On Wednesday, I started driving again. Along the way, I found my joy.
To be honest, I hadn’t realized I’d lost it until it was back. It’s not that I’ve been down — I’m quite upbeat most of the time. In fact, the terms “ray of sunshine” and “living your best life” have both been used to describe me recently. Really! But content, happy, enjoying myself, serene — all of those are quite different from the hum of joy that hit me on Wednesday.
I’m attributing it to Montana, because Montana is beyond awesome. I had sort of forgotten that. I mean, I remembered that when I went through Montana before, I liked it a lot, enough that I hoped to come back and spend a lot more time, but by the time I was planning this drive-through, I was mostly thinking of it as… well, exactly that — a place to drive through. An impediment on my road to friends in the east and time to write a book.
Instead, it’s just ridiculously gorgeous. I was so unenthusiastic about driving, but it’s so beautiful that I couldn’t help enjoying myself. Green hills and mountains and pine trees, rugged cliffs and then sprawling plains, horses and cows and cute little Western towns.
I was still indecisive about where I was going for the first couple hours of my trip, but when I hit St. Regis, I didn’t make the turn to Glacier. I do want to go there someday, but in that moment, it felt like it would be marking off a checkmark on a list of places to see instead of being fun. And I was in the mood for fun. So instead, I went back to the sapphire mine near Phillipsburg.
I bought myself a bucket of gravel and spent a pleasant hour playing in the muddy water and sorting rocks, and then retreated to their campground in the hills, where I did… well, nothing. Except feel happy and pleased with the world and full of joy, as I made my dinner and washed my dishes, and hung out with my dog.
Free camping in the hills.
It was dry camping, and by dry, I do mean dry. Their website said that they had water available by the parking lot, which was technically true, but it wasn’t close enough to the parking lot that I could use it to fill Serenity’s tank. If I’d been desperate, I could have filled a jug or two, but the woman at the mine said she wouldn’t drink it, so I didn’t bother.
By now, I travel with five gallon jugs of water lining the floor between the beds. Three years ago, that would have seemed like a lot of water, but not anymore. Between the generator, the van’s engine, and my solar panel, I never worry about electricity, and I actually quite appreciate my days without internet (as long as they don’t happen too often!), but it is impossible to go a day without water. So I wasn’t desperate, but I was careful, washing my dishes with my spray bottles and not washing myself at all.
As a result, my plan for Thursday… well, let’s say it evolved. Quite nicely, too. But I’ll save that story for my next post, because I’ve got things to do!
The creek is dry, but the campground is still remarkably beautiful.
I had a fairly typical driving day on Tuesday: I left Seattle by 9:30 and took a break about two hours later, wondering why I hadn’t managed to get farther along my path. I ran the generator to use the InstantPot, and made myself a delicious quinoa bowl, with fresh greens, avocado, pickled onion, shredded carrots and a lime-yogurt dressing. Walked Zelda, washed dishes, checked my email, read the news, and then realized that it was almost 1 and I’d been sitting at the rest stop for over an hour. Sigh.
Back on the road again, but I stopped an hour later to get gas. Back on the road again, and Z was awake and wandering the van restlessly, so it was time for the next rest stop and a quick dog walk. Back on the road again and traffic was picking up. Road construction around Spokane, an early rush hour…
I spent my day thinking about nothing. Watching scenery; listening to music; wishing I wasn’t driving; trying to promptly clean splatted bugs off the windshield; remembering details from the weekend; considering billboards and lottery winners and the weather. Developing strategies for measuring time as it passes, counting down the minutes on Apple maps.
Debating places to visit. Glacier National Park? But the Sun road is still closed, and I’d so much rather go there when I have time to be there, not just a quick glance into the visitors center followed by more long driving days. The sapphire mine in Phillipsburg? A reader in Montana (who I should really have emailed days ago if I planned to stop by)? Yellowstone?!?
Arguing with myself over whether to drive long days then take rest days vs trying to drive 100 miles every day or drive 250 miles every other day. I finally told myself that I’d just finish every driving day by filling the gas tank. When I’d driven to the point where I needed gas, I’d give myself permission to stop.
But I wanted to spend the night in northern Idaho, because my Progressive insurance adjustor promised me I’d like it. I was aiming for Beauty Creek campground in Coeur d’Alene. It’s first come, first served, and according to the reviews, sometimes crowded. Given that it’s now post Memorial Day, I was prepared to be disappointed, but I persisted anyway. And it is so, so beautiful. My insurance adjustor was not wrong.
My gorgeous view wasn’t cheap: $23 for dry camping, with no hookups, no showers, just vault toilets and picnic tables. The trees were alive with bees, too — I could hear the hum of a happy (and probably big!) hive in the grove of trees next to the van. A few visited and explored my screens, but none made it inside.
I’d hoped to fill up my fresh water tank here — although there were no hook-ups, they did say they had water. But the water was a pump. And not an electric pump, the kind of pump where you move the handle up and down to get the water to run. It’s a multi-handed operation — one person to pump, one person to hold the water jug and the spigot open. Zelda was not much help. In fact, Z was sort of actively unhelpful, because she didn’t understand why I wasn’t walking when as far as she was concerned, we were taking our evening stroll. Oh, well. I filled one jug, enjoyed the experience, and moved “water” higher up my list for a future campground.
And sadly, my neighbors found it important to run their generator all evening long. I was so tempted to go knock on their door and ask why they were ruining the camping for the rest of us, but a) the rest of us was just me, the only person in hearing distance, and b) ha. I never would. I might think about it, but that kind of conflict is not in my nature. Instead, I eventually closed my windows and appreciated the stillness and coziness of my quiet house, minus the fresh air.
On Friday, I visited the school where P teaches and answered questions asked by three of her language arts classes (and gave them tours of the van & introductions to the dog). It was so much fun that it made me wish I wrote middle-grade stories so I could visit more schools. In the evening, we went to a literary event where three authors and a musician read/sang from their works. It was also fun, but made me glad I don’t write literary fiction.
And now I’ve been thinking about those things for twenty minutes or longer, but I’m not sure I’ve got anything more profound to say about them than this: talking to kids about creativity and imagination and writing to please yourself felt full of joy to me; listening to the adults share their pain in literary form for our muted applause had no joy in it. At least not for me. Maybe it did for them? Either way, I’m not going to start writing literary fiction.
On Saturday morning, P and I caught the 6:10 AM Edmonds-Kingston ferry, to visit friends of hers on a farm near Quilcene for the weekend. The weather was miserable and Pam’s hopes of stunning me into devoted love for the Pacific Northwest seemed doomed to failure. Rain, gray clouds, a chill in the air… But we hung out at the farm, which was quite beautiful, and met the chickens and goats and resident cat and people. Ate veggie hash and chicken-apple sausage for lunch and tried not to get too wet. The air was amazing — fresh, clean, with that smell of wet plant-life mixed with a hint of ocean — and everything was lush and green.
My weekend view. As driveways go, it was spectacular.
In the afternoon, we went on a walk to a beach: not a hike, more of a stroll. But it took us on a dirt road through a nature preserve, surrounded by gorgeous rain forest. Then down an invisible path, Zelda hopping over the logs in her way, until we reached a marshy area that opened on to an almost deserted beach, with oyster shells everywhere.
The trail down to the beach. The pink is wild rhododendrons, I think.
Sunday dawned almost as gray. But I had a nice walk around the farm with Zelda, and then an excellent late breakfast of blueberry pancakes, bacon and potatoes. Afterwards, P and I drove into Port Townsend and wandered around for a while. It’s an appealing small town, right on the water, but around noon it started to get crowded. Lots and lots of dogs on the sidewalks for Zelda to sniff! On our way back, we stopped at the tiny local grocery store, where I found gluten-free sandwiches, gluten-free brownies, even gluten-free oats. And some beautiful fruit and veggies. The weather might not have been selling me on the Pacific Northwest, but that little store was amazing.
And the weather was starting to improve. The sky was clearing, patches of blue showing up. By late afternoon, it was gorgeous. We took another drive, this time to an oyster beach where Pam could harvest oysters. She’s got a license that lets her harvest 18 per day, and we brought one of her friends from the farm with us, so the two of them harvested 36 oysters, while Z and I wandered around and admired the view and the day and the feeling of ocean air.
Before the walk down to the beach, a viewing stand had signs with information (none of which I remember) and stairs leading up to a platform where you could admire the view. It was well worth the pause to admire.
That night, our hosts invited several people over for a barbecue. They grilled salmon and shrimp and beef and pork tenderloin and chicken, with roasted vegetables, kale salad, and potato salad, followed by ice cream for dessert. Oh, plus the oysters, rolled in corn meal and pan-fried. It was an incredible feast, all of it delicious. We sat around a bonfire and ate, then shared a few ghost stories.
On Monday I woke up super-congested and not feeling very well. I’d had plans for the day with a local friend, but he texted me that he’d caught something over the weekend and wasn’t feeling great and since I was also not feeling great, we agreed to try again next year. Then P said, “Oh, if you’re not leaving, we should kayak today.”
Apparently, the word “kayak” is a miraculous health restorer for me, because I forgot all about not feeling well. We took the kayaks and Z and went for a paddle. Unfortunately, Z was not super-cooperative. I put a towel down for her on the front of the boat and she did okay for a little bit, but then she started jumping off, repeatedly. I managed to pull her back in without overturning the kayak multiple times, but finally I took her back to shore. P went to put her kayak away so she could help me with Z and while she was gone, Z peed without waiting to reach grass. (An indication of how urgent the need was, because Z only pees in grass.) Drat. I wish I’d realized earlier that that was her problem, because we could probably have kayaked for longer and farther, but by then P was out of the water and it made sense to head home. But it was absolutely lovely to be on the water and it was a perfect day.
A perfect day for kayaks!
After kayaking, we began the trek home. We knew we’d have a long wait for the ferry, but we used the time to first get ice cream and then walk Zelda down to the beach by the ferry dock. I’m not going to post any more pictures, because I’m actually writing on Tuesday morning and hoping to get on the road in the very near future and my internet is so slow that picture-posting is tedious — but the path to the beach had wild roses and fennel growing, and the beach had kids playing in the water and people enjoying the sunshine, and it was lovely and warm and perfect.
Despite the weather, my congestion, and the traffic, it was an amazing holiday weekend. I still don’t think I’m going to wind up living in the Pacific Northwest, but I hope to spend lots more time here in the future. But not today — today, I start heading east. I have no reservations and no definite plans, but I want to be in Michigan by June 22nd, which means it’s time to get moving.
At dinner on Wednesday, we did “best and worst,” a childhood tradition at my friend P’s household in Seattle, where you share the best part of your day and the worst part of your day. There were eight people at the table, and the majority of us went with some version of the best moment being the delight of being at that table, with those people.
I was almost the last to go, so I picked another moment in the day — sitting out on the back porch, on an absolutely beautiful spring morning, while R and M and Zelda all ate scrambled eggs that I’d just finished making. I was enjoying the weather, loving the company, and my dog was eating. What more could anyone ask for?
What more would be the Vietnamese food later; the sitting around the table at the house talking; the dinner; the walk down to Ballard with a conversational crowd; sitting outside eating ice cream and appreciating city energy; and then the later walk through Ballard with just my bouncy dog. Bouncy at least in part because she’d just eaten a full serving of expensive vanilla ice cream, but that’s okay.
It was a day of glorious moments. One of my favorites was when we got back from Vietnamese food. Pam had gotten home from work and when we walked in the door, she turned around, beamed at Rory, opened her arms and exclaimed, “My son!” They exchanged a huge hug and I mock-protested, “Hey! Mine!” But I am so glad and so grateful that they have that relationship, that he has another adult in his life who adores him, another place where… well, what’s that saying about home? That it’s the place where when you go there, they have to take you in? But I love knowing that R has this place where, when he comes here, they are delighted and welcoming and would love to take him in.
Once upon a time, I was going to spend a week or ten days slowly going up the Oregon coast on my way to Seattle. That was before I crunched Serenity, causing a delay of several days, and before R let me know that he was passing through S with a long, long layover. Change of plans, so I took the most direct route possible, up Highway 5 through the middle of the state.
While I drove I was remembering all the other times I’ve driven on that road. Once in 1999, maybe? A couple times around 2003, I think. Once headed south in 2017. Enough times to make me think that one of my issues with traveling is how much driving days feel like wasted days. I need to do better about turning them into discovery days — days when I do something more interesting than simply drive. Spending all day on the road, especially when it’s a familiar road, just isn’t an interesting way to spend time. Yesterday’s big event to that point had been a stop at a Safeway to pick up salad greens and get gas. Woo-hoo! (Not.)
The day got more interesting when I arrived at my carefully-selected campground and discovered that it was full. On a Monday. In May. Having had so much availability earlier in the day that I’d decided I didn’t need to make a reservation! Dang it.
Back in the van and on the road we went and no sooner had we gotten back on the highway than I was cursing myself. The only reason I needed a campground was to dump the tanks. If I wasn’t heading from one ten-day stretch in a driveway to another several days in a driveway, I wouldn’t need a campground at all, I could just spend the night in a rest stop or a parking lot. If I’d thought of that before I left my carefully-selected campground, I could have asked to use the dump station and opened up my options. But alas, I didn’t think of it. So I was on the hunt for a campground with a dump station or hook-ups.
Fortunately, I found one reasonably easily. I got mildly lost once and had to ask for directions at the non-camping park across the street, but Gills Landing, a county park in Lebanon, had spots available, and I was settled in — tanks dumped, water tank topped up, with electricity running the InstantPot — by about 6PM. I was a little dubious about the train tracks running directly behind my campsite, but if any trains went by in the night, I missed them.
And I quite like the campground. It’s not for tent campers — there’s a bathroom but it closes at dusk, so they only accept RVs with a manufacturer-installed toilet system (and both hosts asked me about it, so that is something they take seriously). But the spaces are level, with concrete pads, and lots of room between them. It’s $35/night, so not cheap, but they are full hook-up spots, so not unreasonable, either. I didn’t check out the bathrooms and don’t know whether they have showers. But I have reasonable internet access on both T-Mobile and Verizon.
Serenity, with the elevated train tracks directly behind her.
Unfortunately, the rain started in the night. Z and I started walking this morning and we got about four sites away before she stopped and stared at me, her attempt to psychically say, “Why are we doing this?” I got the message and we turned around and came back to the van. There’s a river nearby, according to the map, so I suspect there’s probably some nice walks and maybe even a view — but Z isn’t curious enough to want to walk in the rain, so we are probably not going to investigate. Instead, I’m writing these words and hoping that Fen’s adventures aren’t so totally disrupted by my driving day that I can write some of those words, too. And then it’s back on the road. Seattle by dinner-time!
On Saturday, I had dinner with the mayor of Eureka. Her name is not Henry; she doesn’t drive a tow truck; and it was Eureka, CA, not Eureka, OR. But it did amuse me nonetheless. And also made me reflect on how odd it is that a television show changed my life in such dramatic ways.
For those of you who don’t know this story, in 2010, I fell in love with the television show Eureka. During the break between the two halves of Season 4, my craving for information led me to discover fanfiction. Literally — I’d never even heard of fanfiction before, to the best of my recollection, and I’d certainly never written any. In fact, I’d given up writing fiction entirely at least a dozen years earlier (when I decided freelance writing was a stupidly difficult way to earn a living and went back to editing.) But Eureka inspired me and I wrote a bunch of Eureka stories that were really fun — complicated science, humor, romance — skipping all the tedious parts of writing, ie description.
Then the new episodes started playing and I hated where they took the characters. By then, I was possessive of them, even though they weren’t mine. So I started writing original fiction, where no one else could make my characters do stupid things. At the very end of 2011, I posted my first full-length original story to Amazon, so the people who’d been reading along online could have it in ebook format if they wanted. I made a cover for it in Powerpoint, using a photo from a free site, and told my friends and family that they could buy it if they wanted to give me a gingerbread latte, or download it for free on its KU free days if they just wanted to read it. That was A Gift of Ghosts. I was in grad school and my goal was to write for fun — a million words that I was willing to share — while I got my degree and started work as a therapist. By now I should be about ready to start my own practice, having finished my degree, worked the necessary hours for my license, and built up a bit of a client base. Ha. Instead I dropped out of school, and I’m wandering around the country, still undecided about my ability to support myself as a writer, although still enjoying writing.
Speaking of which, I’ve been waiting two months for Amazon to notice that Ghosts is available for free on the other sites and price match it back to free. I’ve even gone so far as to try to report the lower price myself, but to no avail. It’s pretty weird, because they noticed that it wasn’t free about five days after I put it into KU — I guess they’re prompter about not losing money? Short version of this story: I tried out Kindle Unlimited for three months, the shortest term that you can sign up for, and it killed my sales. I earned some money from page reads, but not enough to make up for the fact that I no longer sold any books anywhere. Two months ago, with a great sigh of relief, I let the KU term expire and put the books back up everywhere, but I’m still not selling as many as I did before this experiment, because Amazon hasn’t price-matched Ghosts to be free. Anyway, if you have a minute and feel so inclined, there’s a: “Would you like to tell us about a lower price?” link on the Ghosts page underneath the publisher info and it might help me out if you reported Ghosts being available for free elsewhere. (Elsewhere being Barnes & Noble or Kobo or iBooks or Google Play.) And I say “might” because Amazon can be weird and I don’t honestly know if this is what they need to make the change. But thank you in advance for trying if you do!
Back to my life news — Sunday was supposed to be thunderstorms and rain in Arcata. Instead, it was gloriously sunny for most of the day. We took the dogs to the beach for one last romp that was wonderful — Zelda was having a very good day, and not only did she run and roam and play, she paid attention to where I was and responded when I called her. We also did useful things — laundry and packing up and cleaning. S spent lots of time in her garden and I spent lots of time in the van, but it was nice to have one last glorious day.
Today, it’s time to move on. I tried to remind myself this morning that a departure is not an ending, it’s just a change, but I’m still sad to be leaving. On the other hand, once I get on the road, I will remember that I’m headed to another place I like, Seattle, to see more people I like. And a few I love! Conveniently for my enthusiasm level, if I make it there by Wednesday morning (new goal: get there by Wednesday), I will get to spend a few hours with R and his delightful girlfriend as they pass through.
And meanwhile, S and I already have plans for our next adventure together — New Mexico, sometime in 2020. In my head, maybe even my heart, I know that life is not about what happens next, it’s about what’s happening now, but it’s still comforting to remind myself that I have plenty to look forward to.
Yesterday, I took Zelda and Riley for a walk down to the railroad tracks. While we were there, we met a chocolate Lab from the nearby wood-working shop. Zelda was busy sniffing some interesting plant and when this Lab came toward her, she ignored it. The Lab behaved like a typical dog, sniffing her thoroughly, head-to-butt, but Zelda offered no return sniffs, no acknowledgment. When she finally turned away from the plant she was sniffing, she actually walked underneath the Lab, still not showing any sign of noticing it was there. I wanted to believe it was a ghost dog, but I think it’s just more evidence of my girl’s age.
Last night, I was talking to S about Z’s unwillingness to eat — a topic that is probably thoroughly boring to people in my life, because it comes up every day — and S said, “Do you think she might not be processing that she’s hungry? The same way she doesn’t really process sound anymore?” Maybe? But I also think she’s still aware enough to know that the food that comes off my plate or out of my bowl is more likely to be interesting than anything I set on the floor for her, so I’m going to consider that the good news. Meanwhile, I buy every new (healthy) dog food that comes my way, because she’s often willing to try something new. Once, anyway. Rarely twice, alas.
I do wish I could see inside her mind, though. She has good days and bad days, these days, and on the good days, she’s fine: bouncy and happy and playful and inquisitive, the way she’s always been. On the bad days, she’s… foggy. On a foggy day, she is utterly untrustworthy. She can and will wander into the street; she will get lost in the backyard; she gets very distressed if she can’t find me (and sometimes doesn’t realize when I’m right next to her); she doesn’t show any sign that she can hear me call; and she doesn’t eat. She sleeps more than she used to, too — which is saying something, given how much dogs sleep. On the spectrum of terms for age, I feel like she’s moved past “senior” and is slowly sliding from “old” to “elderly”. She’s only 14, and Jack Russell terriers can live to be much older than that, but… well, the good days still outnumber the bad.
Her nicknames are changing, too. S calls her “Small Madam” and I frequently call her “Princess” now, both said affectionately. But in part, I think those names have come about because she really requires a different level of care than she used to. She was never really a princess dog, but now she is. And care is maybe the wrong word — attention? It’s not that I care more than I used to, but… well, a couple times recently I’ve regretfully declined fun possible adventures, saying, “Sorry, I don’t think I can make that work.” The reality is, I can’t make anything work if takes me away from my dog for more than a few hours, because she needs me. Every day, she needs me. And I am all too aware that we are running out of days. If I have my way, none of the ones she has left will be spent whimpering, wondering where her person has gone.
Meanwhile, though, she is sleeping on my feet and we’re going to the beach this afternoon and I am so, so grateful that she’s still with me. It’s been a year since she was diagnosed with canine dementia and our year has included far more happiness and far more fun than I could possibly have predicted back then. It’s a potent reminder that fearing the future just gets in the way of appreciating the day I’m in.
I thought that it was going to be really hard to leave Arcata this week: I’m so going to miss Suzanne and the dogs; the yoga studio down the street, the incredible gluten-free bread; the nearby beach (which we haven’t gone to nearly enough); the friendly neighbors; even Gina, the cat that yells at me all the time. (She yells at everyone all the time, I don’t think it’s personal.)
The weather, however, is being very obliging about encouraging me to go. It is cold and gray, in the 40s and 50s, with rain predicted for all the later days of the week. I’ll be sorry to say good-bye, but I can’t say that I’m going to mind finding myself some sunshine somewhere.
I do have really mixed feelings, though. There are all sorts of things that I’m looking forward to doing in the next couple of months: visiting friends and family, including a mini-reunion with some college friends; seeing the Best Brother Ever’s new puppy; eating blueberries straight from the bushes… but I am completely unenthusiastic about the driving part. I’m obviously not done traveling, because I live in a van and it’s not really an option to not travel, but the process of getting to the places I want to go does not fill me with joy. I’m going to have to work on that somehow.
But one day at a time, right? Today’s job is to write some words; work on getting a part ordered to fix the damage to the van; maybe schedule an oil change for later in the week. And spend as much time as possible admiring S’s garden, which is really just fantastically beautiful right now. More so on a sunny day, but the rhododendron outside the van’s window is stunning even in the gray.
I was going to write a post about my frustration with my camera, because all the pictures I posted in the last several blog posts were taken on my iPhone. Then I realized that it wasn’t that I only took good photos with my phone; it was that I’d screwed up and only looked at the photos imported from my phone, instead of looking at my photos by date.
Sigh.
But I am not going to go back and change my previously posted photos, because that would be confusing. So here are some random photos that if I’d seen earlier, I might have posted.
If I had the money to live anywhere and was completely unconstrained by thoughts of friends and family, Bend would have moved to the top of my list this week. It’s a fantastic small city. Good thrift stores, good parks, reasonable roads, and excellent restaurants. Also, very, very dog-friendly.
We spent a fun afternoon there, doing all of the above: lunch at Parilla Grill, a fun walk in Drake Park with the dogs, visits to a couple of thrift stores. Then we checked in to the La Quinta Inn for a night of luxury. Woo-hoo! Clean showers, comfy beds, and electricity. And internet, too!
I know I’ve been posting as if I was writing the entire trip, but in actual fact, most of our campsites didn’t have electricity or internet. By that point on Sunday afternoon, my computer had been out of charge for three days or so, and I hadn’t written a word for two of them. I told S that it felt like I was going through withdrawal.
So I was happy to write for a while and then we used our delightful internet access to find a restaurant for dinner. We wound up at 10 Barrel Brewing — with all three dogs! While we were browsing restaurants, I pointed out that they had a patio, and S promptly called them and asked if they allowed dogs on their patio. The woman on the phone answered, “Yes, of course.”
“Yes, of course,” even applied to three dogs. Yep, we took all of them out to dinner with us. Everyone else on the patio brought their dogs, too. It was great, and completely solidified my already growing love for Bend. The dog at the table next to ours was a puppy that looked so much like Zelda as a puppy — white body, black ears, patch over an eye, except about twice as big. I can’t believe I didn’t take a picture of him. But here’s a picture of Zelda under our table.
Zelda, wondering when she gets a bite of my elk burger.
To complete our restaurant pleasure, on Monday morning we ate at McKay Cottage Kitchen one more time. And this time I took a picture. 🙂
Breakfast before a long day on the road.
But after breakfast, it was time to start the long trek home. Of course, when you’re traveling with three dogs, it’s one thing to say, “We’re just going to drive all day.” It’s another thing to actually accomplish that.
We stopped at a rest stop in Chemult and let the dogs play in the snow.
We stopped at the Rogue Gorge and walked the dogs along the river while S told me Tolkien stories.
We stopped at Fred Meyer in Grant’s Pass and bought snacks and sushi and gas.
And eventually, we stopped at Florence Keller County Park and spent another night on the road, because even though we were only 90 minutes away from Arcata, why not spend a night camping in the redwoods when you can?
Riley and Buddy, sharing the good bed. Buddy and Zelda, sharing the good bed. Some very tall trees.
On the way home on Tuesday morning, we stopped at the Redwood National Park visitor center, for the final moments of a truly lovely vacation, in which the weather was mostly perfect, the adventures were mostly pleasant, and the company was always fantastic. The food was generally pretty good, too!
