The Pacific Coast Highway
My tour of the Pacific Coast Highway began on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Many small things made this trip special. For example, when I flew to Chicago to meet my connecting flight, the flight attendant said that there were seats available in first class. I took advantage of this opportunity because I have never been in a first class seat before. The next flight, which took me to Seattle, was uneventful except for the baby crying and the dog barking. I smiled to myself because I was far enough away that the noise didn’t bother me. The best part of the flight was the view of the Rocky Mountains. Once I landed, I picked up my rental, an Acura Infiniti Q50, a sporty little sedan, and then I was ready for my Pacific Coast Highway adventure to begin.
Between the COVID virus and the Thanksgiving holiday weekend, there were few businesses open along the highway. I knew that this was going to happen and that is why I chose to do the bulk of the driving on Thanksgiving Day. Once I landed in Seattle, I decided to avoid driving into the city because of the heavy traffic. Instead, I drove to the heights on the west side of the city and, for the first time, I took out Tod Knight’s shirt and held it in front of me. The shirt said “Team Tod’ on it and I had my picture taken with Seattle in the background. After a brave fight with cancer, Tod succumbed to the disease two weeks before I left so I decided to dedicate my trip to him. I wanted to honor Tod so, at every major attraction on the highway, I took his shirt out of my backpack, unfurled it, and had my picture taken with it.
On Thanksgiving Day, I drove the Infiniti for twelve hours straight, stopping only to refuel and to go to the bathroom. Since all of the restaurants were closed, I bought two boxes of dry cereal and some bottled water, and this is what I lived on for two days. It wasn’t a trip for everyone; my wife and kids would have been miserable on it, but I was in my element. My hyperactivity, which had caused me a lot of problems over the years, worked for me on the long drive. Also, the skills that I honed while training for the Ironman, like organization and taking the trip one-step at a time, really helped me to not become overwhelmed. I found true happiness as I drove, with the Pacific Ocean crashing into the rocks off to my right and the Cascade Mountains, filled with Spruce trees, off to my left. When I drove through the Redwood Forest, where the road was literally built around the trees, I took the curves as fast as the Infiniti would take me, and I felt alive.
When I checked into the hotel on Thanksgiving night, the clerk told me that breakfast would be served at 6:00 am. I told her, with a glint in my eye and a sly smile, that I would have been on the road for two hours before breakfast. She looked at me like I was crazy, which was exactly the reaction that I was looking for, becauseI knew that this whole trip was beyond the boards. Still, on both Thursday and Friday, I was on the road for three hours before the sun came up. It was so dark that I could not see a thing; fortunately, there were literally no other cars in the road, so I could drive at my own pace. After five hours of intense driving, and the feeling that I had melded into the seat of the rental, I turned in the Infiniti to the Enterprise station that just happened to be located in the Tenderloin section of San Fransisco. Only later did I learn that this was the worst section of the whole city.
After living in the rental for two days, all that I wanted to do was to get out and walk, so I slowly made my way down to Fisherman’s Warf, stepping over the homeless as I started out from the Tenderloin. On the way to Pier 39, which is the main tourist area, I stopped at the top of Lombard Street to take a picture with Tod’s shirt while overlooking the city. It was all downhill from there and I decided to reward myself with a big lunch at a nice restaurant after eating dry cereal for two days. As I was enjoying my burger with a beer, I heard “Hey Jeff!” from behind me. I almost didn’t turn around, thinking that no one in San Fransisco could possible know me, but there was Carolyn Nunn, my wife’s best friend, who happened to be in the city to visit her brother. We both laughed at this strange turn of events, had lunch together, and then went down to the docks to watch the sea lions for a while. Before we said our goodbyes, we remarked on how weird it was for us to run into each other 2,000 miles away from Louisville.
Later that afternoon, I took a catamaran tour of the San Fransisco bay. One of the other passengers saw my Ironman jacket and he told me that he competes in Ultra Marathons. We passed the time by comparing the different competitions and bonded over the fact that we both played rugby in college. It was fun to relax and share stories while sailing underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. After we docked I walked to the Hilton in the financial district, but even I had to admit that three days of unremitting travel was beginning to wear on me. As I said, this trip wasn’t for everyone.
On Saturday, I decided to take a small group tour on the bay area and it did not disappoint. Benny was my tour guide and we met at 8:00 am in order to beat the traffic. There were only two other people in the small van with us so the tour could not have been more personal. We started off at city hall, in the Tenderloin neighborhood, and Benny showed us a huge homeless camp right across the street from the main government building. He drove us down Lombard Street and through the Pacific Heights neighborhood, which is the most exclusive part of San Fransisco. We took a break at the park where the opening credits of the television show, “Full House,” was filmed. I didn’t think that it was that big of a deal but the couple taking the tour with me about lost control. Benny sang the theme song to the show because he was really enjoying himself as well. We also saw the “Mrs. Doubtfire” house and then visited the residences where Jerry Garcia and Janis Joplin lived in the Haight Ashbury neighborhood. Benny played “Touch of Gray” and “Bobby McGee” while driving the van.
Benny gave us a lot of information about how the hippies moved into “The Castro” during the 1967 “Summer of Love.” He told us how they crammed as many people as possible into each house, and then they refused to leave, so the local government decided to stop all municipal services until the blight of hippies got out. They stayed anyway, until they could no longer afford the rent. Benny said that the average two bedroom apartment goes for about $3,700 a month in Haight Ashbury, well above what the hippies could pay, so they moved out and the “Yuppies” moved in. The last neighborhood that we saw was “The Presidio,” where my sister used to live. It is an old Army base that has been turned over to the National Park Service. Once again, the rent is too high for the average citizen to live there, but the residents have a great view of the bay and the city.
Our final destination was the “Muir Woods,” located at the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge. Benny warned us that, in order to prevent ourselves from getting lost, we should turn left at every intersection as we hiked the trails, and that way we would naturally come back to the visitor’s center without losing our way. After reviewing the map, and realizing that the trail that Benny suggested was too easy for me, I decided to be a rebel and take the trail off to the right. The “Canopy Trail” proved to be almost too much for me as it was a 40 minute hike straight up to the summit and then an equally challenging 40 minute hike back down to the main trail. I had to sprint to finish the trail in the allotted time but I made it back with seconds to spare. When I bragged to Benny that I went straight up the “Canopy Trail,” which was exactly what he told me not to do, he said “So you went to the right!” I think that he was irritated that I ignored his most basic instruction but I didn’t care; if I hadn’t been a rebel then I would have missed the prettiest part of the “Muir Woods.” He blew it off and I gave Benny a twenty dollar tip because he was such a great guy.
