Photography
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Rocks, Trees & Fault Lines: Back Into California
When you imagine temperatures of over 110F (43C), you picture blistering sunshine and the need to find shade, yet for a good part of our drive across the desert from the Grand Canyon to Joshua Tree, the temperature gauge is up there above that number yet the skies are consistently overcast. It even rains a couple of times. When we step out of the car for a break, we are hit by a wall of heat incompatible with the cloudy skies above. Leaving the Interstate 140, we drive south west through some extraordinarily barren country, miles of dead straight road through open land. Once past the salt flats at Amboy…
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The Grandest Of Canyons
It’s only ten days since we crossed off a bucket list item with the seaplane flight over San Francisco, and now here we are boarding our first ever helicopter with pen metaphorically poised to cross off another. Is there conceivably a better place to do this than here at the Grand Canyon? A brief walk to the Bright Angel trailhead on the day of our arrival has given us our first glimpses of this wonder of the world, so our excitement levels as we receive our safety briefings are absolutely off the scale. There’s a short delay to check the craft – a bird has hit the windshield on its…
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A Ghost Town, Route 66 And Rock ‘n’ Roll: Yosemite-Barstow-Arizona
It’s not hard to work out why we chose the town of Barstow, and the Route 66 Motel, as our overnight stay on our longest drive of this trip. A Route 66 town? Route 66 Motel? Classic cars preserved in the motel grounds…why wouldn’t you?? The route from Yosemite to Barstow is ridiculously diverse: first the mountains of Yosemite, then the richly verdant fruit farm regions, then the flatlands as the world becomes more and more spartan. Once past Bakersfield, Spanish language signs reappear, something we didn’t see to the same extent in Northern California but are commonplace down here. Over the mountains we go, dropping next into the Mojave…
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This Is Yosemite
So many people had told us that Yosemite was fabulous long before we came here, and just about everyone whose advice we sought before planning our California adventure checked that we’d included Yosemite on our itinerary. Then, the guy in the Santana T-shirt at Downtown Joe’s in Napa said that we will never forget seeing Half Dome for the first time. None of this was a case of over selling; in fact, no amount of pre-warning can really prepare you for the unbridled joy of Yosemite. Even before we enter the Park, the drive from our base at “the Bug” to the Park gates is absolutely stunning, following the River…
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From City To Wine Country And On To The Hills
With the delights of San Francisco behind us, we drive into the town of Napa just before lunchtime on that most significant of American days, the fourth of July. Stars and stripes are very much in evidence, bunting and banners adorn the streets and there is a sense of anticipation in the air. The River Napa which flows swiftly through the town and runs directly into San Francisco Bay, once supported heavy industry here, until alternative forms of transport took away its water borne advantages and Napa and its neighbours suffered a downturn. What followed later wasn’t quite the Gold Rush of 1849 but you could conceivably call it the…
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San Francisco #2
For those of us of a certain age, the very words “San Francisco” evoke memories of 1960s music, flower power, the hippy generation and the 1967 summer of love. That entire movement, if movement is the right word, may have been synonymous with the wider city, but it was actually centred around the district of Haight Ashbury, just over a mile west of downtown. A district which was hit hard by the Depression and fell into decline during the 1950s slowly became a haven for the hippy counterculture during the 60s due in the main to the availability of cheap rental accommodation in a downbeat and under populated neighbourhood. Within…
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San Francisco #1
Where do we begin, to describe this exciting, unique city. What makes San Francisco what it is? Is it those incredibly steep streets which look like a tarmac roller coaster, is it the streetcars and cable cars we all associate with the views? Is it THAT bridge, is it THAT prison on its isolated island? Is it the amazing things you can do (and we did) here, is it the bars that just make you want to grab a stool and try all the beers? Chinatown? North Beach? Pier 39? Restaurants at the waterfront? Crazy shit like Lombard Street or Haight Ashbury? Or even the way the fog wraps itself…
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Going Large: From Monterey to San Francisco
A few miles south of Monterey across the peninsula lies the celebrated, Clint Eastwood-famed town of Carmel-by-the-Sea, nestling amongst the tall pines and cypress trees and looking out across the Pacific. There’s no mistaking, even at first glance, that this is one seriously wealthy town, as exquisite and well presented as it is possible to imagine. Almost too perfect. The pristine, gleaming main street slopes downhill through the trees to an immaculate white sand beach where the Pacific rollers roar and rumble; on its leafy streets Carmel must surely set a world record for the number of art galleries per square mile. Every garden seems manicured and well stocked, every…
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Along Route 1: Morro Bay To Monterey
One of our last conversations in Morro Bay is in The Libertine bar, with two guys who are driving Route 1 north to south, the opposite way to us, who tell us the fog has been so consistent that they haven’t seen much of the Pacific all the way from San Francisco. So we say goodbye to Claudia and farewell to Morro Bay hoping that we don’t have the same experience. Unfortunately, for the most part we do – what we hoped would be a spectacular drive up the Pacific Highway (Route 1) sees the coast obscured by fog for well over half the journey once we are beyond Cambria,…
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The Pacific Coast: 3 Days In Morro Bay
“My name is Claudia, I live here”, says the elderly, stooping lady, “I’ll show you to your room”, and leads us into a room which looks rather like an attempt to recreate an English country house, with deep pile carpet, fussy wooden furniture and a bed which needs a step ladder to climb into. Michaela says she’s back in Auntie Marjorie’s house. All I can think of is an English comedy show, The League Of Gentlemen – “this is a local hotel for local people”. It’s clean and it’s very welcoming but we’re in 1950s England rather than the thrust of modern America: we have to stifle our laughter as…
