We managed to get out to the Devil's Punch Bowl State Natural Park twice while we were in the area. We stopped off very briefly on our way back from Depoe Bay, but we immediately knew we had to go back and explore the huge and cavernous Punch Bowl.

We arrived on a warm, Spring day and Kim and Ollie headed to the overlook, so they could look out and into the Punch Bowl. There were signs saying there was some kind of dangerous algae in the tide pools that could possibly poison pets who made it down to the beach. We didn't want to risk it. 

Naturally carved out of rock creating a huge craggy bowl that fills through a series of caves and tunnels at high tide with violently churning ocean water, swirling, foaming and frothing, a Devil's brew, the Punch Bowl is a powerful and raging expression of nature. When full, it's scary to see. When empty, the rock pools in the basin appear deceptively calm and forgiving. 

Henry and I set off to the beach to find a way across the tide pools at low tide as we wanted to make it all the way in to the Punch Bowl. The rocks were slippery with bright green, almost moss-like, seaweed and tiny barnacles that had been battered and smoothed over time, but we managed to chart our way forwards. Henry was checking for those pesky sneaker waves the whole time. He always has my back.

Once we made it into the bowl, we could see the beautiful colors inside; the deep reds, browns and greens. It was dark and echoey and the sound of the waves lapping at the entrances was amplified. It would be easy to outstay our welcome and get caught in the incoming tide, to be mercilessly tossed around like playthings in a baby's bath.  

We waved up at Kim and Ollie who were up at the rim of the Bowl, then took our time to explore the geology of the huge cave. We clambered from one rock to another, taking our sweet time to explore the rock pools. It would have made a terrific concert venue as the acoustics were marvelous.

Still nervous about the time and the tides, Henry prompted me to retreat so that we could join Kim and Ollie at the top of the headland. Once we reached them, we took a short walk heading southeast to get a view over Otter Rock and the beaches that stretched out towards Newport.

​Breathtaking.

​On yet another drizzly day, we stepped in to a world that was created over 25 million years ago to get a first hand feel of the persistence of nature, the power of the pounding ocean and the timeless joy of flubbery marine mammals.

We visited the Sea Lion Caves located just outside Florence.

As soon as we entered we were informed there were no Stellar Sea Lions in da house. We were neither disappointed nor deterred. Instead we were excited to descend into America's largest sea caves. Carved out of basalt rock the caves were advertised as twelve stories tall and as wide as an American football field. 

We walked out into the light drizzle and took some photos outside before taking the lift down into the subterranean caves. The ride in the lift seemed to last forever because we managed to discuss all the emergency scenarios, Henry had a jump around to test the cables, I giggled at the memory of Peter Sellers and farts in lifts, and we also compared the ride to the lift going in the opposite direction in the Empire State Building in New York. Yes, it was a long ride down!

The small caves we first entered were dimly lit with red and green lights and there was a screened viewing platform where you could observe the sea lions in the massive amphitheater of the main cave. We confirmed there was not a single sea lion to be seen but we enjoyed watching the waves roll in, crashing over the rocks, so we could get a glimpse of how the caves were formed over the millennia. The main cave lived up to the hype. It was enormous and echoey and had many caves and tunnels leading off the main chamber. We did see a few bats fluttering about at the top of the cave and we could see why it was such a favorable environment for the colony of sea lions that call the cave "home." It was clearly a sanctuary for seals, seabirds and a diverse array of other shore creatures too. 

I loved that care had been taken to preserve the sanctity of the cave so that us humans could not disturb the precious habitat. We could observe but we could not enter.

To the north you could walk up a staircase for another view of the coastline where we could see other inlets and coves leading round to the Heceta Lighthouse winking at us in the drizzly distance.

We loved every minute of this roadside tourist attraction.

The next stop on our Grand Adventure took us to the Heceta Beach RV park in Florence, Oregon.

The first few days after we arrived were wet and windy and so we had an enjoyable time hunkered down in the trailer with Kim working the stock market, Henry catching up with his gaming friends online and I settled down to read my beloved Kindle. I am reading Eleanor Elephant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman. I am also making my way through the futuristic "In Death" murder mysteries by JD Robb. Lovely to just snuggle down with a cuppa tea and a warm blanket and just read. It's November and we are heading towards winter. I can feel the change in temperature and pressure in the air. I've been noticing the trees losing their leaves and the last of the summer blooms falling by the wayside. It is such a lovely change from the desert and I love settling in to each new season.

On the very next dry day, we headed in to town to explore the arty downtown area of Florence.

Lying at the mouth of the Siuslaw River, you enter Florence by passing beneath the expansive concrete double rainbows and ornamental art deco pillars of the Siuslaw River Bridge making a stunning backdrop for the downtown area with expansive views of the river and the bridge. The bridge is an iconic symbol of the city. Designed by Conde McCullough, opened in 1936, the key feature of the bridge is the double leaf bascule in the middle that lifts to allow clearance for fishing boat traffic. Along the banks of the tidal river, snowy plovers, a variety of sandpipers, blue herons, white egrets, cormorants, gulls, songbirds and other birds I couldn't quite identify, provided wonderful entertainment with their stooping, whooping and swooping. A lady in the crystal store told us she had even seen a couple of orcas chasing seals down the river and into the harbor last summer.

In the harbor we could see the halibut boats and signs for fresh local crab. We could hear sea lions barking somewhere in the distance. The tang of salt in the air made you lick your lips and yearn for a bag of chips wrapped in butcher paper with lashings of salt and vin, just like we would get on the seafront back home in England.. 

We spent a leisurely hour or two walking the main street, popping in and out of the shops that seemed to lean towards local crafts and art work, chatting with the friendly locals and enjoying the ambience of the riverfront. 

The sky turned a grisly grey and we felt the first spots of rain that quickly turned into a downpour. While Henry and I huddled under the awning of a nearby gallery, Kim dashed back to pick up the truck to collect us. We headed back to the trailer for an early dinner of Kim's special homemade chicken curry. Delicious!!!

Best. Curry. Ever.

​❤️❤️❤️

We discovered there are eleven lighthouses in Oregon and we decided we wanted to see them all. 

There are nine original lighthouses on the rugged Oregon coast, seven are open to the public and two are privately built, still certified by the US Coast Guard as lighthouses, however they are not open to the public. 

Leaving Henry at home for a rest day, Kim and I set off like a couple of intrepid explorers in search of lighthouses.

The first on our lighthouse list was Cape Blanco Lighthouse, a 19th century lighthouse perched on top of a tall peninsula with 200 foot cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean at the western most tippy tip of Oregon. It was named Cape Blanco, or white cape, by Spanish navigators in the early 17th century due to the appearance of the chalky white cliffs hugging the headland and the surrounding bay.

As we approached on a long and winding road, about five miles off the US101 Highway, we found ourselves driving through more and more mist and the hope of actually seeing the lighthouse began to fade.

We parked on the headland and fortunately we caught glimpses of the lighthouse through the dense sea mist that was swirling around us, shapeshifting, offering hazy views one moment then shrouding the lighthouse in clouds of mist the next. It was eerie!

We wrapped up warm and then took the short 1/4 mile hike out to the lighthouse.

The closer we got to the lighthouse, the clearer we could see it and by the time we approached the base, the mist had dissipated and the sun was deciding on whether to make an appearance.

On the headland, as well as the lighthouse, we could now see the foundational remnants of other buildings as well as a large white farmhouse style building, still standing, that had been converted in to a gallery, gift shop and museum. Tours were not available that day, but the gentleman in the museum answered all our questions and gave us some valuable information about the history of the lighthouse.

We learned that Cape Blanco Lighthouse is the oldest, continuously operating lighthouse on the Oregon coast. It was first lit on December 20th, 1870. We learned the bricks for the lighthouse were made in kilns on site rather than being transported from San Francisco due to the remoteness of the location and to make the construction of the lighthouse more cost efficient. The rest of the materials needed for the construction were brought in by boat. The location was selected to warn passing vessels of the reefs off shore and to provide a position fix for navigators. The circular brick tower was built 59 feet high and housed a Fresnal lens that cast a white light out to sea for approximately 22 nautical miles, to the curvature of the earth. The lighthouse suffered many storms and gales over the years. Roofs of the surrounding outbuildings were lost many times due to its exposed position and extreme buffeting by the wind, but the lighthouse always stood sturdy and strong. 

We walked around the plain, whitewashed lighthouse and could walk almost to the edge of the grassy cliff tops where the gulls were screaming at us to stay back, stay safe. The sun finally came out to say hello as the last of the mist disappeared and we finally got to see the full impact of the elevation, magnificent 360 degree views from the vantage point of the 245 foot cliff top over the sandy beached bay to the north and the rugged rocky sea stack strewn coastline to the south. We could even see the gentle curve of the earth on the horizon. Wow!

Leaning in to the wind, we took a moment to breathe in the history of the incredible feat of engineering standing before us.

It reminded me of an Indian proverb...

​In this case, it is not the shade that lasts for future generations, but light. Still shining and casting a protective, life-preserving light over the ocean before it, the lighthouse continues to save souls of whom the original architects and builders could never have dreamed.

​A blessing indeed.

All tribes in the U.S. are currently claiming Alcatraz as belonging to them in accordance with the Treaty of Fort Laramie signed in 1868. The Treaty states all retired, abandoned, and out of use federal lands must be returned to the tribes. Since Alcatraz Penitentiary was closed in 1968 and the island officially declared as surplus federal property, Native Americans have fought for its return to tribal possession. 

We set off up the hill to explore the island. We were surprised that there were so many derelict buildings that had not been protected or preserved. We walked past the Warden's House that used to house the prison warden's and their families back in the day. It was in ruins, overgrown with weeds and now inhabited by scary seagulls, serious about defending their turf. At the top of the hill we came to the Power Station, similarly dilapidated. We peered through the broken window to see the furnaces that used to power the island with electricity. We ambled past the impressive water tower, several guard towers, a makeshift morgue and other brick buildings that included a solid outer wall signaling the fort that sat on Alcatraz before the prison was even conceived.  We eventually arrived at the main cell house where the prisoners of Azkaban, oops, Alcatraz, were held captive.

We continued to explore the island finishing up at the lighthouse with stunning views of the applauding city. On the day we were there, it happened to be September 11th and the flags were flying at half mast. To see the Stars and Stripes proudly flying brought a lump to my throat as I remembered that fateful day 22 years ago when Henry was just a newborn baby, just 6 months old. It was a scary day. To see the flag flying from Alcatraz on such a beautiful day over such a beautiful city reminded me of the grit and resilience of America and brought an unexpected feeling of hope for the future. ​

We set out in the dark, before dawn so that we could watch the sun rise through the fog over the Golden Gate Bridge. It was chilly and clear as we left Petaluma, but the closer we got to the bay, the foggier it became. 

First we drove to the Golden Gate Bridge Vista Lookout on the Marin County side of the bay but it was so dark and foggy, we could barely see the bonnet of the truck. We got out, looked blankly into the fog, laughed, got back in the truck and headed for the bridge.

In the eerie morning fog, the ghostly Golden Gate Bridge loomed up before us, as if we were traveling across the sky.

We headed to Baker Beach, still in the dark, parked up, walked to the beach which was deserted except for a lone fisherman we could barely make out in the distance, and waited for dawn with our hot coffees. I walked the length of the beach to get as close a view of the bridge as possible and as the sun rose and the fog cleared a little, it was a magnificent sight to see the iconic "International Orange" of the Golden Gate Bridge stretching across San Francisco Bay. ​

​A memorable morning!

We spent the rest of the day doing a mini tour of the city. We drove to Lands End and stopped for yet another incredible view of the bay, just as the fog was lifting, then on to Golden Gate Park where we stopped to see the Murphy Windmill, the largest windmill in the world when it was built in 1908. From there we drove through the arts district of Haight-Ashbury to check out the Grateful Dead House which was the communal home and headquarters of the band from 1966 to 1968 and has since been designated an Historical Landmark. We sought out the pastel-painted Victorian homes known as the "Painted Ladies" standing shoulder to shoulder on the slopes of Steiner Street on the edge of  Alamo Square. 

We continued driving the city (not like Ken Block), enjoying the rise and fall of the streets, as if we were teetering and toppling over the edge at the top of a roller coaster. San Francisco   felt familiar as we had seen it so often in films and TV shows. We enjoyed looking out for the parking meters touched by Adrian Monk and Mrs. Doubtfire's house. We stopped for a stroll around the Palace of Fine Arts down by the marina. Built in 1915 for the Panama-Pacific International Exposition, the extravagant, neoclassical icon stood with a quiet dignity, the idyllic pond still and serene, even the grey herons were sleeping with their heads tucked under their wings. It was very quiet down there. Nevertheless, Kim and Henry were keeping a beady eye open for robbers and car jackers.

The journey back over the Golden Gate Bridge at the end of the day was much clearer and we could see the two 746-foot tall towers of the spectacular suspension bridge in all their glory.

In the very heart of Los Angeles, you can find The Last Bookstore. It is not literally the last bookstore in the city, but it is the largest and quirkiest and definitely worth visiting, even if it is just to inhale the delicious and intoxicating smell of all the used and new books spread over two floors and 22,000 square feet. Yummmmm!

In a world of technology and a need for speed, there is something ever so comforting about slowly wandering around shelves of books, fingering the spines, selecting something old and familiar that launches magical memories as you turn the pages with a gentle sigh, or finding something totally new that fills you with anticipatory delight, to satisfy the senses and engage the imagination. I was on the lookout for The Fourth Wing as it was recommended by a dear friend, but alas, it was out of stock.

The Last Bookstore is offbeat and unconventional with some amusing features. There is a room full of rare and desirable vinyl records, a tunnel made of books, hidden rooms that were originally bank vaults, revealing the history of the old building, little art shops and studios, a gorgeous cafe, loads of comfy chairs and sofas, hidden nooks and crannies with more obscure and rare volumes, creative themed displays and so much more. I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into a Wonderland of curiosities. I couldn't help smiling like a Cheshire Cat.

To get to the bookstore we had a fun journey through central Los Angeles enjoying the short trip on Angel's Flight, a railway ride that has been an LA landmark since 1901, we passed by the Bradbury Building, a filming location for the movie "Blade Runner" and then enjoyed the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of the Grand Central Market with all the trendy little food stalls. Short stories in their own right. 

A jolly good day!

Everything about The Broad in Los Angeles is contemporary, edgy and disruptive. On purpose.

First of all, the name of the museum caused me immediate confusion. It is pronounced BRODE to rhyme with rode, and not as I expected which was BROAD to rhyme with Ford, as in something wide. Opened in 2015, the museum was named after philanthropist Eli Broad, who definitively pronounced his name BRODE. And so it is.

In a white honeycomb-style building, the museum houses the very best in contemporary, post 1970 art. 

​The touring exhibition at the museum was Keith Haring; Art is For Everybody and we delighted in his colorful, dynamic, NYC graffiti style of painting that reminded me of dancing Rowntrees Jelly Babies. I personally enjoyed the pieces with bold hearts symbolizing inclusion, acceptance, love and compassion, but I also enjoyed watching the discomfiture of some visitors who were not expecting the vivacious and explicit images of penises, homosexuality, AIDS awareness and a clear opinion that was relentlessly anti-patriarchy. 

I was thrilled to see "Stare," a piece by Jenny Saville, a British artist I have admired for years and follow avidly on Instagram. It was exceptional. Her provocative work has found the perfect home at The Broad. At auction, her groundbreaking fleshy and voluptuous self portrait in rich oils called "Propped" sold at Sotheby's for $12.4 million making her the world's most expensive female living artist at auction. Check it out here. Ahhhhhmazing!

Henry and Kim enjoyed the Jeff Koons' balloon exhibits, especially the "Balloon Dog (Blue)." The "Tulips" in bright Jolly Rancher colors was spectacular. Playing with color, size and scale, the bright and shiny sculptures in mirror-polished stainless steel with a transparent color coating are so much fun and deservingly Insta-popular.

We saw plenty of Warhol, Lichtenstein, Wool, an oversized table and chairs installation by Robert Therrien called "Under the Table,"  a deceptively brilliant Jasper Johns American Flag and the creative wizardry of Jean-Michel Basquiat, a fave of Jay-Z.

The hype for this museum is deserved. I loved all the exhibiting artist's "disgruntled pelicans" defiance, creativity and disruptive vibe.  

Today I saw a flux capacitor in a DeLorean, an original Ford Model-T, Lightning McQueen, a Tesla truck, a Popemobile, a variety of high performance race cars including McClarens, Lamborghinis and Ferraris, the Little Miss Sunshine VW Camper, the Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo and a shiny green Supercharged Jaguar XKR with a mounted machine gun and other Q gadgetry last seen in the James Bond movie "Die Another Day" screeching flat out across the ice to save Jinx (Halle Berry) from drowning inside a sinking ice palace. Phew!

Oh, the drama!

Every time we are in LA, we always visit the Petersen Automotive Museum and it never disappoints.

We also got to tour inside The Vault and see the latest Petersen exhibit, "We Are Porsche."

​Being from the UK, I am used to being fascinated by cars, almost against my will, as an avid watcher of Top Gear. My love for cars is inexplicable. I still have an unaccountable affection for the 1963 Opel Kadett that Richard Hammond christened "Oliver" in the Botswana Special. Oh, and by the way, that is the best Top Gear episode ever! Like, EVER! Jezza, the Hamster and Captain Slow rate the Petersen as “the world’s greatest automotive museum.” Praise indeed!

​And on that bombshell...

I have to say, this museum is pure joy for anyone who loves beautiful things, exquisite design, luxurious detailing, mind-blowing engineering, futuristic, sleek, space agey vibes and Willy-Wonka-esque creativity. It is luxuriously, gobstoppingly brilliant!

Henry has a passion for cars and is a true Petrolhead. As we're driving along on our Grand Adventure, he will randomly yell out things like, "R8, E30 M3, L33," as colorful cars whizz by. So the Petersen was naturally top of his list of "Things To Do in LA." 

​The future is electric!

On a hill in Angels Gate Park, overlooking the Pacific, with views all the way to Catalina, sits the Korean Friendship Bell. Away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles in this peaceful park in San Pedro, we joined with other locals in flying our kite in the strong ocean breeze, high above the beautiful pagoda housing the bell.

The huge bell weighs 17 tons, is 3.6 meters tall (12 feet) and is made out of copper, tin with a little gold, nickel, lead and phosphorous mixed in to enrich the tone and quality of the finish. It was given to the people of Los Angeles by the people of the Republic of Korea in 1976 in honor of the veterans of the Korean War, to celebrate the bicentennial of U.S. independence, and as a token of friendship between the two countries. The bell does not have a clapper and is rung by a huge log being released to batter the bell from the outside. It is patterned after the Bronze Bell of King Songdok, which was cast in 771 A.D. and is still on view in South Korea today. It is intricate and beautiful.

On the first Saturday of every month the bell is rung at 11.30a.m. It is also rung on other special occasions.

When the bell is rung, it is like a prayer being sent up, out over the Pacific Ocean, vibrating in a language that anyone can understand and receive.