I’m still wondering why the hell I decided to do this - waking up at 5am in order to drive nearly 400 miles to Los Angeles. Having wound my way through the quiet streets of the South Bay, I’ve been barreling through the early morning fog on highway 152 with other early-morning motorists. I’m betting that they’re equally bewildered.

As the road gets towards Interstate 5, it winds gently up into the hills above the San Luis Reservoir. And just as I’m cresting the hills, the rock strata of the lake’s shores clearly visible away to my right, the sun crests over the peak directly in front of me.

It hits the last remaining wisps of fog clinging to the landscape and the roadway, turning them gold in sharp contrast to the blood-red of the rising sun. Everything is bathed in a multitude of colours.

It feels like someone rammed this 2-lane highway right through the middle of a newly-born Earth.

It’s magical, and it reminds me again of one of the biggest reasons that I love California. It’s big, and it’s truly beautiful.

All of a sudden, the drive feels like an adventure again.