Worked clear of the City of Freeways this morning to head west on State Route 126, also known as the Ventura Highway. It leads to the ocean beaches and Route 1, which explains the song ... I felt more like heading north to get clear of the Friday diaspora than kicking sand, and US 101, the King's Road, took me north along the coastline.
Good thing that the traffic was enough of a distraction to keep me focused on the road, or I might have driven right off the edge. The sea was giving the mountains their daily watering in great belts and tendrils of fog that blurred the differences between them -- where did the sea end and its gift to the land begin? Was it the mountain drinking the fog, or the other way around? Wonderful to watch.
And why did that RV driver think that s/he could pass an 18 wheeler on a downhill slope? Something to do with Kant's view of space and time as things we cannot learn from experience, may be.
Stopped in a mountain campsite east of Santa Margarita this evening. Dusty, with aggressive biting flies. Good enough for one night.