Category: 2023 Travels

In a trip of mostly repeat campgrounds, we do get to check out a new one for a few days. Cottonwood campground lies at the bottom of the vast Joshua Tree National Park territory. It has a dump and water, but no electric hookups or cell service. Heading into it, we were both anxious. But then, we can get anxious about nearly anything. We worried about it seeming remote and cut off, I worried there would be not much to do, and Richard worried about all the rest. Anxiety is stupid. We had a great time, and this is now a favorite campground. 

On the way, I dropped Richard off so he could ride Box Canyon road and up 3,000’ to the campground. He may worry about getting hit by a car, but he sure doesn’t worry about crazy climbs. I sagged him the best I could through the canyon, being careful not to pull off the road into a sand ditch (needless worry). Then I pulled over just before the road crosses I-10. As I waited, I noticed something small and black on the center line. After a big RV nearly ran it over, it started moving and I realized it was a not so small tarantula. I did not have anxiety about that, so I went out with a big stick and scooted him off the road.

Our site in Cottonwood was another pull along, but had plenty of room to get Dory out of the road. There was a big drop-off at the edge of the pavement, which I did worry about, so I waited for Richard to arrive before unhitching. It is a beautiful campground with a much more laid back vibe than the ones in the middle of the park. 

The next day, we did a little loop hike to Mastodon Peak. It’s around two and a half miles and takes you past an abandoned mine. According to the signs, it was closed down as recently as 1971, before the park service acquired the area to add it to the national park. You get lovely views of the classic, rocky desert terrain, and there were gorgeous wildflowers dotting the trail. There was even a moment of cell service about a mile up the trail, enough to check in and feel connected. Just perfect to quiet the stupid anxiety.

We got back around noon and I had time to clean Dory’s windows. They were filthy and messed with reflection shots and nice views. Richard biked the mile to the Visitor Center and got us new annual national park passes. By the time he returned, Dory was sparkling clean again. Bruce then looked filthy in comparison.

We then took a driving trip up to Jumbo Rocks. That was our next destination, and I was worried about whether the site was really going to work to fit both Dory and Bruce. The description on recreation.gov is annoyingly ambiguous. It says acceptable equipment includes “a trailer and tow vehicle up to 18 feet.” Now, that says to me that each vehicle can be up to 18 feet. But grammatically, it could also mean both vehicles combined. But that does not make sense because how can you have a trailer and a tow vehicle under 18 feet combined. In any case, my worry monster was nagging at me, and Richard wanted to gauge the ride anyway, to decide whether he wanted to try it. 

It’s takes about an hour to drive from Cottonwood to Jumbo Rocks, with a climb of over a thousand feet. There is a whole vast valley of desert before you pass the Cholla Cactus Garden. Then you climb up to the rocky areas and turn left to head into the center of the park. All along the way, we watched rain clouds gathering over the surrounding mountains. We could have worried about getting caught in weather, but instead were treated to nice rainbows and a good car washing. Viewing the site did not allay any fears really, because ours, #11, shares a total of 3 parking spaces with campsite #10. We knew that Dory would fit in a parking slot, and that Bruce would fit in the other. However, site 10 also indicates two vehicles allowed. So who gets the middle slot if you both have trailers? We decided to entrust that worry to the Future Fairy, an imaginary magical friend who takes care of all future problems when they come up, in the future.

The next day, we did a big huge hike to the Lost Palm Oasis. I knew it was going to be a nine mile day with a “scramble” down the canyon at the end, so I got to mildly worry about that in the background. Of course, as is always the case, the hike in reality was beautiful. If I had been on my own, I would not have done the final descent to the canyon floor. I could have been content looking down from above. But Richard needs to do those things, and I didn’t want to sit at the top being grumpy. Instead, I followed him down, grumping out loud the whole way. At the bottom, I declared the canyon floor to be “stupid,” but we both knew I was glad I’d done it. About half way back along the trail, I was ready to say I liked it. Richard is good at letting me be grumpy in the moment because he knows that is what pushes me through things that scare me.

On our departure day, Richard tried a new strategy to deal with his Worry Monster. Exercise always does the trick for him, so he’s going to try starting the day with something small, like a quick hike, walk, or run. He did the Mastodon Peak loop going the opposite direction while I took my morning shower. The Future Fairy had already arranged for him to be hiking at the same time as a very nice lady who helped him not get lost. They chatted about the palm canyon and Richard mentioned how I loved it, but was grumpy about it. She said, “But you know why women have to be grumpy right?” He did not know. She explained, “Because we don’t fart or burp, so we have to let some grumpy out sometimes. Otherwise, we would explode.” So there you go.

We loved this campground, in spite of all the stupid Worry Monsters. Again, anxiety is stupid. Palm canyons are sometimes stupid when you have to scramble down to them, but later they are awesome. The Future Fairy always has our backs. Morning exercise is a game changer for Richard. Wine works really well for me. It’s all good, and we would come back to Cottonwood campground in a heartbeat.

Total miles from Anza Borrego: 81.8, 14.6 mpg (all uphill), 4 hours 25 min with sagging and tarantula rescues. Great dump. Water. Nice bathrooms. No cell, but you can drive 5 miles down the road and hit service. Or you can hike up to Mastodon Peak.

Our Christmas tradition continues and we are definitely not getting bored with it. We again stayed in the Anza Borrego state park campground in Palm Canyon, with full hookups. The only thing to note about our site is that it is was a pull along this time, and if you want the door to open into the site, the hookups will therefore be on the wrong side of the trailer. It was not a big deal, because we could run the electrical cord under Dory. But it did mean we chose not to use the sewer outlet in the site, and instead opted to use the regular dump station. I am noting that we’re down a dump hose because ours broke at Calico. I won a bet with Richard by proving that you can obtain dump hoses at Arco stations when you are in Indio, CA, national capital of RV campers boon docking with their ATVs. We will be traveling with a backup hose stashed in the trunk from now on.

We also continued the tradition of renting e-bikes from I Bike Borrego. The owner, Ed Whipple, is now our Christmas buddy, and it was great to see him dropping off the bikes as we pulled into the campground. We got exactly the same bikes we did last year and I had some ideas on techniques I could try to feel more in control of these beasts. 

After setting up in the site, we had just enough time and daylight to squeeze in a hike up to the palm oasis. We rode our bikes up to the trailhead to save time, but this meant that Richard forgot to put on his hiking shoes. When faced with the question of whether to go back and get them, vs trudge along in his super white K-Swiss tennis shoes, he insisted on the latter. 

I remembered the trail being more rugged on the “alternate trail” side of the loop, so we took that going up. That was a great call because I would not have wanted him to be trying that with slippery shoes in the dark. Once the two trails meet up at the top, it’s another mile or so of tricky, rocky stair stepping up to the palms. He managed like a champ! The whole valley was alive with the sound of water from the recent rains. Dry river beds were flowing, and waterfalls were running strong. The oasis itself seemed tropical, with pools of water, the sound of the falls, and birds singing in delight. It was a magical welcome back to our favorite winter spot. We timed it just right, so that we hit the last part of the return trail at dusk, and arrived at our bikes by the time it was dark. The bikes have headlights and we carried our headlamps, so we nailed the return to Dory.

The next day, we set out with our bikes to go looking at statues in the sand. We ended up going further out, toward Coyote Canyon, to check that out as well. With plenty of daylight, and a full charge on the bikes, we headed up the sandy road after the pavement ended, with no particular goals in mind. I was interested in trying the idea of using the brakes to ease off the thrust of the motor, and that worked somewhat. These bikes are super powerful and have a major kick once the motor engages. To engage the motor, you have to pedal a little bit more than a half rotation. That means, you push forward with one foot until the pedal is all the way down, and then you have to just start pushing with your second foot when the kick hits. I was still finding this very difficult to manage in deep sand, and nearly fell over a lot. After a couple of miles, I was not having fun, and we turned back. Downhill was better, and pavement was even better than that. I used the throttle to zoom most of the way back to town without even pedaling. That part was fun.

For our next full day in town, we agreed to try again with Coyote Canyon. I had another idea about using the throttle to start up the motor when in deep sand, rather than the pedal assist. But mostly, we both felt it was important for me to conquer this and keep practicing with the sand bike. I was nervous about it, and honestly kind of bitchy most of the morning, but also determined to follow through with the plan. We went straight to the off-road beginning of Coyote Canyon and re-entered the wash. At the first sign of deep sand, I tried the throttle, and right away it worked. This was a game changer for me because now I did not have to worry about stopping the bike. I could keep one foot on one pedal, hit the throttle in low power, and start it up before committing both feet. It felt easier to balance that way, and much less likely to fall over on top of me. These things are crazy heavy, so the thought of tipping over sideways was not appealing. Now I was winning, feathering the brakes to better control my speed, and using the throttle for deep sand, or to start back up from a standstill. I was a badass sand biker in a much better mood.

We rode all the way up to a place called Desert Gardens and walked around to look at the cacti. From there, it was a little further to a spot where the road hits the first water crossing. We could see cars going through, and we rode up to it to assess whether it was worth the attempt. We probably could have made it, but there was at least a good chance we’d come out of it wet, so we deemed that to be as far as we wanted to go. 

Instead of continuing, we went back to the trailhead for Alcoholic Pass. This is an out and back hike that goes up about a mile to a marker, and then you either come back down, or continue on for an unknown number of miles. We were looking to get off the bikes for a bit, and were admittedly intrigued by the name of the pass. It was a steep and rocky climb, with the trail hard to follow in places. You are rewarded with a nice sweeping view of the canyon below before the trail turns back toward a low point in the mountains. For whatever reason, the pass is marked with a little mailbox containing a paper log book. We enjoyed a nice snack and celebratory photos before descending back down. It was an easy ride out of the sand and back onto pavement. I felt a sense of accomplishment, paired with exhaustion. It was a long, triumphant day.

Our next adventure took us to Julian, where online ads had told me there was pie. I noted this many months back, and have looked forward to Julian Pie Company pie ever since. Richard rode up Montezuma Valley Road to earn his pie, while I felt that my previous day’s successes had earned me as much pie as I wanted for the entirety of the trip. I picked him up at the summit and we drove first to Santa Ysabel, where there is another Julian Pie Company store. We figured why not try a piece there, and then also get a piece when we got to Julian. We had traditional apple pie, with vanilla ice cream. It was very good. We both judge the pie from Gowan’s Oak Tree in Boonville to be unsurpassed, but this one was good too.

Another nine or so miles down the road is the small town of Julian. Whoever is in charge of their marketing is doing something right. Not only did they entice me into visiting the town, but also a million other people. It is a very small town, not really set up to manage so many people and so many cars wanting to park. The line for Julian Pie Company stretched a full city block, matched by the competing line to Mom’s Pies down the street. It was one of the craziest scenes I have ever witnessed. Richard was immediately ready to bail, but I had set my mind to the plan and was prepared to work for it. I dropped Richard off and circled the town looking for a place to park. I ended up as far on the outskirts as I could get, which was still not really that far, because it’s a small town. By the time I had parked, walked .4 miles back, and found Richard, he was not yet at the front of the line. That’s how crazy it was. We got the cherry apple crunch, and it was very good. Again, not Gowan’s, but good. I would not say it was worth the wait except for having the whole experience. Crazy experiences are worth it to me.

We drove back to Borrego Springs and Richard got out to ride up Yaqui Pass. This is a beautiful canyon, that winds steeply up and over a ridge, before opening up to a breathtaking view of the Borrego Springs valley. 

That night, we did a night walk along the paved path to the Visitor Center. That night hike has become one of my favorite things to do. It is so cool to view the desert under the stars. I took pictures of the various common plants, hoping that maybe we could mimic some of the look of the desert in our backyard campground at home. I doubt that creosote would grow well in our clay based soil, but I wonder if we could get one to grow in a pot. That smell is so distinctive and makes us both happy.

And lastly, we got in a long hike from the campground, stopping at the Visitor Center, and continuing up Hellhole Canyon. All told, it ended up being almost an eight mile day, and that was only because we didn’t try to make it all the way to the hidden waterfall. People say that it is very difficult to find the falls, and that it requires scrambling over and around lots of boulders. We were content to make it to the palm oasis, and find a “mortero” (a place where indigenous people made mortar holes in a rock surface in order to grind grains). You could make this a shorter hike by driving to a staging area instead of walking from the campground. It would still be hard to find the waterfall, but it would then only be about five or six miles out and back.

We wrapped up our Christmas stay with a shopping trip to Center Market and a dinner out at Pablito’s Mexican restaurant. The market had everything we needed to stock up for a week in Joshua Tree. They even had Soy Miso paste. Impressive.

We hated departing what has become a happy, familiar winter destination. However, we continue to be disappointed with the lameness of the holiday display on “Christmas Circle.” Come on people. We have so many neighbors who do a better job with holiday spirit. We missed seeing our friends David and Cyndi, but left a note. Maybe next year.

Total miles from Calico: 204.4, 15.8 mpg, 4 hours 41 min. Site 25 full hookups. Pull along site so services were on the wrong side. Did not use site sewer outlet but campground dump is good. Great cell for both.

Getting to the southern desert area takes a comfortable two days of travel for us. Stopping once in the central valley, and then again around Barstow puts us in good shooting distance to get to Joshua Tree, or Anza Borrego the next day. Since we were not in any rush, and because we vacated the smells of Harris Ranch early, we had time to drop Richard off at the bottom of Woodford-Tehachapi Road so he could sneak in a bike ride. I drove up 58 to the Walmart parking lot, where I blogged while waiting. Along the road, I was passed by a convoy of three Cybertrucks. Lord, those are ugly. Sorry if you’re a fan, but “boxy” doesn’t begin to capture it.

We did not have reservations for that night, and thought about maybe staying in the BLM at Sawtooth Canyon instead of our two standby RV parks in Barstow. But we didn’t want to diminish the joy of eating at Penny’s Diner, so Ghost Town it was!

Sometimes this place gets booked up with OHV parties, but otherwise it’s pretty likely you’ll get a spot. There were plenty of places available so we tried one lower down to see if we could get better cell service. That worked well, plus, we got a tiny little hike in to go up to toodle around the ghost town. It is super cute when decked out for Christmas. We only walked around for about two miles, but that was enough to earn some Penny’s calories.

We will probably track back through on our way home. May well stop here again. It’s a very pleasant, fun little place for an overnight with hookups, and pancakes nearby. There were some OHV people there, but it was not crowded or chaotic. Someone needs to explain to me what the signs mean that say: “Ride In and Ride Out Only. Strictly Enforced.” What else would you do besides riding in or out? I don’t get it.

Total miles: 242.1, 17.3 mpg, 3 hours 37 min from Harris Ranch. Site 14 full hookups, but used dump for lower loop. Good cell if you are in the lower loop. As soon as you get behind the hill to the upper loops, cell drops out almost completely.

Happy Winter Solstice to all who celebrate Round Earth. We are under way for a repeat trip to the southern deserts for the holidays.

We took a weekend off from camping last weekend and instead fixed a pond/waterfall that has been out of commission for many a year. Now that the front of the house looks decent, it has become an eyesore. The process involved a complete rebuild, down to putting in a new liner and re-laying all of the rocks. It was laborious, but well worth the effort in the end. I’m all about water features, so I can now enjoy a glass of wine on my very own porch while listening to the trickle of tiny waterfalls. In fact, with our home becoming more and more hospitable, it is far more likely that we will bail on weekend camping trips if the weather does not seem pleasant. To celebrate our new digs, we hosted a lovely dinner with long time friends on Sunday. We haven’t allowed many people to see how we’ve been living for a very, very long time, so it felt wonderful to actually host a real dinner party. Compare this to the times when we have gone camping during bomb cyclones and atmospheric rivers. That is a big change for us.

But we have not totally changed our ways, and we still intend to get out there for every school break. Since most of the campgrounds this year are going to be repeats, we decided to be spontaneous and try our luck staying overnight at Harris Ranch. For those who know, there is a very culturally insensitive nickname for this place, given that it is basically a death camp for cattle. Harris Ranch steaks are well known, at least in California, and they have a hotel and restaurant located right off I5 somewhere between Tracy and Bakersfield. There’s a whole lot of nothing along the central valley interstate, but what is lacking in people, is made up for in cows. You have to be ok with that if you’re going to stop in this place. Also, you have to be ok with the intense ammonia smell of cow pee and manure. We actually didn’t notice much at night, but it sure came through loud and proud in the morning.

This place gets an A+ for Christmas decorations. I wonder what it looks like at other times of the year, because it was wall to wall seasons greetings inside. There were huge fake Christmas trees, holiday gifts galore, and enough trimmings to fill a small warehouse.

You can eat in their fancy restaurant and pay a ton for a nice steak dinner. Or go to their less upscale restaurant and still pay a ton for a nice steak dinner, or go to the Express BBQ located at the Shell station across the parking lot. That’s what we did, and it was awesome. We got an 8 oz smoked Tri Tip to split, paired with four different little sides. Included were: potato salad, mac & cheese, rice pilaf, and mashed potatoes with gravy. This is the food of My People, and I was very content.

Someone had told me you can park overnight and camp in their hotel parking lot, so Richard made a call to verify before we got there. Sure enough, “everyone does it all the time.” We were there with another dozen or so campers, just parked randomly in spaces all over the lot between the hotel and restaurant. They patrol the area, so it’s very safe. It was fun. Like a big I5 RV sleepover party, with meat.

It made a perfect stopover location, not just because of the touristy gift shop and freshly killed dinner, but also because the distance from home got us there right at sunset. That makes for a shorter shot the next day to Beloved Barstow. We’re on our way and already having a blast. Happy holidays to all!

Total miles: 169.6, 17.4 mpg, 3 hours 35 min. Site: parking lot. No services. Great cell. No dump. Great steak. Super pungent in the morning.

I have been putting off writing this post for weeks, not because the weekend was bad. It was great; one of the best campsites we’ve ever gotten. But I knew writing this would mean I would want to write about Kitty. And blogging about it makes it real. There have been so many really positive things finally becoming a reality, but life is all about balance; the good with the bad, the highs with the lows. I’m afraid we have lost our Kitty to the circle of life, and that is a heavy blow. I need to do a little Kitty homage here, even though she was never a camping cat, except when we camped in the garage.

I have seen on the internet that lots of people seem to love their cats. But honestly, Kitty was the Best Cat, better than all other cats. She was a stray, who adopted our daughter while we were on our first summer trip with Dory, and later decided to take in the whole family. She allowed us to feed and pamper her, as long as we were all very clear that she would be allowed to make her own rules. We obeyed the best we could, and she rewarded our doting with an endless offering of mostly dead wildlife. Her favorite hobby was to torture and murder as many small rodents as possible, announcing loudly when a new tribute had been claimed. She was proud of her superlative slaughter skills, and rightly so. Since she’s been gone, our neighbors have become overrun with rats. She patrolled the whole neighborhood, but allowed very few humans into her royal presence.

Though we didn’t ever find any proof, we are pretty sure it was a coyote that got her. We put up fliers and posted on local social media, just in case she was out being a tramp. We walked the streets, and talked to neighbors, and banged her food dish at all hours. But we had seen coyotes in the neighborhood recently, in broad daylight. Then one night, as we were sitting on the patio, around the gas fire pit I’ve been waiting for over a year to use, we heard something rapidly crashing down the hillside in the dark. A large coyote jumped off the retaining wall and onto the ground, not ten feet from us, before dashing around the ADU and disappearing. There was little doubt after that as to what happened.

Kitty, whose actual name was Sketch, spent her life contributing to the great circle of life, in impressive abundance. Lord knows she built up some karma there. I will be sad for a long time, but I also believe she lived her best life while she was with us. She will certainly be missed and I will probably always be looking for her at the sliding glass door.

The timing of losing Kitty is especially painful, as things at home had really only just reached the point where it looks like a normal home. The mud is all covered up with bark mulch, or decomposed granite. There is now a safe and welcoming approach to the front door. There are new pathway lights wired up to a fancy shmancy wifi controlled timer system, that knows when sunset is, so it can turn the lights on.

We were even able to do an archeological dig to uncover the natural stone wall and flagstone landing I put in some twenty odd years ago. It had long since been overtaken by rosemary and apathy. But once uncovered, it seems to have held up remarkably well. I mean, it’s rocks, so I guess they do that.

And on a whole other front, Randy is moving full steam ahead on Dory reparations. He has been sending videos of the repair process, and it is just wild. Through some elaborate winching and pulling, he has managed to get the roof section into pretty decent shape. We had some sheets of aluminum, and a new back wall shipped to him from Safari Condo, almost three years ago. That back wall will get attached to a new floor section, and the roof will get covered over with a matching aluminum skin. Once he’s done with this, she should actually be fully functional. Watching Randy in his element is like watching a wizard bring a creation to life. He thinks she should maybe have a cabana built into her backside, with like a Tiki bar.

And lastly, given this is supposed to be a camping blog, I should probably mention that we did go camping. At that point, Kitty had been missing for about a week. It was good to have a respite from staring at the sliding glass door, calling her name, and listening for distant meows. The site was as premium as you can get, where the waves are viewable from the windows, and the surf is loud and soothing. We walked to Tres Amigos to get hot gooey churros, and we walked to Spice Me Thai to get comfort food. Richard got back on the horse by getting back on his bike. He’s still working through the trauma of being hit by a car, but he’s doing his best to get back out there. He rode out to Pescadero, where I met him, and got in a nice shopping trip to Arcangeli. It was a therapeutic weekend, where we got to lick our wounds and reflect on the positive things that are also happening in our lives.

It’s funny how this blog has become a place to capture so much more than just the camping trips. It’s a space to memorialize, and recognize times of significance for us. We miss our Kitty, and we know we will want a mouser after Dory moves into the back yard. But for now, it is ok to just pause and be in the ouchies. Sometimes life is like that.

Total miles: 57.6, 17.3 mpg, 2 hours 1 min. Site 19, premium and amazing. Hookups and ocean view, with privacy on door side. Excellent cell service. Great dump.

Our final stay of the break was somewhat marred by getting into BIG TROUBLE with the campground host. I’m getting flushed even typing this, because we love campground hosts, and try our best not to get into trouble with them. They are the ones keeping things safe and not too rowdy for all of us passers through, so we appreciate them. But boy oh boy, did we piss this one off.

Let’s set the scene by giving some context. It was our last full day, and we had the plan to try again on the Pygmy Forest trail in Salt Point State Park. We’d attempted this trail many months back, but it was closed, so we instead took a long way around, creating a heart shaped path in our defeated little wake. Having a Do Over here, would not only feel satisfying in terms of closure, but would also achieve the coveted Pygmy Forest Trifecta. That would be three whole Pygmies on one trip! So we were excited and got hitched and rolling early so we could have enough time to achieve our stunted forest dream.

All was going our way and we arrived around 12:30. To our dismay, the people in our site had not yet vacated. Usually, check out time is noon, but we have been known to push just a bit past that deadline ourselves. Check in time is 2pm, so we had no moral high ground here. We were in the wrong, but we still wanted to get set up in our site as soon as we could. Richard is always a little tense at the tail end of trips too, so in retrospect, he was not in the best place to go chat with the campground host.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he said, but according to the campground host, he “had attitude.” In any case, Richard came back and reported the host said we could try hanging out in the ADA site, or in the Day Use area, if we wanted to wait. Neither one of us thought anything was going awry at that point. Since the loop was kind of tight, and the ADA site was rather small and would cause Dory to stick out a little into the road, we both figured it would be equally ok to temporarily park in a site nearby. We could see when the current occupants of our site were leaving, and pull out if we needed to move. So, I backed into #3, which also had solar and hookups, and I went inside Dory to have lunch. Here’s where things probably crossed the line. Richard figured, why not plug in while we were waiting, to make use of the time. The campground host did not like that one bit. He immediately came over and yelled at us both, saying now we were going to have to leave the park and not come back until 2. We were both totally shocked, but just said ok, and started getting ready to leave.

I don’t usually get in trouble, you guys. I’m more of the insufferable teacher’s pet type. So I went over to try to apologize, and basically started crying. I think that startled him and he backed down, just reiterating that we could ONLY wait in the ADA site. So we did that, but were both extremely rattled. Richard went to walk it off and I waited until I got full and clear permission to pull into our reserved site. At that point, it was around 1:30. We still had time in the day, but it was looking pretty shot.

Somehow, we were both able to pull ourselves together and shake it off enough to head out to the trail. We walked and talked and processed all the things that had broken down there, so that maybe we could avoid similar situations in the future. I think it was just maybe the perfect storm of us trying a little too hard to eke out every little bit of fun on our last day, coming face to face with a highly triggerable campground host, who admitted to having a short temper. He assumed we were disrespecting his authority, when in reality we were just trying to be efficient and stay out of everyone’s way.

And so it was that we were able to achieve the Pygmy Trifecta, but in a way that was totally unsatisfying. At least, by the time we’d gotten back to the car, we had wrung out all the angst. We were then able to enjoy a walk on the bluffs at Salt Point. As if to soothe our bruised spirits, Mother Nature gave us a show with the crashing of King Tide waves against the rocky shore. It was like the universe was saying, “It’s ok. Conflict happens. It’s natural. Let it go.” We then spotted a whale way out in the distance as he/she slowly made their way past the setting sun. As it disappeared into the horizon, I could hear it call back, “It’s all good, man. Just keep swimming.” Good thing I speak whale.

Heading home on Sunday, we were reminded never to underestimate “The Rollercoaster.” This is the section of Highway 1 between Fort Ross and Jenner, and it contains ten of the most exciting miles of the entire coastal drive. When I say exciting, I also mean terrifying if you are not used to steep drop offs, narrow sharp turns, and a whole lot of no guard rails. I will say, they have installed more and more guard rails every year, but it’s not enough. We had been trying to figure out some way Richard could get in one last bike ride, and there were all sorts of crazy ideas being considered. One of them involved me traversing the Rollercoaster three times so that I could pick him up, return with him to hitch up, and then tow back down it. hahahahaha Note to future self: that would not ever be a good idea.

So, home we are again. It was a great week, despite campground host confrontations. We had the best apple pie in the world, hiked two fern valleys, saw THREE pygmy forests, and went to Cowlick’s three times. Lots to be thankful for!

Total miles from MacKerricher: 85.1, 16.0 mpg, 2 hours 41 min. Site 9. Great site with hookups. No cell for ATT but a little bit for Verizon. Dump, but it was closed, and it costs $7. No potable water in campground.

This is why we camp so much. Having an entire week to explore somewhere different always leads to new discoveries and a taste of that extended camping rhythm. We spent five nights in this park, just outside of Fort Bragg, and the only hard part was wrapping it up to head home.

We found different things to do each day, including a continuation of both the Fern Valley, and the Pygmy Forest themes. If you drive just a bit south, you can park at the trailhead of Jug Handle State Natural Reserve and take a five mile round trip hike called the “Ecological Staircase.” The first part takes you right under Highway 1 and down a steep flight of wooden stairs down to a creek. You climb back up the other side and continue inland, rising gently until you come to a series of plateaus. Each terrace has its own unique ecology. The last step on the trail contains a Pygmy Forest, with Bonzai looking ancient trees. If you have time and energy after that, you can go the extra short descent down to a beautiful cove beach, under the shadow of the highway.

We spent another day just biking around together. There are miles of bike trails along the coast and through the outskirts of Fort Bragg. After we had gone to the end of the trail, we headed into town for some window shopping and ice cream at Cowlicks. Between Mocha Almond Fudge and Black Forest, with Bing cherries and fudgy chocolate chunks, I can’t say which was my favorite. Richard sampled the Mushroom ice cream and said it was not bad, and definitely not mushroomy. Richard got a flat, but was able to get right into Fort Bragg Cyclery where they fixed him up quick.

And on Thanksgiving Day, we went just a bit further south and hiked another Fern Valley trail in Russian Gulch State Park. We hiked a full loop up to the Fern Canyon Waterfall. Both Fern Valleys we have hiked so far have been incredibly beautiful. This one didn’t have any bridges out, so you can do the whole trail. The trails were a bit wider and the only dodgy part was coming down a steep passage to get to the bottom of the falls.

As we have been away from home, we heard tell that we finally got a nice solid front pathway and stairs put in. I had told Jesse, the concrete guy, that I wanted something that looked very natural, and yet totally safe. Somehow he managed to make sense of my insane requests and came up with an entryway that is both beautiful, and not deadly. The steps on the trail were what I had in mind, but that’s why you pay professionals to do things sanely. Anyway, we loved the hike and I love our stairs.

For our last full day, we hiked along Ten Mile Beach skirting Inglenook Fen. This is the only remaining coastal fen in California, and is undergoing major habitat restoration. There are signs posted everywhere, even painted on the path, that no dogs are allowed in this area. Nevertheless, people walk right past those with their dogs, and we are always rather confused. There were some good explanations posted for how dogs negatively impact fragile wildlife, but that doesn’t seem to deter lots of people. It also seems to be a completely unenforced rule.

On a serious note, we discovered a newish looking speed boat, completely destroyed and upside down on the beach. That turned out to be from an accident the week before. Two people lost their lives after their boat capsized in the waves. Later that day, we saw an emergency rescue operation, as crews tried to save a man and an unknown number of family members whose boat had also capsized just off shore. These events are common in these little norther coastal towns. Whether unsuspecting tourists, or seasoned mariners who figured they could handle the waves, dozens of people lose their lives to the ocean every year. It was sobering and sad, and a good reminder to never underestimate water.

Another Thanksgiving trip, another year to be extremely grateful to be able to get out there. It will be nice to eventually have a nice home to come home to, but nothing will replace the thrill of traveling in our own little 90 sq ft traveling mansion. We do so love our Dory time.

Total miles from Van Damme: 18.6, 13.9 mpg, 35 min. Site 72. No hookups, no solar. Better cell for ATT than Verizon, but pretty good 5g for ATT. Good dump, but water is on the wrong side, so you have to do a turn around maneuver in the dump loop. Generators allowed.

We left a rainy Hendy Woods and made our way to the coast and to a new campground. The rain messed up Richard’s desire to bike from campground to campground, but at least it was a pleasant drive. Even towing in the rain, this stretch of Highway 128 is stunning. The curves are calm, and it takes you right through the redwood forests before opening up to the ocean at Navarro Beach. From there, it’s all the glory of California Highway 1, and not too much of the scary stuff.

We pulled in with plenty of daylight left, so we drove over to check out the town of Mendocino. I’ve driven past this place plenty of times, but have never really stopped to take a look. It is small, but super cute. Our first stop was in the historic Ford House. Here, we learned all about the local history and admired the tiny reproductions of how the town looked back in the Gold Rush.

We then did a walking tour of the couple of blocks you could call the “downtown,” sampled some chocolate at Mendocino Chocolate Company, and got an afternoon slice of pizza snack at Frankie’s.

The next day, we treated ourselves to an amazing hike through Fern Canyon. This trail normally runs from the campground, up the valley for almost five miles, and ends at a Pygmy Forest. One of the many bridges has washed out though, so we instead drove up to the Pygmy Forest parking area and walked down, intending to do a loop. We learned what pygmy forests are all about along a short loop trail with a boardwalk and plenty of informational kiosks. Apparently, when there is a flat terrace with shallow hard pan, there can be extremely harsh and acidic soil conditions. This makes it hard for the normally thriving trees and shrubs to grow. They can be hundreds of years old and still look like saplings.

From that terrace, the trail descends to the Little River valley and follows it all the way to the coast. The trail closure meant we would not make it the whole way, but there is a logging road you can take back to the parking area in order to make a loop. Once the trail reaches the canyon, it becomes pretty dramatic, and you realize how the valley has earned its name.

The Fern Valley trail is really one of the most beautiful we’ve ever been on. It is dark and cool under the cover of the redwoods, but the ferns grow everywhere. There are something like twenty little wooden bridges that cross back and forth over the river, revealing fairy-like tiny waterfalls and occasional little pools. Mushrooms grow bountifully along the side of the trail, or atop fallen tree trunks. They all looked toxic to us, but we have never known much about mushrooms.

Once we got to the place where we needed to cross the river and catch the logging road, we ran into a river crossing that is probably not usually so wet. There were some logs and big stumps placed as a way to get across, but at this was the day after a nice rain, the little river was big enough to make us go, “nah.” We maybe could have done it without falling in the water, but chances were high enough that one of us was going in, we decided to just turn around there and go back the way we came. It was certainly a lovely trail, so the thought of repeating was more appealing than the likelihood of walking back to the car with wet pants.

We drove back to the campground and tried the trail going the other direction. You can get all the way to the broken bridge, assuming you are willing to walk around the fence and all the signs saying the trail is closed for repair. Another guy ahead of us led the way and knew all about the status of the trail. We discussed the relative morality of rule breaking as we proceeded up the closed trail.

We wrapped up our stay with a glorious sunset at the beach. The campground is right next to a gorgeous cove beach, making sunset viewing easy peasy.

We really enjoyed this campground and would come again. It is nicely located a short distance from Hendy Woods and Mendocino. Plus, you’ve got a spectacular trail and a beautiful beach right by your site. A lot of the loops and sites seemed to be closed, maybe for the season or maybe due to storm damage, so there aren’t many to choose from. I think we got this site as a cancellation, but so many people were no shows in the rain, there were empty sites even on a Saturday.

Onward and up the coast!

Total miles from Hendy Woods: 29.9, 16.2 mpg, 1 hour 31 min. Site 6 no hookups, no solar. Curby dump, so skipped and dumped at MacKerricher. Upper loop closed.

Thanksgiving Week Break is under way. It is becoming a tradition for us to head to Hendy Woods and pick up an apple pie at Gowan’s Oak Tree, so we have been looking forward to that all week. I took Friday off so we could leave in the morning and arrive in daylight. Note to future self: ALWAYS do that.

Friday also happened to be Richard’s birthday, so the pie was really a birthday pie. We had the fridge crammed to the gills with Blue Apron recipes veggies, and I really did not have to do that. We could have easily shopped in Fort Bragg somewhere in the middle of the week. Once we were on the way, thinking about pie, Richard brought up the question of how we were going to store it. They come precooked and frozen, so it would be ok out for a while, but not overnight. We made a quick switcheroo on dinner plans and I cooked the recipe with the most bulky vegetables. Then I rearranged some things, removed some of the canned waters, and just managed to fit the pie in on the top shelf. For the record, we carried five Blue Apron recipes, three frozen pan dinners, and a fancy frozen Chicken Cordon Bleu for Thanksgiving. And birthday apple pie. We also got a couple of apples from Gowan’s, but those were consumed on the spot.

We spent the afternoon doing the Little Hendy and Big Hendy loop trails. That earned me enough calories for the Blue Apron and dessert. There was a part of the trail that was closed, due to a gigantic tree fall. It’s hard to capture the magnitude and breathtaking size of these huge redwoods. Looking up at them, you have to crane your head all the way back and still can’t quite see the tops. When they fall, their massive trunks stretch out across the forest floor for hundreds of feet. Two giants appear to have fallen at the same time, in opposite directions. Even if no one was in the forest, I’ll bet someone heard that.

Before leaving on Friday morning, we had a chance to check in with the landscapers. We are finally at a super exciting stage in this project. Things are looking close to how I envisioned it all. Keep in mind, the crash was in November of 2020, we didn’t find the design/build contractors until after the next summer, and construction did not begin until last November. We’ve been working on this in one way or another for three years. When Richard texted me the picture of the back yard with decomposed granite on it, I could hardly contain my excitement. Yes, there are some more things to be done, but I am really, really, really excited about all of this coming to a close and finally getting Dory1 back home to her retirement campground.

Meanwhile, we have a week to enjoy Dory2 and the coastal loop we have come to love. Maybe some day we will be willing to stay home for Thanksgiving, but that day is not yet. When we have the opportunity to stay out for a whole week, we’re gonna take it.

Total miles: 136.6, 19.0 mpg, 4 hours 12 min. Site 11 no hookups, no solar, no ATT, but some limited Verizon. Good dump. Potable water.

Wow. I totally forgot to take a picture of Dory2 in her site. That doesn’t happen too often. Instead I will show you a picture of Dory1’s future site! A lot happened this week, and this was the good part. Tons of work finally got done on the outside home project and I am giddy with excitement. I can actually start to visualize an end to all of this and, after all is done and dusted, I think it’s going to be AWESOME. The massive retaining wall is finished, drained, permitted, and signed off. The next step is to put the ground cover on. I’m psyched that the “DG” (decomposed granite) we’re getting was quarried in the Mojave desert, and will have that distinctive gold color of the desert floor. I’m super excited.

Now for the very dramatic, and not at all good part of the week: Richard got hit by a car while biking. He’s ok. His bike is ok. He got some bad road rash, but nothing broken and no head injuries. Just very painful and absolutely terrifying. He got side swiped by a car that was coming from an off ramp onto a surface street, and crossed right through the bike lane. It knocked Richard onto the ground in front of oncoming traffic, but there was an angel looking out for him, who stopped traffic immediately and stayed with him the entire time. Richard called me right away and I could tell before I answered that something bad had happened. He tried to urge me not to worry, which was silly, and I dropped everything at school and got there as fast as I could. Another angel, Jennifer, called me to say she was with him and that he was ok, just very shaken. She assured me he was being well taken care of, and tried to tell me not to cry.

By the time I got to the scene, there were four police cars, paramedics, and the two angel bystanders. Plus, the driver who hit him, who is undocumented, and therefore had no license or insurance. I want to just point out the fact that this guy came back to check on Richard. He must have known how bad that would be for him, so it showed a lot of courage to do the right thing. Richard was scraped up and trembling all over, but coherent and able to walk and talk. He assured the paramedics he did not need to be taken away by ambulance, and they did not insist. He had to wait for a long time as the police conducted their investigation. Meanwhile, Jennifer and I kept trying to help by putting disinfectant on him or putting his bike in my car. We were screwing up the evidence collection though, so we were ordered to go stand “over there.”

Richard later told me about a funny story that happened as the paramedics were checking him out.

• Richard: “Where’s my bike?”
• Paramedic: “Over there, leaning against the pole.”
• Richard: “Ok”
• Paramedic: “What year is it?”
• Richard: “2000.”
• Paramedic, pausing: .. “What year is it?”
• Richard, insistently: “2000.”

The paramedics then brought out the equipment. They checked his glucose, shone lights in his eyes, asked him all kinds of questions, like who the president was. He got annoyed and asked, “Why are you asking me all these questions?” The paramedic answered it was because he had said the year was 2000. Richard, somewhat exasperated, explained, “No! My bike! My bike is 2000.” Jeez. Does no one understand the priorities of a bikie? To Richard’s credit: his grammar was correct here.

Anyway, he is ok. We bandaged him up at home, and he has even gotten back on his bike so he doesn’t get the heebie jeebies. We are both extremely grateful it wasn’t any worse, and that made him all the more determined to go out this weekend as planned. He had been promised a nice dinner, “on the house,” by his boss, and he meant to use that. And what better place to get a nice free dinner than Napa? As Friday was a Veteran’s Day holiday, we got to leave early. That put our arrival at around noon, and we were able to get in a nice hike before dinner. The hike was kind of recovery therapy for him because it worked out all the stress and kinks in his muscles.

From the Skyline Wilderness campground, there are miles and miles of trails that go off into the hills. We took the Skyline Trail up to Lake Marie, and then followed Lake Marie Road all the way back down. There are some really nice views of the northern boundary of San Fransisco Bay from up there. The “lake” itself is kind of more an algae pond right now, so this was about the journey, not the destination.

We did notice some odd structures in the rocky sides of the hills, which we later looked up. They seemed like once inhabited structures, which was true for one of them, but not so much the other. Yes, during the Gold Rush era, there were some people who lived out in the hills and chiseled out a sort of sheltered space in the rock. The other structure though, with the old rusted out oven and chimney, turns out to be a crematorium, where they took deceased patients from the nearby Napa State Hospital. It was originally called the Napa Insane Asylum and was built to deal with the overcrowding from the Stockton Asylum. Kind of a bleak history there, but interesting too.

On Saturday, we drove down to Kennedy Park and walked two miles along the Napa River Trail until we got to town. We split a Cajun fried chicken sandwich at the Dutch Door, stopped and got some chocolate truffles at Anette’s, and then just walked up and down the streets. At around 2, we were tired and sat down at the Bounty Hunter, for a flight of Cabernet tasting for me. And before dinner, we had just enough time to go across the river to check out Oxbow Public Market.

At last, we got to the highlight of the weekend: dinner at Torc. This is for sure one of the best meals I have ever tasted. For an appetizer, we split: farm fresh DEVILED EGGS, pickled onions, bacon, which seemed to have some kind of avocado magic happening in the filling. For dinner we shared a pasta dish of: house-made CAMPANELLE, sonoma coast porcini mushroom bolognese, parmigiano-reggiano, sylvetta, along side a meat entree: prime black angus BEEF FILET, beef short rib ragoût, matsutake mushrooms, satsumaimo sweet potato, beef jus. It was just incredible. For dessert, we eschewed the fancy offerings on the menu, and instead went next door to Ben & Jerry’s.

After that, it was dark and time to head back. We had thought ahead and brought our headlamps, and the walk back on the River Trail was entirely pleasant. All told, Strava calculated 11 miles of walking for me (while only 9 for Richard?? I guess my short legs go farther than his do).

All in all, it was a weekend for being grateful. Gratitude for Richard being alive of course, but also gratitude for so much of the good stuff in life. When the world seems so very full of suffering, it can be hard to stop and hold tight to the good things. But you really have to, any possible chance you get, because you just never know.

Total miles: 38.5, 17.0 mpg, 1 hour 47 min. Site 1 hookups. Not good service for ATT but good for Verizon. Dump is ok, but there was a huge line waiting at check out time.