From Los Angeles to Big Sur. The long winding Highway One, almost mercifully kidnaps the cars from the traffic clogged streets the city and guides you through a quintessential American journey.
Having heard so much through my childhood about the drive along Big Sur from my hippie-ish Aussie parents, I decided that I would be the driver for this leg of the journey. This was my first mistake.
Unbeknownst to me, my girlfriend had no plans on learning to drive on the other side of the road, or on the other side of the car... and unfortunately for us Australians... this is unavoidable. Unless you can convince your boyfriend to drive the entire journey.
At least I got to chose the car.
The Ford Mustang... The most expensive cheap car you can rent. If you are along the west-coast of USA, I guarantee if you see a blue mustang, it is an Aussie tourist.
After almost killing us on the corner before the highway, we were off to a great start.
Then after an hour of stealing looks at the coastline, we took a wrong turn, ended up in some farms and then meandered aimlessly until we got back to the highway.
Ive been playing Ventura Highway, a song by the aptly named band, America, almost nonstop. My girlfriend says to change the song. I say I am the driver and we play what I want. She dissents, and we put on some Taylor Swift... yay. Now I am not a hater of The Swift, but after two songs, I usually become one. But I shake it off, and decide to stop at a small seaside town of Cambria for the evening.
As salty as a peg-legged pirate, Cambria seems to take the brunt of the forces of the Pacific Ocean. The trees are bent, the surf-washed waters are filled with dark brown kelp and seaweed, and the weather didn't help my feeling that I was about to be sucked into some sort of horror novel filled with ghost sailors and old women sitting on rocking chairs on their front porches.
With a bit of light, we manage to see some seals to close out the day.
WAR!
We eat dinner, and promptly pass-out. Not without a verbal tour of the area by our restaurant host, though. Seals, Sea lions... birds... Hirst Castle! A famous castle, but as a 20-something Aussie, the Hirst name just doesn't carry the wait that our host thought it would. His tour ended with one tip - to visit his favourite place along the coastline.
Host: You must visit Nepenthe, it is amaze.
Me: Pente, sounds good.
Host: Nepenthe.
Me: yep, The Penthe. Meg, write that down.
Host: Ne-Pen-They
Me: Mental note made - The Penthe.
Meg thankfully saves me from this loop of misunderstanding. They shared a look, and we left... Apparently it was me that was the idiot.
Part 2 - Tomorrow!
Thank you for reading.
Danedebeau