“It’s like starring in a Hollywood remake.” Photographer Tom Storr and family do the West Coast by car
It came on the last day of our trip. Walking through the crisp spring sunshine of a deserted West Oakland, I Have A Dream boomed from nowhere, echoing around us. It was Martin Luther King Day and I was expecting his famous words to be followed by a loud roar, but none came. Pausing before getting into the car, giving the crowd a chance to catch up, there was still nothing and I was left puzzled, feeling like an extra in a Civil Rights/ Zombie mash up, coming soon to a cinema near you.
This dislocation was a feeling I had frequently during our holiday. My wife and I travelled round Central California with our young daughter, seeing the sights, visiting friends and enjoying the winter sun. As we ticked off the calf-busting hills of San Francisco, blocks of sun-dappled weather-boarded houses and even the Oakland docks, home of AT-AT Walkers masquerading as cranes, I experienced the slight thrill of starring in a Hollywood remake. We were cast centre stage by California’s cinematic history, cruising with Steve McQueen, Carrie Fisher or maybe, in this case, Shiloh Jolie-Pitt.
We hired a car and visited a loop of touristy towns around a section of Highway 1 south of the Bay Area. Even in and around San Francisco the public transport is patchy, so hitting Hertz and joining everyone else on the Freeway is a must.
Highway 1 is something of a legend in the area for its picture-postcard scenery. The stretch along the coast from Monterey to Big Sur and beyond is particularly beautiful, weaving between rocky, Mediterranean views across the Pacific to hushed and looming Redwood forests. We made the journey down to a town marked Lucia on the map, only to find it made up entirely by a modest guest-house called Lucia Lodge. No problem, the restaurant overlooked a broad sweep of the Pacific and had the feeling of a classic, home-spun American diner; all plaid table cloths and “darlin’” service. The food was also worth the journey: fresh, well cooked and in gigantic portions, my mountain of fish and chips was comfortably enough for two.
Back up the highway is Monterey, a town I had been recommended as an essential stop for our little one because of its Aquarium. Monterey is the setting Scorcese’s excellent Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, as well as Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, a fact that is difficult to avoid. The sea front is cluttered with plastic restaurants and shops selling piles of trinkets in its honour. I enjoyed the book, but had no idea it was so popular and equally no idea what the stuffed toys and key-rings had to do with it. The Aquarium however was a lot of fun; the building is big and airy and there are plenty of different activities and things to see. It is expensive for a family though, so with many Air b’n’b renters (or try the slightly more upmarket VRBO, as we did) offering use of a free pass, it’s well worth keeping an eye out for that.
Next stop was further up the coast in Santa Cruz. We were back on track here: Santa Cruz is a bigger town with a wide sandy beach, long pier and olde worlde amusement park along the front, complete with bumper cars and precarious match-stick style roller-coaster. The fun is in a compact enough area to park the car and enjoy strolling around for a couple of days. Much of The Lost Boys was filmed here and while we managed to avoid the god-damned-blood-sucking vampires, we found a strong counter culture that gives the town a nice K-Town style edge, particularly among the restaurants and bars of Front Street.
We finished the trip with a full blooded, stars n’ stripes, corn-dog, fries n’ Pepto-Bismol, flourish at the Oracle Arena, where the Golden State Warriors hosted the LA Clippers in an early tip off for Martin Luther King Day. There’s nothing like live sports to kickstart a feeling for local culture; and this was no exception as the arena thumped and sparkled for three hours solid. The frequent gaps in play were filled with cheerleaders, acrobatic slam-dunks, choirs, give-aways and glittering sponsorship messages.
Sitting amongst the carnival, eyes wide and chicken dipper in hand, I thought of bitterly cold evenings of lower-league football at Brisbane Road, or a quiet pint at The Pineapple – and suddenly was anticipating my return home to a life less extra-ordinary.
Words & Photography: Tom Storr
