Into California

The next morning we woke up early and realized we were in a beautiful location. We were on the ocean by a lighthouse and cows and sheep lounged in the valley below. By the time we left the park a couple hours later, however, the mist had covered everything again. It was a grey and cold day to drive into California. We sped through the southern tip of the coast, not able or wanting to see much, until we hit the information center for the Red Woods. The ranger was helpful and told us about a drive through some of the last remaining old growth forest. It was on an old untouched stagecoach road so there weren’t any trailers or RVs driving through (plenty of other people, though.) The drive was well worth it. We entered the park and were passing through trees and I was thinking, “this is nice… I wonder if these are redwoods…” and then all of a sudden we hit them and I just knew it. They are dark with twisting bark that ascends into the sky. I could hear John Steinbeck’s voice in my head saying how the trees silence you. And they do. They are majestic and amazing. We stopped to do a small walk and at the end of it, I overheard this guy say, “Dude. They’re just so immensely big.” I busted out laughing; it was too true.
The rest of the day was spent driving down 101, weaving through forest and making our way south. We were aiming to camp somewhere near the town of Willets. Darcy’s friend’s friend was flying his hot air balloon near Willetts and on a whim, we had decided to ask him if he could take us up. Well, he agreed! We still couldn’t believe it as we tried to decide whether to take route 1 to the coast or camp at the closest state park 50 miles north of the city. We were debating whether we wanted to drive 30 miles through the mountains or 50 miles through towns at 5:30 the next morning. Neither sounded appealing but we decided on the coast. 15 minutes into the drive we realized this was a bad bad idea. Inland, it had been warm and sunny. In the mountains, the cold mist from southern Oregon reappeared. And then my gas light went on. I knew I was low; we were going to stop before we headed onto route 1 but gas there was at 4.89/gallon and that just seemed unreasonable. Well now, my gas light was on and I was winding around and around and up and down mountains using maximum amounts of petrol. I was freaking out, the weather was getting colder, and the road was getting windier and windier with the drop offs increasing. Darcy was trying to assure me that the car would be fine and there’d be gas once we reached the coast miles away. Well, we reached the coast and it was beautiful but completely barren. We were on the side of a large cliff with fields of sheep and a huge ocean and one or two houses dotting the distance. It felt a bit like what I imagine Ireland to look like. Finally, we came to a small small town that had a center store with a gas pump. 5.35/gallon. 5 gallons was 30 bucks. It was insane but worth it for peace of mind. By the time, we got to the only town around, Fort Bragg, we were realizing that there wasn’t a campsite anywhere close by and even if there was it would be freezing cold. The man at the gas station encouraged us to head back over the mountain pass and camp at the KOA site in Willetts. Which we did.