Approaching San Diego from Phoenix, one has an impression of California much different from popular culture. Which probably makes the descent into San Diego all that much more dramatic.

We were like lemmings on the left coast–constantly drawn to the sea.  We hit Coronado Beach, Mission Beach, and Glorieta Beach–where son number one encountered the sting of a ray! Best treatment–and his case thankfully was mild–water as hot as you can stand, for several hours, to soak the foot.  I’ve never known anyone else to get stung by a ray, but the lifeguard said he’s been jabbed twice in 30 years, and my oldest, after all, suffered a snakebite when he was eight, so if it’s going to happen to anyone…

Driving California roads, certain songs reverberate on an endless semiconscious loop–America’s Ventura Highway, the Beach Boys Surfin’ USA and California Girls…okay, anything Beach Boys. It Never Rains in California. And, of course, California Dreamin’. Every town and city name seems familiar, somehow. Mulholland Drive. Topanga Canyon. Redondo Beach. San Onofre.

Spanking clean shores, crisp and frigid water that still beckons. One day the kids rented wet suits and boards in Pismo Beach. The water temp was the same as the air–55.  And that felt like the speed of the winds straight offshore.  But it’s California, after all.  Who can resist?

We made the pilgrimage in Pismo Beach to the Splash Cafe, home of some incredible Clam Chowder. In bowls, or better yet, bread bowls, baked daily!

We also hit the kids’ first Drive In, and under chilly skies and a bright, familiar half-moon, cuddled up in camp chairs for the three-hour Spiderman II at the Sunset in San Luis Obispo.

All this, of course, after road school, which runs religiously every morning here in the cool travel coach!

Pismo marks the furthest point on the trip so far, at just over 2,700 miles from our Eldersburg roots, and the start back across this amazing country.

Stopped into a church, I passed along the way…