We don't really have an expression for "roadtrip" in Britain. I guess this is because it basically seems to refer to a journey deliberately taken by car for pleasure in circumstances where it might be considered more practical to take the plane. I don't think we ever do that in the UK. I might in theory have the choice between flying to Exeter or driving down to see my parents, but the decision to drive is always down to cost, never because the M5 is a particularly attractive road that everybody ought to drive down at least once in their lives. To put it another way, any car journey of which the very thought makes your heart sink cannot be a roadtrip.
I allowed myself a day and a half to get to LA, because the scenic route can take 12 hours to drive, but almost everybody I have spoken to about things to do here has said that driving the one is a must.
The section of Highway 1 between Monterey and Pismo is beautiful, and very quiet first thing in the morning. It was more rugged than I had expected and even bleak in parts, it actually reminded me of the coast in north west Ireland, or even north Wales (until the sun warmed the place up). It also reminded me of the Amalfi coast in places, although it was much quieter, and due to a complete lack of buses and mopeds was much less stressful. I did actually ask myself whether it was in fact any more beautiful than some of the other coastal roads I had driven on previously. Clearly it beat the A55 to Queensferry, but Amalfi? I came to the conclusion that the ocean is a particularly big deal here, because so many Americans come to California having never seen the sea. Hard for us Brits to imagine, but there must even now be kids in the Midwest for whom the first glimpse of the ocean (whether Pacific or Atlantic) will be an incredible experience, and who never get to visit Blackpool, Llandudno or Scarborough.
I made such good time that by 10am I had reached Hearst Castle where I decided to stop. Hearst Castle is a curious place, built on a hill top on a huge estate by newspaper magnate, William Hearst, in the early part of the twentieth century. It is a mixture of historical styles and incorporates original features from older European buildings which he acquired on his travels. The tour is presented as the story of "our" visits as weekend houseguests in the 1920s, and ends with a film showing how the young William was deeply affected by his visits to Europe as a child and was moved to build his dream incorporating the ideas he met there. Things is, I can't decide whether I liked it. Is it just a dreadful old pastiche built by a man without taste who loved to surround himself with celebrities? Is he to be admired for designing his entire dining room around sixteenth century seats taken from a European abbey and hanging the flags of the Sienese contrade around his hall? Maybe I am just a terrible snob. I've had the opportunity to see sixteenth century monks' seats in thirteenth century cathedrals, and Sienese flags in Siena, and most Americans in the 1920s wouldn't have been able to, so I shouldn't begrudge them the chance to see them in this setting. Clearly the tour organisers expected us to admire his determination and vision, but somehow I couldn't understand how that made him a hero. They didn't actually explain who got the invitations to the house party, but presumably all the guests were selected from among the élite, nobody suggested that he was providing any kind of public service. In any case, it was a fascinating place to visit, and the indoor swimming pool was truly magnificent. The tour guide was very entertaining and friendly. But it seemed a little bit too uncritical, too much of an homage to somebody I suspect was more multi-faceted. I couldn't imagine our own National Trust presenting an historical property in such a Disneyfied way.
By the time I had finished at Hearst, I was pretty tired, but determined to make good progress towards LA. Thankfully the driving was pretty easy all day Saturday, open roads, mainly quiet, and I reached a small town called Lompoc which had many cheap motels, one of which I checked into. I thought motels were always run by disinterested men in vests who watched black and white TV all day and gave you keys without looking you in the eye, but that apparently is just in the movies. It was truly basic, but clean and for $45 a night you can't complain.
On Sunday I set off early again, thanks to my cold. For the next stage of my journey the scenic route 1 and the boring old freeway came together, and I unfortunately missed the turning where they split again, meaning I was stuck on the busy road all the way to Los Angeles. So I never got to drive through Malibu, which was a shame because I had wanted to see if it was like on the Malibu adverts ("Do you want this fish?"). I did however get to stop for breakfast in Santa Barbara.
So what did I learn on my roadtrip?
(1) Where the speed limits are "radar controlled" according to the road signs, that does not mean there is a man somewhere seeing all the cars as bleeps beneath a rotating arm on some screen and able to launch missile strikes on those who offend. Apparently it means that there may be policemen with handheld speed guns. There are no roadside speeding cameras in the USA, apart from in Arizona of all places.
(2) William Hearst was the model for Citizen Kane (as is widely known) but was misrepresented as a reclusive figure and was very angry about the film which he tried to block.
(3) As soon as I visited Santa Barbara I couldn't get the theme tune for the soap opera of the same name out of my head. For some reason the theme tune for the French version. (Santa Barbara, qui me diras, pourquoi?). I have absolutely no idea why that tune stays with me when I can't remember ever actually watching Santa Barbara in France, or indeed in any other country. I remember noticing in Italy 20 years ago that the theme tune was different again over there, so I must have heard the French one when I was a teenager.
(4) Dionne Warwick was right, LA IS a great big freeway (and a traffic jam most of the time). However the song which finally displaced the French TV theme tune was "I am I said" by Neil Diamond ("LA's fine, the sun shines most the time, and the feeling is laid back."). He was right about the sun, not so sure about it being laid back. He also captured so well the sense of belonging in one place and living in another: Mr Diamond, you are a legend.
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