California Dreamin': Day 8. -- Close to Paradise.

When: June 2, 2012.
Where: San Francisco --> Los Angeles.
The main objective of the day: Five words -- California State [expletive] Route 1.

Now this is what I am talking about.

Sweeping rights, tight lefts, series of S-curves, long straights, hilly terrains, unlimited ocean view on a warm, sunny day, and a stereo that plays my favourite driving music. Oh, and a car too, obviously.

I've driven from Vancouver to Victoria, Seattle, Portland, to Yellowstone through the back roads of Montana and Wyoming, to Calgary through the rockies, as well as from Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon, not to mention a drive through the heat of South and North Florida; but truth be told I don't think I've ever had as much fun as I did this time.

Highway 1 has never been the most practical highway out there: as a road to get one from point A to point B, it is neither the fastest nor the most convenient comparing to the nearby Interstate-5 highway. Case in point: driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles typically takes less than 8 hours on the I-5, but on Highway 1 it takes 10 hours. If you don't stop. Which you will, because you'd be stopping every 10 minutes to take a picture of the view.

The Bixby Canyon Bridge.

On top of that, there's only one lane -- so if some dimwit decides to tackle the road in a motorhome it is pretty much guaranteed that you'd be stuck behind them for at least a fortnight. From time to time you'd also get the spikey-haired yobbos that scream by in their Yamasaki RK50687-39586ZZ hair dryers, puncturing your ear drums in the process. Going from north to south also means that you'd be driving about two inches away from the edge of a 100-foot cliff with raging Pacific waters right underneath, made even more exciting when you have to make room for the tour buses traveling in the opposite direction in tight corners. The landslide warning signs do help calm things down a bit, though.

But all that doesn't matter, because I have got wind in my hair, AC/DC in my ears, and I'm blasting across the Bixby Bridge at 100 km/h (okay, more like 80, but that's only because of the damn camper van). The variety on this road is amazingly diverse, with corners that would make a Need For Speed video game feel like morning commute, and views that, well, looks like this.

"The Greatest Meeting of Land and Water in the World."

The Agaves Burrito.

Along the way you'd also pass Santa Cruz, Monterey, Santa Barbara and Malibu, and it'd be wise if you make a stop at each of them too because they are all brilliant places. Santa Barbara in particular had one of the best Mexican joints I've ever encountered. Fair enough, to encounter a Mexican joint in Vancouver is like trying to find a graduate from Milford Academy -- they are neither to be seen nor heard. This particular restaurant is called Los Agaves, and the Agaves Burrito is something to die for.

... Crap, now I feel like having Mexican. Anyways, back to Highway 1.

I was also hoping to get to Malibu as well -- the home of Hollywood stars and, well, Iron Man. But since I spent so much time taking photos along the highway (and eating the Burrito), it was nighttime when I reached Malibu. Ah well, next trip I guess.

They call this the greatest road in California. I'd say that this is probably the greatest road in North America in general. It was probably not as much fun as I had at Knoxville in Napa (the road is literally a rally cross with no traffic), but on Highway 1 you can sit back and take in the spectacularness of the views and the gracefulness of the roads, and just drive. Nothing seems to matter anymore, and on this road you'd just be driving to drive.

This day has perfectly satisfied the "road" portion of my road trip: it has roads, it has corners, it has views, and it was extraordinary.

The day started at 10am (yes, I overslept), and 11 and a half hours, 740km and over a couple hundred corners later, I was in la-la-land.

Next up: Joshua Tree National Park, as well as the hidden American treasure -- Route 66.

California Dreamin': Day 7. -- Lights.

When the lights go down in the city
And the sun shines on the bay
Ooh I want to be there in my city, oh oh

When: June 1, 2012.
Where: Golden Gate Bridge, Palace of Fine Arts, Nike SF-88 Missile Site, Muir Woods, The Presidio, 49-Mile Scenic Drive (well... Some of it), Treasure Island.
Times I've listened to this song by Journey on this day alone: 9556473 times.
Verdict: Despite some of its flaws, San Francisco may be my new favourite city after Vancouver.
Utterly random thoughts: Driving around San Francisco, it was hard not to imagine myself in a 1967 Ford Mustang doing this all day.

Seeing how this was my last day in the Bay, I just had to make sure I've exhausted all the things I can do before moving on to LA. And that I did -- I went to seven different places on this day alone, and it was great.

Probably the 100 millionth photo I've taken of the Golden Gate Bridge.

First day of June and the fog is making its way in already.

That said, I am not going to spend too much time talking about the Golden Gate Bridge and the Palace of Fine Arts -- after all their history is well-documented and are considered a must-see for most travelers in San Francisco anyway. One note about the bridge though: I've been repeatedly told that biking across the bridge was a rather great experience -- unfortunately there wasn't enough time for me to do that on this trip. Ah well, next time I guess.

I did drive across it though. Interestingly the infamous Bay Area summer fog was making its way into the city so I didn't see much of the bridge when I was on it (that said though, driving through the fog on the bridge is about as spooky as a David Fincher movie). Another side note: Apparently the bridge is a rather popular destination for suicidal jumpers. So if that's your thing then...

The Palace of Fine Arts.

One of the reasons I was pretty excited about this day was because during the planning of my trip I came across a website that recommended this small, mysterious decommissioned Cold War military base about half an hour north of San Francisco, something called the Nike SF-88 Missile Site. It is one that even the locals know little about -- can't blame them really, as a search on the GPS hasn't really aided me in locating its whereabouts. Hell, the official government website for the base doesn't even have an address for the location either. All I knew is that it is within the Golden Gate Recreation area and that the missile base is located on a road perhaps appropriately named "Bunker Road". So I went in that general direction and hoped for the best.

The Nike SF-88 Missile Site.

After about a 45-minute drive across the bridge through some obscure tunnels and back roads, I was there. Camouflaged by the surrounding hills, it looked like just another small military base with a patrol station in an area about as big as a Safeway parking lot. From the outside, it didn't seem like it was once the launching pad of six Nike Hercules nuclear warheads, ready to pick off any incoming Soviet bombers.

I was just in time for a guided tour of the missile base. When I got there, there was only one missile above ground in the middle of the base -- the only visual clue that suggested this was no ordinary military base. The missile itself is about as long as a semi-trailer, which as it turns out could be stored in an underground bunker by an elevator-esque trap door, which is so obscure that you wouldn't know until the pad you're standing on sinks into the bunker, revealing five other nuclear missiles (now decommissioned of course) underneath the ground you were just standing on.

The underground bunker itself wasn't big at all -- it had room for six missiles, and that's about it. A small tunnel led to a small, windowless room about as big as a washroom, and in the centre of it was a machine about as big as one of those old Sony TV sets, with some indicator lights, dials, and a red button marked "FIRE".

"The whole point of the doomsday machine
is lost if you keep it a secret..."

It was probably just me, but while I was in the room, I couldn't help but keep playing scenes of Dr. Strangelove in my head. The reality at the time during the Cold War though was probably not as funny.

The site was the last line of defense against a possible Soviet invasion, and was in operation from 1954 until 1976. Small wonders really -- at the height of the Cold War during the Cuban Missile Crisis the city of San Francisco (and most major cities in the United States did at some point have missile bases similar to this one too) was a launch button away from being the centre of an all-out nuclear war.

The tour itself was only about half an hour long, but it is easily one of the most fascinating places I've ever been. If you ever find yourself in San Francisco, I would highly recommend it -- even though tours are only available from Wednesday to Friday every week only. Apparently they do have an open-house event on the first Saturday of every month though.

After the military base, I made my way to the nearby Muir Woods for a 2-hour hike in the redwood forest -- because hiking around the hills of San Francisco clearly wasn't enough for me already. Here, the trees were like skyscrapers, and sunlight made its way through the trees onto the trails. It was fantastic.

(Side note: Completing the 49-mile scenic drive in a
car sounds like a good Amazing Race challenge just to
see everyone getting utterly lost. Just a thought.)

I then spent the rest of the day driving around The Presidio -- again, one of the must-sees in San Francisco. This part of the trip was rather regrettable, as by the time I made it back to the city to start touring around the Presidio, everything had already been closed (it was about 6 in the afternoon already at that point).

So I moved on to my next target: The 49-mile scenic drive -- a stretch of roads around the city that would take me through all the major attractions in the Bay Area. Sounds tempting for a guy like me, of course. Unfortunately for me the roads are only indicated by a small sign on the side of the road, and the signs were few and far between. It didn't take long for me to be off the route completely and became entirely lost in the city. To make matters worse, none of the locals seemed to know much about the scenic drive either.

So, the 49-mile scenic drive? It was more like 5 miles of scenic drive followed by 10 miles of sign-searching before giving up completely. Ah well, next time I guess.

At the mean time, the sky was getting dark and I knew I was running out of time. So I headed for the coast and found myself on the Bay Bridge on route to Treasure Island -- a small island between San Francisco and Oakland. What's there? Well, quite literally nothing. Most of the island was a residential area with only one small restaurant. There really was no point of anyone getting there at all, except for one tiny thing -- it offers views like this:

Needless to say, I was in photography heaven -- to the point that I stayed on the island for two and a half hours snapping night shots like crazy. And I thought the view from Alcatraz was amazing enough.

Before I knew it, it was late enough for me to realize that I probably should head back to the hostel to prepare for the long drive ahead of me the following day -- 10 hours of pacific coast goodness, to be precise, before reaching the la-la-land.

So in the week I spent in San Francisco, I've driven on two of the most iconic bridges in North America, visited an old prison, had dim sum in Chinatown, trekked up and down Lombard Street, been harassed by hobos, nearly froze to death in the summer cold (yes that wasn't a mistake), been thoroughly confused by San Francisco's parking bylaws, celebrated the Golden Gate Bridge's 75th birthday, watched a baseball game, been to an old Cold War military base, and met some amazing people. I don't know about you, but I'd call that a week very well spent.

San Francisco is one of those places where you probably wouldn't appreciate if you don't like the quintessential West-Coastness of it -- the liberal politics, the hippie subculture, the "beach boys", the hobos, the expensiveness of everything, the lack of "exciting" things to do in the area. On top of that, if you love shopping, the Bay area is probably not for you either (LA is probably much better for that). Indeed, this is not LA nor New York City -- its true uniqueness lies with the city's charm and beauty. During the week I spent over here, it felt a lot like home -- and by home I mean Vancouver -- everyone was amazingly welcoming (except of course the drunk hobos), the city is filled with history, the utterly breath-taking view over from Twin Peaks and Treasure Island, the food was amazing (...ly expensive); and to complete the experience, the ridiculously over-priced parking in Downtown -- it does feel a lot like Vancouver. Everyone I've talked to has been fantastically friendly, and in a major North American city, that kind of friendliness is pretty hard to come by.

Despite all its flaws, San Francisco is one of the places I wouldn't hesitate coming back to. Hell, I wouldn't even mind moving here, to be honest with you.

Mind you, I will probably have to win the lottery 20 times to be able to afford living here.

For now though, I'll see you again San Francisco.

Next up: California Route 1 (a.k.a. The greatest road in California).

So you think you're lonely?
Well my friend I'm lonely too
I want to get back to my city by the bay
Oh, oh, oh oh

California Dreamin': Day 5 & 6. -- I get around.

The infamous Full House view... Whatever that means.

When: May 30 - May 31, 2012.
Where: Castro, Alamo Park, Haight-Ashbury (day 5); Cable Car Museum, Mission, San Mateo (day 6).
Hippies: Present.
Hobos: Present.
Hippies that look like hobos: Yes.
Hobos that look like hippies: ... Weirdly, yes.
Things they have in common: Drunk and weird.
Where they differ: One of them would ask you for money and the other would ask you for peace... Whatever that means.
Utterly random thoughts: Starting to regret the decision not to buy sun-tan lotion before going on this trip.

[Before we start, let us just take a moment to remember that I suck very dearly at this blogging thing... Hence this travelblog picks up over a month later after I've already been back to Vancouver, graduated, got a year older, and worked a trigazillion hours at Sport Chek. That said, the memories are still fresh and the photos are all edited and done, so I am doing this now. Thank you for your attention.]

Day 4 kicks off with a visit to the infamous Castro district -- those of you who are familiar with Harvey Milk and the LGBT movement in the United States should be no stranger to this place at all. In the 1970s the Castro was the hot bed (rather poor choice of words here) for gay activism, and 40 years later it still shows. Strolling along Castro and Market street, one would find an abundance of evidence of the city's open-mindedness and acceptance towards the LGBT community. One that ought to be observed everywhere else, no matter your political or religious views.

The Castro Theatre.

Alas, it also turned out that the Castro was a pretty small district, so less than an hour later I went to the nearby Alamo Park for the infamous Full House view -- except the fact that I have never watched the TV series before, so I didn't care too much. Fun fact: the houses prominently seen in San Francisco are known locally as the painted ladies. Because, uh, the houses look like ladies. Painted too, obviously. Uh, yeah.

Pictured: A hippie crossing a street with a walking guitar.

The long-lasting stereotype of San Francisco is that it is a city full of hippies -- a bunch of peace-loving, guitar-playing, bearded people wearing tight jeans and headbands, while listening to Jefferson Airplane in their Volkswagens while being all tripped out on acid. Well... at least I thought it was a stereotype, until I set foot in Haight-Ashbury and found that hippies, like the zombies in Left 4 Dead, are absolutely everywhere.

Not that they are nasty or anything, it's just that they are, well, there. All the time. I made my way to my cousin Jessie's place -- who lives right in the middle of Haight-Ashbury, and found a group of hippies just camping outside her doorstep having a drink. Normally if I find drunk people in front of my door I'd chase them with a broom. Plus maybe a Remington shotgun. My cousin just gave them a nasty look and whisked them away, as if this stuff happens all the time. I guess when you live in the middle of it all does get kind of annoying.

"We come in peace," they said. Yeah, okay... 

Day 6 started with a cable car ride to the west side of the city. The cable car itself was pretty fascinating -- the car moves about by grabbing on to a network of moving cables underneath the roads. In a city as vast and hilly as San Francisco, one could imagine how complex the whole system is. Indeed, it is the only traditional cable car system in the world still operational today. Like the Golden Gate Bridge, it is pretty much a living, breathing historic icon... Albeit a very expensive one. Hopping on one would cost you $6 dollars. No transfers either. My particular line was finished in 15 minutes.

And the most disappointing part? You can't even chase a cable car down and jump onto a moving cable car like they do in the movies. Outrageous, I say.

That said, the experience is something that everyone should have a go at least once. As a way to get from point A to point B, however, it is hardly the most practical.

The rest of the day was spent strolling around the Mission District, which is a blended mix of a historic, artsy gentrified neighborhood with a gritty, lower-income areas with abandoned theatres and shady convenience shops and stores that's been closed down. Signs of the economic crisis in America is still pretty evident here -- and if I can be brutally honest -- the hobos around here are everywhere too -- and they are a tad... Nasty.

One of many abandoned buildings around the Mission.

If I can do a crude comparison here, strolling around the neighborhoods in Mission felt a lot like walking from Gastown in Vancouver all the way towards Downtown Eastside -- the further you go, the streets sort of descend from the high-end eccentric art stores to low-end hardware stores and shady grocery shops. The differences is rather mind boggling, too -- it is only about a half an hour walk from the forest of skyscrapers in the Financial District across Market Street towards the urban grittiness of Mission, complete with street art, aluminum can-filled shopping carts and hobos. Every major cities have their own underbellies, I suppose.

That said, it was still a fascinating experience walking around the Mission seeing all those Spanish-Mexican influences in the architecture of houses, churches and missions. Some of the street art in the alleyways were also some of the most eccentric I've seen. Not your usual touristy destination for sure, but certainly worth a visit in my view.

The rest of the day was spent with one of my friends from high school, Willie, who went to South Bay to dress in a suit and be in meetings all day. Definitely a lot of fun catching up and seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place.

California Dreamin': Day 4 & 5. -- The Rock and a hard base.

"You are entitled to food, clothing, shelter, and medical attention. Anything else you get is a privilege."
- Number 5, Alcatraz Prison Rules and Regulations, 1934.

Where: AT&T Park, Alcatraz (day 3); Golden Gate Park, Lands End, Haight-Ashbury (day 4).
How: More walking with camera equipment.
Tired yet?: Yes.
So tired that you'd go back to your hostel, sleep 12 hours and still feeling like you've just fought a bear?: Yes.
Utterly random thoughts of the day: Living in San Francisco is a rich man's luxury.

I've always found the American love for baseball a bit fascinating. For one thing, it's a game that most Canadians probably don't give a toss about (except if you're from Toronto and suffering from Leafs Denial Syndrome (what's this thing you call hockey? never heard of it.) -- then the only sports team you can really cheer for is the Jays).

Take me out to the ball game.

I haven't sat through one single game in my life, primarily because it's a bloody slow game. You have a guy in the middle throwing a ball at the guy with the bat. If he swings it and the ball goes really far then everyone cheers. If he misses then everyone cheers as well (depends on which team you're rooting for, obviously). But then if he hits the ball really far but then the other team caught it before it touched the ground, he's out too. But then if the ball goes far enough that the fans will fight over each other, spilling beer in the process, to grab that baseball, then he does a loop in the park and then walks back to the dugout.

Yep, sounds great.

I am more of an ice hockey guy. More action. Much faster. Much more brutal in some ways. More interesting story lines too. However, since the San Jose Sharks are eliminated in the first round (along with the team I cheer for...), the only major sports team playing in town is the San Francisco Giants, the MLB franchise that won the World Series in 2010. People around here are nuts about the Giants.

So I decided to give it a shot.

The first two innings were filled with action -- The Giants hit a home run and jumped to a 3-0 lead. Then they got one more run in the second inning. After that, the whole game was just kind of... slow. I guess in hockey terms it was like watching the Tampa Bay Lightning playing the 1-3-1 (a.k.a. trap) system. For the rest of the 7 innings (9 innings in total) the Giants sat on 4 runs, while the other team could only muster 2 runs.

2 hours and 40 minutes later, the Giants won the game 4-2, in a game that was, well, pretty boring.

That said, I do see the appeal in baseball though. The atmosphere at the ballpark was just ecstatic. It was also memorial day on May 28, so they gave tribute to the men and women that served the country with national anthems, two jet fighters hammering across the ballpark, and more patriotic anthems. The game did have its exciting moments too, albeit a little spaced out and... well, slower paced. I guess major league baseball does have its charms.

After the baseball game, I spent the rest of Memorial Day on Alcatraz Island for the 6:45 night tour (not that I could get anywhere anyway -- everything was closed on Memorial Day). Alcatraz was well known as America's most mysterious penitentiary, housing guys like Al Capone and George "Machine Gun"Kelly. Alcatraz was also the subject of numerous Hollywood movies, most notably Sean Connery and "The Rock". The tour was $35 for the ferry ride, and it is well worth every penny.

Simply said, the Alcatraz night tour was phenomenal.

Small wonders, one of America's once most secure prison was only a 15-minute ferry ride away from the city. Inside the prison was numerous cells that were smaller than my own bathroom -- imagine being stuck here for 10 years. The prison itself was well kept and preserved -- even the mechanical doors for the jail cells were working to this day. Our guide -- Al (who was wonderful by the way) --  offered to open a selection of doors for us, and man, was it loud. The mechanical doors do make a deafening sound as they unlock and open -- as if it serves to intimidate even the toughest criminals.

Welcome to the Rock.

As we were the last tour of the day, we had most of the island to ourselves -- at night, the island and the jail cells themselves were quite eerily quiet. Outside, the SF Bay Area was still booming with life. If it gets quiet enough in the prison, you can almost hear the sound of people playing on the beaches. The island also featured a jaw-droppingly beautiful panorama of San Francisco.

As a park ranger pointed out, Alcatraz was more of a torture of the mind, not the body.

The tour itself was around 3 hours long. Alas, even that I thought wasn't enough for me to satisfy my photo-fetish. Some amazing shots were made on the island though, and I couldn't be happier. Today, Alcatraz is a national park within the SF Bay Area, and in my eyes a treasure in the American history books.

By the time I made it back to the hostel at the end of the day, I was so drained that I spent most of day 5 (May 29) sleeping and chilling at the beaches -- after all, lugging 3 lenses and a tripod around the city for the whole day was no easy job. I did manage to meet up with my cousin Jessie though, so that was great catching up -- and the Burmese food we had was delicious. Other than that though, nothing much to report.

California Dreamin': Day 3 -- The Golden Gate.

Happy 75th, Golden Gate Bridge.

Where: Chinatown --> Telegraph Hill --> Russian Hill --> Lombard Street --> Marina District --> Fisherman's Wharf --> Fort Mason --> Golden Gate Bridge.
How: On foot. With a tripod, 3 lenses and a flash in my bag.
Drunk people seen: Over 10.
Utterly random thoughts of the day: People do the funniest things when they are drunk.

Started off the day swapping hostels and came to this super cozy of a place called the Pacific Tradewinds Backpacker's Hostel -- it's rather small inside but everyone is pretty friendly and their beds and linens are amazing by hostel standards.

Started off the day visiting Chinatown and yumcha-ed at one of the Chinese restaurants. The average age at restaurant: 85. The food was nice though, I stuffed myself with 4 dishes and the bill came up to $11.

Me with Brad and Brittany. Fun times.

Spent most of the day trekking the hills of San Francisco... Note to self: Never bring a bunch of lenses and camera equipment that you won't be using for most of the day. It felt like I was building the Egyptian Pyramids. The walk up the hill becomes quite daunting after 4 or 5 hours of walking.

May 27 just happened to be the 75th birthday of the Golden Gate Bridge, so a massive fireworks celebration was in order. Met up with Brad and Brittany from the hostel again and hung out for the rest of the night.

And it was spectacular.

The night then took a rather interesting turn... Ahem Brad. The "night" went all the way into the morning... And now I have a Giants game to catch.

California Dreamin': Day 2 -- Are you going to San Francisco?

Where: San Francisco, CA.
Staying until: June 2.
Total distance traveled: 310km.
Money spent on bridge tolls in San Francisco: $5.
New people met: 2.
Utterly random thoughts: Drunk hobo fights are kind of awesome.

I departed yesterday morning from Williams, CA en route to the Golden Gate city early in the morning... By early I mean around 10-ish. The original plan of me spending the night in the car completely vanished the minute I saw a Motel 6 go by the window. By the time I got to bed I completely crashed and stayed down for 10 hours.

This extra energy though, meant that I could use a lot more of it driving down the back roads in Northern California.

The drive through Napa -- over 50km stretch of sheer fun.

Instead of heading down the I-5, I took the long way (a.k.a. fun) around and found this back road called Knoxville Road in Napa, CA. About 30+ kilometres of the road are one-laned roads with swooping corners and bends. With a bit of terrain too. And no traffic. I went nuts driving on that road. Never in my life had I have so much fun in my car. (This road is also been said to be the greatest road in California -- we will see about that when I tackle route 66 and Yosemite, but for now I absolutely agree).

Who cares if this detour took me an extra two and a half hours to make it to San Francisco? It was all worth it.

Driving in San Francisco though is a whole other animal. San Francisco is a beautiful city -- albeit a tad unfriendly for driving travelers. If you think driving around Downtown Vancouver would ruin your day, wait til you drive around San Francisco -- where you'll be swung with traffic, cable cars, street cars, buses, bicycles, no left-turns, one way streets and so on. To make matters worse, the sheer amount of skyscrapers in the Financial District meant that the GPS was rendered effectively useless.

Still though, look at San Francisco. So pretty. I spent much of the day just driving around it and marvel at, well, everything. 

That and the fact that I pretty much had to stay in the car, because San Francisco is just so damn cold. The weather was 8 degrees yesterday with winds that felt like Oklahoma tornadoes.

At the hostel I shared a dorm with two traveling Aussies -- Brittany and Bradley. Thought I'd give them a shout out because they are utterly awesome as well. We went out for cheap pasta (less than 9 bucks!!!!11!1!) and received free late night entertainment from two drunk hobos who decided to brawl each other right outside the pizza joint. I don't even know what that was about, but at one point one of them grabbed a chair from the restaurant and swung it at the other bloke. Pretty random.

California Dreamin': Day 1 -- Radar Love.

"I've been drivin' all night, my hand's wet on the wheel..."

Where: Vancouver, BC -- Williams, CA.
Total distance traveled: 1,331 km.
Time spent on the road: 15 hours.
Utterly random thoughts (plenty of time to think about random stuff when one is driving solo on the road): California tap water tastes funny.

As I am typing this right now, I am sitting in a motel somewhere in the middle of California after having been driving for 15 hours straight. The driving was surprisingly manageable and easy for me -- I did it solely with a pack of kit-kats, lots of water and the occasional 5-minute break in between. And yes -- no coffee. This could have been a lot worse -- the night before I was hoping to get to bed by 9pm and wake up at 5 to have enough energy for said long drive. However, when 10 rolled around I was still frantically doing last minute packing (ie. "Where is my shaver, shampoo, passport, money, etc. etc.") By the time I made it to bed by 11, I hoped to spend the next 6 hours with some quality sleep, as broken down as follows:

1/2 hour spent on texting farewell messages to friends ("I am going to California... You're not. Bye!")
1/2 hour spent staring blankly into the ceiling.
1 hour spent tossing around the bed.
1/2 hour spent flipping the pillow around, because tossing around the bed didn't have the effect I was hoping for.
And then about 5 hours of actual sleeping.

Last time I did a similar trip like this, I couldn't even sleep at all and as a result, a drive that normally takes people 13 hours took me 15 and a half to drive there. This time though, I departed Vancouver at 6 in the morning and got to the California border by 5pm. With the sun still up, I drove until about 9pm and called it a day.

Driving solo is all kinds of awesome. You can play whatever music you want to play, you can drive as fast as you want (ie. not that fast -- Oregon and Northern California are littered with Highway Patrols officers with funny-looking cowboy hats), and you can just make a mess in the car with kit-kat wrappers and no one will give a damn. Nothing in life is better than being able to roll down all windows and sunroof, going down an Interstate highway while blasting "Highway to Hell" on the stereo.

You can also eat whatever you like (although on the highways usually your choices evolve around fast food) -- in my case though, my hopes of finding a Jack in the Box in Oregon has utterly failed resulting me to go with the most disgusting Baconator at Wendy's I've ever tasted in my life. That fat-dripping beast of a burger stayed in my gut for most of the day. (note to self: when asked what size I would like in an American fast food restaurant, remember that American small = Canadian medium; American medium = Canadian medium x 3).

The weather was all kinds of interesting too. From Washington's overcast to sunny to Oregon's sunny to sheer fog and rain to Northern California's rain to sunny again. The rain certainly helped with some of the splattered bugs on the windshield of my car too.

Overall, the drive on the first day was everything that I imagined -- the true taste of freedom.

At the Siskiyou summit, Oregon, while barely able to see anything on the road.

The following two and a half weeks will have me traveling to most major cities in California -- San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego. I will also be visiting some ghost towns and national parks in the California desert, before making it to Reno, Nevada on the way back to the land of Canadia. With all this free time, I am hoping to get my blogging legs running again... But then, this is not the first time I've said it so...

Next stop: San Francisco, California.