One Way Or Another

OK, yesterday I mentioned some disappointment in the scenic Pacific Coast Highway.  We headed north on good old Highway 1, and we saw a crowded place.  We knew, and later conformed by walking all the way out to the sea, that the water and the beach itself were beautiful.  But, as we drove along yesterday, we could see very little from the road.  All those houses side-by-side, like row houses blocked the view we had anticipated.  The beach towns have grown and cover up more of nature's beauty as well.  

But today, we turned left (south) and headed for Laguna Beach.  What we anticipated was finding another beach town, this one a little more fun to walk around in; but sprawling, just the same.  But on the way, we saw several stretches of gorgeous beach, and even a few actual surfers.  It was a beautiful sight, but as we made that drive, we also saw the hills rising up on our left--away from the beach.  These steep hills are covered with houses, hanging onto the side of the hills.  All of their owners probably relish the view from their porches or giant windows.  But they have to wonder at times if it will all come tumbling down--we sure did.  

In the end, I concluded there are still spots where the view from the Pacific Coast Highway is magical.  I have also concluded I like my own coast.  It seems a bit less crowded to me, and the very hills that rise from the beaches of the Pacific in southern California actually contribute greatly to the crowding.  Hundreds of homes can be built on the hills and "own" a part of the magnificent view.  The Low Country of the Southeastern coast, by contrast, allows only the first two or three rows of houses to even catch a glimpse of the ocean.  Hence, once past the third row in, there is no need for everyone to crowd into the limited space there in order to "own" some of that view.  It is simply physically impossible.  

As I mentioned, we headed for Laguna Beach in order to see the town as well.  It is a long, rambling beachfront, and its main drag goes up and down the hills and bluffs.  There is hardly a time when you can say "it's all downhill from here."  Every block has an up and a down stretch, perhaps two.  We parked at one end of the town and backtracked for a couple of miles from there, going up and down every hundred steps or so.  Once we tired of all that walking and headed back to our car, we quite naturally hoped to reach a point where "it all downhill from there."  We reached that point about fifty yards from the car, and not until then.  

I re-learned an important fact I probably learned when I was a toddler, there are times you need to look where your feet are going.  On reflection, the lesson I re-learned can be explained like this: 

Gawking and walking should not be combined.

Very soon you can expect to be on your behind.  

As I gawked and walked both at the same time,

I had so many close calls, I made up this rhyme.