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About hennacornoelidays

Our family loves to travel, camp, and basically go trapsing across this land. We also love to share our stories as well as our favorite picks for adventures. In 2015 Hennacornoelidays Press published the first of what will hopefully be many travel guides. Check it out!

Day 47: Grand Teton National Park to Laramie, WY

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It was kind of hard yesterday saying goodbye to the Signal Mountain campground.  Our five nights spent there (we also spent one night at Colter Bay) was camping at its best.  We made friends, learned about slightly off the beaten path destinations, and were given food by our neighbors.  Those neighbors, by the way, were the best neighbors outside of Edison Park that a family could ask for.  Although laid back and friendly, they were also experienced campers.  For example, when a mother black bear and cub wandered around just below our campsite they were able to point it out to us without disturbing their feeding.

For that last morning we woke up to a coming storm and were able to pack up just before the rain came.  We waited out that rain then had a good breakfast which finished just before another storm, this one with hail.  After a final goodbye to the place we followed that storm east to DuBois.  The rain and construction slowed us down but we did spy another mother bear and cub by the side of the road.  Later in the day Henna and I saw dozens of antelope and we may have also seen a wolf (Corey got the best look at the canine-ish animal and she is certain it was a grey wolf).

Other highlights of the day were coffee and ice cream in Landers, WY (where the diner had mismatched coffee cups and more wooden Jesus’s and other saints than you would think possible).  Landers had a bit of a gritty feel along with many opportunities to pawn your stuff (possibly to get enough money to buy a drink at one of the dozen or so dark saloons in the town square).  There also was a neat little park near the train tracks, many friendly people walking around, an Asian grocery store, and an excellent antique shop.  No bookshop though.

Laramie we could live in, maybe.  I did not find a bookshop, but the college town must have at least one.  We did have excellent pizza at Grand Avenue Station where the artists there create masterpieces out of wheat or white dough, feta cheese, barbecue chicken, or whatever else you think might be a good idea.  The main drag has buildings dating back to the late 19th century that now host coffee shops, boot stores, funky bars and other strange pairings of the wild west and a hip college town.

Before these western towns we drove through endless high desert filled with unexpected bright colors and rounded off mounds.  The high mountains of the Tetons and the Wind River faded in the background and the altitude trended down.  Along the way we stopped at Split Rock which was a physical landmark for folks headed west along the Oregon Trail.

These are the last few days of our trip and we are already reminiscing about it.  It has been a good one and we hope you stay with us for these last few days.

Day 41 to 46: Grand Teton National Park (Part 4)

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Our last day in heaven.  That’s what it felt like anyways.  After driving 5,500 miles or so in about 6 weeks it felt good to anchor ourselves in one spot.  In six nights here we hiked close to 20 miles and swam almost every day.  We also made friends with two families (both families included a Mike), ate out a few times, and slept in.  The storms came almost daily, but so did the sunshine.  We also visited Jackson Hole three times and by the final time (today) felt that we actually saw the small shell of a time shellacked by the great tourism world.  How we came about this core was through the usual methods; a haircut.

Woke up this morning around 5:00 AM and may have accidentally woken up Corey and Henna.  Instead of going back to bed we talked a bit and decided (with a strong dissent by Henna) to get up and take showers.  That is how stinky we were; Corey actually agreed to leave the tent before six in order to take a shower.  The nearest shower was Colter Bay (where we camped the first night).  So off we were a little after 6 watching the sun finish its rising and keeping an eye out for wildlife.  We saw many elk and a coyote and were clean and back at our campsite around 7:30.  I should mention it was in the mid-40s the whole time we were up.  I made coffee, Corey yawned a lot, and Henna went back to bed.  Around 10 we were properly caffeinated and full of yummy pancakes.

Feeling super clean I craved a haircut.  Back at the showers the nice lady in charge told me where all the locals went for a good, clean haircut (Teton Barbershop? It is on Gill Street).  There I waited my turn with a diverse collection of twenty year olds with long hair and tattoos (these are the ones piloting the tour boats, working at the hotels, etc.), older men with Stetsons, and the odd tourist (me).  My barber was nice, soft-spoken, and a little hard of hearing.  It did not matter as I did not give him any real directions as to what to do.  What counted with me was him not being intimated by my almost 2 month beard. Midway through my haircut he stopped and asked, “Can I ask you what I ask everyone from Chicago?”  Oh no, I thought, what.  “Do you ever go the Weiner Circle?”

After the haircut we hung out at the National Museum of Wildlife Art.  Although I was bummed my NPS pass did no good there and $12 an adult/$6 a child (or $30 a family pass) seems a little steep (my NPS pass which allows our family entry into any National Park for a year is $80) the museum really is cool and worth the money.  Henna got an almost hour long lesson on water colors with the resident artist and their exhibits are fascinating.  They are in the process of creating an art trail around the building too and when completed this will almost definitely be a premier destination as it is nestled just at the entrance to the park (and the building is a fascinating blend of stone).  I do wish they were more generous with their WiFi, but the people working there were friendly and the galleries were not crowded.  As the afternoon storm rumbled outside, I worked on these paragraphs while nestled into a plush leather couch with views of the foothills.  Not a bad way to spend my last day in heaven.

Day 41 through 46: Grand Teton National Park (part 3)

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Before you call DCFS please read fully.  Today began with a plan to hike up Signal Mountain whose trail lies across the road from our campsite.  This hike was described by a campsite worker as short and ugly.  Knowing that nothing coud be ugly in this glorious place, we decided to believe only the short part.  So after a harrowing walk along the road to the trailhead we hiked 3 miles to the mountain summit (over two hours) only to be met by tons of tourists snapping pictures of the glorious teton range view (I should mention there also is road that will take you to this very spot.)  We must have looked mighty out of place among all these clean people; as we were tired, sweaty and eating scraps of squashed food from my camel back.  Henna was so tired she sat right on the ground not caring that people had to walk right over her.  A nice looking man asked incredulously, “Did you hike up here?” To which we proudly answered “yep”. What came out of his mouth next was the last thing we expected.  He looked right into our over tired and sun streaked eyes and bluntly asked, “Why would anyone walk when they could drive?” How do you reply to such a forward and insane comment?  You don’t.  I simply turned to Henna who at age 8 had hiked up this summit, not so pleasantly at times I might add, and asked her if she would do it again.  She replied without hesitation, “Yes!”  I thought that was all the response that was needed.  Her reasons can be best described in the pictures that follow.  Boy do I love this kid.

Day 41 through 46: Grand Teton National Park (Part 2)

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Another day another hat.  My fourth hat of the trip (in case you are scoring at home) and this is the first one that would not look odd in Edison Park.  However, with my very overgrown beard, dark glasses, and Teton baseball cap I do look a little like a wanted bank robber.

Yesterday we hiked up to and through Cascade Canyon (which we also did last year).  This is probably the most popular hike in the park as it combines a short boat trip to the opposite shore of Jenny Lake, stunning views of the lake from Inspiration Point, and then even more amazing views of the surrounding mountains which form the canyon walls of Cascade Canyon.  You can take the shuttle boat and hike .5 miles to Hidden Falls then return back or backpack through the terrain for a month.  14 years ago Corey and I backpacked to Lake Solitude (our first backpacking trip).  Yesterday we hiked to a pretty cool water fall just past the Cascade Trail fork (round trip 9 miles).  We saw two very cool bull moose along the way and, even more exciting, made some good friends.  Our new friends are Grace (age nine), Mike and Kerri.  Grace is nine, loves books, is read to by her parents at night, and enjoys camping with her parents at various national parks.  Henna is almost nine, loves books, is read to by her parents at night, and enjoys camping with her parents at various national parks.  Both girls are also kind of shy and love digging in the dirt for rocks and such (although Grace might like bugs more than Henna).  A quicker friendship has never been.

Grace’s parents are also very cool and, amazingly, know William Least Heat Moon (or Bill as Mike calls him)!    Mike, being a professor of geography at Missouri (MIZZU) also knows a lot about rocks and other cool things (as well as Seinfeld trivia).  Kerri has a good sense of humor (she laughed at my jokes) and has a love for all things literature.  We talked books (Grace has read many of the same books at Henna), living abroad (they lived in China for a year), climate change (one of the few conversations related to the subject this trip that did not include calling our president a Marxist), and bug based ice-cream.  We barely made the last boat back to shore and ended up eating together at the Signal Mountain Lodge.  There we sat tired, filthy, and slap happy.  I could not have asked for a better time.

Day 41 through 46: Grand Tetons National Park (Part 1)

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We have been living in Grand Teton National Park now for a couple of days.  I like it.  We have some great neighbors, lots of hiking and swimming options, and good mountain views in every direction at every time.  The town of Jackson (better known as Jackson Hole) is just a short drive away and that is where we went last night to fill up the tank, eat some Thai, and get new wedding bands.

After a couple of false starts that included a very handy salesperson who tried pushing 70s disco era stuff, we found our rings.  Sterling silver, they did not fit us exactly right but after some hammering they were ours.  We celebrated with some Thai food.

All was well at the restaurant until the gun shots started.  First it was one pop (maybe a car backfiring?), then a few more, and then finally a steady barrage of bangs that appeared to be occurring less than fifty yards from where we were dining.  No one else at the place seemed to mind so we did not panic.  Later I found out it was the nightly shoot out staged on Maine Street twice a day.  Funny, some people drive all the way to Wyoming to escape their urban woes.  Those same people then ooh and ah over a recreated shooting.  Maybe the nightly news should take Jackson’s cue and, instead of merely telling the news, use actors to recreate the daily mayhem.  It still might be depressing, but at least it would be more entertaining.

Before heading into town we made some friends and I picked up a nemesis.  I will tell you about the friends first.  A few sites down from us live Mike and Nicole who hail from Pomona, IL (the heart of one of my favorite places in the world, Southern Illinois).  Father and daughter they are the advance team for an adventure oriented co-ed youth group that plans on camping a couple of weeks in the Tetons (co-ed teens camping together for an extended period of time, what could go wrong?).  Mike has been here before and knows the park well.  He also knows quite a bit about camping in general and has the easy going knowledgeable manner that makes for a great neighbor.  His daughter is headed to Chicago in the fall with her husband with a theatre background and a desire to make it in the big city.  As cool and friendly as her father we hope she makes it big (and ultimately invites Corey, Henna, and I to NYC to watch her perform on SNL).  Mike and Nicole shared a few huckleberries with us and, more importantly, shared where they picked them.  Henna was enthralled and the hunt was on.

On the way to the huckleberry patch I met my foe.  She was walking alongside a trail with her young son and seemed sweet enough at first.  We asked her directions to the String Lake Picnic Ground area (an essential first step in our search for the elusive berry).  Her response, “you don’t want to go there.”  I did want to go there.  “Well, you can swim right here, I mean it is the same lake.  Over there it is just crowds.”  I felt a little defensive and told her about the huckleberries.  She did not respond to my excuse (and does anyone really need an excuse to go to a popular tourist destination?)  but instead added “I mean some people like that sort of thing especially if you have never been here before.”  “I like huckleberries,” was my response.   She again ignored my reason for searching out what to her must seem like the worst excesses of a National Park loving society.  What got me going was how defensive and competitive I became.  I suppressed it well, but in my head I was listing all the hikes, roads, and parks we have been just this summer where people were few and the views many.  But the thing is there is always someone who can trump us.  Mike for example has out camped and hiked us many, many times over.  Later on the trail we bumped into a family living out of a tent for a month (like us) but (unlike us) have three small children with the youngest about a year old.  We also have met people cycling, hitchhiking, and walking the same terrain we have driven.   And all the people just mentioned have grace.  They live the way they do not to gloat but to more fully enjoy life.  “Love the life you live, live the life you love” is on every e-mail Corey sends out.  That should be enough.

Day 40: Ontario, OR to Arco, ID

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Pushing 6 weeks here and the last few days were wearing me down.  Yesterday revived me greatly though and ended around a gas fed fireplace with new friends playing tunes at our request.  Leading the group was a camper with a lot of guitar and vocal talent.  Joining him were the campground owners (who also had a lot of musical talents that included song writing) and a local Arco resident on keyboard.  Sherri (the matriach of the campground owners) not only warmly invited us into the circle, but also let Henna drum along on a hybrid tambourine/ bongo instrument.  Their daughter joined us too and spending the night at the KOA in Arco, ID felt almost as good as hanging out at Dan’s house in Santa Cruz.  While the sun set over the mountains I shut my eyes and felt the temperature dropping as my spirits rose.

Sherri and Neil were the last of several very cool people met yesterday while driving to Craters of the Moon National Monument.  We did not know what to expect both in terms of landscape and people and were pleasantly surprised by both.  First down the line was another Aussie (they are everywhere!).  It was off the interstate on HWY 20 with a lot of empty spaces in all direction.  At the Hill Saloon, the only business in town, there was a small general store, dusty pots with cold coffee, a former post office, and an old fashion bar in back with wooden floors.   All this was in a building smaller than a convenience store.  Tending bar (and the only person in the store other than us) was the aforementioned Aussie.  Unlike most Australians she was rather shy and volunteered little information.  When I asked how she ended up there, she stated that the owner had to go into the city for business.  I then asked how long she had been in Hill and she replied one month.  I felt like she left the best part of the story out.

At the National Monument we were treated to endless cooled lava fields than spewed some 2000 years ago.  Like much of Idaho and Wyoming and, for that matter, the entire west, the land beneath is a seismic mess and continues to pull, raise, and drop the land in sudden spurts.  The last big movement occurred in 1983 with an earthquake that saw the valley drop eight feet and a mountain rising a foot.  Every 2000 years ago lava flows freely.  The last time this happened was 2000 years ago.  Better see it quick.

Craters of the Moon has a wonderful 7 mile loop with several short hikes that take you into the landscape.  We climbed a cinder cone, walked among the lava rocks, and explored a lava tube.  We also met a couple cycling from Michigan to the coast.  Teachers, they were doing this partly as a way to raise money for their school.  Talking with them we realized that they had been to many of the same places we have, but on bike.  While at the visitor’s center the supervisor of the park approached them, introduced himself as an avid cyclist, and invited them to crash at his house for the night.  He also had let them borrow a car to drive into town.  Later at the campground I met other educators, this time from the Netherlands.  Hank teaches students with Autism (age 15 to 22) and his wife (Katharina) is a counselor.  While their English was very good, they had trouble answering my questions related to what special education looks like in Europe.

My coffee is percolating, the ladies are sleeping, and we are headed to the Grand Tetons (Uncle Mike from Klamath said that name always cracks him up) today.  We might spend up to five nights there; we might not.  Either way we are going to enjoy our last week and change on the road as much as we can.  Talk to you all soon.

Day 37 through 39: Shasta Mountain, CA to Klamath Falls, OR to Ontario, OR

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Day 35:  Shasta Mountain, CA

The one guy looked like Charles Manson.  He just seemed to stare off into space in a psychotic kind of way.  The other ones, mostly men, had a friendly easy way about them.  They weren’t all camping next to us; some of them were just visiting friends.  I had met one of them, maybe the ring leader of the group while checking in.  He was in his mi- 50s, wore a fedora and a dirty shirt and told me a little bit about the area trails.  He later told me he was from Wisconsin, had driven up here with his kids, and now his wife, daughter, brother in law and a niece have been living at campsite 74 for about two months.  We ended up in campsite 73.  While setting up I talked to one of the visitors.  He had lived in Mount Shasta as a kid, then Florida with his wife, and now, with his marriage “tanked”, with a bunch of people in campsite 74 for an extended period of time.  He was maybe in his mid-40s, had a worn face, and talked to me with a rolled up something or other in his fingers.

Going through Humboldt County we passed through no less than three reggae festivals.  We also saw more people in dreads than I had ever thought possible.  Corey today asked someone what that was all about.  The lady laughed and said it went along with their number one cash crop.  While Southern California is often in touch with their feelings, Northern California is just stoned.

Anyways day 35 was a lot of driving.  We saw Mount Shasta and that was pretty cool.  At any time other than end of the trip, we would have spent a few days here.  It has that earthy and genuine feel we dig.  As our friends at aMaceing Life might say, we could live here.  But my day job starts in two weeks and we are still hoping to spend a few days in the Tetons.  So we bargained with ourselves and decided to do some hiking in the morning and drive a little less tomorrow.  5 weeks out and we are glad you are still with us.  Safe travels every one.

Day 36:  Mount Shasta, CA to Klamath Falls, OR

Today started in circles and ended with laundry.  We headed out of town, but not before stopping at the rangers station for hiking information.  The volunteer working there offered two good choices; hiking on Mount Shasta or great falls in the national forest (but away from the mountain).  After deliberating with my family we chose falls.  Got on Interstate 5 heading south, guided Corey into a truck weighing station and then was reprimanded by a highway patrolman for going too fast (in our defense we thought we were on HWY 87).  After getting to the correct road Corey and I both were bummed not to be going on the mountain so we u-turned and drove past the original ranger station in order to drive up Mount Shasta.  We ended up hiking 1000’ up over 1.7 miles to the base camp for summiting the mountain (the Bunny Flat trail; no we did not see any bunnies).  At base camp is a Sierra Club stone hut from the 1920s, a friendly volunteer who was tenting at base camp for the summer (and was probably in her mid 60s), and a great spring for the drinking.  After good conversations with an assorted group of serious mountain climbers, hikers, and others from the U.S. as well as Germany, we departed ready for the drive north.  A couple of hours later we were setting up camp at the KOA in Klamath and meeting new neighbors.  Yesterday it was harmless hippies, today was a large extended and unregulated family drama (not our family).  Corey struck up a conversation in order to gauge their intentions, and within a few minutes found out mom was on disability, she has three kids and is in the process of moving herself and kids to Alaska via Arkansas, is estranged with her own mother, and her current husband has some kind of recurrent stomach ailment.  Uncle Mike was the best.  Me:  “Do you know anything about HWY 140.”  Him:  “I took it twice but both times I did so in a back of a van.”  A little later:  “Both times I was headed to prison.”  Later Grandma showed up and this resulted in a very loud yelling match and someone driving off.  Corey did want me to add that although she was overflowing with drama, mom and teenage daughter were both quite nice.  One more thing; this KOA also doubles as a liquor store so people come from all over town seeking out King Cobra and the other fine liquors stocked by this establishment.      Another couple more weeks out and I will be blogging about sleeping on park benches.  Anyways, enjoy the pictures from our hike.

Day 37: Klamath, OR to Ontario, OR

Today was a lot of numbers; we drove our 5,000th mile of the trip (and about 375 for the day), had our second oil change, and spent our sixth night at a hotel.  Last night was our 30th night camping so we are one hotel and one campground away from a week and month at both.  In the process we drove through rolling grassy valley (no irrigation needed along most of 140), high dessert scenery, through tight canyons, alongside rives, and past alkaline lakes.  Lunch was an informal thing on a gravel bed looking over Lake Albert (which to us greatly resembled Mono Lake).  Ice cream was another necessary break at a DQ in Vale (the same DQ we stopped at last year on our way to the Tetons).  But the theme of the day was getting somewhere and while we enjoyed the ride, there was not a lot of genuine exploring today.  One nice moment; while eating out for dinner we dined next to a large extended family gathering.  It was a little girl’s birthday and us observing her being fitted with an oversized sombrero while being sung Feliz Cumpleanos was the sweetest family moment that did not belong to us in the longest time.  Tomorrow is probably another long driving day that may end in the Tetons.   Keep in touch.

Day 35 and 36: Humboldt Redwood State Park, CA

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Leaving the coast, Highway 1 headed east with a sharp kick to the stomach putting the ocean and fog behind us while entering a place in which summer had yet to come.  This road makes this dramatic turn due to the Kings Mountain Range that hug the coast so perfectly no road ever was made to follow alongside it, leaving  this stretch of California beaches known as “The lost coast”.  These mountains not only keep the coast isolated but also keep the beautiful redwood trees to their east sheltered from the intense fog giving them time to soak up the sun to become the tall behemoth’s that they are.  It is in the midst of these beauties that we called home for the last two days in Hidden Springs Campground, with our tent also hidden among trees.  We had to walk a steep path to get to our tent, with no neighbor visible to either side.  This state park followed alongside highway 101 on a smaller road known as The Avenue of The Giants from Phillipsville up past Pepperwood, with various ancient groves to either side.  The history of these trees is legendary, and the fact that they are still standing left us all in awe each time we walked among them.  Along this route, towns seemed left behind also, boasting of a special redwood on their property.  The Eternal Tree House, the Drive Through Tree, just to name a few.  As we explored this area, it seemed to stop time for us as we pondered the 1500 years some of these trees have stood.  It makes one feel a bit small when you wonder what your place in this world should be.  On a lighter side though, we began our 5th week on the road refreshed and giddy.  While being here, I found myself not thinking much about anything.  A calmness settled in while listening to the wind rustle high above us, and as total darkness encompassed us at night while no moon appeared to pull us back to real time.

During these walks Henna would describe in full detail her plans for her future.  She has decided to become a traveling writer, being gone for years at a time, writing about her adventures on paper only to come home to transcribe them.  One such trip entails a boat to China, replete with many pencils and paper, water, and all other necessities she might need.  Her fear was only that she would forget this dream, because being a kid she assumed she would abandon or forget it and never complete it; therefore, every now and again she would remind us very enthusiastically that she remembered her boat trip. Her excitement for all the possibilities in life, the adventures, the stories she wants to tell was infectious.  I want her to remember.  I want her to always look for the possibilities.   During another walk among The Giants, Henna declared that she wanted to walk barefoot.  She has been expressing this desire stating that she loves to feel things beneath her feet as she walks.  Stones, sticks, dirt, you name it.  So I let her.  Shet walked along a soft path laden with dirt and dry red wood pines.  She never relented, and stated how much she loved this connection with the ground.  She continued to ask if she could go barefoot the whole rest of the day.  Our discussion took us into the depths of civilized behavior and how people do things, to which she gloriously declared, “when I get older I’m going to walk barefoot everywhere”.  Again I loved this moment in which I could let her have her way, the possibilities of walking barefoot entrancing her.  I did not want to be the harbinger of bad news on how some day she would actually enjoy shoes and that she may or then again maybe not come to this realization.

Our neighbors on our last night here were a young couple travelling north to visit friends in San Francisco.  Cameron, who took off a year after high school, had travelled extensively through South America.  His sweet companion, Griffin had also traveled to faraway places such as Thailand, Australia and Toronto. It’s in these stories that I find the possibilities too. “There are as many ways to live in this world as there are people in it, and each on deserves a closer look” taken eloquently from Harriet the Spy.  By stopping time for a moment, I get so excited for the possibilities in life.

We are heading east today, and our slow decent home will begin.  As we leave this place, I know that the calmness here will be found again but may take some real stopping to catch it.  While thinking about home, I get excited for the familiar there, the people we love there.  But I know that I am going to make sure that Henna remembers her dream and is aware of the calmness and always of the possibilities.

Day 34: Mancester to Westpoint, CA

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The odometer said we only did 64 miles yesterday.  We sure did get our moneys’ worth from those miles.

Mendocino, CA

Mendocino is an artist colony, an expensive weekend destination (rooms with a shared bath start at $165), a hippie commune (the local grocery store is an organic only co-op; when we pulled in to town a group of men varying in ages from late teens to middle age where “making music” with their hands and an odd assortment of musical instruments and they did not look out of place), an artist colony, and a nature lovers paradise as the whole place seems to melt into the surrounding cliffs.  All these different directions seem to pull the town a bit and not all the residents were welcoming to visitors.  Besides the various store signs prohibiting cell phone usage, a shop keeper was visibly annoyed when I asked directions, another shop (a cute wine store) closed for a lunch break (with the shop keeper munching on a sandwich at the counter), and everyone there, visitor and resident alike, seemed to take pride in not being of or at somewhere else.  But it made for a wonderful visit complete with book shopping (for Henna) and cliff strolling.

Russian River Gulch State Park

A mile or so north of Mendocino is the Russian River Gulch State Park.  The park advertises 12 miles of hiking trails with the most popular of those miles leading to a waterfall.  Our last serious hike was up Mt. Hoffman in Yosemite so we were pretty excited to take on the challenge.  The trail meandered on a slight but steady incline past a few redwood stumps, at least one whole redwood, and into a fern lined jungle.  It reminded us a lot of being on Washington’s coast.  Henna loved the banana slugs and especially enjoyed stroking their tops so that their antennas withdrew.  A good time was held by all.

Glass Beach at Fort Bragg

Three years ago we combed the beach for washed up and polished glass (the beach is covered with this beautiful garbage) only for me to accidentally throw it all out the next day (Corey never should of stored all the glass in a used Styrofoam coffee cup).  This was Henna’s chance to replenish.  While Corey and Henna picked through the garbage I wandered the cliffs and saw many sea lions.  I also talked to a young couple from Sacramento who were incredulous that I considered them to be close to home.  I later told them I was maybe 800 miles from home.  Like almost everyone I have met in California, they showed no interest in how it is was I ended up talking to them.  In Nebraska (a mere two states away) people asked my route, my impression of their state, and possibly my political orientation (religious and sexual orientation however were off the table).  Here in the Bear Republic people just assumed we dropped in from the sky. They also maybe felt a little sorry for us that we were from somewhere else.  They never seemed interested in any way in how we got there, what we were doing close to their home, and what we might think of their state.  (note:  a little after writing this a neighbor at Humbolt Redwood State Park on a road trip that started in Central California approached us, along with his dairy dog, to ask us about our trip).

Westpoint KOA

It was a fitting end to our journey up the coast.  It was my favorite and least favorite campground of the trip.  It was dirty, disorganized and a free for all.  Music blared all night and, mixed in among the usual types (older RVers, European travelers, and families seeing the country) where locals looking to party.  But, for $5 extra, you could camp on the beach.  The surf proved louder than the party goers and the sand made for an excellent bed.  We had space, privacy (and it was the darkest night of the trip), a good fire, and one of the few remaining picnic tables.  The tables were rare because a few nights ago men came in the middle of the night and stole them right off the beach (this was probably a prank as the tables were found at a nearby beach- the owners had not bothered to pick them up yet).  Before sun set Henna and I explored the beach and she twirled to her hearts content (and lost most of the glass she had picked up earlier).  It never actually rained, but all night the mist came from the sea and soaked everything.  And Corey and I laughed while sipping expensive wine.

Day 32 and 33: Petaluma to Mancester, CA

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After the hectic urban ways of San Fran and the surrounding area, it felt good to head north of the city.  Only about 70 miles away, but with roads that do not allow speeds of more than 40 MPH (fog, curves, and drop offs) we feel much further away.  Revisted a KOA from three years back and were happy to see it has not changed at all.  Uncrowded, close to the beach (we hear the waves at night), and a nice pool.  We were so happy to be back we decided to stay for two nights.  On the way here we shopped for wine, hung out at a beach, and held our breath for part of the drive (some people leave their heart in SF, we left our stomachs on HWY 1).  Anyways, here are a few pictures from our last two days.  Hope you enjoy.

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