2007-08-15 - 8:51 p.m.
Well, I've been home for three days, and I think I may have recovered enough to tell the story of my trip.
We left on the Coho Saturday night, getting to Washington at about ten. No problems with customs, and so we headed south. The plan was to drive to San Francisco in one go. None of us knew how long it would really be, although I had taken a somewhat hesitant look at a map. I figured it would be about sixteen hours. I had thought that I was probably estimating high, but it turned out to be right one. Including stops for gas, and one hour long breakfast break, it took just about exactly sixteen hours. I took the first four hours of driving, since I like to try to play the system like that. I thought that by getting it all out of the way at once I could then sleep all the way into San Fran. The best part of the plan is that I would neatly miss having to drive into the city, while looking good for taking the first shift.
Well, everything started out perfectly. I drove from ten till two, and then gratefully passed out in the backseat. About seven I woke up when Kirsten pulled over for some breakfast. They had found a small restaurant called "Grandma's place" in a cute little town just across the California line. It was a bit of a weird place, as it turns out. The waitresses all wore flowered aprons, and the atmosphere was creepily reminiscent of Grandma Botts (if you're from Rocky) or the Blethering Place (Victoria). Jeff, who was getting over a cold, ordered a grapefruit, only to be told, at 7:15 am, that they were out. He settled for scrambled eggs. Our food was ready in a disturbingly short period of time (literally ten minutes) which didn't give the impression of good service as much as it did 'pre made food'. Anyway, the food was lousy, with the eggs tasting like they came out of a milk carton, and my omelet having a half inch of cheese on top. The bill arrived five minutes after our food. This seemed to happen pretty regularly thoughout the trip - when ever we ate out, the bill would arrive almost with the food.
The long drive continued south, and I wound up taking the wheel again at about 11. Sure, this was contrary to the plan, but sometimes you just have to strap on the metaphorical moustache and do what needs to be done. Jeff had been driving for a while, and was getting tired, and the girls were sacked out in the backseat.
I ended up driving into the city. I don't like city driving at the best of times, so I was pretty worried. Jeff and Liz did a great job spotting for me when I forgot to shoulder check, and we made it. The traffic was a bit heavy going on to the bridge, but ok in the city. Jeff managed to navigate us directly to our hotel, which turned out to be very nice.
We spent that evening looking around the city. The girls went to Union Square to go shopping, and I went to the Cathedral. It was really nice, with some really interesting stained glass. Bed was pretty early that night.
The next day would be our lone full day in San Fran. The girls were pretty happy to spend the day shopping, so after breakfast, Jeff and I took off for fisherman's wharf (via the Cathedral again) with plans to meet for lunch. The thing that I noticed most about travelling with a group, rather than one person is that you have to plan a lot more.
The morning was great. Jeff and I found a wine store that was having a wine tasting. Five drinks for seven bucks. We bought in, and managed to get six drinks for the price of five. Other than that, we saw the worlds twistiest street, and then walked up it. San Fran has an awful lot of hills.
After lunch we went to a bookstore that's apparently famous. Turns out Alan Ginsburg hung out there. As far as I was concerned, it was just another bookstore. We walked there, taking about 25 minutes. By the time we got there, we realized that the car was only parked for an hour, and we would have to head straight back. Jeff and Kirsten volunteered to do this, but when they got back. they realized they didn't have the key to the club. So, they walked back to the bookstore, and Liz had to head to the car, and pick us up. After all this, Jeff was pretty tired. so they dropped us back off at Fisherman's wharf, and we looked for nearby things to do. San Fran didn't disappoint, and we found a US WW2 Submarine that we could tour! It was really neat- they had torpedoes and everything! The audio guide was mostly veterans who had served on the boat, so, that lent an air of authority to the tour. Very good, all around.
We met the girls for supper at a Cheesecake cafe restaurant on the top of Macy's in Union Square. We sat on the balcony, and had a great view of the city. It was just as supper ended that I began to feel a cold coming on. Jeff and Kirsten had both been sick before we left, and it took exactly that long for me to catch it.
It was a short and stuffy night, as we left at 6 the next morning for LA. Liz had volunteered for the first driving shift, and I was more than happy to huddle in the back. I had my i-pod on and was trying to think positive when I noticed that we had pulled over. I came back to reality just in time to notice a policewoman determinedly making her way to the car. It was just like in the movies. She asked for license and registration, who owned the car, and told Liz that she had paced us at 88 miles an hour- in a 65 zone!! Then she really patronizingly asked Liz if she had been noticing the black and white numbered signs along the highway.
Liz wasn't much for driving after that, so Jeff took over. He drove the rest of the way, not all the way in to LA, but to Santa Monica, where we were meeting friends from Victoria. They were down in LA, and we had plans to camp with them, until their car broke down, and they had to head home early. We thought we'd have time for lunch though. They waited for hours and hours for us to get through traffic and find this restaurant they were in. By the time we finally got there, they had gone. We found their car though, so waited there, and it turned out they had just gone across the road to the beach for a minute.
After lunch, we had to head back and find our campsite, which was a bit tricky, owing to a second rate map. We did get there in the end, and Jeff and I set up, while the girls went for groceries. There was no one working there to register us, so we tried to use the self registering forms. I had reserved the campsite, so had to provide the confirmation number, which I had, of course, forgotten. I wound up calling Mom and Dad, and getting Dad to retrieve it off my e-mail.
The next day was our LA day. The whole original point of the trip was for Kirsten and Liz to go shopping along Rodeo Drive. We drove in (hour and a half) through Beverly Hills, which was exciting. Rodeo Drive itself is boring- just stores. Jeff and I sought out the only interesting looking building around- the Beverly Hills city hall. They wouldn't let us in, so we went to the library, and I bought a book at the used bookstore. After that, we walked up and down Rodeo Drive once, and found somewhere for a beer until the girls were done shopping.
The other priority on the trip was the beach, so we headed there for the afternoon. It was pretty nice,and only about fifteen minutes from our campsite.
Our last day in the area was set to be a full beach day, and sure enough we were on the beach by 9. I made sure to use LOTS of sunscreen, but still got a wicked burn all over my back. I guess I should have turned over a couple times. The water was nice, and the beach just great. Very relaxing.
That evening wasn't so great. I had a shower to wash the sand off when I got back, and right after the shower I started to feel really cold. Next thing I knew, I was shivering in the tent, my back on fire, and nose stuffed up, wishing I was dead. Yep, I had heat stroke. After a while of this I felt a lot better. Liz wasn't so lucky. She had a similar burn and heat stroke, but didn't feel better for a couple hours of misery.
The next day was the start of our long drive back. It was pretty much uneventful- we stopped in a small town in northern California at about 9 that night, and were on the road again by six the next morning. We rolled into Port Angeles at about quarter to five, and made standby for the five fifteen Coho. By some fluke we made it on, and I was home, along, and not driving by eight.
It was a really long trip, or felt that way, with lots and lots of driving. I was glad we did it though, since now I know exactly how long it takes to get from Victoria to San Francisco!
