In a few hours’ time I’ll be saying goodbye to the sun-baked shores of California. I discover something new to love about this place every time I visit. Whale-watching in San Diego with a friend I have not seen in over a decade was certainly a highlight. Lazing by the pool in Palm Springs under a dazzling December sun was another.
When I first realised that the drive Northwards would take nine hours I was horrified, and yet the rugged beauty of El Camino, swiftly followed by the wavy California 1 highway had contracted time into a mere matter of moments. I could have sworn that we had been driving for no longer than a half hour when we finally disembarked in Carmel for a cinnamon bun and a much needed taste of apple cider.
Then there was Tahoe… It little mattered that there was hardly enough snow on the slopes, watching a whisper of cloud descend upon the lake every morning more than made up for any lack elsewhere.
And of course, it was all the better because I had loved ones to share it with.
I am not fond of goodbyes.