I first drove Highway One in California in 1979, my second year in America since immigrating from England. The car was one of the worst I ever owned, a Volvo 244 GL. No matter. The occasion was a rushed vacation to discover this wonder. She. Highway One. The road of roads.
I just drove her again.
Whether at day or night, on two wheels or four, heading north or south – and I have done all of these many times now – the result is the same.
One’s jaw drops in awe.
These columns, by design, avoid religion and politics. I would like readers to remain friends.
But, for once, I have to invoke the Almighty. For He was in wondrous form when he created the central California coast. This was a seventh day event. A day when He said, hang it all, let’s do the very best We can.
One. Moonstone Beach, CA. Canon 5D, 400mm, 1/3000, f/8, ISO 400
And when you drive from Cambria to Carmel, or Carmel to Cambria if you prefer the sea view, you too will invoke Him, whatever guise your Almighty takes. And the atheist amongst us will seriously reconsider.
It’s that good.
I am blessed with the good fortune of living – by design not accident – not 25 miles inland from Cambria, in central California, so little excuse needs be found for a drive or a ride up One.
Today, the alleged reason was to scout out some new opportunities for my soon-to-be-here Crown Graphic. A 4” x 5” sheet film camera no less. Anathema to one who grew up, photographically, on the streets of London with a Leica.
And as I meandered here and there, exploring her many ways and byways, One reminded me again why we live.
It is to see not to look. To sense not to smell. To feel not to touch.
One.
Yes the PCH is a religious experience, I rode that stretch from Half Moon Bay to Torrance with my older brother in an even worse car than a Volvo could ever hope to be, a ’75 Chevy Vega. We hung in there til Torrance but the driving was light to light from Malibu on down. I had no camera to record the trip, but the memories are still vivid.
PCH from Camp Pendleton to roughly San Diego. Stop at the Belly Up in Solana Beach and listen to BB King play for 3 dollars. Oh yeah, and do it on two wheels. Of course, you’ll have to do it in 1982, ’cause it ain’t there anymore.