Why You Should Take the Scenic Route in Life

From time to time in life, you need to slow the pace.

Last Summer, I drove from Seattle to San Francisco. I could have taken the motorway and completed the trip in a day, but I decided to take Highway 101, the scenic route that runs between both cities, as it closely hugs the Pacific Ocean coastline. It was a thrilling and heavenly experience.

As I left Seattle, Mount Rainer sat stoically, majestically, in the distance. It had finally stopped playing hide and seek. Due to the weather, I hadn’t been able to see it during my stay in the city. Here it was now, seemingly indomitable, as proud as a peacock, beaconing for me to come its way. I settled in for the long drive. My first stop: Cannon Beach on the Oregon Coast.

I got there early afternoon and at once recognized the famous black stone mound jutting out of the Pacific Ocean. Known as Haystack Rock, it is a 72 metre (235ft) sea stack in the ocean. The sight was of mesmerising beauty — paradisiac in nature. It took my breath away.

I headed toward the beach, my eyes fixed in admirative contemplation at Hasystack Rock and other stone formations that lay ahead. Inspiration flooded my every pore, I knew that here I could write volumes of poetry and prose, it was a spectacular place.

I must have taken a thousand pictures before heading into the village itself. I was again impressed by the colorful, wooden cottages, a little reminiscent of New England. Mouth-watering aromas streamed out of the many restaurants and coffee shops— I could detect the unmistakable delicous smell of clam chowder and other seafood specialities and delicacies.

The sun was low in the sky and I hopped in my car to pursue the rest of my trip. I needed to get to Lincoln City where I planned to spend the night. It was still a long drive. The scenic route right along the Pacific Coast made for the most gorgeous drive.

I stopped at every look-out, each one more tantalizing, more beautiful than the one before. Jagged cliffs stumbled into the turbulent waters with reckless abandon. Pine trees that had become permanently slanted after an eternity of strong winds, embraced the mounds and hills in abundance. And then below Highway 101 lay the ocean — at times calm, at times temptuous, but seemingly infinite, endless. The sun, like a skilled, experienced artist, painted orange and pink colours on nature as it gently disappeared behind the horizon.

The next day I awoke in Lincoln City, a inconspicuous seaside village. Families were heading towards the beach for a day of kite flying and sand castle building, their noisy, happy and excited children in tow. I decided to check out the outlet mall which was small but had some good brand names like North Face, Levis and Columbia. I got a few things. Before lunch, I was on my way again. Next stop were the Oregon Sand Dunes.

I pulled up in front of an ATV and four-wheel drive vehicle rental store. The popular activity in this part of the world was riding up the 100 metre (328 feet), high dunes. I couldn’t imagine that dunes could ever get that high, but due to a unique geological phenomenon, the weather here created the ideal conditions for the formation of these giant sand dunes.

After a short training, here I was on a two-wheel buggy, vertically climbing some of the highest dunes in the world. After the somewhat scary climb, the drop was exhilarating — adding to the fun, excitement and uniqueness of the experience. To safeguard conservation efforts, part of the domain was restricted, but I still had plenty of room to tackle the dunes, and manage my ascents and descents like an expert rally driver. I felt like a child, unencumbered by any worry, as I played around in devilish, almost feverish content.

I crossed the state line into California. And again, the Pacific Ocean, like the faithful companion that it had been for most of my trip, remained. I looked around at the beautiful scenery, at the calm and peacefulness that reigned all around me. The road wasn’t busy, no big trucks or impatient drivers seeking to over take me. A crazy thought crossed my mind: “ And what if I just stopped and stayed here for the rest of my life?” There was something magical about the place, I felt serene, at peace, in symbiosis.

I spent the night in Eureka, California. It’s very much a transit town, so lots of noise and large trucks. I craved the silence and tranquility I had experienced earlier. The next day, I headed to Redwood Forests to discover the world’s tallest trees. Boy was I in for a huge — not a play on words — surprise. The magnificence and grandeur of these skyscraper-tall centuries old trees was mesmerising.

I sat in the forest for hours, contemplating their longevity, their uniqueness. I was accutely aware that I was in the presence of greatness. As the wind blew through the corridors of the forest, the leaves sang jubilantly. I gently pressed my ears to the trees’ trunks and thought I heard them whisper proverbs and fables steeped in wisdom of a time long gone.

I continued to drive down the coast. The Redwood Forests accompanied me for part of the way. They lay on the left while the Pacific Ocean was on my right. For a few miles, both mingled and offered me spectacular views that moved me to tears. There were vibrant hues of blue, green, yellow and red against a unique backdrop that only Mother nature could create. For me, this is what I imagined heaven would look like.

As I continued the drive, a ball of nervousness began to form in the pit of my stomach. I knew that the trip was nearing the end. All of a sudden, time seemed to pass by faster, the kilometres seemed to decrease at lightening speed. I was soon on a multiple lane motorway heading toward downtown San Francisco.

As impatient drivers hurried behind me, I was pressured to accelerate my pace. I missed the tranquilty and laid back drive of the scenic route. I was back in the world of high-pace, high-stress, high-speed, high-performance. It was unnerving.

I finally got to San Francisco and my first stop was the Golden Gate bridge. I’d seen the bridge in a million photographs, but standing right there and seeing it in 3D in all its splendour was well worth the drive. Downtown wasn’t teeming with crowds, but I guess that was because it was the middle of the summer.

I went to Fisherman’s Wharf — which was mainly filled with tourists, but it was exciting to see, and the atmosphere was nice. After a bowl of clam chowder, I made my way to Chinatown to explore the million and one boutiques carrying an “Ali Baba-like” assortment of Chinese foods, arts and crafts. I heard that it was the biggest Chinatown in the world — and it certainly looked liked it.

A trip to San Francisco wouldn’t have been complete without a ride on the cable car. So I purchased a few tickets and spent the rest of the afternoon riding up and down the steep hills so characteristic of the city. I spotted the colourful Victorian-style houses set against the backdrop of Alcatraz and the Pacific Ocean — the city was indeed a beautiful sight to behold.

I thought back to the many different ways I could have come to San Francisco. The easiest and fastest way would have been a direct flight from Seattle. It would have taken me a couple of hours. The next would have been the motorway which would have taken me a day. I took the scenic route and it took me 3 full days to travel between both cities.

Some would argue, why waste so much time? But did I really waste time? What do you think? For me, it was the trip of a lifetime. I saw beauty so grand, I played like a child with reckless abandon in the sand dunes, and I stood in awe and admiration at the tallest trees in the world!

I came away from the trip with enough inspiration to last me a lifetime. For me, as a writer, that is key. So no, I did not waste my time. In those three days, I lived a million and one lives thoroughly immersed in the beauty of nature. Today, I am richer with creativity and ideas — I am inspired. If you can, you too should try to take the scenic route from time to time. It will change your life forever.