Flying in the face of terror

Laura Tanna

YOU KNOW me, the inveterate traveller. As soon as American Airlines announced they were back to normal flights on Monday September 17, I was in the air again and the only difference I noticed was that they gave us plastic eating utensils instead of metal ones. The pilot also announced that he would be leaving the seat belt sign on and if anybody desperately needed to use the bathroom during the first half hour, to use the aft one as NO ONE would be allowed to move towards the forward toilet during that period.

By the time I returned from Miami three days later, the captain no longer made that announcement. Even at the Miami airport, the only difference I noticed was that lines were shorter because of fewer passengers than normal, and tickets were checked again before passengers could put hand luggage through the metal/x-ray machines. Oh yes, there were also two great hulking big men with blue shirts which said Police Marshals who patrolled up and down outside the boarding gates. They looked like night-club bouncers rather than police in that they were huge, but not all that muscular, as though they'd been hired the day before for show. I think it was the shoulder length hair of the blonde one that didn't quite fit my image of the local policeman on his beat.

All in all, everyone was friendlier and more polite than usual, in communal recognition that we were glad to be alive and free to move about the world again. Actually I had my ticket because of those exceptionally inexpensive fares that one had to pay for earlier in the year, but if you feel like travelling, or need to do so, on either American Airlines or Air Jamaica, I wouldn't hesitate in the least. As a result of those fares, before tragedy struck in New York and Washington, we'd been to a place of such tranquillity that the thought of it now is all the more beautiful. Big Sur is California's wild coast, devoid of commercial signs or development, a lone roadway curving along cliff tops overlooking stretches of pristine beaches or sudden expanses of jagged rock where white surf sears the blue sky.

Only companions

Seagulls and sandpipers are sometimes your only companions for miles at a time. Hillsides rise beside you; an occasional house built onto a seemingly inaccessible nook leaves you wondering what kind of life it would be to live in such splendid isolation. And though US 1, not to be confused with the big Highway 101 which runs much further inland though US 1 is only two lanes, there are enough look out points so that one can stop along the way to soak up the atmosphere or take that prize winning photograph.

We'd flown into San Francisco, arriving late afternoon, rented a car and two hours later we were a hundred and twenty miles south, where the wild coast starts just below Monterey and Carmel. A little village called Big Sur along the way lends its name to that coastline. Our destination was San Simeon, media mogul William Randolph Hearst's castle, a further hundred and twenty miles south, so we pressed on even as a huge orange sun sank into the Pacific Ocean behind us.

Midway

San Simeon, exactly midway between San Francisco and Los Angeles, is definitely worth a visit. Overnight in nearby Cambria and take one, two or even all of the four wonderfully organised tours offered by the California State Parks which administers Hearst Castle ( www.hearst-castle.org <http://www.hearst-castle.org/>). But San Simeon deserves an article of its own.

Driving back up the coast to San Francisco, we stopped first at the Highlands Inn Park Hyatt on the Monterey Peninsula four miles south of Carmel and sauntered into the lobby to glimpse their spectacular coastline views. Pacifics Edge and The California Market are legendary restaurants, but a bit too rich for our luncheon tastes. Still, one wants to always know what the options are for the future. Ventanas, perched above the Big Sur coastline, is another famous inn, but there are smaller motels and camp grounds near the village of Big Sur.

We stopped in Carmel-by-the-Sea to explore the town of 4,444 people that boasted movie star Clint Eastwood as its mayor. A city ordinance outlaws high heels so comfortable walking shoes are the norm in what is a delightfully elegant little enclave of orderly tree-lined streets, adorned with flowers, and numerous boutiques, gift shops, restaurants and cafes, that is, if you're not actually sitting on the beach. You're either north or south of Ocean Avenue and west is always the beach. The average temperature ranges from a low of 40 to a high of 60 in January to a low of 52 and a high of 72 in September. 183 days a year you'll get some coastal fog in the morning or evening so for a change of pace, bring a sweater and be prepared to enjoy evenings sitting around a wood-burning fire. Movie fans will head for Clint Eastwood's Hogs Breath Inn on San Carlos between 5th and 6th below the Visitor Information Center. After enjoying a stroll through town, including the Carmel Plaza Shopping Center at Ocean and Junipero, we stopped at the obviously popular Caffe Napoli on Ocean Avenue between Dolores & Lincoln.

When my luncheon was spoiled by the inclusion of feta or goats milk cheese in the pasta, whose ingredients were listed as tomato sauce with basil and mozzarella cheese, the restaurant insisted that the entire meal should be on the house. Talk about graciousness! That gesture certainly made my day. Next time we head to California were going to stay in stress-free Carmel-by-the-Sea and Caffe Napoli will be our first stop!

P.S. To all those readers who called on the day of the tragedy out of concern for my mother who lives in lower Manhattan, thank you. We were very touched.

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