It was a relief to get away from Los Angeles and the Democrats and get to see some real California. The man who said LA was umpteen suburbs in search of a centre was right. Downtown is dreary.
The first view of the ocean at the end of the Santa Monica Freeway was liberating. The plan was to stick beside the Pacific all the 450 miles to San Francisco by following Route 1.
First stop Malibu for lunch. Barbra Streisand's Point Dume home where Bill Clinton had just raised $10 million for his presidential library was somewhere on top of the cliffs.
The local paper was full of the event but also had an item about a "horse abuser" who was pleading guilty to two counts of "sexual abuse on animals". You can buy a "fabulous villa" with ocean view, a pool, four bedrooms and three bathrooms for under £700,000 and be a neighbour of Barbra but don't keep horses.
Santa Barbara further up the coast was the first overnight but on a Friday evening, hotel rooms were hard to get and expensive. Hotels in the US charge what they like when they like.
But at last, a swim in the ocean off Leadbetter Beach. There were few other swimmers. The water is too cold for most Americans.
The old Spanish mission on the hillside is the only one of the 18th century Franciscan missions along the California coast still in use as a monastery. How these friars walked up through California from Mexico over 200 years ago founding missions is recounted in the museum. You soon realise why so many of the place names are Spanish. California was Spanish and later Mexican until "invaded" and seized by the US in 1846.
The monastic simplicity of the Franciscan mission contrasted with the opulence of Hearst Castle at San Simeon further up the coast. This is where the newspaper baron built his Casa Grande on top of a hill on the family ranch and stuffed it full of art treasures from Europe. Oddly enough the facade of the main house with its twin towers is modelled on the mission churches. The indoor swimming pool reeks of Roman decadence but no chance of a dip there.
The castle gets 6,000 visitors a day. Orson Welles's film, Citizen Kane, was based on the life of Hearst but he never got near Casa Grande and the guide tells you that Hearst with his powerful Hollywood connections ensured that Welles's career was all downhill afterwards.
Hearst entertained the famous at the castle where he lavished every luxury on his guests but they had to obey rules, one of which was no drinking in the bedrooms. And if you drank too much at the meals in the "refectory" you were soon on your way down the mountain past the lions and bears in the private zoo.
The road from San Simeon to Carmel clung to the steep mountain ranges of Big Sur country - for 130 twisting miles with glorious sea and mountain views. If you wanted to get married on the way, Ric Masten, "Unitarian minister and nationally known poet performs unique Big Surstyle outdoor wedding ceremonies" or Penny Vieregge would "develop your ceremony to celebrate your joy as you move to a deeper level of commitment."
Our next move was to Carmel where Clint Eastwood hangs out and was once mayor. He was out of town at the time promoting his new film in which he plays a 70-year-old astronaut. "Just make my day," he presumably tells the cowering Martians.
Carmel has another lovely mission church where Father Junipero Serra who founded the first nine missions is buried. Presidents and Pope John Paul 11 have come to honour this amazing missionary who was once the most important man in California. But whether the Spanish newcomers were good for the local Indian tribes they evangelised is still controversial.
Around the headland from pristine Carmel with its pretty boutiques and lush golf courses is Monterey, once the capital of California and where Thomas Larkin from Boston, who must have been Irish, was the first US consul to Mexico. His colonial-style house and contents are preserved as a museum.
But nearby Cannery Row is definitely a bigger tourist attraction although the sardines which once made its fame and fortune have long since been fished out. John Steinbeck wrote about the hard life of the cannery workers who were at various times Chinese, Japanese, Italian and Portuguese as well as Americans.
The Monterey Aquarium is also famous for its exotic fish but short of time, I opted for a whale hunt out in the bay. We found a gigantic blue whale which obligingly kept surfacing and blowing off for the tourist cameras before diving down to gobble up literally tons of tiny plankton. Definitely no harpoons allowed and instead our skipper lectured about how we should help save the whales.
Monterey to San Francisco was the last lap. The Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz prison island were veiled in fog which is normal at this time of the year. Even so, you had to book three days in advance to get out to Alcatraz because of all the damned tourists.
A young Irish student from Mallow stationed on Fisherman's Wharf could get you onto Alcatraz the same day for an extra $10, he whispered confidentially. That would mean $25 altogether to peep into Al Capone's cell.
If only Kilmainham Jail had been built on Dalkey Island.