Twice the time, but pleasure squared...

Taking the "rush" out of travel can provide unexpected rewards. Our trip to Yosemite provided ample proof.

Before leaving Alameda for what normally would be a two-and-a-half-hour trip to a gateway to Yosemite, Groveland, Calif., we decided to program the Garmin to avoid highways, toll roads and traffic. Wise move. And not just because California freeways are a lot like white water rafting (an attraction at Yosemite) -- frenetic maneuvering to avoid catastrophe separated by long periods of slow progress (or, in the case of the California freeways even when it's not rush hour, no movement at all).

Ms. Garmin (her affectionate name when she sends us to nice places; at other times her name begins with a "b") took us through neighborhoods we'd never have seen, each with a personality of its own with quirks of architecture (and, even, one with a Kansas Street and another, on the way back home, with a Topeka Street). We were greeted with store signs in seemingly more languages than found in a Rosetta Stone catalog. Individually and collectively, it was a billboard for what America is (and should be): a place for everyone, no matter your birthright or what word you utter for "freedom."

Leaving the city, Ms. Garmin sent us into the hills, where it literally gave a new meaning to the word serpentine. Braking became an life-saving adventure, and 25 miles per hour felt like 70 in the straw-hued hills dotted with blotches of green, stubby trees. The vistas reminded me of those celebrated by one of my favorite artists, Slava Brodinsky, a Russian-born Israeli citizen whose favorite scenes are the rolling hills of Tuscany. (Check it out at http://sales.parkwestgallery.com/results/All/Slava-Brodinsky if you'd like a better idea.)

We then headed into the flatlands of the San Joaquin Valley, where we encountered fields of vegetables, groves of walnut trees, and double-trailered trucks piled high with tomatoes, which would hop out of the truck, as though to escape the cannery's fate, with every bump encountered.

Flatland soon gave way to the hills that grew into mountains, with more twisting and turning amid breathtaking sights. And all on two-lane blacktops.

That got us to our destination, the historic Groveland Hotel (more on that soon) in Groveland, gateway to Yosemite. A two-and-a-half-hour trip in five hours, but one filled with wonder and surprise.

Slowing down and taking your time can make many experiences richer. It did for us.