Vancouver Island

We’d booked our trip through the Rockies and Alaska well in advance, but waited late until we decided what to do with the last 2 weeks of our trip. We tentatively thought about a road trip through western Canada, but after so much travelling, opted instead for a tranquil 2 weeks on Vancouver Island. All this travelling is exhausting, so we needed a rest. I can feel the sympathy pouring in. This was a bit of a tactical error as the start of this period coincided with Canada Day on July 1st. We struggled to find anywhere available, and so predictably, the places left free had something wrong with them. We ended up in a self-catering ‘cottage’ in a small resort 10 miles north of Qualicum Beach about half way up the eastern coast of Vancouver Island. At least the location is fabulous, facing the ocean just a few metres away. Unfortunately, the accommodation is a little basic and needs some attention. The whole property is for sale and the owners obviously haven’t spent any money on the place since the ‘70s.

Getting here was a mini adventure as the ferry to Nanaimo, the closest city, was full, so we had to get the ferry to Victoria which added another couple of hours to the drive, and there were plenty of traffic jams on the highway. Naively I thought the place would be deserted, but the island supports a pretty large resident population swollen with summer holidaymakers. The island has what the tourist board describes as ‘an enviable climate’, which in Canadian terms means its not snowing all the time. In fact, the weather has been fine with long sunny days around 20 Celcius.

Not much to report as we’ve spent much of our time reading novels by the beach, occasionally meeting up with the other guests in the evening around the fire on the beach that Canadians feel compelled to make, toasting marshmallows for the kids (although the adults seem to eat most of them.) We have a blue Heron that visits frequently, perching on one of the rocks breaking through the water. It stands on its Peter Crouch legs, watching the sea surface with the patience of Job.
We’ve managed the odd hike in the parks, including one by Rosewall Creek that attracted Mags in deference to the legendary Aussie tennis player. This turned out to be a fairly gentle hike upstream for an hour through old forest terminating at a small waterfall.

We’re well rested for our next stop, New York, where we expect the pace to pick up slightly.

Alaska

Beautiful Vancouver, the clouds finally parted and we had glorious sunshine. We spent much of our short stay walking around the superb sea wall that opens up most of the bay to the public. Stanley Park is situated just west of Coal Harbor, so we strolled around gawping at the display of totem poles and searching for frogs and birds in the brackish waters of Beaver Lake. We stayed on the waterfront near the cruise ship terminal, and adjacent to vibrant Gas Town. This is a ‘trendy’ enclave just east of downtown that has been gentrified from a once run down area. The hotel concierge actually crossed out a few streets in the area advising us not to visit so we wouldn’t encounter any ‘undesirables’. We did run into a fair smattering of beggars and druggies in some streets but nothing that we haven’t seen in most major cities. The place is now full of boutique shops, restaurants, and bars like a small scale Shoreditch which is close to where we live in London.

We boarded our enormous ship the MS Volendam for our cruise north to Alaska. We soon started to feel young in comparison to the other passengers which cheered us up. Its 20 odd years since I was last on a cruise ship like this when I worked on The Black Prince for a short while. I was wondering what changes there would be. The crew was all Filipino and the captain was Dutch – so no change there then.

First stop Juneau, although the state capital of Alaska, only the size of a small town. We had a few hours before our shore excursion so walked up to the city museum where there was a very good display of the town’s and Alaskan history that can be really summed up as: -

First peoples (Native Indians)
Gold rush
Logging
Tourism

The Klondike gold rush only lasted a few years, ending in 1899. The hastily built towns appear to have diversified into tourism rapidly and the streets still have the character of the Wild West with plenty of restored original buildings now converted to souvenir shops and crammed with tourists.

After a short drive we set off for our first adventure which was sea kayaking in front of the Maidenhall Glacier. We set off with 6 others in our two-person kayak fortunate to have calm weather and glassy water. We had a great, peaceful hour or so paddling amongst seals, ducks and watching numerous bald eagles glide overhead.

Next stop Segway where we had a more leisurely walk through forest near the Dyea River before rafting back. Again, lots of eagles, a few Robins and red squirrel. The town itself is really only one street full of jewelry shops.

Next day, was really the highlight of the tour. We cruised up to Glacier Bay, dodging the ice flows and stopping in front of the various marine glaciers. Loads of sea otters, orcas, whales and sea lions; and a lone bear wandering the shoreline. The whales were a fair way off and only caught the odd glimpse of the spout and tail but still very exciting. Margerie Glacier, which is the fastest moving around unloading 100ft of ice a year into the sea, was incredible. We watched as huge chucks of ice calved away from its 150ft face, thundering into the ocean, the sound reverberating off the mountains and causing mini tsunamis in the ocean; seals swam amongst the seabirds unperturbed.

Each evening we’d gather in the bar to swap stories of the day with our fellow passengers. We’d talk about the shore excursions, and they’d tell us who won the bingo. The night before our snorkeling trip, the resident DJ informed us that he’d done that trip – it was very cold and the sea was full of jelly fish. Not great news thanks, jelly fish and Mags have not been the best of friends in the past and this only ratcheted up the fear factor. It took a fair bit of persuading to get Mags to agree to snorkeling in Alaska in the first place. In the event, there was no need to worry as the sky was blue, the day was warm and the water clear. We had great fun swimming around the shallows enjoying the sea life including hundreds of star fish, sea urchins, sea cucumbers, lots of small fish, and some otherworldly kelp growing several metres high from a single rope like stem, topped with narrow amber leaves, gently moving in the current like ribbons of chiffon in a cool breeze. The hardest part of the trip was getting the extra thick wetsuit on which was like wrestling with a heavy rubber blamaunge for 15 minutes, and is quite a workout in its own.

Our snorkeling took place in Ketchikan, a very pretty tourist town located on a narrow strip of land on Revillagigedo Island. Land is so scarce here that a number of buildings have been constructed on stilts out into the harbor. Creek Alley, also built on stilts above the town’s Salmon river, was a den of vice during the brief gold rush, and the locals still ham it up for the tourists in the antique costumes of ladies of the night. We were one of four cruise ships that day which must have quadrupled the population. Luckily, we had our excursion to get away from the crowds.

Health and safety is firmly in charge here. There are all sorts of helpful, life saving signs on board ship. We gathered on deck on the bow to watch the magnificent scenery around Glacier Bay, I was confronted with signs informing me not to climb on the railings, throw myself overboard or stab myself with a bread knife. Before commencing shore excursions we had to sign liability waivers. Perhaps understandable for the snorkeling and kayaking, but for our hike? It was only a short walk.

Canadian Rockies

We bade a fond farewell to the U S of A and flew up to the Rockies (Adrian!). We’re at Banff, after a brief orientation stop in Calgary. We’re now back to ordering two mains at restaurants instead of sharing one, as was the practice south of the border.

We’re staying at the Banff Springs resort, which is an immense stone mansion set above the Bow River, built around 100 years ago with incredible vision and what must have been an enormous investment. It’s meant to look like a Scottish castle, but actually looks eerily like Colditz just missing the barbed wire and machine gun sentry posts. The setting is spectacular with the icy mountains framing the brooding sky as white and grey clouds shoot past. The grey blue river below rumbles along at incredible speed including a very impressive rapids section that is confusingly called Bow Falls.

We’re on a quick fire coach tour, so after two nights in Banff, we were off again to Lake Louise. We arrived in the late afternoon and suddenly found that the rain had ceased so we rushed out to walk to the other end of this beautiful lake. After 20 minutes, the rain returned and we got thoroughly soaked but still managed to have fun. We have had all weathers since we arrived in Canada; drizzle, light rain, and heavy rain.

The longest part of our tour took us from Lake Louise to Jasper, and included the Columbia Ice Field Experience. We’ve heard the word ‘Awesome’ a lot on our travels, and here the scenery really merits the adjective. The colossal Rocky Mountains are framed by rushing rivers, cold still lakes and endless forests. The pine trees are surprisingly scraggy, with narrow trunks and short, stubby branches. Thus is apparently due to the poor soil, altitude and short growing season. They are packed incredibly tightly, like matches in a box, huddled together against the cold. The are very hardy though and manage to exist quite a long way up the stone cliffs of the giant mountains, sometimes turning them into enormous, stony old men with dark green beards. We were fortunate to see black and grizzly bears along the side of the road, rummaging around for food so best seen when inside the coach. Although we have learned the procedure for meeting a bear that includes making yourself look big and playing dead, and don’t put honey in your hair!

The ‘Ice Experience’ included a trip out onto the Athabasca Glacier in a purpose built snow coach with enormous tires. The permanent ice field sits on top of numerous mountains covering 325 square kilometers, which is larger than the whole of Vancouver. It is so deep in parts that the Eiffel tower could be buried in it standing up. Glaciers slide outwards into the valleys along its edges, and the melt water feeds three great rivers. The Snow Dome Mountain, standing 3,456m on the continental divide uniquely feeds its melt water into three oceans, the Pacific, Atlantic and Arctic.

Shortly after we arrived in Canada, the Stanley Cup Final took place for Ice Hockey. Vancouver lost to Boston and this sparked riots in the streets of Vancouver. A couple of cars were turned over and set alight. In the aftermath, the there has been much hand wringing and self-flagellation here with the shame of it all. Calm down Canada, it’s just a typical Saturday night out in any British town.

Magical Mystery Tour - Part 2

We found our way back to the coast to Cannon Beach, so named after a cannon that was found there in 1846. I’m assuming it was the military rather than the religious kind, but there was no more information. The Beach is spectacular, wide and very long, its 4 mile stretch punctuated by large rocks along the shoreline. Chief among the rocks is Giant Haystacks. Wasn’t there a wrestler in the 70’s called Giant Haystacks, along with Big (don’t call me Shirley) Daddy? This Haystacks is home to numerous seabirds including a colony of puffins from April until July. The beach is a great playground for walking, running, cycling, and flying kites which is particularly popular. The small adjoining town is entirely given over tourism with the usual array of gift shops, antiques, cafes, restaurants and motels. We arrived on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. (How can a day be a weekend?) The place was, if not exactly buzzing, then at least alive with holidaymakers. We walked over to Haystacks and sat on one of the washed up tree trunks to witness the sun dipping slowly over the horizon on its way to Australia. Refreshingly, there’s an absence of beach rules with no signs listing all the activities that are ‘not allowed’. Anything goes here, apparently, including lighting fires on the beach that illuminated our way back home.

The town’s population plunged after the holiday, and we found ourselves wandering the coast largely unaccompanied. We found a pretty coastal trek in the nearby Ecola state park that took us upwards through a dense forest of old growth Sitka spruce and western hemlock trees to a lookout point facing the Tillamook Rock lighthouse.

We left Cannon Beach and Oregon for Washington, entering the green state via a scenic drive North East, crossing the mighty Columbia River at Astoria over an impressive road bridge. So we’re finally in Washington, our last stop in the US before Canada. We were both looking forward to seeing Capitol Hill and the Whitehouse, but decided first to stay on the Hood Canal near the tiny town of Brinnon. The canal looks more like a mighty river at least a mile wide. In fact, its neither river or canal, but a narrow sea inlet. We splashed out and stayed at a cottage right on the water with private beach loaded with oysters and clams.

I hired us a couple of Kayaks in a moment of madness and soon we were cruising the ‘canal’ like Steve Redgrave. The water is mostly very calm here resembling a giant sheet of cling film. Needless to say, after 5 minutes on the water, the wind picked up from nowhere creating white crested waves, and we were soon swallowing sea water and frantically bailing out water with the handily supplied ‘absorbent’ sponge.

We were more fortunate on our next outing and had a wonderful hour among the spectacular scenery and wildlife. We had an inquisitive sea otter check us out, and watched as a pair of eagles fished the water nearby. We reluctantly headed back in when I noticed a strange burning sensation in my arms. Took me a while to realize that it was my muscles complaining – not been used in a while.

I had a round of golf in Oregon at the Gearhart links. I took a chance on the weather and lost, rain from start to finish so I ended up cold and soaked through which meant by the next day I’d completely seized up. You know you’re getting old when to get dressed in the morning you have to lay your undies carefully on the floor, get both feet into the two holes, and then carefully pull them up without bending. Ouch!

Magical Mystery Tour - Part 1

We drifted north up the coast and stayed in Mendocino for 2 nights, a small town more reminiscent of New England in its buildings than California. Miss Marple was filmed here (well, Murder She Wrote actually.....). There’s a beautiful coastal walk skirting the cliffs through meadows of coastal wild flowers.

We continued north and stayed for a night in Requa Inn. On the way, we travelled through the Avenue of the Giants, which is a 33 mile road running through numerous groves of giant redwoods, which are the tallest trees in the word, over 300 feet (100 metres). The Inn is a little gem hidden away on the bank of the serene Klamath River, with mountain and forest views. We spent a leisurely afternoon in the garden reading in the swing seat, sipping Californian Pinot.

We finally left California for Oregon, the centre of herbs or, as the Americans like to say “urbs”. Our first stop was a small motel in Yachats which is a beautiful small town overlooking the river Yachats and the Ocean. There’s a great small fish restaurant run by a fisherman who supplies the produce from his own boat. Our motel had a panoramic view of yet another pristine beach. All the beaches we’ve seen have been beautifully preserved. There’s never any litter, or in the streets for that matter. And people actually pick up the mess from their dogs which is just as well, as there are just as many dogs as people.

We moved on and inland to Portland, Oregon’s largest city, although not the state capital, which is Salem. We walked into Pearl, which is nearby to our apartment and the adjoining Downtown district, to get the vibe of the city, but there was something missing – the streets were largely deserted. Where have all the people gone? It turns out that half of them are in Deschutes microbrewery and the other half are perpetually jogging, cycling or walking along the riverfront walkways boarding the Willamette. The natives do love their beer, so there are several microbreweries to choose from, all offering a large selection of ale. Lots of variety and all served ice cold and gassy, so almost a blend between Aussie and English beer.

It rained almost constantly during our stay, we may have been unlucky, but given that every store and restaurant has complimentary umbrella bags, I doubt it.

We’ve had occasion to visit a few supermarkets staying as we are in mostly self-catering accommodation. All the staff are just so friendly, polite and helpful. Quite a change from the surly UK check out chick. If you look slightly confused wandering the aisles, a member of staff is always there with a cheerful “How are you today? Is there anything I can help you with?” I usually reply with a panicked “No, I’m fine thanks” while thinking “Can’t you see I’m English. Please leave me alone.” At the checkout, while several staff pack your groceries and polish your shoes, the person ringing up the bill engages you in some uplifting conversation before sending you off with “Have a nice day!” Yesterday, I was asked how I was enjoying my stay in Oregon. After I’d said that we could do with a little bit more sunshine, I was cheerfully told that the locals didn’t bother checking the forecast here. Just expect rain every day and, if the sun shines, then it’s a nice surprise.

Central Coast

Central Coast, the bit between LA and San Francisco. We stayed a couple of nights in a fine motel in Cambria called the Blue Dolphin. We were right on the coast, facing the Pacific which blew up a steady gale all the while we were there – very refreshing.

We took a short trip north to Hearst’s Castle, named after William Randolph Hearst, the very wealthy only heir to a mining fortune made by his father in the early 20th century. William went into publishing buying up newspapers and in his spare time spent his dosh buying loadsa stuff and cramming it into a palatial and weird mansion he built on a hill overlooking the family’s immense country ranch. His family bequeathed the estate to California who run it very well as a tourist attraction. It’s a very interesting place. The buildings, comprising a very large main house and 4 separate guesthouses, benefit from the impressive views and strangely gothic / Spanish / church architecture. The rooms are bursting with artifacts and art collected buy Hearst. It’s like a mini British museum but with all the periods and cultures mixed together. So you might have a stuffed owl from the Victorian era, next to an Indian tapestry facing an Egyptian sculpture. Old Willie had a fair amount of influence with his money, and he had a keen interested in films. The main house has a full sized cinema room where we saw a short home movie with Charlie Chaplin playing tennis with Bill Tilden, the first American to win Wimbledon, on the castles’ court. Clark Gable, Bob Hope and Winston Churchill were also guests at one time or other. You have to take one of four guided tours offered to visit, but well worth it.

Unfortunately for us, the Pacific Highway, which runs along the coast to San Francisco, was closed north of Hearst’s castle due to a landslide so we had to drive up to Monterey via the freeway inland. We stayed near Cannery row, where scores of women used to can sardines all day, and is now turned into a tourist strip full of restaurants and souvenir shops.

Near Monterey is the wealthy town of Carmel which we drove through briefly just to make our day on our way to visit the world famous Pebble Beach golf course, scene of Graham McDowell’s US Open triumph in 2010. The course is one of four located in a private suburb surrounded by fuck off villas. You have to pay $10 just to enter and drive around gawping at the rich people. The main course is actually a public course so anyone can play but you have to stump up $500 per round and stay 2 nights in the plush lodge which isn’t cheap either – so that rules out most of the population. (Although that’s about 50 Aussie dollars so c’mon you Aussies get over here.) We went into the lodge anyway, had a look around, took a few snaps and walked around the eighteenth green which runs right along the ocean – gave me a thrill but didn’t do much for Mags.

We continued south along the ‘1’ to the Big Sur which is a stunning scenic drive and had lunch at Nepenthe with majestic views along the coast.

Were now in Yosemite where we awoke to the news that the Americans have finally found Bin Laden. The meeting didn’t go too well for Osama and the Americans have all apparently gone crazy but it’s hard to tell the difference here.

Kings Canyon

We motored out of the desert in a cloud of dust and arrived at our new spacious cabin near Kings Canyon national park.

Our accommodation was a little bizarre. To start with, we were in a three bedroom cabin as the smaller ones were already taken. We were one of about six cabins in a lovely, remote country about 3000 feet up. It was a huge block with a small lake, pine trees galore and an old, abandoned airport which was quickly being overrun by nature.

In our apartment, there’s a prospectus for a business plan for 75 cabins with a plan to install a solar power array in the airstrip, which obviously didn’t get off the ground. Our cabin looked like it needed a bit of work, or it too would be in danger of falling back into the earth. Our host greeted us with the news that there had been a bit of a mouse problem in our cabin and to inform them if we see any – not a great start. We actually had a really enjoyable and relaxing stay. There was no TV or internet so we both sat on the deck reading novel after novel and chilling out, interspersed with some lonely walks around the site amongst the pines, wild flowers, hills and abandoned buildings. There were birds of prey aplenty (not my thing so can’t say exactly what they were). Four of them came really close as they rode the thermals on top of a hill we were walking. We were a little nervous when they starting circling directly over us, so we quietly moved off.

Our trip into Kings Canyon itself wasn’t entirely successful. We rose another 3000 ft to 6000 on the short 20 minute drive to the park. As we approached the ranger station, we started to see snow by the roadside – and not just a few patches of leftover winter falls, but 10 foot high, solid ice. When we arrived the temperature had dropped to 49F and we were surrounded by the white stuff. The chap on the car next to us opened his boot and pulled out a pair of skis!

So it came as no great surprise when we discovered the road to the canyon itself was closed. We did manage a very scenic drive along the roads that were open; a short walk around Hume lake, where there is a Christian camp (Hail Mary); and a few excursions to see the giant sequoias that dominate the landscape here including the massive General Grant tree, 267ft high and estimated to be around 2,200 years old which is even older than Alex Ferguson.

Death Valley

We’re in the heart of Death Valley at a place called Furnace Creek. Yes, you get the picture, it’s hot and it’s only springtime. We arrived via a stopover to break the journey in Ridgecrest, a moderately sized town about 50 miles from the national park, whose principal purpose seems to be mining and to support the nearby naval base. Why the Navy needs a base in the desert, we didn’t ask.

I was hoping for some Wild West action; saloons with swing doors, card games, dodgy looking characters, and long tales. Well OK, we know its 2011 but we were expecting to find a bar of some sorts and failed miserably. There is the usual assortment of drive through take away places and not much else. We settled for a Chinese which was drive through but also had a few tables, and of course a couple of fish tanks. The food was actually OK, but I wouldn’t put Ridgecrest on your must do list just yet.

Back to DV where the landscape really looks like another world. George Lucas shot some scenes for the first star wars films here and you can see why. The barren land is twisted into some incredible shapes through millennia of seismic activity fused with a Van Gogh like array of colours from the mineral rich rocks. There are some sand dunes, although not many, and ranges of rocks that look like frozen sand dunes. At Dante’s view, about an hour from our base, there’s an everlasting view of the valley below including the lowest point at Badwater , 282 feet below sea level with the salt pan a dazzling white streak along its length. On the valley floor you can walk out onto the salt where the crystals form hexagonal plates. At Panamint Springs in the West of the park, we walked up to the spring where a small waterfall emerges from the arid rock to provide an oasis of flora and the water for the nearby camp. There’s a scenic road along “Artists‘ Drive” where we took a short walk into a kaleidoscope of colour from an assortment of rocks laden with minerals from Borax to Iron ore.

We stayed in the very comfortable Furnace Creek Inn, which has a rich history being the first tourist hotel built in Death Valley. At one point it was an exclusive retreat for the rich and famous. Clark Gable got married here and Marlon Brando used to stay in our room (so we were told anyway. I’m a bit doubtful as the bed was no way big enough – OK, going native there, it wasn’t large enough)

Palm Springs

We finally escaped the clutches of LA and motored out to the beautiful Palm Springs, wedged between two mountain ranges. We arrived about lunchtime and thought we’d pop into downtown which is about a mile south from our motel. After 5 minutes, a bus pulled up which we though was handy, so we hopped on. We were starting to regret climbing aboard as the driver appeared to be disinterested in continuing the journey. The prospect of progress looked bleak when he pulled out a novel and settled back in his chair. Eventually we did move on. A huge lady asked us where we were from. “Aw England. That’s where the food is expensive and the portions are small”. That’s us in a nutshell really.

It’s hot, hot, hot here with the mercury approaching 90F. Naturally, this requires frequent refreshment. We found a very cooling Mexican place serving wonderful Margueritas so we settled in there for a few hours. The restaurants here have water pipes spraying a fine mist onto the diners outside to keep everyone cool, very impressive considering we’re in the desert.

Next day we met up with Chris and Joan who took us to a very good restaurant overlooking a recently built golf course near where they live in Cathedral City. There really are a lot of golf courses here. Despite the desert climate there apparently is an abundance of water from underground aquifers that are constantly being replenished from run off from the mountains. I managed a few holes with some clubs borrowed from Chris which was a bit of a challenge in the heat (99 degrees) and the clubs hadn’t seen the light of day for 30 years so were not quite state of the art. I hooked up with a few local gents, one of whom popped into his house next to the eighth green and reappeared with a few refreshments – fabulous.

On our final day we took the sky tram (cable car to you and me) up to the top of the Chino Canyon and found ourselves in another world. The lift ascends 800 feet and we were suddenly in a forest of pine trees with snow on the ground. The temperature here is typically 30 to 40 degrees cooler than the desert floor, but on our visit we were still able to walk around comfortably in T shirts. There are several well marked walking trails. We followed one called desert view which gave up some tremendous views of the desert valley below.

All in all we were very impressed with Palm Springs and wished we had a few more days but we were booked into Death Valley so it was adios amigos and slap on that sun cream.

Los Angeles

LA, the definite French article, or alternatively, Los Angles - a small coastal town north of San Diego. We spent an eventful first day on an urban treck from Hollywood to Beverley Hills. Although it looks like the two districts are next to each other on the map, this was actually a 5 mile hike. This came as a small surprise to me as I thought we were popping out for breakfast.

We’re staying in a small bunglalow just off Sunset Boulevard not far from Sunset and Vine for those who know the area.

Our walk didn’t last long initially as Mags had set off in her thongs (aka sandals, not underwear) and was bleeding into the concrete before long. A quick diversion to a shoe shop and a pharmacy and we were back on our way. It was fun to wander along some of the famous roads such as Santa Monica Boulevard (“This ain’t no disco……All I wanna do” and all that), but these avenues are extremely long and I think its fair to say that we weren’t seeing the best parts which I expect are closer to the coast. There was a fairly generic strip of concrete dotted with fast food outlets, cafes, shops, and gas stations. At the edge of West Hollywood and Beverly Hills we entered an upmarket area with ultra expensive couture shops. Suddenly, there were lots of Mercs, and coiffured women carrying small dogs.

We trudged on into Beverley Hills, wandering the immaculate streets and impressive dwellings looking unsuccessfully for the home of the Beverley Hillbillies. We did find a very fine Italian restaurant near Rodeo drive and Wiltshire where we saw the second half of the champions league game between Chelsea and Man U. Unfortunately we lost 1 nil but the lunch was superb.

Thursday we spent a very enjoyable day at the Getty centre which has a fine, but modest collection of impressionist paintings including Degas, Monet, Turner, Cezanne and Van Gogh. The building itself is very impressive, dazzling white columns and stone perched high in the Santa Monica hills with the rest of LA laid out below with views all the way along the pacific coast.

We’re now in Dana Point, Orange County chilling out on the beach. We’re theoretically south of LA but its really another suburb. We drove out south along the pacific highway and LA just goes on and on and on ……… and on. There’s no break in the concrete jungle yet, and we still haven’t seen a cow or a sheep – not still alive anyway.

Palm springs next, so I’m off to purchase the Zimmer frame.