For those demanding more…yes, this is for you. I suppose I knew that last philosophical/emotional post wouldn’t satisfy everybody for long…“Pictures! We want pictures!” you say. And who am I to deny anybody that? So here it is: a series of posts on my drive from California to Colorado, and everything in between.
Leaving home is always difficult, and these days are no different. I’ll have to post more later about what that experience was like for me, and what it’s like being out here (although it’s been better than I even expected in many senses…although I am definitely coming back soon, too)…but, for now, it’s all about the trip and what that was like for me.
Wednesday morning (a week ago — October 24th), I left the hotel I stayed at for my last night in the Bay Area, and headed up the coast — across the Richmond–San Rafael bridge, up to Petaluma or so, and then west, to the very coast and Highway 1. I hadn’t done this drive in years, and it was better than even I remembered…
If you’ve never driven north up the California coast on Highway 1, I highly recommend it. And it’s absolutely nothing like driving south, down through Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, and points south; starting about fifty miles north of San Francisco, it changes into the most rugged, pristine, beautiful coastline you’ve ever seen, and it’s like nothing else I’ve ever seen. Point Reyes is the first glimpse you get into this, and it just gets better from there. Big Sur and Southern California are all beautiful sunshine, cliffs plunging into the ocean, and slow metamorphosis into sandy beaches; northern California is ruggedness to the extreme, boulders crashing into the ocean, huge waves pounding the shore, redwood forests close at hand, and wind that’s beautifully cold.
The first night, I drove all the way up Highway 1 until it cuts inland and joins up with US 101; I finally stopped for the night in the tiny little town of Garberville, CA. Garberville is the town you dreamed about when you were six, and reading a fairy tale about a magic town, nestled deep in the forest, that you can only find when you’re not looking for it.
Garberville is nestled deep, deep in the redwoods; it feels like you’re covered under a canopy of trees, perpetually in shade and with the fog always rolling through, any hour of day or night. It has one stoplight, a pair of freeway entrances/exits, three restaurants, and at least fifteen times as many hotel rooms as residents. The hotels are, aside from a Holiday Inn Express way at one end of town, all little places owned by local residents and look like they were built in 1953. I ended up in the only one that had Internet access — in addition to its peeling green paint, parking lot in need of slight repair, and heater that I could only hope wouldn’t catch fire and burn down the place. Looking back on it, I wish I’d taken a picture; it was such a perfect microcosm of the entire town…far from modern, but charming and the perfect place to spend the first night on the road.
For this first day, perhaps I’ll let the pictures do most of the talking for me. And so, without further ado…
And then you drive off into the mountains…
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