Down the Northern California Coast and into the Sierras (and some rules of the road)

Our time in Northern California featured three stays with friends, beginning with long-enduring book group co-founder Leslie in Oakland. It was fun to walk the busy streets during the late afternoon rush of commuters doing their errands on foot and on bikes, accompanied by children and dogs. We are enjoying the wilderness, but we still enjoy city life! Former colleague Lindsey met us for lunch in Berkeley and helpfully encouraged us to stroll through the university campus before heading south. Next up, the Parkers - like Leslie, friends dating back to my “baby MBA” days in NYC in the 80s and 90s. From a park near their lovely home in Woodside, we hiked up to a great lunch spot, admired more redwoods, and peered over Silicon Valley. Lastly, we visited the “Venzettis,” Paul’s lifelong friend Mark and his charming wife Paula. It’s wonderful to be able to refresh friendships made long ago.

On the way to see Mark and Paula in Marina, we stopped at the John Steinbeck Center in Salinas where we got to see Rocinante, the truck camper in which Steinbeck traveled with Charley. It was a memory challenge to review the artifacts and clips of movies based on books read long ago – The Red Pony, The Pearl, Of Mice and Men and Grapes of Wrath. The Salinas Valley was interesting too. Dubbed “salad bowl of the world,” it boasts vast, green agricultural tracts fringed with dry ground and dotted with fenced-off houses – seemingly stranded when the industrial food companies took over. 

Mark showed us around Monterey, including Cannery Row and the famous aquarium where he used to work. It was Paul’s first visit and my third. Each time, I have been impressed with new exhibits – this time the Mar Profundo – and the awesome creatures that inhabit its tanks. We were then treated to a private, guided tour of stunning Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, where Mark has shared his biology knowledge as a volunteer docent for nearly a quarter century. 

We left Marina bearing just-picked lemons, scrumptious homemade cookies and delicious leftovers, resuming our travel down the Pacific Coast Highway. Big Sur was socked in until after our hilltop lunch, when the fog lifted, finally revealing the shore far below. We chatted with a Canadian couple who were surprised not to see surfers there, having assumed the name referred to big surf! (There are waves, but Big Sur is known for steep cliffs, not a surf break.) We thanked them for overlooking the insults of the US President and visiting to learn the true nature of northern California’s shores. 

The drive down to San Simeon took much longer than Google Maps had predicted, given hilly curves and the irresistible viewpoints. On one stroll along a bluff, we gloried in several pelican fleets flying by at eye level within ten feet of us. And yes, we took a guided tour of William Randolph Hearst’s “Castle,” which focused on the media tycoon’s decades long collaboration with architect Julia Morgan to design the European-styled compound and assemble art and artifacts from around the world. Many lovely details, but the foreshadowing of Trump’s overstuffed aesthetic was a bit chilling. More delightful? The juvenile elephant seals hauled up on the beach, some sparring, sand-flipping or wallowing in the water, but most just snoring. 

After nearly three glorious weeks on or along the Pacific coast, we headed east for the first time since this journey began, climbing through the taupe-colored Santa Lucia coastal range, across the San Joaquin Valley and up into the Sierra Mountains at Sequoia National Park – sandy (granite dust), rocky, charred, and host to the largest trees in the world. As many know, the most gigantic of the sequoias have names – we joined many others gaping at General Sherman, Chief Sequoyah, the Senate and House groups, and other distinguished gentlemen. We also enjoyed watching a mama bear and two cubs crossing the line of cars waiting to enter the national park and were amazed to be approached by two black-tailed bucks – apparently, we were between them and the next good grazing spot. 

We rolled past the 8K miles and 10-week milestones on Indigenous People’s Day, a renamed holiday I more deeply appreciate thanks to many reminders along this journey of reasons to honor those who were here before the Europeans. Paul retrieved his absentee ballot and voted, another coincidental echo of Steinbeck’s travels (I hope mine will catch up to me in Moab). We crossed the Tehachapi Pass into the edge of the Mojave Desert, and drove up through gorgeous Red Rock Canyon into Owens Valley, where Paul aims to improve his fly-fishing skills with an instructional guide. 

Reflecting on the comfort and joy of settling into this itinerant life, we find that we get to focus less on how to do it, and more on where to explore – and have more head space to enjoy it all. All this by developing or learning some Rules of the Road:

• Never miss an opportunity to shower, even if the washroom is chilly and buggy.
• Campground restrooms never have paper towels. Don’t use the hand dryers; they are either too loud or ineffective. 
• Reserve campgrounds restricted to tents and campervans, or sites in generator-free zones.
• If the campsite level measures 1 to 3 percent grade, it’s good enough - no need to use the inflatable levelers; but the tilt will be evident when cooking, washing or negotiating bed space. 
• Retrieving any item in the van requires moving 1-2 other things, except the coffee kit.
• When there’s cell service there’s no time, when there’s time there’s no service.
• Download google maps and trails for the region ahead before leaving cell service.
• Paul drives, unless he’s got personal or Chief Engineer chores (e.g. arranging an oil change or windshield glass repair). When in busy traffic, Catherine should keep eyes off the road (working on playlists, meal plans or routes) to keep involuntary gasps to a minimum.
• Right after begrudgingly filling up the gas tank at an exorbitant rate, we will pass another station with better prices.
• When crossing the Great Plains, never pass a gas station without filling up, ever. 
• Use turnouts to let lighter, faster vehicles pass, unless driving to a very space limited trailhead parking area.
• There’s a Sasquatch [image] in every town.
• Always buy the Michelle’s granola, no matter how much it costs.
• Beware of closed containers at higher elevations. Spurting sunscreen can foul your backpack, toothpaste can smear your dop kit, and the cassette toilet may spew when you open the hatch (eew).
• Stop at the National Park visitor centers. They are chock full of information about the history, geology, and ecology, and the rangers enjoy sharing their vast knowledge. 
• Be open to reconsidering plans; there are myriad great ways to enjoy a day, and adjustments can work out great.
• Come up with something to do while waiting for each other. There’s always photo curation, map study, 3-day old news, or the view.
• Take long hikes or steep hikes, but avoid long, steep hikes (Paul could; CJ’s knees can’t).
• Celebrate beautiful summits with a kiss.
• Blur sets in. Write down the details, especially the place names and dates.
• Indulge in Airbnbs from time to time. 
• When visiting friends and family, stay two days (we got this one from seasoned vanlifers who pointed out that that conversations go deeper on that second day).
• We can’t do it all. We appreciate all the great suggestions. A year is a long time, but not nearly long enough!