Scenes from Highway 1

Forget for a moment the blue of the Pacific, the crash of the waves, the endless sky and the wheeling birds. Forget the lure of the open highway, the American dream, the thrill of driving alone, of surviving on the right-hand side of road. Forget seeing the bridges that have withstood salty seas since 1932. Forget the waterfall that empties itself on to a sandy beach, and the elephant seals lounging in the sun. I've got to forget all that. You see, I’ve just caught sight of the car clock: 2pm. So since I left my youth hostel at 10am, I’ve driven, erm, 34 miles. Leaving 232 miles before nightfall. 232 miles?! Gulp. Along twisty roads. Double gulp. With speed limits of 35mph. Have just swallowed my tongue. Right. No more getting carried away by nature’s beauty, or stopping for just one more I-might-never-see-this-again photo. Time for foot on the gas.