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story and images Brenda McMillan In life, there are “ah-haaa” moments, where timing, opportunity and desire all collide and the result is a brilliant idea. When my 23-year-old daughter Karen told me she had always had a Thelma-Louise type fantasy of driving California’s coast in a Mustang Convertible, I had one of those heart-stopping 'ah-haaa' flashes. A killer trip was the result. Karen was planning to strike out for the better part of a year with a backpack for California, then go to Fiji, Australia and New Zealand. Since I shared her Thelma-Louise fantasy, we decided to do that bit together... we’d rent the car, don scarves and sunglasses, and drive from San Francisco to LA in a most wild and carefree manner. We would only deviate from the movie in a couple of insignificant ways: No guns or robberies for us, and no driving off a cliff at the end. But other than that, we would have exactly the same adventure! We agreed that if Brad Pitt turned up, we’d offer him a ride. We started with a couple of warm-up days in San Francisco. I found out that all roads leading up Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower are torturously steep. My gym-fit daughter sprinted upwards with the ease of a gazelle loping away from an over-fed lion. I valiantly kept up but wished I hadn’t eaten dessert after lunch. Only the spectacular views made the mountain climb worthwhile. We were able to pick out Alcatraz Island - our destination for the following day. Our morning in jail was very entertaining. The guided audio tour featured the voices of ex-inmates and prison guards, which added a definite texture and weight to the words. Karen and I took pictures of each other in a cell but try as we did, we could not pull off the “tough broad” look needed to match our surroundings. The main jailhouse is cold, austere and dark. Solitary is worse by far. I don’t recommend a prolonged stay. Do, however, take the time to wander outside where the views of San Francisco’s hills are unique. Also, go into the recreation yard. The smell of rotting fish and dung that assails you is unpleasant, so breathe through your mouth and think of England until you get across the yard to the green iron door. Have a look at a view never seen by inmates. The next morning found us at the Hertz counter collecting our brand new 2009 Mustang convertible. We put the top down immediately and donned scarves just like Thelma (Karen) and Louise (me). We tucked in our tresses, settled our glasses and set off for the coast. Karen found a ‘60s music station on the radio and we sang along (loudly) with the oldies, but we ran into technical problems before we got too far. Seems the headscarves worn in the movie do not work in real life. Without power tools, there is no way to keep them attached to heads... they blow off as easily as... well, suffice to say that they just don’t stick. My hair looked like straw but I started to smile at that point, and didn’t really stop until we reached LA. Past Santa Rosa, the road ran through an agricultural area where the scent of strawberry jam washed over us again and again, so we pulled in at a roadside stand and bought two quarts of sun-drenched organic strawberries and one of raspberries. We devoured them right away. As a person who has always complained about the hard tasteless California berries we see at home, I was smitten with the intense flavour of these sweet red gems. California berries are fabulous – you just have to be in California to enjoy them. Our next stop was Monterey. Unfortunately, the pier is a tad tacky with hawkers at every restaurant luring tourist types with offers of free appetizers, promises of the best view and claims of the best food. We had clam chowder and sourdough bread on a deck overlooking the marina where we were serenaded by seals lolling on a raft. Actually, their barking was loud and sounded more as if it came from a pack of hoarse great danes. We ate quickly and headed for Carmel Beach. The sand between our toes felt glorious. We opted to linger on the beach and polish off the berries rather than tour 17 Mile Drive (we’d seen it before). Driving south, we pulled off the road many times and got out to absorb indescribably beautiful vistas of restless blue water, crashing waves, towering carved cliffs and mind-filling skies. Those views were what we dreamed of when we first discussed the trip. Our next stop was at Piedras Blancas to see the northern elephant seals lined up on the sand like pieces of driftwood. At other times of the year, they are more entertaining. Other critters were cute, if bold. A squirrel, obviously used to handouts, posed for the camera as if a pro, then followed us aggressively when we didn’t pay up. We stayed overnight in Cambria at the Fog Catcher Inn, which overlooked the ocean. Our very comfortable room had a cosy fireplace and a spectacular view of the sun sinking into the water. We slept with the windows open to enjoy the restless heaving of the ocean. Hearst Castle, the former “cottage” of William Randolph Hearst, was our destination the following morning. We had booked tours one and four that highlight the gardens, pools, guesthouses, wine cellar and ground floor of "Casa Grande" - the main house. Guides artfully interwove stories about the Hearst family and visiting movie stars with events and information about antiquities, art, architecture, history and construction. We were treated to music from the 20’s and 30’s as well as a Hearst home movie. We hated to leave, but had to reach the LA airport in time for our late night flights. South of Cambria, the drive varied from hot inland jaunts redolent of eucalyptus to cool coastal views and salt air. Karen and I polished off our Ghiradelli chocolate and waved at the horn-honking truck drivers we passed... the white ‘Stang drew a lot of attention. We talked non-stop, knowing that we wouldn’t be so closely connected for almost a year. The sun was setting as we reached Malibu Beach so we stopped to walk in the sand and take some photos. There were tears at the airport—mostly mine. Thelma and Louise parted, but not before promising to share another fantasy road trip. Next time, however, we will do a little more research about headscarves. GL |
ABOVE Louise's headscarf disaster at Half Moon Bay. Thelma looking her part in the 'Stang.  Seals barking at us while we lunched on Monterey Wharf.  Big Sur from south of Carmel looking north.  Magnificient swimming pool at Hearst Castle.
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