My teenagers demand something a bit more exciting than sand and sea from family summer holidays nowadays, and given their obsession with all things Kardashian, we decided on California this year. In fact, we plumped for a classic American road trip - driving along the Pacific Coast Highway (aka Route 1) from San Francisco to Los Angeles. It took Molly, Dylan and I three weeks to do it, and we fitted so much in during that time it's difficult to even do it justice. Navigating Route 1 from San Fran's iconic Golden Gate Bridge to LA, Jane Horrocks enjoys her road trip . San Francisco is known as America's most European city, possibly because you'll need to pack a fleece even in late July. The mist that rolls in off the sea and shrouds the Golden Gate Bridge most days can sometimes linger, but we never stayed still long enough to get cold. Based in the funky Hotel Zetta - where the foyer-come games room and bar is plastered with colossal photos of John Lennon and past guests of Alcatraz - we spent three days hurtling around the city, often clinging for dear life to the famous cable cars that haul you up and down the City's hills. We ate clam chowder from a bread bowl at Fisherman's Wharf, we trawled the boutiques of Haight Ashbury in search of the summer of love, we bussed out to the Golden Gate, and we wondered at the aquarium in Golden Gate Park. Jane travelled the scenic route, taking in beaches . And, fleeces on, we took the boat trip to Alcatraz, which is not to be missed. The brilliant audio guide that leads you around the prison is narrated only by men who were once guards or prisoners on the rock, making for an eerie and compelling tour. After trying to distil the city into only 72 hours, we climbed into our SUV and headed for Route 1. It's only about 350 miles as the crow flies between San Francisco and LA, but this (mostly) coastal route is probably well over 500 miles long as it winds through some of California's most wonderful, ever-changing scenery. Much of the highway has a 55mph speed limit and has only one lane in each direction - it's time to take your foot off the gas, relax and take it all in. My children said it reminded them of Dorset as we headed south past Santa Cruz and then nipped briefly into Monterey to dine in a seafront restaurant on the edge of Cannery Row, the waterfront district made famous in John Steinbeck's novel of the same name. At Dylan's insistence, we took a detour on to 17 Mile Drive, the scenic road around the Monterey Peninsula that leads to the world-famous Pebble Beach golf club. He was rather disappointed by the condition of the course there, but thrilled with the state of Quail Lodge and Golf Club, our first port of call just outside the pretty little town of Carmel. Even the non-golfers among us loved our luxurious bungalow at the edge of the course; secluded and tranquil, plush and green with a view of distant mountains. When the sound of silence got too much for us, just across the street at Valley Hills there was the excellent and lively Baja Cantina Mexican restaurant, and a wonderful deli too. Leaving Carmel, you find yourself at the edge of the spectacular area known as Big Sur: wild and often mountainous terrain battling it out with the equally wild Pacific. Dining in Cannery Row, the waterfront district made famous in John Steinbeck's novel of the same name . The road coils up and down cliffs and crosses cavernous gorges for almost 100 miles - incredibly dramatic but sometimes not for the faint-hearted. We stopped off at the Garrapata National Park, in a baking-hot and silent valley, where the crash of the waves was replaced by the hum of insects and the call of the buzzards wheeling overhead. This was a completely different wildness, underlined when Dylan narrowly avoided stepping on a basking rattlesnake. At the end of Big Sur you can encounter yet another type of wildness altogether in the form of the legendary Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo. Every bedroom is themed here - from Rock Bottom (it's a cave) to Old Mexico and the comparatively muted silver walls and flock wallpaper of our own Crystal Room. To call the Madonna Inn 'kitsch' is to do it a huge disservice, because it takes everything to a whole new level of eye-popping taste. Take the Gold Rush Steakhouse, which puts the shocking into pink. The whole place is furnished and upholstered in this garish shade, softened only by the presence of enormous gold chandeliers. You have to see it to believe it, but the food and service were fantastic. Big Sur: Where the wild and often mountainous terrain battles it out with the equally wild Pacific Ocean . We took a rare detour off Route 1 to the Danish settlement of Solvang, a sort of cutesy yet sinister re-creation of Denmark in the California sun, full of pastry shops and Chinese tourists. A little unnerved by this, we headed back to the safety of the highway and soon found ourselves in Santa Barbara. It's the classic California of posters and T-shirts, with infinitely long palm-lined streets with mountains at one end and the ocean at the other. We stayed at the beach side end of one such thoroughfare in the aptly named Harbor View Inn, and found great seafood at the end of the pier at Stearns Wharf opposite the hotel and at the fantastic Fishhouse just a couple of blocks along Cabrillo Boulevard. Over the rail tracks behind the inn is State Street, where you can find everything from Macy's and American Apparel to tattooists and cavernous bars advertising Punk Rock Bingo. The farmers' market closes the street on a Tuesday afternoon, offering up a Californian cornucopia of fruit, veg and other tasty treats. To the east of State Street is The Funk Zone, an old industrial area that is regenerating itself into a haven of restaurants, art galleries and wine-tasting rooms. Back on the road near San Simeon, you will see exotic animals on either side of the highway. Floundering on the beach are gigantic elephant seals - enormous specimens of blubbery ugliness hooting and honking and generally having a riot at the edge of the sea. Spectacular: An enormous neo-Classical marble swimming pool dominates Hearst's magnificent mansion . On the other side are zebras - direct descendants of the herd that press tycoon William Randolph Hearst installed at the magnificent Hearst Castle, which appears right ahead of you. You can take a tour of the castle and its grounds. After a 15-minute coach drive up the snaking road to the top of the hill, you discover a spectacular mansion furnished with antiques and tapestries from all over Europe, and boasting Roman baths, an enormous neo-Classical marble swimming pool and its own private cinema. In the 1930s, Hearst Castle was party central for Clark Gable, Errol Flynn, Greta Garbo et al. Having soaked up a bit of the Golden Age of Hollywood, we headed off on Route 1 again to see the City of Angels of today. There we stayed at the slick and sleek Viceroy Santa Monica Hotel, choosing the beach-life of Santa Monica and Venice over the urban sprawl of Hollywood or Beverly Hills where the car is king. The body-builders and gymnasts of Muscle Beach and the rollerblading buskers of Venice are highly entertaining, and you can walk everywhere. Hollywood is really an idea rather than a place anyway. It always seems as if it might be just around the next corner but it never is, and the Hollywood sign always stays aloof in the distance. What a beach: Huntington Beach is a pure three-and-a-half miles of uncrowded white sand loved by surfers . We went on an excellent guided tour taking in the Chinese Theatre, Walk of Fame, Rodeo Drive, Sunset Strip and other spots of note. A Sunday trip to Universal Studios was great fun, too, for the rides and a look at a real working film set on its day off. Mind you, the scariest ride of the day was getting on the freeway by accident on the way into LA. Unless you're a professional stunt driver in a hurry, the freeway is probably best avoided in favour of a trundle along the city's more sedate boulevards. We drove the last 40 miles south through the LA suburbs to our final stop at the Huntington Beach Hyatt Regency. And what a beach it is - three-and-a-half miles of uncrowded white sand known as Surf City. It was thrilling to watch the guys surfing along on the waves. Later we watched the sun go down over the pier from the comfort of the superb Duke's Restaurant, before ambling back along a beach glowing with fire-pits and shrouded in barbecue smoke - preparing ourselves for the horrors of donning fleeces again for the journey home. American Sky (americansky.co.uk, 0843 6362001) offers an 11-night self-drive Golden California tour from £1,199pp. It includes room-only accommodation at a choice of hotels along the route from San Francisco to Los Angeles, return flights with United Airlines from Gatwick into San Francisco and out of Los Angeles, and 4WD car hire. For more information about California, go to visitcalifornia.co.uk or call 020 7257 6180.
Actress Jane Horrocks drives her teenagers Dylan and Molly down Route 1.
The travel from San Francisco to the City of Angels in three weeks.
'Take your foot off the gas, relax and take it all in' says Jane.