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Published: January 29th 2018
It was a strange feeling to begin our journey departing from Australia as opposed to England. Our open-ended travel plans for Central America and the US had a very different feel to it this time around. The plan was to treat the first two weeks as a holiday before the real backpacking started- with all that it entails.
The first job upon arrival on Oahu was to pick up the hire car and I was looking forward to driving on the serene, deserted roads of this paradise island about which I’d heard so much. It became immediately evident that I’d been misinformed; the reality of downtown Honolulu at rush-hour is an entirely different proposition to the one described to me – it was like the wacky races and accelerating on the slip road to join in was similar to the initial stage of a rollercoaster ride. ‘I’m nervous for you’ was how my fearless travelling companion summed things up.
I had researched a lot of things to do in Hawaii and we had a full itinerary planned for each day; one of the first things on the to-do-list was to visit the Pearl Harbour memorial where the USS Arizona
and the USS Missouri are the main sites on display. We boarded a ferry across to where the Arizona still sits on the bottom of the harbour floor with almost 1000 people remaining entombed onboard. The memorial sits above the wreck which was destroyed after the Japanese attack on 7 December 1941, a day in which more than 2400 people were killed. A day earlier, the battleship had been filled with nearly 1.5 million gallons of oil, and despite almost eight decades passing, the ship still leaks between two and nine quarts of oil into the bay every day
Next up was the USS Missouri which was an impressive sight. Covering the length of three football pitches, the vessel was the chosen location for the ceremony in which the Japanese signed their declaration of surrender from World War Two, in Tokyo Bay on 2 September 1945.
Our favourite day in Oahu was spent at Kualoa Ranch, which is a private reserve used as a location for many tv shows and films including Jurassic Park and Lost. We booked a tour that included a look at various production sets, a jungle tour and a catamaran trip. The highlights were
the boat cruise, in which we sailed through a stunning bay where up to 10,000 Hammerhead sharks breed every year and the final hike up to a spectacular viewpoint looking over the Ka’awa Valley.
Over the next few days, we drove around the entire circumference of the island, taking in sights such as
the beautiful Byodo-in-temple and the surf town of North Shore and its world famous Banzai Pipeline. Being the film geek that I am, Hawaii set the tone for what became a bit of an odyssey of filming locations in the States, starting with a demented obsession with finding the different beaches from Lost. Melissa wanted to return to the car after a trek that was becoming far too arduous, but I declared that ‘we’d come too far to turn back.’ As if we were a month into an expedition to the North Pole.
Driving over to the west coast of the island, we couldn’t believe that a large part of the shoreline has been transformed into a scenic skid row, with families living in cars among makeshift shanty towns that have developed over the years. These beachside favelas stretch along the coast for several miles;
it's a shocking sight and completely at odds with the images of ukuleles, surfing, cocktails and sunsets that are more commonly associated with the Aloha state.
Back in Waikiki, we were finally able to experience a sunset cruise following the previous day’s cancellation due to inclement weather. It was worth the wait though with perfect conditions offering clear views of Waikiki Bay and Honolulu, we were even witnesses to a rare ‘green flash’; the optical illusion created when the sun momentarily changes colour as it disappears into the ocean.
The biggest source of the budget drain, as ever, was entertainment and we had several big nights out in Honolulu. After these overindulgences, we resorted to eating at the Steak Shack as Melissa’s austerity measures kicked in. Breakfast remains value for money though; mountains of food complemented with a pint of refillable coffee.
We left Oahu behind after spending a fantastic week on the island and headed to the Californian City of San Diego. Our chosen accommodation was the same USA hostel we stayed at in 2001; situated slap bang in the middle of the Gaslamp Quarter, the heart of the City's nightlife district. We arrived at night
after a five-hour flight from Honolulu, and the following morning picked up our hire car from an understaffed branch of Hertz. After finally exiting - minus a Sat-Nav - we headed across the Coronado bridge separating the town of Coronado with the City of San Diego. The absence of a navigation system or map was an inconvenience that we couldn’t compensate for though, and there was never going to be a positive outcome resulting from Melissa’s insistence that I ‘follow my nose’. So, after wasting a couple of hours driving around aimlessly as the frequent ‘differences of opinion’ contributed to the atmosphere in the car rapidly plummeting to sub-zero levels, we thankfully managed to pick one up from a more professionally run branch of Hertz.
Over on Coronado, we visited the famous Hotel del Coronado; a vast Victorian building opened in 1888 which boasts a shopping arcade and an ice rink on the beachfront. Afterwards, we drove north to Point Loma, the location of the Cabrillo national monument which commemorates the landing of Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo at San Diego Bay in 1542, the first European to step foot on the West Coast of the United States.
Christmas day
was spent at San Diego Zoo, followed by a traditional Christmas dinner in an Irish pub with an American couple who were both currently serving in the military and stationed at Coronado. She was about to move to Germany and he was an ex-Green Beret who was moving to Qatar. Or ex-Green berry as some people might say...... Jerry the Green Berry.
The journey up the I5 highway from San Diego to Los Angeles only confirmed the lunacy of the driving conditions here. If Melissa was twitchy about driving in downtown Honolulu, then Los Angeles was about to cause some severe trauma. I pitched the idea that she might be more comfortable travelling in the boot to save her from the anguish, but that proposal was met with an emphatic no. The navigation system had been rendered useless at this point and a clairvoyant was what was ideally required. The six-lane highways had exit signs on both the left and the right, the exits split into two and sometimes the turnoffs were in the middle of a row of directions. Manoeuvring from one lane to another at the last minute always makes you popular, especially when surrounded by what
felt like a million angry Angelino commuters. At one point there were more signs on display than lanes, and I was convinced that we were experiencing perfect conditions to ensure a wrong turn and subsequent carjacking in Compton.
After arriving in Hollywood, we went straight to Lake Hollywood for a look at the sign and then to Griffith Observatory for sunset. Our hostel was one of the best we’ve ever stayed in; an oasis located just a block from the madness of Hollywood Boulevard. Having the car allowed us to visit parts of the city that were inaccessible the last time we were here as poor, destitute backpackers. Taking advantage of the hire car, we drove out to Malibu, which has some fantastic beaches overlooked by clifftop mansions, but a lot of the parks and walking trails are in disrepair, and most of the area looked neglected which was a surprise considering that it has a reputation for being such an affluent suburb. Melissa had already made her mind up that we were guaranteed to see a Hollywood celebrity or two and the next few hours spawned some extremely dubious ‘sightings’. I’m still convinced that I saw Harrison Ford
picking his nose in 7/11 though.
We drove from Malibu down the Santa Monica Freeway to Marina del Ray where I found the Bluth Banana Stand from Arrested Development (Filming Location) and then made our way back through Venice and Santa Monica. The Venice canals are a network of waterways located a couple of blocks back from the beach and the houses had been elaborately decorated for a residents’ Christmas competition. On the return trip through Venice, we passed Gold’s Gym, where Arnie first made his name in the Pumping Iron documentary. The Santa Monica pier was disappointing; it’s old, tired-looking, overcrowded, tacky and wouldn’t look out of place in Blackpool; we regretted the fact that we’d spent at least an hour looking for a parking lot nearby.
On the way home, we called into the Nakatomi Plaza from Die Hard which, in reality, is Fox studios’ offices. Shortly after taking a few photos, we were shooed away by a security guard who was a doppelganger of Lennox Lewis. If security would’ve been as on the ball back in the eighties, Hans Gruber wouldn’t have got a look in, and John McClane would’ve been free to enjoy the
party.
That night we had a night out on the Sunset Strip, to see a live band at the world-famous Whiskey-a-go-go and, giddy from being in such a legendary venue, we proceeded to get smashed. There are signs in every bar informing the public that anyone who looks under the age of 40 will be asked for ID. At no point were we challenged to produce any documents, despite offering frequently. Bit offensive that. The evening ended on a sour note in the Roosevelt Hotel as a ‘merry’ Melissa, who by this point had started to resemble the thing from the Grudge, managed to fall off a bar stool onto her head and, as we were to discover the next day, lose the most precious possession in her life – the phone. As the prospect of living without her life-enhancing gadget was completely unthinkable for her, we bought the hungover wreck a new one. Ah well, it was only an extra $400 extracted from the budget - meaning that I'm due approximately 400 beers in Mexico in return.
In an Irish bar next to the Whiskey, we were forewarned against ever going to Mexico by a paranoid barmaid
who seemed to sum up the general feeling of the number of Americans we had met so far in relation to their Southern neighbours. The image portrayed by their media is that the country is a cross between IS strongholds in the Middle East, rough parts of Westeros, and hell. The recent travel warning from the US government in which the state department has issued US citizens with a strict ‘do not travel’ advisory for five states in Mexico has done nothing to alleviate fears.
After learning that it was possible to get up close to the Hollywood sign, we decided to try to drive back up Mount Lee, through a residential neighbourhood to a recommended location. After weaving our way through narrow streets that snaked their way through the Hollywood Hills, it became apparent that the authorities had sussed the viewpoint out and had put diversions in place to avoid a build-up of traffic in the area. Angry residents had understandably had enough of the daily influx of tourists turning their driveways into parking lots. That will happen if you live in close proximity to one of the most famous landmarks on earth though I suppose.
Our
enforced detour led us onto Mulholland Drive where we began tagging along behind the stream of tour buses in the area, reasoning that they would be probably stopping at places of interest. The fact that we had no idea what they were pausing for or talking about did not deter us. (Probable filming locations).
After debating whether to revisit Universal Studios, Paramount or Disneyland, we settled on the Warner Brothers’ Studio tour in Burbank and booked onto the final tour of the day which encompassed access to sets from Friends, Gremlins, True Blood, Blazing Saddles, National Lampoon’s Vacation, Casablanca amongst many others. (Multiple filming locations). This was our last day in the States and the following morning, we dropped the car off at LAX and boarded a flight down to Baja California Sur; the holiday part of the trip was over, and it was time to commence our Central American adventure.
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Claire
non-member comment
Great stuff
Great stuff