My adventures around Washington State and the Closed City of Tacoma were joined by a special guest star and old university friend. My exploration of Seattle is joined by another special guest star: time-travelling me. See, I realised I wouldn’t have time to go visit Seattle during this trip, but I had been the year before. So without further ado, let’s visit the past. You don’t need a TARDIS when you have this t–[No. –Ed].
Our mad dash up the west coast has brought us to the Pacific edge of Washington State, on the tip of a peninsula in a town called Ocean Shores. I wake up, manage to get through another couple of doughnuts, try to pass on another to the receptionist and then hit the road. I rejoin the 101 heading north, bringing me closer to Olympic National Park, but more importantly, bringing me through this town:
Almost as good as Gaylordsville.
At this point in my trip I realise I’m fallen a bit behind schedule. I spent about week longer in around LA than intended, and am determined to make up time. To that end, when I finish my early lunch in San Francisco from our last episode, I hop in the car and tear on over the width of California to get to Yosemite. Don’t worry, even though I’ll only be able to spend a couple of hours in Yosemite, I’m sure I’ll be able to see everything there is to see—
The Pacific Coast Highway took me along some of the best road of trip, and some of the strangest architecture before dropping us off in San Jose, ready to head onto San Francisco. I end up approaching San Fran from the east, having spent the night in Oakland for some reason. (That isn’t a “why am I in this public library” some reason, I think this one was less Inception, more whimsy). But here we are, in the 3rd most destroyed city in the US (by Hollywood) . Let’s see if it survives me.
Last time I fled Los Angeles, creeped out of my wits. Was it going to the Last Bookstore on Earth? Perhaps. Was it because someone gets paid to pretend to be Norman Bates for tourists? Maybe. Was it because I accidentally stayed in a hotel that was hosting a child pageant? Definitely. But fleeing from LA did lead to one great thing: the Pacific Coast Highway. It starts in LA and takes you up an incredibly beautiful coast line, up through San Francisco and up into Northern California.
I’m moving north along the coast now, leaving my dear beloved pandas for the warm embrace of Los Angeles: City of Traffic. I might have bitched about Californians’ driving, and everyone who’s been to LA has complained of the traffic, but it really is something else to behold. An endless stream of cars (well, a sludge of cars at most hours of the day), crawling in and out and around the city. If only there was some other form of transport than a simple car, something out of this world. Is this an extraordinarily awkward segue to one of the space shuttles?
San Diego has a rich and varied history, though its origins are best left for wiser heads to contemplate. Though there is much to do here, there is only one standout that has brought me all the way here: the San Diego Zoo. Now, you may ask, haven’t I already been to a zoo? Yes, but I wanted to see some pandas. But haven’t I already seen some pandas? Yes, but I want to see *all* the pandas.