An LA State of Mind

Early the next morning, fortified with McDonald's coffee and granola bars, I'm back on the road. It's supposed to be two and a bit hours. I've got just enough experience of California travel to be suspicious. Highway 5 loops back over a range of mountains before it drops into the many cities that together are known to the world as Los Angeles. There's another improbably high range of mountains to the west, where your mind tells you a seacoast should be. There's a bucket of off-white mist - he said optimistically - in the urban bowl. There are five lanes now, so I pick one and stay there. There's at least another hour and two more highways before Newport Beach. The traffic slows, the traffic stops - for a very short time. And I marvel at the idea that so many cars and trucks and buses have apparently important places to go on a Saturday morning.

I pull in to Debra's complex just before noon.
She's off getting her hair done, which I presume is a coincidence. I let myself in, say hello to the dachshund Gherkin and make one more trip to the car before Gherkin convinces me it's time for a walk. The sun is shining, it's 20 degrees (70 US) and it feels good to be here.