Chasing and racing the sun

Part I

The drive from Oklahoma to the Texas-New Mexico border is long and boring. Flat. Windy. Mostly brown on the color pallet, although the deep red earth of Oklahoma is neat. Lots of billboards for oil extraction services. The only halfway interesting thing the entire trip is a towering white cross off the interstate in the Texas panhandle, which only became interesting later, when I found out from E-factor that it is the largest cross in some mostly arbitrary zone. I just thought that I was in Texas, and crosses like that were par for the course.

Somewhere right after the state line in New Mexico, the Interstate climbs a gradually sloped hill, then drops into a completely different landscape. Previously void, the landscape suddenly contains mesas, plateaus dropping off in sharp bluffs, and small gullies carved into the ground. I hit this terrain right as the sun was low and preparing to set, silhouetting the rock formations. I felt like I was driving right at the sun, chasing it so that it might never actually set, perpetually hovering above the horizon. But since a point on the Earth's surface at that latitude is travelling about 800 miles an hour (~25000 miles circumference/24 hours*cos(latitude)), and my Civic can barely sustain 1/8 of that, I lost the sun, having to wait another day to chase it.

Part II

The Pacific Coast Highway is one of the most spectacular stretches of road in the United States. I've posted pictures of it, with more to come, but it is a zone of boundaries - where mountains drop into the sea, where clouds on the horizon obscure where the sky stops and the ocean starts. It has coves where waves crash and spray stone pillars for rocks-and-water syndrome sufferers like myself, and elephant seal beaches and sea otter preserves for animal lovers.

I have ridden the PCH once before, but never driven it, which is why I allotted myself an entire day to experience it. However, due to several conspiring factors, I got a later than anticipated start out of Santa Barbara county and was forced to the realization that I would not get to drive up the entirety of Hwy 1, which hugs the coast, before sunset. By 5:30 the sun was very low and I had not yet reached Big Sur, which meant I had choices to make: did I stop at one of the many pullouts overlooking craggy coves to try and capture the magic hour? or did I press on, in hope of making it to the famed Big Sur for sunset?

It turns out the decision was moot. The same could embankment that had earlier obscured the horizon line in such stunning way had moved inland. One of the pictures published shows the sun dropping behind that wall of low hanging clouds. Instead of an orange sherbet sunset, I watched the clouds engulf mountaintops in a eerie gray mist.

Doesn't get much better than this

Driving up to San Francisco on the Pacific Coast Highway: