3,000 miles of Western highway, 18 days, 2 kids

By Beth J. Harpaz

Associated Press Travel Editor

updated 1:09 p.m. ET June 21, 2006

Day 1: My family embarks on the classic American vacation -- a road trip, obsessively planned out over 18 days in three-hour blocks. We fly today from New York to California, then will drive 3,000 miles through six states, with stops in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Disneyland, Universal Studios and Las Vegas. Plus the Grand Canyon, Yosemite and 10 other national parks -- not that I'm counting.

I expect it will be something like my favorite stupid movie, "National Lampoon's Vacation" -- minus the dead aunt in the back seat. Yes, we are headed to Walleyworld. And when we get there, it will be closed.

Did I mention that I hate the nomad life? That I like my socks in the same drawer when I wake up each morning? That I am appalled by the idea of extracting my children's underwear -- or worse, someone else's -- from underneath hotel beds?

When we reach the Grand Canyon, I may have to throw myself in.

Day 2: We reserved a small rental car to save money, but, joy, no small cars available! We're forced to get a minivan with three rows of seats, even though my husband Elon says he can't see out the rear window to park. Minor detail! What's important is that each child has his own row. We'll skip lunch for a week to pay for the extra gas.

I've read that Mark Twain did not say, as is alleged, that the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. But it's true for us. It's 55 degrees and we're wearing all the clothes we brought -- and I mean all of them at once, layering T-shirts over tank tops, shivering as we sightsee.

We're staying with our cousin, who lives a block from Haight-Ashbury, but I'd rather not explain to the kids why that's cool. We do Golden Gate Park and Fisherman's Wharf, eat great cheap Mexican food at Los Hermanos (2026 Chestnut St.) and great expensive dim sum at Yank Sing (in the Rincon Center). Our cousin is a real-life private detective and points out homicide scenes as we drive around. As New Yorkers, we feel right at home.

Day 3: Every place we go here looks like a different planet. Today we are on the Planet of the Giant Redwoods, better known as Muir Woods. We wake up very early (we're still on New York time) and arrive long before the crowds. The forest is magically quiet as we walk the easy loop to Cathedral Grove. Just as we leave, a tour bus arrives, breaking the spell.

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Next stop, Point Reyes National Seashore. We hike for a couple hours, past abandoned ranch houses and along the bluffs near Tomales Point, overlooking the coast. Suddenly we notice the elk. Dozens of them, all around. They blend in so well with the brown and yellow brush, you almost can't see them until you're next to them. Then they take off in thrilling stampedes.

Day 4: Santa Cruz amusement park. Nathaniel, who is 7, likes it better than all the big theme parks because he's tall enough to go on nearly every ride here.

Day 5: Yosemite and our biggest challenge yet: Stifling road rage while crawling up mountains behind RVs going 10 mph. Did I mention that the parking lots are all filled? The long lines for food? The crowded valley floor? It's almost like being in New York.

The good news: Great buffets at Curry Village Lodge, and a perfect family hike to Sentinel Dome. We practically have the place to ourselves -- unheard of in the summer in Yosemite -- as we climb the trail for a phenomenal view of the famous peaks Half Dome and El Capitan.

The bad news: Coming down, we lose the trail. Trees everywhere. But no path. And no one to ask.

After 15 minutes of bushwhacking, we spot a fanny pack and a Maui T-shirt through the woods. Thank God for tacky tourists. We tail Maui Man to the parking lot.

No trip to Yosemite is complete without lunch at the Whoa Nellie Deli, a famous eatery next to an unassuming Mobil station in the town of Lee Vining, east of Yosemite near Tioga Pass. Best lobster taquitos for 500 miles.

Day 6: On to Muir Woods' sister planet, Sequoia, to see the largest trees on earth -- the General Grant tree, the General Sherman tree ... or as our eldest son Danny regards them, the Generally Boring trees. This city boy can't take another woodsy moment; he runs back to the car.

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