Driving along the PCH through northern California and Southern Oregon has been the best driving of my life, and I’ve driven through quite a bit of the country. We left San Francisco a couple days ago—as you’ve heard, camping the first night out of SFO was a bust. My former roommate Kyle tipped us off to a nice camping site right on the beach, but alas it was filled. We drove up the road for another twenty minutes to the next campsite, and found that this too was filled. As was the next one. And the next one. Eventually we just decided screwitwe’llsleepinthecar, woke up early the next day, and hit a free campsite on the beach just south of Crescent City.
I love the ocean in all its forms, swimmable or not. The waves along the redwoods seem to be perpetually crashing hard enough to shower the beach and the grasslands lying adjacent to it with a perpetual fine mist. While this makes finding dry wood sort of a pain in the ass, at least it keeps you cool. Using fine woodsplitting techniques that evolved as a function of time, we hewed massive amounts of timber and collected driftwood for use as kindling. With a raging bonfire, we supped on pasta and a fine tomato sauce spiced with packets of picante salsa, hot sauce, and paremesan and red pepper packets foisted from the Yosemite Lodge cafeteria. Combined with a $3.99 Californian cabernet and a Kona Longboard Ale (also Californian), it made for a great last night in CA.
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