Day 4: A Day of Travels

Back in Time

The morning began with tiny fresh bananas from Matthew Boxt’s back yard and Emilia’s cornbread coffeecake. Raeray had seen enough of Los Angeles with its busy streets and zany characters. A quick beach tour, and it would be time to head north. This would be a day of travel. San Fransisco would be at least a six hour’s drive on freeways, and Raeray planned to take the costal highway. Traffic might crawl for hours. Let’s hit the beach for just a spell.

Emilia said Washington Boulevard would dead end into Venice Beach. The street was flowing well and twisting around waterways when we realized that we’d missed a turn somewhere. Raeray must’ve been in Marina del Rey. No harbour there, thought, we stayed the northern streets and finally found Venice Beach. Four quarters in a meter would provide an hour’s parking, so we were on a time-limited tour. The beach is wide and white – reminding Michael Ray of his first view of the Atlantic in Myrtle Beach nearly 60 years ago. Another thing that caught his attention was a huge cluster of palm trees with steel beams spelling a V in the center. He was sure he’d seen that before. A few minutes delving into the depths of his memory brought it back. It was the sign the wild characters were searching for in one of Ray’s favorite long-ago movies – “It ’s a Mad, Mad, Mad World.”

The Speed Way, as Venice calls its boardwalk, is a paved strip of more than a mile with shops on one side and the beach on the other. Between the beach and street are activities of all sorts – tennis courts, exercise stations, basketball goals, picnic tables. Small wonder the signs announce this a Muscle Beach. That’s why Morgan Rae is drawn to California; she says everyone on the West Coast is active. We’ve already seen the families on the beach, the bicyclists and runners everywhere we’ve been. A concrete strip right off the beach in Venice hosts walkers, joggers, scooters, bikers. We still saw a few two-ton wobbly-dobblies (probably tourists) who were usually eating the cookies and crème bread pudding, as was Michael Ray. Morgan Rae read meditations Oceanside and hid Penny Lane from the beach patrol, since pets are not allowed on the beach. She tried a Muscle Beach smoothie while Ray ate his cheesecake, and it was time to move on.

Raeray zipped through Santa Monica beach and on to Malibu where they realized why entertainers find solace in massive homes overlooking the ocean. The area has really none of the bustle of L.A. streets and tourist beaches. That same terrain led Raeray on up The One – California’s Pacific Coast Highway – as it jumped off and on The 101 up to Montecito on the edge of Santa Barbara. We needed a rest break, so we stopped to take a walk on the beach with Penny Lane and relieve ourselves in the nearby bushes. A man on the beach suspected we were gawkers and began explaining that less than a mile up the beach we could see where some of the recent mudslides had reached the ocean. He said they barely missed Oprah’s house and sparked several days of shoving sightseers aside while they pulled survivors from the mud. He said tall shrubs hide the area. We would not see the actual devastation. We thanked him, dallied on the beach nearly an hour and drove on.

The next five hours were spent driving through alternating clear skies and fog, twisting through mountains that were growing pine trees instead of palms. The rolling hills at times looked like the Blue Ridge Range of North Carolina where Michael Ray grew up. Morgan Rae marveled at the peaks and the valley along The 101. They had to leave The One behind at San Luis Obispo to make up some driving time. The Subaru raced through Soledad to Salinas and on to Castroville, where the next Motel 6 awaited.

Raeray unpacked a few things at the motel and headed out for a quick meal. Most of the restaurants in  Castroville have Spanish names, such as La Cascada Taqueria, Maricos El Nayarita or Birrieria Estito Coalcoman. We chose an alternative – Alfonso’s Authentic Mexican Food. The chimichanga was delicious and the rice and beans certainly authentic. Rae insisted on something with artichokes – after all, Castroville claims to be the Artichoke Center of the World. She tried an artichoke enchilada smothered with mole sauce. As Raeray rested from a long day on the road a long way from home, the background music took center stage. First came Al Green, then The Impressions. When the first strains of “Sitting in the Park” by Billy Stewart began to play, Michael Ray could keep quiet no longer. He stopped the waitress telling her this was his music, music from the Eastern Seaboard. “I know, I love it,” said the waitress named Shannon. “I’m from Fresno, but I turn on this channel everyday as soon as I get here.”

Yes, Day 4 was a day of reminiscing on the road for Raeray. And tomorrow may bring a little of the same. San Francisco is on the horizon. Some of its attractions are Haight and Ashbury, and a concert by Grateful Dead survivor Phil Lesh. What’s more, we’ve dreamed of the Redwoods our whole life. The long drive is nearly over. We have come 450 miles from San Diego and have barely over 100 to go. The next three days are for sightseeing. Join us.