COASTAL ROAD TRIP

Nicola Venning and her family sampled the delights of the American Riviera – from surfing and seafood to hiking amid thousand-year-old trees

We grinned with childlike delight as the quaint steam train chugged through the ancient Californian forest. Originally used to haul logs, the 19th Century locomotive at Roaring Camp Railroad in Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park was now hauling my two usually cool-as-cucumber sons, husband and myself, up Bear Mountain past sky-high redwoods – a sublime reminder of just how varied the west coast of the United States is.

We had flown to San Francisco and, after a short break, picked up our Hertz hire car to start our tour down California’s west coast.

Our first stop was bohemian Santa Cruz, near Henry Cowell Redwoods SP. Tucking into tacos and beer in local funky Snap Taco cafe, I thought that despite our differences in ages and interests, this mixed-generation holiday might be OK. Then my energetic 21-year-old announced he fancied something “active”. When were we going surfing? I smiled valiantly. Surfing. Why not?

Mainland surfing may have originated in Santa Cruz but it really takes off at Pismo Beach, a popular holiday town with a gloriously wide bay of silky sand pounded by silvery waves. We drove three hours to Pismo, checked in at the perfectly positioned beachside SeaVenture Hotel, and the next day had our first-ever surfing lesson, courtesy of Central Coast Surf School. As I struggled into a wet suit, our 17-year-old instructor, a beach boy as at home in the ocean as a porpoise, patiently talked us through the basics.

Surfing, it transpires, is just like rock ’n’ roll. You lie on your surf board, jump to standing as a wave breaks, then twist. And shout as you fall off. Twist and shout. Again and again. The

A surfer at the glorious Pismo Beach