Morgan Hill, CA, to Joshua Tree, CA
When we pulled out of the motel in Morgan Hill, it was 7:50 a.m.—honed in our ability to clear a motel as fast as possible. Today was one of our epic roadways. The fabled Pacific Coast Highway from Monterey to Morro Bay through Big Sur State Park is probably number one on anyone’s list of the best drives in the western U.S., A fact that gave me a sense of urgency to push to the coast. We trudged southwest toward Prunedale from Morgan Hill before picking up Hwy 1 at Castroville and turning south. The golden hills pocked with California sagebrush rolled by as we pushed to the sea.
About an hour into our drive, the sea and the city appeared. Well below our elevation, we topped the coastal hills and plunged into the beautiful city by the sea. We exited Hwy 1 at Del Monte Avenue before coming parallel to the coast. At the Municipal wharf, we took a sweeping turn onto Lighthouse Avenue and toward the heart of the charming city. The clouds were low and grey as we made our way up Cannery Row. The architecture was an interesting mix of Colonial Spanish and early 19th-century American Industrial. Once known for a bustling sardine cannery business, downtown Monterey is dotted with old early 20th-century industrial canneries that once supported a robust industry.
Now, Cannery Row has been converted into a vibrant mixed-use development overlooking the sea. Everything from fine dining to ice cream shops to bookshops and apartments can be found in the row. An eclectic mix of urban seaside modernity and progress, nestled in the antique buildings of a bygone era. The inspiration for John Steinbeck’s iconic American Novel, Cannery Row, the last cannery would close its doors in 1973. It was still before eight as we rolled under the old wooden, brick-colored sky bridge still marked with the white letters Monterey Canning Co. So, the stores were closed, and the neighborhood was silent in the grey, cloud-covered morning.
We continued west, hugging the sea as we reached the Pacific Grove neighborhood just north of the Row. As we reached Lovers Point, we tucked into a parking spot overlooking the water at Perkins Park. The girls had zero interest in emerging from their sleeping bags in the back of the van, so Diem and I tucked them in tight and made our way down to the park and beach. I had come to Pacific Grove to show Diem the “magic carpet” of purple ice plants the neighborhood is known for. Blanketing the grassy areas of the flat coastal patches and often hanging over rocky ledges, they were in full bloom today.
We walked along the path down to the benches overlooking the sea. The purple flowers were in bloom, giving the seaside park a fanciful vibe. We sat on a bench at the cliff edge and took in the view. It is a rugged shoreline with rocky outcrops and craggy headlands sweeping around the peninsula on the southern end of Monterey Bay. As we sat, I observed the large rock deposit that dotted the beach and the water just offshore.
Monterey is known geologically for its massive formation of the same name. The Formation stretches from Humboldt County in the north to Santa Barbara County in the south. The layers of the Monterey Formation change over time. In the older, lower layers from the early Miocene period (23.03 to 15 million years ago), there are signs of weak ocean currents bringing nutrients to the surface, seen through fossils and rocks made of material from tiny sea creatures like diatoms and coccolithophores. In the middle and upper layers from the later Miocene (between 11.6 and 5.3 million years ago), more vigorous upwelling brought more nutrients, leading to more abundant fossils. These layers formed unique, silica-rich rocks like diatomite, porcelain-like stones, and banded cherts, all made from plankton rich in diatoms.
I sat for some time, taking in the geological wonder of the formation’s coastal outcrops. The formation made for a dynamic coastline, though it offered a tragic story for local inhabitants. The formation is often porous and, in places, packed with petroleum oil, making the coastline here susceptible to runaway erosion. As the waves batter the coastline, the soft, fragile layers of the Monterey Formation are broken away, exposing the erosion-resistant granite throughout the formation. Making Monterey a peninsular outcrop of granitic rock.
We sat on the outcrop overlooking the sea. The water and sky were a similar palette of gloomy grey, separated only by a thin ribbon of darker grey across the horizon at their intersection. All of the waters around Monterey are part of the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary, and we observed the kelp forest floating in the bay and the Brandt’s Cormorants perched on the rocky outcrops or bobbing in the frigid waters. Knowing that a long run down the Pacific Coast Highway was moments away, we only took about 15 minutes to explore the seaside park. We returned to the van to find the girls still off in dreamland and continued our push south.
From Pacific Grove, we snaked our way down the Holman Hwy toward Carmel. The anticipation of the sweeping views of the Pacific Coast Highway had me in a bit of an exciting buzz. On we pushed until we reached Carmel-By-The-Sea, not long now before the Pacific Ocean became our ever-present guide for the next 100 miles. Shortly after, the sea gave us a few tempting views, and I spotted a DOT sign that stated the worst. This year, unprecedented rain had caused a washout of much of the highway. It was closed to traffic. It was not our day. A bit deflated, I pulled off at Monastery Beach to assess our options.
The water was rambunctious, and signs dotted the beach, indicating that this was not a place for swimming. I stepped onto the sand to gather my thoughts, pull out our road map, and examine our possibilities. We would have to backtrack to Monterey and pick up 68 East across the Sierra de Salinas. I wanted to avoid Interstates as much as possible, so we would cut over to Chualar via River Rd. and take the 101 south through the Salinas Valley, bypassing much of the Central Valley.
On 68, halfway across the pass, we stopped at a quaint restaurant for breakfast. Just after nine, we entered Toro Place Cafe. Its outdoor architecture screamed Spanish Mission. The inside was quaint, and the staff was very friendly. I ordered a delicious chorizo breakfast burrito with fresh fruit, Diem, a Spanish omelet, and a plethora of pancakes, eggs, and bacon for the girls. We discussed our day, as it had changed entirely.
With the Pacific Coast Highway and Hearst Castle inaccessible and our next park, Yosemite, also inaccessible due to recent washouts from rain, we decided to push into Los Angeles, visit the Hollywood sign, explore the glamour and possible detritus of the city, and then begin our rapid push east. Due to the inability to cross the Sierra Nevadas, we would miss both Yosemite and Death Valley. This fact only heightened the mild depression that was setting in the back of my mind. The waters at Monastery Beach in Carmel were our last view of the Pacific. With the prospect of missing two of the more impressive National Parks, home was now on the horizon. We only had five more days. I so wanted to be pushing across the great plains again or climbing the Sierra Nevadas. It had all seemed like a dream.
After breakfast, we found the 101 in Chaular and began the long drive through the fertile valleys of central California. It is an amazing sight. Lettuce, greens, a vast array of vegetables, almonds, the bounty of the valleys is remarkable, spreading out between the mountains into an endless variety. California produces a wide variety of crops, including almonds (80% of U.S. production), grapes (90%), strawberries (90%), walnuts (99%), pistachios (95%), avocados (95%), artichokes (100%), tomatoes (90%), and lettuce (70%), among many others, making it the top agricultural state in the country. Though larger farms in the midwest produce vast expanses of corn, wheat, sorghum, and other grains and staples, nowhere on earth matches the variety and quantity of California.
We marched south through these endless fields toward Los Angeles. We stopped outside Soledad, about halfway down the Salinas Valley, to take in the view. Countless crews of workers cruised the various crops, picking, harvesting, packing, and transporting. Some fields were so vast and had such large crews tending them that they must have been more like mobile towns advancing across the landscape, complete with mobile factories packing, boxing, and loading the products for shipping across the country. It was amazing to see under the bright pale blue sky dotted by cotton ball clouds. After enjoying the view and knowing time was always against us, we continued earnestly down the 101.
The mountains began to close in at the end of the valley near King City. By San Ardo, we had left the valley and were climbing a pass that split the Santa Lucia and Diablo mountain ranges. Across the pass at Paso Robles, just north of San Luis Obispo, and where we would have popped out off the Pacific Coast Highway, we turned East again on 46/41. We climbed again, only this time the rugged, rocky hills of the valley were replaced by rolling highlands of golden fields, baking under a sun-filled, cloudless sky. East of Shandon, we stopped at a rest area to take a break. It was half past noon, and other than breakfast, we had been on the road since seven.
The facilities were very nice, and I explored the area while the girls stretched and washed up. Signs warning of rattlesnakes were marked in every area that was not covered in concrete, and massive herds of cattle roamed the dusty fields in the distance. It was a startling reminder of where we had transitioned to—more desert than fertile valley. California has this insane way of changing biomes in what seems like the blink of an eye. Thirty minutes ago, it was verdant, with fertile fields, a nice breeze, and sweeping views; now, it is only cattle, heat, and earth.
Still high in the hills, we merged onto 46 Southeast towards Kecks Corner before picking up 33 in the case of West Side Highway, which runs the western edge of the Valley. As we came out of the hills, the expanse of farmland was awesome. I thought the Salinas Valley was an impressive clinic on mass industrial farming, but the San Joaquin Valley was something entirely different. The fields stretched out into the distance, disappearing over the horizon, farming in every possible direction. It was impressive beyond description.
We continued down the rural perimeter highway until we reached a dusty crossroad labeled on the map only as McPhail Lease. Here, we picked up the Lerdo Highway due east across the southwest corner of the Central Valley. We crossed orchard after orchard as we barrelled across the otherwise barren landscape—a dusty juxtaposition of verdant orchards amid a desert expanse. The only sign of civilization was a small settlement marked as Spicer City, which was nothing more than a crossroads with an almond processing and fruit juicing facility.
About twenty minutes past Spicer City, we picked up I-5 in what would now be our official transition from highways to Interstates. I was very deliberate in only using state and U.S. highways on our journey. There were very few Interstates. We ran interstates from Atlanta to Rapid City to get to the West, from Missoula, MO, to Yakima, WA, to cover an empty stretch, and from Olympia, WA, to Sutherlin, OR, to cover another empty stretch, with a few short stretches of a handful of exits because it was the most logical path like picking up an interstate to bypass a major city. Other than that, it’s been country highways for thousands of miles. It was amazing. But now we march towards I-10, where our official leg home will begin.
Continuing across the massive expanse of farms, we reached the valley’s southern edge at Grapevine, where we began our climb over the Sierra Nevadas and Transverse Ranges towards Santa Clarita. We left the fertile valley behind again and climbed the rolling mountains pocked with chaparral, scrub oak, and California sagebrush. Its golden, dusty air was a striking change from the vast expanses of green in the valley. It was mid-afternoon when we reached Pyramid Lake, a ribbon of aqua-marine in the otherwise forest green and khaki mountains. Not long after the lake, we reached Castaic, north of Santa Clarita, and began our descent into the San Fernando Valley and Los Angeles Proper.
As we dropped out of the mountains, the landscape became a flat, expansive stretch of urban sprawl, climbing up the hills in the distance. At Sun Valley, we left I-5 and picked up the Hollywood Freeway and, ultimately, the 101 South towards the heart of Los Angeles. We exited at Cahuenga Blvd, weaved our way over to Lake Hollywood Drive via Barham, and snaked our way toward the Hollywood sign.
Lake Hollywood twisted and turned up a series of switchbacks, rising ever higher into the heights of the Hollywood Hills. We continued to Tahoe Dr, where we quickly flowed onto Canyon Lake Drive in a sweeping turn from Tahoe. The sign was already in view, and we continued to Mulholland Highway in an attempt to reach it. A few hundred feet below the sign, the road was blocked. No access to the sign was directly available beyond a substantial hike, which we had no time for.
Working our way back down the hills toward Canyon Lake Drive, we came to the sign observation area and Lake Hollywood Park in the sign’s shadow. Parallel parking was to be had on both sides of the road, but unoccupied spaces were non-existent. After passing back up and down several times, I found a spot on the opposite side from which I was traveling. I shot into the tight space in our rather large van, minimally blocking traffic. As we emerged from the van, a man, who had no authority and whom I clearly did not know, began, rather boisterously, I might add, condemning me for parking on the opposite side of the road and insisting my car would be towed. How could he know this emphatically? I did not feel very rational, and we ignored him as we crossed the street to the grassy park.
The sun was warm, and the breeze refreshing. The park was filled with families enjoying the sunny day, often grabbing icy treats from the Palatero man pushing his cart near the park entrance. We gathered for a selfie with the iconic Hollywood sign at our backs. Before us, Hollywood, Los Angeles, and beyond spread out in the distance to the sea. We spent a few minutes exploring the park and snapping a few pictures, but the burritos and hotcakes from our morning had long faded, and Maggie had a dining request she had been waiting our entire journey to fulfill. So we loaded the van and wound our way into downtown Hollywood. For the record, I did not receive a parking ticket.
We picked up Sunset Blvd near downtown and drove the famous boulevard west toward just that: an epic sun, racing toward an incredible sunset against the backdrop of the iconic city. A city devoted to its core to entertainment. It is a strange world where every advertisement, billboard, bench sign, banner on a light post, everything is devoted to the trade. The latest movie, the latest hit series, images of baby Yoda sitting on a bench—everything is cinema and entertainment.
In the shadow of this overstimulation to entertainment, we pulled into the iconic California chain In-N-Out Burger in the heart of Hollywood. We secured a parking spot and made our way in under the late afternoon sun. The restaurant was packed, and we sat in the queue to await our turn. Maggie did most of the ordering, procuring everything she had heard of their “secret” menu. Eventually, our order was filled, and we piled into a couple of tables the girls had snatched up while we waited to order. It was a dog-eat-dog world inside In-N-Out, and you had to muscle a table when the opportunity arose.
Milkshakes, burgers, fries, and the whole shebang were displayed before us. For me, Maggie ordered a double-animal style, fries-animal style, and a chocolate shake. As per the chain’s website, the burger with the animal style distinction means hand-leafed lettuce, tomato, mustard grilled beef patty, add pickle—extra spread, with grilled onions. For the fries, melted cheese and burger sauce on top. The burger tasted like a more well-thought-out Big Mac, with the grilled onions adding a nice layer of sweetness, and it was overall very good. The fries were lacking, and it was more about the sad state of the fries themselves. I read after our visit that In-N-Out is known for lackluster fries and that it is suggested to ask for them well done if you are looking for a classic crispy fry option. I wish I had known this beforehand, as the soggy fries, coagulated American cheese, and cold sauce made for a very underwhelming side dish. But the shake was great, and it was just incredible to sit and enjoy an iconic California burger in the heart of Tinseltown.
After dinner, we worked our way toward I-5 and road it into downtown LA., past Dodoger Field and Chinatown, before picking up I-10 in East LA. It took several hours to leave the urban sprawl of LA behind, and the sun was setting fast behind us as we pushed further East. As twilight was long on the horizon, we left I-10 northeast of Palm Springs. Taking Highway 62 Northeast toward Joshua Tree. The stars began to populate the sky, and a sea of windmills filled the horizon as we made our last push toward the night’s stop—a loan dusty motel on the edge of civilization known as the High Desert Motel.
Due to a few miscues, mainly the Pacific Coast Highway and Tioga Road through Yosemite being closed, we backtracked for many miles and ultimately forced an unexpected 500 miles today. It was an exhausting slog, though one of many. Just as we sped west from Atlanta over three weeks ago, now we sprint east toward home. Tomorrow, we will have another push over 500 miles, though the first part will be through Joshua Tree National Park, our fourteenth national park, and the second to last on our journey. In five more days, we will be home. Our journey is not yet complete, as there are a few surprises left for our intrepid travelers. What an incredibly wild ride it has been these past few weeks beneath this beautiful, endless American sky.
Click here for the National Park Services to explore some of the parks and monuments we’ve explored and more.
Beneath An Endless Sky – Day 1
