home to the National Steinbeck Center. Unfortunately again we arrived just too late and were only able to browse the impressive book store as the main galleries were already closed.
Santa Cruz lies across the bay from Monterey. The town is a lot more down-at-heel but also feels much more authentic. The famous wooden Great Dipper rollercoaster along the Boardwalk dominates the coastal view whilst the shopping area around Pacific and Front streets keep people occupied during the day. Students of UCSC ensure that evenings in Santa Cruz go off with a bang. We arrived on a Friday which was perfect to observe the proceedings.
Along the coast we were finally able to enjoy some American radio stations as we drove along. Previously we had lost reception as soon as we left cities but here as soon as we lost one we found another from KROCK to KBILLY to KZSC. I always wondered why American radio stations start with a K and now I know. When the radio system was being regulated each station was given a call sign. Military and Police frequencies had been assigned call signs starting with G and A I believe and K and W were used for commercial radio stations call signs. With very few exceptions those stations situated west of the Mississippi start with a K, those east with a W. Monika and I normally listen out for talk shows and political discussions, however the choice on these radio stations has been limited to an I.T advice show and a discussion of how much food should be stored in the event of a major disaster. Apart from the continued disintegration of Greece politics and the global economy tends to sweep under the radar.
From Santa Cruz we made a beeline straight through San Francisco and over the Golden Gate Bridge on a glorious day to visit Sheryl, my close relative that lives in the northern bay suburb of Tiburon. This was our main reason to visit San Francisco and we looked forward to relaxing here for a few days and slowing down for a while. The first day we arrived we sat out on Sheryl’s deck just admiring the view and taking advantage of the good weather. Avoiding the city on the weekend we spent a day touring the wine country, visiting vineyards in the Sonoma Valley, adjacent to and quieter than Napa. We started with Viansa and Jacuzzi before visiting the Champagne vineyard of Chateau de Carneros and finishing by admiring the views from the terrace of Artesa.
In the centre of San Francisco itself we visited the Fishermans Wharf area, wandering between the stalls of steaming clam chowder out to see the sea lions lounging about at Pier 39. We took a trolley car up from the Wharf across town to Market Street. Whilst an iconic image of San Francisco itself the trolley car took us past the winding Lombard Street and along some of the wide streets that you are used to seeing Steve McQueen or Sean Connery bombing along in some film or another. After walking past the laundrettes and restaurants of San Francisco’s historic Chinatown we made a pilgrimage to the City Lights Bookstore. This was a centre for the Beat generation when they arrived in the city – it was normal to find Ginsberg, Kerouac and Neal Cassidy sitting around spouting stream of consciousness prose at each other in the chairs upstairs. Thankfully the bookstore has remained really faithful to its roots, offering an amazing range of Beat titles hard to find elsewhere to the customers that seem to come from all over just to visit.
San Francisco has been home to many communities and movements as well as the Beats heading to the City Lights. The area around Haight-Ashbury was central to the whole hippie movement during the Summer of Love in the late 60’s. Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead amongst those that were associated with the scene. Nowadays the area has become a bit gentrified but has managed to retain a little of its atmosphere – stores selling incense sticks and tie-dye skirts and badges proposing the legalisation of marijuana.
San Francisco has also been one of the most gay-friendly cities in the U.S. for a long time. Those of you who have seen the excellent film Milk will be familiar with the story of Harvey Milk. He became the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California when he represented the Castro district of San Francisco in the 70’s. Alas his successful career and life were cut short when he was shot by a fellow senator in 1978. It was no accident that he represented the Castro as it is the centre of the gay community in San Francisco, there are just as many gay pride rainbow flags flying around the neighbourhood as there are Stars and Stripes, if not more. The famous Castro Theatre towers over the whole scene and its probably one of the only places in America where you find spit-and-sawdust pubs decorated with multicoloured balloons and a barber shop called Hand Jobs.
Monika’s mum flew out to San Francisco to join us for the rest of this trip. After picking her up from the airport our final experience in San Francisco was to visit the beautiful suburbs of Sausalito and Tiburon on the north of the bay. We had visited both over the previous few days, witnessing a guy flying around over the sea in Tiburon using a hydro-powered jet pack but now we had time to wander around properly and to enjoy a dinner at Sams Cafe in Tiburon, the Crab Louie being the highlight of the menu. From the front it looks deceptively small and dark but out the back it opens onto a deck overlooking the marina. On a warm day it is a glorious location and of course the portions are typically huge, you just have to make sure the dive bombing seagulls don’t try to help you finish!
It was great to spend the time in San Francisco with Sheryl, quite a change to be guided around by someone with a more intimate knowledge of the area. I have heard it said many times that San Francisco is a great place to live, usually mentioned in a sentence with Cape Town, Sydney or Vancouver and I can see why. They just need to improve their weather! The city is enshrouded in fog for much of the time, meaning everyone has to take full advantage of the clear days. We ended up making about 5 different trips to view the Golden Gate Bridge simply due to the weather!
