Highway 1 along California's coast is more than a road – it's a greatest-hits album of American landscapes. I rented a convertible in San Francisco and let the Pacific Ocean be my soundtrack for five days of driving, stopping whenever the view demanded attention.

Big Sur lived up to every cliché – mist rolling through cypress trees, waves crashing against sea stacks, Bixby Bridge's elegant arch spanning a canyon above a river that seemed to be falling into the ocean. I hiked to McWay Falls, watching water cascade 80 feet onto a beach accessible only at low tide.

Monterey Bay's aquarium revealed the ocean's secrets – sea otters floating on their backs eating sea urchins, kelp forests swaying in manufactured currents, sardine balls spiraling like living silver coins. Cannery Row's converted factories now housed tourist shops, but the bay itself remained gloriously unchanged.

Santa Barbara brought wine tasting and mission bells, Santa Monica's pier brought rollercoaster screams, and Malibu brought endless beaches dotted with surfers awaiting the perfect wave. Los Angeles surprised me with its unexpected pockets of beauty – and its inevitable traffic that taught patience I'd never known I needed.

– Carmel