Day 1, Sat – Aug 7
Leaving Sonoma county when there is a periphery of fire to go camping in Oregon which is also aflame was far from ideal. But plans were made, time taken off and the Perseid’s meteor showers were calling. For the last several weeks, Francesca and I (mostly Francesca) had been preparing for a Tiny (Sprinter van) adventure. So, on Saturday morning, we backed out of our driveway and started our journey to the Oregon coast.
To get to Oregon, we opted to go inland and up the 101. About an hour into the trip, between the whir of passing buildings and farmlands, I saw two young bobcats chase one another on a riverside beach. Their bodies moving like S’s as they ran - blindly oblivious to anything but the joy of play. And even though I was traveling 65 miles on the freeway, I was with them in that moment. It felt like a good start to my vacation.
The scene changed quickly a few minutes later. Fire is always a concern this time of year and a large pile of timber along the side of the road was a testament to the woes of our reality. Stacks and stacks of logs and then on top of these massive piles was a single green garden hose spraying water into the air. It would have been comical if it wasn’t so aggravating. It was the semblance of being helpful. What were they thinking? Not a lot.
For many miles past the Russian River watershed and the Eel River, we wended through the smokey air drifting from the many fires hundreds of miles away. Gray choked the deep, forest valleys and what should have been scenic vistas were hazy. Pastures with horses craning their necks to the grassy greenery were muted by factors we didn’t control. Instead, we made sure our windows were rolled up and the air conditioning was on while we glumly drove forward.
Eventually, the grayed skies yielded to blue and we drove through small communities with ramshackle homes held together with whatever scrap wood that was available. Cars with hoods up and tires off and what appeared to be an abandoned motor boat on the side of the road were mixed in with Big Foot carvings and an occasional gift shop.
I saw a car on the side of the road and a police car. The officer was hunched over the drivers side door with a flashlight. On the ground away from the cars were two scruffy men. I let Francesca know as I thought it was curious. Perhaps a medical emergency I thought. She explained, they were being arrested.
Much later in an open wide field, stacked in neat rows were dozens cars and tents on the side of the road. It was a festival but my poor eyesight failed to make out words on the teeny, colorful sign. We traveled on and stopped at the Peg House for an outdoor lunch. The singer, guitarist was onstage singing his best to the lunchtime travelers. Sitting in the garden, I spied something we had just been talking about. “A mammoth!” I squealed aloud. The mammoth sunflower was some 15 feet high and it was amazingly captivating. A single leaf was10 times the size of my hand.
Soon enough, we found ourselves down the road and despite the lack of signage, we were able to find our campsite at Hidden Springs Campground in the Redwood State Park. I suppose everything is in the name. The flora at our site was a mix of evergreens and deciduous trees from the nearby river. The water trickled down the large rocky river bed. It was probably a tenth of what it should be. I nestled into the folding cot and read, listening to children laughing nearby. Breathing in the scent of the forest, the rest of the world melted away.
Day 2. Sun, Aug 8
We get diesel whenever Tiny is ½ full. It was on such an occasion that we decided to fill up in Eureka (as in “I found it!”). Though, what we found was not so jubilant. There was an older man walking to the gas station convenience store. Unfortunately, I had to go into the store as well. The older man bought lottery tickets. The man behind the counter was bedraggled. Then a younger man came in and then another. It was an odd energy. When we left the gas station, there were two men by the propane tanks listening to loud, rock and dressed to kill. Literally, dressed to kill. It was as if central casting had picked out their loud T-Shirts and make-up artist had put on their creepy tattoos. As we drove down the street, the sociological oddities continued. There were still no sightings of women. For several blocks, it was a testosterone sector made odder by the dilapidated buildings, oddly named stores and pawn shops. Several miles later, in the north side of town, I did start to see women but not after we both decided we would skip Eureka whenever possible. It is a place for dead dreams and broken men.
A sharp contrast to Eureka was Trinidad. It was as charming as Eureka was dystopian. Trinidad was the town of hope – there were women and children co-mingling with men. Such a refreshing difference! The town was open, approachable and the happy faces was a very welcomed change.
Later, we spent the night at Del Norte which is part of the National Redwood Forest. Here giant redwoods and the giant stumps that go with it are part of the landscape. In the evening, the campsites nearby whooped and hollered. There were bands of wild children and parents who were willfully deaf. I was glad to be there for only one night.
And yet, there was beauty there… In the clearing above our campsite, we saw a colony of bats diving for insects. It lasted until twilight turned to night time. Then much later, there were magic bolts in the sky -meteors! Francesca squealed with excitement! It was a good night after-all.
Day 3, Mon, Aug 9
For weeks leading up to the trip, we’ve been watching YouTube videos of agate hunting in Oregon. With low tide at 7:30 a.m. We woke up at 6:15 am, caffeinated and drove to Pebble Beach. The tide was outstretched and low with a rock garden of sea life. Tide-pooling brought the usual and always beautiful ochre sea stars in orange and purple as well as limpets and moon snails and green anemones. And there were some unique finds including white sea lettuce (?) and what appeared to me to be the white muscle of a bi-valve or a very large sea slug. The sea is full of wonder.
In my sandy explorations, I met Carolyn a fellow ocean lover and octo/nonogenarian. When asked about agates, she told me it was the wrong time of year. But added a bit of comfort, if we were lucky, we might be able to find one or two. Undeterred, Francesca and I looked for agates. We had fun exploring the beach and looking at crystal structures in rocks, green algae scrapings and admiring the color and texture of the many pebbles on the beach.
We eventually, settled into our campsite at Harris Beach but not before going to the beach to watch the sun set by the sea. Francesca went to to the railing with her camera and I stayed in Tiny slightly horrified by the many passersby. Who knew there were so many nature lovers? Or Instagram followers...
Day 4, Tue, Aug 10
The southern side of Pistol Beach is mostly visited by mad max buses and alt life-style mishmash of campers and tents. The north side of the beach consisted of mostly day trippers and the usual mix of cars, campers, vans and trailers. Nature is democratic. You see everything from high-end land rovers pulling a 16’ air streams to rough looking cars with a handicap sticker hanging from the rear view mirror. There are all types of people with one goal in mind - enjoy the great outdoors. The view may be the same but the comfort levels of the viewers are vastly different.
We meandered north to Battle Rock at Fort Orford where the US provided a land give-away to any who would come to Oregon. They came, took and the people who were here (American Indians)fought back. Fort Orford became one of the first out-posts of Oregon lands. Despite it’s infamous start, we went down to the pier where boats need to be lifted by crane into the water because it’s so rocky. There, we ordered take out from a local fish and chip dive bar. It was great. My expectations for hospitality were exceeded when we got extra shrimp and oysters along with some things we didn’t order like scallops and squid. Lightly battered and excellently cooked. It was delicious!
Later, we arrived at the western most point of Oregon - Cape Blanco. There were open fields, an old cemetery, a lighthouse and a rough sea. The trees were tall and the campsite private. I loved it. In the evening, we went in search of dark skies, bright stars and meteor showers. It was a long night of head-lamps, alarm reminders and abbreviated sleep. Still, I felt safe and content. Always under the watchful eyes of my three plush toys which stay on my passenger side – Rocky the Mountain Goat, a miniature fabric doll of Ruth Allen Ginsburg and Rica, a happy purple orb.
Day 5, Wed, Aug 11
From Cape Blanco, we went to Bandon with it’s panoramic views of seastacks and rock sentinels. We parked by the lighthouse and watched the antics of two, then four, then five oystercatchers. Their comical faces outlined in orange against jet black.
Next to us was a car that had white paint proclaiming their skill at fixing boats in a mish-mash of lower and upper case lettering. Both front windows were rolled down. But no one entered or left the car for the hour or two when we were there. C-r-e-e-p-y…
In the evening, Francesca searched the skies for fire balls. There is a lot of equipment and conditions which need to be perfect. Little to no wind, moon, ambient light etc. etc. There is a lot of holding and carrying and packing. So, when an image is captured it is the result of hours of patience and flat out work. Most nights when Francesca is working, I inadvertently and blissfully fall asleep.
Day 6, Thu, Aug 12
Francesca took me to the Prehistoric Gardens. It exceeded all expectations. At the front entrance alongside the large tyrannosaurus rex were several stellar blue jays and a large gungan plant (dinosaur food – at least that’s what the sign said).
The gardens are in an old growth forest with huge, dare I say it, life-sized replicas of dinosaurs. We walked the dino path where each bend surprised us with large frilled triceratops or an ankylosaurus. I squealed and admittedly, was comforted by the freeway noise lest I got lost in time!
After a prehistoric adventure, we went into the brightly lit gift store where I saw a sweatshirt I liked but I balked at the $50 plus price. Should I buy it, should I not? Then a cheerful young man showed me his sweatshirt! “You HAVE to get one. I have one. Look!” He proudly showed me his sweatshirt grinning ear to ear. If I could gain a fraction of his joy from spending $50 on a sweatshirt, I should happily do that. Sold!
In line, the young man told me I should get a larger size as they were 80% cotton. I am now the proud owner of a large tyrannosaurus rex sweatshirt. It is the best $50 I ever spent.
My new dino friend told me about all the stuff he bought. He now has a hat, a shirt, a sweatshirt and undoubtedly a bunch of other things. Oddly, I found out, he did not go to the gardens. “You HAVE to go to the gardens” I said. “But I have a cat in the car”. “Cats are independent and can wait. You can do it in 15 minutes, no… 20 minutes”. But he had to drive to L.A. so he could go to Jurassic Park ride and then off to Virginia. “Go! Go! Go to the gardens.” I implored. “You won’t regret it” I added. At the end, I’m not sure if he went to the gardens or whether he was destined to live in Virginia without benefit of the pure joy of the prehistoric gardens. Regardless, dino people are dino people and they are me and they are him. And we are happy to meet anyone or talk about anything dino.
When I left the gift store, I squealed to the world at large and no one in particular, “Wow! That was great!” There was a family waiting in line to get into the gardens. The dad and mom flashed big, broad smiles. I hope their kids enjoyed it half as much as I did.
Day 7, Fri, Aug 13
We drove to the Arch Rock area and went on a short hike towards the water. The best part about the walk was not the view but the lobster mushroom I found. Beautifully heavy and orange, wildlife hadn’t discovered it’s deliciousness just yet. I left it in it’s pure and perfectly orange-y state of fungal being.
Later we were headed out of town, when we saw the Brookings Pirate Festival. “Stop!” I cried out. I was all excited until I wasn’t. There were no planks to walk and no eye patches or parrots to be found. Only flea market t-shirts, artsy/crafty and food stuff choices that would allow your dentist to buy their fourth dream home. The established businesses had equally poor merchandise – food stuffs encased in plastic. There wasn’t anything fresh to be had. With that, we walked back to Tiny.
After a few scenic stops, we ordered lunch in Crescent City and drove to a nearby vista. One thing I have consistently noticed is animals at tourist picnic spots are mostly obese. We watched four sea squirrels (not to be confused with sea monkeys) shamelessly beg for scraps - having lost all fear of humans a generation or two ago. I think they out-compete the gulls for attention seeking antics and have the additional benefit of having doleful eyes. Not to be taken in by their cuteness, I kept my fish tacos to myself.
Later, when arriving at Del Norte, we saw that our campsite’s old, redwood stump had several fungal surprises - ganodermas (artist conk mushrooms)!
Day 8, Sat, Aug 14
The last full day… Tomorrow we would go home.
We spent the day in Ferndale - a working dairy/tourist/movie town known for its Victorian architecture. Needing to buy a mask, I went into the local book store. The clerk let me know they didn’t sell one but a customer kindly offered me one he had just taken out of the plastic. I politely declined. He tried to convince me otherwise but I gratefully, did not want him to give him his extra mask when I could certainly buy one. So, I left. I glanced at the stack of free books outside and found am atlas from 1948. Popping back into the store, I let them know that I was taking the book and asked if I could make a donation. The man who offered me the mask said I was a “legit”. I’m not sure what that means but I guess, that’s good. A few dollars to the local school and I was on my way.
The store fronts were full and bustling with people of all ages. We had lunch at Fat Anne’s the waitress lived in town and rented a house. I liked that. People should be able to afford a place where they work. And the food? It was amazing. Poutine (french fries, curds and gravy) and a piece of fried chicken was my fatty food choices of the day. It was fabulous. The table next to us were a friendly bunch. It was easy lunching outdoors while the rest of the world twirled it’s craziness. It was a get-away within a get-away
Later we we stayed at the Redwood State park where it was surprisingly warm. We stayed in the shade and watched the greenery sway and the rest of the day drifted peacefully away.
Day 9, Sun, Aug 15
In the morning we meandered through the groves, marveling at the tallest trees and the ones that had fallen. The forest is a living history. From tiny seedlings to saplings trying to find sun in the undergrowth, to the largest of trees which tower hundreds of feet above the ground, they are all in the grove. Then at some point, there’s a fall, by fire or lightening, and they lay in silent repose until they transform and became a kind of bedding for another seedling to grow. Walking through the grove was like reading a tree autobiography in the landscape itself.
For every yin, there’s a yang and on the road back home, we went through all the ramshackle places we drove past at the beginning of our trip. Then driving through Ukiah, we watched as the temperature continue to rise until it hit 112 degrees. Craziness. The sky was gray from nearby fires and the danger was worsened by the ever-present wind. When we got home later that afternoon, it was 42 degrees cooler with no wind. The ocean and river was sparkling a kind welcome and we gratefully settled into our lives. Thankful.
Epilogue
A driving vacation is full of diversions, side way trips to dead ends and vistas with a beautiful sunset, people flirting on homelessness and sometimes both. It is exercise in patience and flexibility. Waiting for road construction to stop, so you can have your turn or getting cut off by an RV oblivious to anyone but themselves. Unmatched is the thrill of driving behind a logging truck carrying one or two dozen logs of timber on an “Uneven Grade” while the fog rolls by in ghostly sheets. Those are Six Flag thrill rides that only can be had in a high top van.
Also, expect the unexpected to be missing. Whether it is a trash bag or socks or tea bags. Flexibility is key to a trip like this. Actually, I think it’s the key to life. And like life, sometimes, I was successful and at other times, less so. Life doesn’t wait, it just happens. So, whether you are home or down the road, be flexible and have fun wherever you are. Be thankful and make a happy trail because if you don’t, no one is going to do it for you.
At the end of the trip, I didn’t see many meteors though Francesca saw several. But the camera? It captured the universe. And we captured happy memories.