We're still driving down the California Coast. The sun is out, and it's absolutely beautiful. I may just get that sunset yet. It's looking promising.
Getting to all this beauty is a bitch though. Being the navigator, I have road maps spread out in my lap. I have my AAA tour books which I consult constantly. And I have Ms. Sharmin Garmin chattering away in the background. I check the California map and there's this tiny little short road which goes from where we are on Highway 101, the Pacific Coast Highway to Highway 1, which goes down the entire length of the California Coast. I may just have to go back some day and take that trip to Southern Callie. I instruct Mr. Hawthorne where to go and this is where things get a bit unpleasant. Mr. H. is not a happy camper. The road I chose, Highway 1, which was the ONLY road, is not what one would call a good road at the very beginning. It's what Mr. Hawthorne might call the worst, God-awfullest road he's been on yet. And we've been on some God-awful roads. Trust me. This road is quite narrow and it's winding and climbing and ears are popping and nostrils are threatening to bleed. There are hairpin turns and cutbacks and the road is an absolute bitch. Mr. Hawthorne is not happy. He's stressing the entire time that we're not going to be able to get a hotel room for the night and I'm trying to calm him down a bit and get him to relax but that's kinda hard when we're driving the road from hell. He keeps arguing that there has to be another way, but getting onto Highway 1 - the very first part - is the only way and is nothing less than horrible. Actually, looking at the Garmin map, this road looks something like an intestinal track. But lookie here. It was worth it.