Day 17 and 18: Universal Studios and the road to Santa Barbara

Day 17: Universal Studios

I was once told that a visit to Universal Studios would take the glamour out of the movies. Perhaps it’s because the presentation format has changed at Universal, but there were few secrets divulged and consequently few bubbles burst in terms of how all the magic happens.  Instead, we were thrown front and centre into the action. On our backlot tour, we were attacked by dinosaurs who thundered through the jungle and knocked our tram car about, hissed at us and showered us with their moist breath until we were rescued by King Kong who loomed enormous beside us and then thumped across the top of our car to annihilate T-Rex; our tram stalled on a bridge over a dry riverbed somewhere in the old southwest when suddenly, a flashflood put us in danger of being washed away. The water rushed down the riverbed toward us but took a sharp turn as it reached the bridge and flowed off through the nearby viaducts; we stopped unexpectedly in a subway tunnel. As happens frequently in Los Angeles, the ground began to shake and the walls heave. It was the big one! A subway car careening through the tunnel jumped its track and jackknifed sliding sideways toward us. It came to rest against a support pillar again keeping us from harm’s way but the ceiling then caved in and a vehicle from the street above slid into the tunnel. As suddenly as it had started the shaking stopped and we were able to leave the tunnel unscathed.  And, I’m not even going to tell you, although I’m sure you’ve heard, what happened when we went to Amity Island.

A live action performance of Waterworld demonstrated some astounding stunt and pyrotechnic techniques that had stunt actors falling meters into the water, spinning refitted Sea-doos around the lagoon, nosing them underwater, and flying them through grenade blasts. At the peak of the excitement a battered twin prop flew over the wall through a curtain of fire, landed in the lagoon and came to rest right in front of the first row of spectators. As amazing as all these scenes were, the most incredulous thing about them was the fact that they were being performed live. No re-takes, no out-takes, no post-production. No matter what happened on that set, there was no going back. That’s what kept me on the edge of my seat.

Then there was – The Simpsons - the roller coaster ride from hell. As your coaster clicks upward, Sideshow Bob destroys the roller coaster one section at a time. You careen down the steepest hills and bank around sharp turns when suddenly your car is in mid air because there is no more track beneath you, Then, you come crashing back down onto a still-standing part of the coaster and you are turned upside down as the structure is ripped out from under you. The technically cleaver thing about this attraction is that your car never really goes anywhere. Except for shaking and tipping and tilting of your seat, it’s all visual. There is no actual forward movement of your car along a track as in a real roller coaster. But that didn’t belay the stomach wrenching sensations of dropping hundreds of feet. It might have been a cartoon, but it’s a ride I won’t soon forget.

Taking the Grayline tour bus to and from Universal was well worth the $80 charge. Besides the Fantastic experience at the park, we had the opportunity to witness but not actually have to drive in Los Angeles freeway traffic.

Day 18: The drive to Santa Barbara



Redondo Beach Pier



From Anaheim, we headed for Redondo Beach by an inland route that took us through some less attractive parts of Los Angeles including the BP Refinery which was for lack of another term: ugly. From Redondo, we went north along the Pacific Coast Highway through one beach town after another. These beach areas had eclectic collections of building styles and were studded with sudden outcroppings of large power plants or oil and gas refineries.

But, the most colourful beach town was Venice Beach. Venice is not just a beach community with the usual half-clad surfers and bathers but also a blend of cultures from African American musicians hawking their home made CDs, to skaters trudging down the boardwalk with their pants literally below their butts, to break dancers and acrobats, to the hucksters of “medicinal Kush”.

We passed through many other beach areas including Malibu. However, with no sightings of Charlie, we decided to move on. At first dusky glance of Santa Barbara, it appears to be a very pretty, quaint city. I’m looking forward to seeing more of it tomorrow in daylight.

Until tomorrow. . . .