The word "looming" came alive when our Buick Rendezvous summited the Oregon-California border and began to drop through the National Redwood Forest. "Headlights on" signs warned us of what was ahead: a dark cathedral of looming trees crowding onto the 101. And within several miles, the trees cleared and the rocky northern California coast was spread out before us. A low mist floated inland and large waves crashed onto the cliffs. The same in-blown trees we had seen in Oregon were more sparse now, giving way to more beaches and chic seaside towns.

There is a definite distinction between an Oregon seaside town and a California seaside town. In Oregon, the towns are generally homes to "natives" -- earthy, hard-working people with faces shaped by the weather they worked in. Cars from the early 1990s were more prevalent than those from the last five years. Smiles and warmth was surprisingly plentiful in Oregon. We had enjoyed several "snack stops" at local highway-side bakeries where the round jolly cooks would dish up fresh donuts and black coffee. In this sense, the Oregon-California border was more than geographic. Suddenly, there were more Mercedes M-class SUVs and the towns changed from "quaint" to "cute." People didn't so much seem to live in these towns as visit them. As we drove southward, homes grew ostentatiously -- more than just dwellings, these were trophies.

Given the calmer nature of the California coast, it's not surprising wealthy Californians are poaching real estate on the bluffs. The weather had cleared too, and we stopped more often to snap pictures and inhale beauty. I don't know if this is typical, but the ocean was churning -- large waves would form 40 yards out and barrel onto the beach. If I was a surfer, I probably would have been quite delighted!

After so many stunning vistas, we began to develop a sort of immunity to it, I think. One of us would gasp a "wow" every few miles, and our eyes would drift out to see what the fuss was all about. More bluffs, more waves, more jutting rocks -- it indeed was gasp-worthy, but sadly after 8 hours in the Buick, our focus was more on the destination than the scenery. And Route 1 just kept on going and going and going. Up and over hills, around corners and into dips. Little towns flashed by our windows and we clucked at slow drivers ahead of us. After missing the turn-off (I swear it was not marked!) we finally found our way to Santa Rosa, California in the heart of Sonoma wine country. The rest of our vacation would be much slower paced as we enjoyed some of the wineries and then headed further south to San Francisco, Monterrey and Carmel-by-the-Sea.