For the first major time in the northern part of An Endless Summer I got hit with a serious bout of…work. While actually lots of fun, it lasted only a week whilst in Los Angeles (LA)…passing by the weekend when I decided to explore La La Land.
Most talk about producing a film in the US, my Australian friend Monique actually had her first screening of her short – The Very Scientific System. This was only just after over a year in LA…a clever piece that won the audience award for the night and the respect of all in the theatre. We celebrated at Bar Marmont on Sunset Boulevard as one does, and although I had nothing to do with the film I felt like a star…or perhaps it was the champagne…thankfully for all I kept my speech to the ordering.
The next day was a drive south to Huntington…the place of the American flag it seems for in a two minute stretch of road we saw over 50 flags hanging from houses.
We had no plan, but decided to walk the pier and watch for a moment this hysterical group of old rockers with a young Go Go dancer playing on the beach…it was during this brief stop we heard a voice over saying the star of The Endless Summer was here in person and signing posters…no they were not referring to me, but to the actual star – Robert August. We got a signed poster and photo…what a great indication about my journey and decisions!!
Driving city to city is part of the great American holiday…complete with sun, muscle car, and the wind in your hair. Even with only the shortest of hair to feel the wind with…off I went in a Mustang convertible. The drive from LA to San Fran along the 101 was everything you expect it to be and I immediately understood why this is the road often travelled.
I soon learnt the difference between American and Australian directions though…locals told me to take the Skyline Boulevard, go the 101, stay off the 68, 5 is a dead zone, exit 154a and go west on Oak, cross back on 5th to Fell. Australian would say “Go straight and chuck a left at the big tree”. I got there nonetheless.
Luckily, I was shown the local side of San Fran at night by two friends from my trip…this included a speakeasy called Wilson & Wilson Detective Agency. This is a clever exposed brick, dimly lit bar within a Private Detective Agency that serves a three course ‘meal’ of cocktails. After the three courses of cocktails I expressed my interest in rum as a sailor. Out came the Mount Gay Black Label which let me tell you could bury a repressed childhood memories…I could no longer speak easy.
Onwards to SPQR, a famous Italian restaurant, where reading the menu was an insight into how Americans crucify the culinary dialect…everything was “just a fancy way of saying…”. Nevertheless it was an outstanding meal…or so I was later told.
After a slow start the next morning I headed for Alcatraz. Upon arriving at the island we were greeted by a past ‘guest’ who told us what life was like back in the 50s on Alcatraz. I made a note to bring my kids one day as any tour that starts with a guide who not only got sentenced to gaol for a dangerous crime, but then tried to escape and got moved to maximum security, is a great American icon for today’s youth.
The biggest warning was that there were 109 steps to the top…thankfully there was a bus for those who cannot fathom such exercise. The walk took all of three minutes…with no Gatorade available…I asked for a medal.
Wanting to embrace the native way of life I asked the audio tour headphone assistant for the local language…she looked perplexed…I said American…she called out for an English one and didn’t seem to understand my disappointment at missing out. The audio tour was fantastic and a must when visiting the area, in fact it made me realise a solution for Australia’s Cockatoo Island – lock up a whole heap of ‘crims’ and treat them badly for a few years…then turn it into a museum. People will flock.
A bike ride around the bay and across the Golden Gate Bridge took up the next day. I made it to Mill Valley to look at the Redwood trees…a beautiful place with a rich, fresh smell of wood, but with only one other rider and being so isolated and surrounded by dense trees I wondered if he brought me here to kill me. Instead the plan was to kill my legs as we went onwards to Tiburon, taking it to over 25 miles in half a day. It was well worth it and the ferry ride back was a great water fix for me.
That night I ate at a food truck gathering in a park with live funky music…Off The Grid…a clever idea that Sydney could do well by replicating. You do notice when relaxing in a park the traffic noise around you and how the Americans like to use their car horns at any chance, in fact I would say Americans are the horniest country in my travel thus far.
Not only that, but I am constantly amazed how Americans call everything by their name except food. If you want to buy a big couch just look up the store Big Couches, if you want lights and a fan look up the store Lights & Fans…but if you want a main meal you need to look up appetizers, if you want a small drink you need to order a large. The obesity fight is right on track.
I drove back to LA along the coast on the famous Highway 1. It’s the best for road trips between San Fransisco and LA – great photos and allows for a stop at Hearst Castle…it was the real power palace of Hollywood in the middle of the last century. To be seen there would have made your career and it made The Great Gatsby parties seem tame.
The long drive did mean an overnight stay in Santa Barbara, a few hours outside of LA, where it looks like money grows on trees, it doesn’t though…it grows in tourists pockets where the locals are great at plucking it. That being said, it is a classic American coastal spot that has long beaches with thrilling surf and the restaurants serve some of the biggest mussels I have eaten.
I know it was the road often travelled, but for the few days in the Mustang it was my road and I felt like a king.
