un dia de espanol

And off I went today, heading southward!

I learned a lot about southern California today. Namely, I'm aware of the relatively unpopulated expanse between the Bay Area and the greater LA blob. All of the times I'd been to southern California I have either been on an airplane, or on a bus in the middle of the night.

Something I have been in extreme awe of throughout this adventure is how much open space still exists in our country. How much? SO MUCH. There is farmland in every state that I have been through, wide swaths of rolling grassland, hills, farms, dotted with houses or fences or small burgs or sometimes just nothing. Right before reaching Santa Barbara, 33 miles pass with no services at the exits. That's what it's like driving through Wyoming, but one doesn't usually associate such open space with Southern California.

I left Oakland via I-580 this morning. Just as I was about to leave, I heard from another old college friend who currently lives in San Jose. 580 became 880 and I pulled off to enjoy a cup of artisanally-brewed coffee while basking in the sun. I lingered a little later than expected, but it was absolutely worth it. I followed I-280 until it ended and I was able to soar off on U.S. 101, the classic north-south route!

The sun beat down brightly, and as I zoomed south I got nearer and nearer to the ocean. The Pacific breeze blew through the car and through my hair. I tuned into Spanish radio stations and hummed along to mariachi and other musical styles as I left the humming mass of Bay Area behind.

Highway 101 cuts through endless rolling hills. Carpeted with green, the rider feels like they could reach out and stroke the velveteen cover. The sky was blue, and I gasped at the sight of hills rising in the distance over farmland. I arced over fields of garlic, and scents of all sorts blew in through my hair. I slipped in my teach-yourself-Spanish cassette tape and practiced as I drove: "Quiere comer?" "Si, vamos a comer."

Every road sign held the name of some city buried deep in some romantic consciousness somewhere. I'm not sure what it is about southern California, but even hundreds of miles north of Hollywood, something just seems so epic and glorious. Salinas, King City, San Miguel, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Ventura. I passed through San Luis Obispo not long before sunset, and pulled off at Pismo Beach to see the sun sink behind the Pacific in all its glory. I ran down to the waterfront, and I was not alone. Swimmers paused in the water to watch the sun pull down the cover of night. Cars stopped by the side of the road, emptied as their passengers rushed to find the best place to view the spectacle. It was a beautiful evening, perfect for a stroll and a look at the sunset. I allowed the waves to lap over my bare feet as the sky filled with pink and orange.


I continued to follow 101 through Santa Barbara, past Oxnard and Ventura. Though grateful to have beheld such a sunset, I rued the darkness that had fallen. I followed the coastline, and knew the ocean was only a few hundred yards to my right (or I pretended as much, anyway), but could see little by way of vistas. Once through Ventura, I followed the Santa Clara River on CA-126 to reach Valencia, my destination for the night.

Mileage for the day: 442. Total mileage: 1,056.