Tag Archives: Pacific Highway

Sealed with a kiss

I’ve never done Highway One in the summer, so I’ve never seen it the way most people do—choked with tourists and traffic. I prefer to see the coast highway in the winter, where the only teeming hordes to contend with are those of the pinniped variety.

The elephant seal breeding ground on the Big Sur coast is worth pretty much any detour at this time of year. Be warned, though: don’t have too many other things on your agenda that day. Because you’re going to be so fascinated (and a little freaked out) by the spectacle before you that you’re going to want to throw your plans out the window and stay all day.

Catch of the eon

Loch Nessie might know about her American cousin, but I doubt she’s met this gal, who’s named in her honor and who might just be a distant relation. Now that is a family reunion I’d like to see.

Summer stripes

On the day I was here, the calendar said it was winter. But between the warm sun, the blue sky, the sea air and the festive stripes, I could have sworn it was the perfect summer day.

The road ahead

Tomorrow this little travel blog turns one year old. In that time, I’ve jumped around in time and place, in hopes of showing you as many different sketches as I could: country scenes, cityscapes, vintage kitsch, wildlife, you name it. But while I love me some roadside attractions, I must confess that my very favorite thing to draw might just be the road itself.

My sketchbooks are absolutely full of road sketches—either full scenes that I take time over, or little margin notes that I jot down quickly from the passenger seat as the car moves ahead. I just can’t get enough of them. I’m fascinated by how the road moves with the land, following hills and curves. As I race to put each vista down in the book, the actual road at my feet seems to transform into a painted line—tracing the landscape like a sketchbook drawing on the grandest scale imaginable.

In the past year, I know I’ve shown you quite a few of these road drawings, but I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I have in my sketchbooks. And that’s because even after nearly a lifetime of taking road trips, and many years of drawing them, I still feel like I’m only just getting started.

So here’s to the next year of this blog, and to the road ahead. Thank you for coming along with me for the ride.

Captain’s quarters

When it comes to water towers, Mendocino might just be the capital of the world. They serve a very specific purpose there: the town sits on a headland out over the Pacific, and the water table there is extremely low. So for the past 150 years or so, residents have had small wooden water towers on their properties, in case of drought during the summer. A handful are still in use, but many others have been converted into cottages, artist studios, spare rooms or storage sheds.

And a very few have become guest rooms—and I got to stay in one.

It was just about the best overnight I’ve ever had on a road trip; it felt like I was eight years old again, and had discovered some sort of secret hideout. I called a friend that night and told her where I was, and she laughed and said, “That’s so you. It’s just about the most ‘Chandler-y’ place you could have found.” Yep.

The downside, though? It’s pretty much ruined regular hotel rooms for me forever.

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Sailor’s warning

I have never yet managed to visit Heceta Head in anything other than a raging gale. (Thank goodness for the car overlook where I could park and sketch in comfort while the Pacific threw bathtubs of icy spray at my windows…)

But then again—what better way to see firsthand exactly what lighthouses are for?

Rainbow road

Judging by the news lately, and all the dire terms like “polar vortex” being bandied about, I think it’s safe to say that most of the U.S. is still in the absolute dead of winter (including my neck of the woods). But I just can’t bear to post another sketch of icicles or snow. So instead I’m thinking back to one colorful California afternoon, with a rainbow of houses on my right, the Pacific on my left, and all kinds of evidence that spring lay just ahead.

Miracle Mile

More vintage goodness along Highway 99: sunny Redding, California is filled to the brim with old neon signs. On this day I was road tripping with a fellow travel blogger, my friend Mary-Alice (and her pup Chloe). The girls were remarkably patient with me while I insisted on stopping every thirty seconds to sketch more signs. But it was such a perfect day—how could I have passed it up?

Fresh as a daisy

This is one of my favorite signs on Highway 99—the old backbone of the West Coast. Everyone has heard of Route 66, of course, but the Old Pacific Highway is also full of aging neon and other vintage gems, from Canada to Mexico.

The Daffodil Motel sign has a special place in my heart because it references the daffodil farms that used to dominate the adjacent Puyallup Valley. Sadly, only one major daffodil farm is still operating in the valley—but those cheery yellow flowers are still a big part of the local culture here.

Fellow West Coast folks: what’s your favorite bit of neon on Highway 99?