The Pacific Coast Welcomes Us

Morro Rock beckons.

For seven weeks, the deserts of New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, and Nevada have purified us. We traveled from the stunning gypsum dunes of White Sands National Park to the sandstone arches and slickrock of Moab, to the red clay and flawless dream-blue skies of Kanab, to the exotic birdsong of saguaro forests. We stretched our legs in Red Rock Canyon before the flaming cliff faces of the dawn hour before slipping deeper into the Mojave to walk with the burnt and dead Joshua Trees. We were only in California for a few hours before nipping back north into Nevada for a night. On Tuesday, we greeted daybreak in Death Valley National Park, and by 9:30, we were facing the white-capped Sierra Nevada Range.

Driving south and then west, we stopped at a farm stand outside Bakersfield amid orange groves. Even though we were two hours from the coast, I could smell the ocean. It was one of the gifts the desert had given me.

By mid-afternoon, we were in the Paso Robles wine country and b…