Day 20: Change of Plans, Part B

Late the night before we had decided to make another shift in the trip. We had spent almost the entire day driving by things and through things but making hardly any stops, and this wasn't the way we wanted to spend our trip. We knew the weather was going to get worse the further north we went and that Rocinante wasn't that great in the snow; we found out outside of Flagstaff there wasn't a good way to sleep in the snow, since the slide-out with our bed would get covered and wouldn't slide back in. How else would we sleep? How would we move around and live in this tiny thing? And most of all, how would we get Rocinante out if we got snowed in? Really though, we were just too ambitious with our trip planning. We expected to see too much in 4 weeks, with 1 week to drive home, and we had to cut something out. So we cut out the North, the snow. No more Oregon. No more Washington. No more Canada... As disappointing as this was, it was also a relief, and I reminded myself of the Steinbeck quote I had written down at the beginning of the trip. There was no use trying to control this; all I could do was go with it and just be glad I was here, in sunny California. And it was sunny. The weather was perfect - around 80 degrees, bright and beautiful - and the scenery was gorgeous. So I tried to adapt, forget the fact that I brought sweaters and scarves (about 5), snow-proof gloves and boots for 30 degree below weather. My task for the day: to find flip-flops and a sundress.

We slowed down, put driving on hold for the day and rented a car to drive around Santa Monica and L.A. Our first stop was a classic, the Santa Monica Pier. It was early morning, so the amusement park with the infamous carousel wasn't open, and most vendors were just starting to roll out their sunglass and T-shirt carts. But there were a few people running, fishing, and some other tourists like us snapping photos and peering down into the Pacific. I had my fortune read by Zoltar, the mechanic psychic in a clear glass box (what movie was this on?): "A new turn of events will soon come about. A happy reunion with a loved one will make life all that you ever wanted it or dreamed it to be." Then a warning: "You have a very trusting nature and are easily taken in by so-called friends. Do not be so anxious to do favors unto others, as there is one who is just waiting to take advantage of your good nature." Sounded fairly accurate, I guess. Wish I had that set of lucky numbers in Vegas, though.

Part of our reason for stopping at the pier, and Santa Monica in particular, was because this was the official end of Route 66, and we thought there was a plaque commemorating this somewhere on the pier. It was nowhere to be found, though, and the guy working the counter in the postcard shop directed us to Palisades Park. Apparently there are several Palisades Parks in Santa Monica. The GPS wound us around a suburb until we arrived at the first one, beside a school. This was definitely not right. So my Road Trip book gave us a little direction (an intersection, at least), and we finally found it on a strip of park facing the water. It read: "Will Rogers Highway - Dedicated 1952 to Will Rogers, humorist, world traveler, good neighbor. This main street of America, Highway 66, was the first road he travelled in a career that led him straight to the hearts of his countrymen." I snapped my dad's photo to mark the final accomplishment of a lifelong dream of his (and cheered, silently, that it was over!).

Ok, so it was only partly over. Mostly. We did drive for a bit back east on Santa Monica Boulevard - in this town, another moniker for the old road. We didn't get far, though, with the number of stoplights and the heavy traffic, and here, there really wasn't anything to see. It just looked like L.A. Along the way, we stopped for lunch at a "famous" pizza place (wouldn't make our list of famous anything) and an outdoor shopping area for flip-flops and a sundress. There really was nothing of 66 left in its end-of-the-road town, so we made a few turns and rode the classic L.A. roads instead - Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood Boulevard. One road took us as high as and across from the Hollywood sign, also the site for Griffith Observatory. I didn't understand how they could have much of a view from that observatory; there was a thick, dense layer of brownish-pink smog that just hung, stagnant, atop of the city.

After we came back down the mountain, we drove by the Chinese Theatre and the Hollywood Walk of Fame and got out to see a few of the stars. I also found one of the best vintage clothing stores I've ever been in. It was one of those places where they collect all the good stuff and then mark up the price. And it was chocked full of good stuff, all organized by type and color, including a selection of new wigs and other costume pieces. The place was huge - I've never seen anything like it. I tried on a few of my favorite picks from the racks, but nothing fit quite good enough for the price tag.

We were tired and still had about an hour of driving through stoplights and traffic to get back to the campground in Malibu, so we left town as the sun set. We had a relaxing night with Rocinante parked on the edge of the Pacific, grilling steaks (yes, more steak), washing more laundry, and me catching up on some phone calls to friends. As long as we've been on the road, it's always good hearing from those back at home.