CLAFC – Creativity, Learning, Adventure, Freedom & Cessation

We arrived in Calgary to warm hugs and warm coats from Donna. It was a bit of climate shock to go from
warm desert to freakin’ cold Canadian winter, but at least it looks like christmas. We spent the next few days preparing for the holidays, and trying to be helpful to Sam and Donna. OK, mostly I tried to stay out of the way, but it was great to be back with family.

In addition to babysitting Ann and I, and welcoming their youngest daughter back home for the holidays from Vancouver, Donna & Sam were also charged with looking after their grandchild: Walden, or Wally for short. Wally is a Nova Scotian tolling retriever, a rather high-strung, cute, fun and incredibly intelligent breed of dog. Wally’s mom (Monique) and dad (Chris) went off to BC to spend x-mas with Chris’ parents, so the gramps were asked to babysit. We all got to share in Wally’s exuberance and enthusiasm over the following week.

The big day came, and despite the clear message: NO PRESENTS, Jolly old St. Nick still visited us with a stocking full of goodies. In addition, Momma O’Reilly and sis Kathy surprised everyone with a mail-order basket of goodies. Very yummy. Thanks guys!

Peggy and her gang of wee little ones 😉 all came over for the big dinner, with everyone pitching in. OK, I didn’t really do much, but I was happy to help with the eating part. It was really wonderful to be with family, and to re-connect with everyone.

The next days were spent relaxing, getting some work done (I had a magazine article to write), exercising on the tread mill and stepper (OK, only Ann did that), and just hanging out with everyone. Ann also found a fun way to stay in shape by hiding under the kitchen table while wearing her funky and shiny exercise shorts.

The holiday season is special here, not just for a deity’s birth, but more importantly b/c both Natasha and Sam AND my sister Kathy were all born on Dec. 27th. And just this year there was an additional birthday added to this illustrious date: Phil’s new grandson, Theodore was born. So Ann and I got to celebrate two birthdays during our visit. This meant going out to some pretty fancy and yummy restaurants in town. We were forced to eat amazing food and great wine with fun people — it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it 😉

The holidays are also a time to feel the pull of the Light Side, and sometimes the Dark … OK, cheesey way of saying we went to see the new Star Wars movie. It was a great romp. Lots of fun. And the 3D was pretty amazing. The next day we ended up at a pub to sample more good beer, good food, and good times.

 

New years’s eve we drove down to our cabin on Beauvais Lake … OK, technically it’s Donna & Sam’s cabin, but after spending much of September living there, arriving there felt like coming home. We were joined by Peggy and Phil, and later in the evening by cousins Kevin and Barb. The drive down was a bit snowy and blustery, but we all arrived safe and sound.

We rang in the new year with a cut-throat game of crokinole. After a round-robin and Page playoff the teams of Ann-Mike & Peggy-Phil brought up the rear while the teams of Barb-Kevin & Donna/Knuckles-Sam played for top honours. The results speak for themselves:

 

New Year’s Day was spent staying warm and writing (Mike), ice fishing (Sam) and skiing (Donna & Ann). Ann, who hasn’t been on skis for over a year, so naturally she decided to try downhilling with her cross-country skis. A visit to the Emergency was avoided … just barely.

We spent the last few days relaxing (Mike), recovering (Ann), and enjoying our time in Calgary. Ann’s going to miss the morning crosswords with Donna and Sam, and I’m already feeling the withdrawal from my constant discussions with Donna. We are ever so lucky to have such generous family. Donna and Sam once again opened their home, and their hearts, to us two wayward vagabonds. I am deeply appreciative.

We spent over two weeks in Calgary, then hopped a flight back to Phoenix. The flight was a a bit bumpy, but uneventful. We actually flew over Waterton Park . We arrived back in Arizona, and were generously greeted by Cheryl and Pat, who once again welcomed us back to their home in the desert. We arrived to cloudy skies and rainy conditions. True to the screwy weather we’ve had during our whole trip, Black Canyon City was doused with unseasonably heavy rain. Roads were flooded and closed, and “washes”, which are usually dry gullies, lived up to their name.

 

We’ve decided to head to Tucson to get our bikes serviced early next week, and to visit with my childhood friend. Until then we’ll hang out here in BCC.

Our last morning on the Colorado River (at least for now) was a cold one as we woke up to frost on the ground and the bikes. We broke camp and headed into the nearby town for breky and a bit of warmth. Then if was off for the final push to visit Pat and Cheryl and Harper Lee. Our friends from Kamloops were once again taking in these two homeless vagabonds, giving us a warm place to stay, and treating us royally with good food, beer, and tours of the area.

Their place north of Phoenix is in the heart of the Sonora Desert. They’re house features a huge windowed wall that looks out onto their yard containing cacti of all sorts. Prickly pear, agave, hedgehog, velvet mesquite, and of course the massive Saguaro.

Two things you learn very quickly in this desert. One is how stunning, amazing and other-worldly it all is.  The other is that everything wants to kill you; the animals like the spiders, snakes and scorpions , but even all the lovely looking plants. Everything has huge spines and hooks and barbs. If you ever tripped and fell into a bush they’d be pulling spines from your body for weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We spent a few days with Cheryl and Pat and their little cutie dog Harper Lee . We got the grand tour of the area, including a day trip up into the foothills to an old ghost town of Cleator. According to Wiki, Cleator was originally called Turkey Creek, and was established as a small gold mining town. It was renamed Cleator in 1925 after James P. Cleator took over the place.

Today there is little more than a bar up in Cleator, but what a bar! It’s even home to the Cleator Yacht Club, complete with boats and docks and surfboards.

    

We finally said a temporary goodbye to Harper and her keepers and hopped a flight back to Alberta to spend the holidays with family. We’ll be back in Arizona early in the new year to carry on our journey. There are more friends to visit, and plenty of places yet to see. But until then it’s back to the wintery north for a couple of weeks of festivities and family.

 

We said goodbye to modern day Sodom and Gomorrah and hit the road heading south. Unlike most of our journey so far where deadlines are nonexistent, we are flying back to Alberta to spend X-mas with the Phillips Clan, so we have to be settled in Phoenix in time to catch a flight north. We’re staying with our friends who put us up (put up with us 😉 ) back in Kamloops. They have a place just north of Phoenix, and have once again said we are welcome. So we want to arrive in time to spend a few days with them, and perhaps to arrange some basic scooter maintenance in the big city.

Heading south from Vegas we passed by Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam. Ann wanted to see the area, but we opted not to visit the actual dam b/c they wanted money. “To see a damn dam? No way!” says I. Poor Ann… But we did drive by the Lake, and got a good view of the reservoir. Two things jump out. Firstly is just the presence of a large body of water. We’re already used to desert conditions, so seeing any amount of water is odd. Seeing a massive lake in this landscape is actually a bit jarring. But it certainly saves this part of the region from suffering the same drought that is affecting the areas we’ve travelled through so far.

But the second thing that you notice is just how far down Lake Mead is from its high water mark. Apparently the Lake is now at a record low level. The average height is approximately 175 ft above where it currently sits. This is clearly visible even from our view on the highway. I’m not sure what this means for the future, but it can’t be good.

Our destination for this day was a national park campground further down the Colorado River system on Lake Mohave. This campground is nothing like I’m used to in the Boreal Forest. It is desert now, complete with large tumbleweeds (one that almost tumbled in front of me while driving!), lots of palm trees, sharp prickly things that grab and tear clothes and skin, and the oddest assortment of critters I’ve ever seen. This includes the real life roadrunner. And yes, we even heard coyotes in the area.

Like so much of our route, this campground is obviously insanely busy during the peak warmer months. Huge numbers of houseboats, fishing boats, and racey boats are all tied off to extensive docks. There is even a dedicated boat launch driving lane that starts more than a km away from the water. It must be absolutely crazy during the on-season. Right now though everything is quiet and calm … all except the wind which was blowin’ a gale.

Despite the intense wind we decided to head into the nearby Bullhead City to pick up some additional provisions. The Colorado River marks the border between Arizona (where we are) from Nevada. Across from Bullhead is the sister city of Laughlin, but despite being separated by a small stretch of water, the two sides are worlds apart. Bullhead is a pretty normal looking place with shops and motels and parks. It’s a small place, with no building over three of four stories. But right across the river are massive casino resorts, with some hotels towering 20 or more stories. It’s a jarring clash, and speaks to the wealth and seduction that is Nevada gambling.

We spent four nights at this campground. Days were cool and nights even cooler, but we managed to stay warm by bundling up in fleece and toques , and burrowing deep into down sleeping bags . We met some really interesting people here, including a couple from Ohio who had sold their house and were now living the good life, exploring the countryside, while living out of tent and CRV — yes, not an RV, but a car. Too cool! We also met a few motorcyclists, and a few other campers in the area. Everyone has a story to tell. It’s great.

After four days we pulled up stakes and headed south again, this time stopping at a state park further down the Colorado River system. On the way there we passed by London Bridge — yes, THE London Bridge. Turns out some kooky rich dude decided to buy the bridge from London and bring it to Arizona, piece by piece. Why would anyone do this … that is a good question, but one never asked or answered despite the expansive tourist trap that has been built up around the reassembled bridge.

By mid afternoon we made it to just south of Parker Dam, to a nice little state park with campsites right next to the Colorado River. Looking at the topographical maps shows that this is the last area where the River is of significant width. Below this it becomes much smaller, and is increasingly diverted off into a series of canals and irrigation channels. The mighty Colorado is no more.

Camping right next to the water was pretty enticing after our previous site in the desert. It also came with a handy cabana which was great for food storage, as well as getting out of the cool wind that was blowing down the valley. Funny thing happened overnight though. We had just crawled into the sleeping bags and were reading when I heard water splattering. “It’s raining!” says I. How can this be?!? We haven’t seen rain since leaving the coast. Turned out we had pitched our tent in the midst of some underground water sprinklers. The tent got a good cleaning that night.

 

 

The next day was to be the final push to Phoenix and to Cheryl and Pat’s place just north of the city. Here we enter the Sonora Desert; the land of mighty Saguaro Cactus.

We left Death Valley and headed for another kind of hellish place, this one purely made by Man. Las Vegas is gaudy, dirty, tacky and busy … all the things I crave in life. But it is cheap, and it does take us in the right direction. We found a room on the south side of the city in a casino resort.

Gambling is everywhere, so everything is a casino. The hotel is pretty nice, and the complex has movie theatres, a bowling alley, a dozen or so restaurants and bars, and of course lots and lots of gambling tables and one armed bandits.

We ended up on the 20th floor with a glorious view of the freeway, the smog, and the distant hills/mountains. We could even see our little bikes down in the lot below. 

The hotel is fancy in a cheaply tacky way, but the food and beer is good and fairly inexpensive, and the room is quite comfy, so I can’t complain too much. We’ve wondered the gambling halls, and I was somewhat tempted to try my hand at blackjack, but I couldn’t find a table with a low enough minimum. Apparently my ¢25 isn’t enough for them 😉 .

We’re spending two nights here, and then heading back to the land. Ann has found us a campground on the Colorado River, in a National Park. Will be great to get out of this city, and back into a tent.

 

Happy Birthday to You
You live in a zoo
You look like a monkey
And you smell like one too.

😉

Guess who’s birthday it is today? Annnnneeeeeeeeee, my love! Ann turns a ripe old age of the finest whiskey today, so what better place to celebrate than in a valley where hints of mortality surround. The Furnace Creek Ranch is a pretty ritzy place for our modest lifestyle, but you only turn 53 once, so we checked in for three nights to celebrate and to explore the valley.

Ann’s only wish was to drink good wine from actual stem glasses, and given that we have almost no additional space to carry anything on the bikes, this became her present. Unfortunately no glassware was to be had (aside from stealing it from the kitchen), but I did find these lovely onyx goblets for sale, along with some descent California wines. I think she was happy.

The next day we headed off to Badwater, the actual lowest point in Death Valley. Like all the rest of the area, it is a strange and outlandish place. The area is a salt encrusted basin at 282 feet below sea level. When the torrential rains come, as they very occasionally do, all the water eventually ends up here. The water table itself is not too far down, so the water lifts salts from the land and deposits it as vast salt beds as the water recedes. The effect is stark and otherworldly.

   

After Badwater we drove back to where we had passed the sand dunes the day before. These are honest to goodness, Lawrence of Arabia/Tatooine style desert dunes right here in Death Valley. We walked for miles (OK, Ann walked for miles, I walked for a kilometres 😉 ), exploring this unexpected find.

   

After exploring the dunes we headed back to the Ranch to carry on the birthday girl’s celebration with a fine dinner, and then more wine on our deck. Our last day was spent relaxing, searching for what to do next, and then exploring the immediate area on foot. We found an old date palm grove that had seen better days, and revelled in the good beer, pizza and funny X-mas mood of this oasis in the desert.

 

     

 

Tomorrow we head for (gulp) Las Vegas. I was really hoping to avoid it, but weather is still cold (lows around 0C) and it has the cheapest places around. So I shall gird my loins and enter into yet another valley of death.

We left our comfy motel in Bakersfield and headed east into the dry hills and mountains that lead to Valley known as Death. In our usual attempt to avoid big, fast freeways, we took the path-less-travelled, up over the ranges that led first to a Lake Isabella. The signs of California’s long drought are all around us now. The Lake, which is a major reservoir for the area, and was once a large recreational waterway, has shrunk to 5% of it’s total capacity. You can clearly see the high water marks way up the valley, and compare it to the puddle of lake that now remains.

Our journey that day took us through some of the most stunning vistas and stark landscapes I have yet known. Of course, this is but a warm up for the big show of Death Valley, but it is all amazing, harsh and beyond anything I’ve seen before. On our way down from Lake Isabella we started to see the funniest looking stout trees … or are they cacti? Turns out there are known as Joshua Trees and are type of yucca plant. Named by Mormons after some bible guy, these are yet another bizarre addition to the strange and disturbingly alluring landscape we are now passing through. That night we ended our journey in the town of Ridgecrest.

 

        

The next morning we truly began our climb up, and then down, down, down into the lowest place in North America. Death Valley is 282 feet below sea level at its lowest point. But to get there we had to drive up and over a mountain pass that topped out at over 5,000 feet! It was a long steep and chilly climb up, and then a fun and fast drive down to the bottom of the world.

Our first stop was Stovepipe Wells, which is little more than a gas station and gift shop. Great place to refuel the bikes and ourselves though. It was bizarre to see the altitude signs drop from 2,000 feet to 1,000 to Sea Level, and then beyond. After a lunch of bread and Tillamook cheese we headed off for our final destination of Furnace Creek. Along the road there we passed by strangely coloured cliffs, sand dunes, and a bizarre landscape shaped by wind and flash floods. We arrived at the Furnace Creek Ranch and took up residence in the only oasis of this huge valley. 

 

We finally pulled out of the Monterey area and headed south once again. We passed through Big Sur, famous for big vista and big surfable waves, and made our way down the coast to San Simeon State Park. After nearly a month of motels we finally pulled out the camping gear and found a small spot under a tree in a state park.

The landscape has truly turned foreign and weird. Palm trees are now common, and I spotted my first of many real live wild cacti. The trees in the campground were all unknown pines … and they were short. Too short to hang our food bag from. Luckily the hiker/biker campsite had a food box, which kept the racoons, skunks and other small critters from eating our dinner.

Although the highway separated our campground from the ocean, there was a short path under the road which led to the beach. As usual, the view was stunning, and hard to put into words. Instead, I’ll let the  Ann-o-rama (thanks Arin 🙂 ) speak for us:

While at the campsite we met some interesting people, including a young couple who are bicycling to Argentina from BC. She was from Quebec and he from France, and together they were peddling their way down in the cause of sustainable agriculture. Fascinating and fun folks. They even expressed some appreciation for our little journey (humouring the old folks, no doubt). Check out their website. http://www.semeenselle.com.

This area of the California coast is amazing, not just for its beauty, but also for being the location of Hearst Castle (a la William Randolph Hearst, the 19th and early 20th century newspaper magnate and inspiration for the classic, Citizen Kane). But the real highlight is the hundreds of elephant seals that have come ashore to begin their birthing and mating season. It was an incredible sight to see these massive animals in their actual habitat, doing what they do. For females it was mostly sleeping, birthing and nursing, barking, and fending off the unwanted advances of teenage males. For the younger males it was a lot of growling, displaying and practice fighting.

I was all excited to see the young males, but then one of the volunteer guides explained that those were just kids playing. Then she pointed out a real Alpha Male. He was massive, with a and huge trunk that put the youngins to shame. We learned the alphas can weigh in at  5,000 pounds. The mature females are a tiny 1,800 pounds in comparison.

While we were there we got to see a scene right out of a nature documentary. At one point an uppity male tried to put the moves on one this big guy’s females. He came charging over, growling and displaying his full form. He then proceeded to scatter the whole beach of all the lesser males. Everywhere he dragged his massive bulk all the other seals, both male and female, would scatter. We spent a couple of hours just watching and being amazed by these bulky water denizens. We were even treated to the view of the first newborn of the season.

As we were getting ready to head back to camp a volunteer asked if we had stopped to see the zebras  … Err, what now!?! Apparently the same maniacal builder of castles, also had a thing for zebras. Hearst had a bunch brought over from Africa, and then now roam the area ranch land, mixing with the cattle. Low and behold, as we drove back to camp what do we spy but a bunch of black and white stripped horse-like things in amongst the cows. Had to stop and take a picture:

The time along the coast has been spectacular, but new adventures call, and it is time to turn our backs to the sea and start heading inland. We spent one last evening smelling the salt air and enjoying the surf and animal life.

    

We packed our tent, our bags, and our bikes, and after one more short run along the coast we turned east and headed into the dry California hills. Our route took us right over the infamous San Andreas fault line, which is the likely location of the west coast’s future shoreline after the next Big One comes. It also took us through what will no doubt become the norm for a while: a dry, dusty, and almost alien landscape.

We arrived in Bakersfield, and not finding any suitable campsites we checked into yet another cheap motel. We’re working on getting up, and then down into Death Valley. This is no small feat at this time of year for those of us on motorcycles. We have to get up and over a couple of mountain ranges, before we can take the deep plunge into the deep dry valley. A weather window is opening on the weekend though, so we’ll linger here till Saturday. We can catch up on laundry, and enjoy the pub that is within easy stagger distance. It has $3 IPA on tap, plus great food, all at cheap prices. Gotta love happy hour!

 

We left San Francisco and headed back to the coast. Although we had to suffer through about a 1/2 hour of freeway travel, we quickly got back onto more sensible and interesting roads. The highway turns slow and twisty as we climbed up, and then rode down, the smaller coastal mountains all the way to the sea. It’s almost redundant to keep saying, but the scenery was once again breathtaking. A short stop at no place in particular gives just a small taste.

With temperatures still way below normal (record breaking lows for around here), we once again moved into a cheap motel. And with American Thanksgiving the next day, we decided it wise to stay put for two nights. This motel is like all the others; perfectly acceptable in function and cleanliness, with just a wee hint of a cat-pee smell. Ah well, you get what you pay for 😉

We got checked in, and after a short chat with one of the other guest couples who were in the middle of a round-the-world tour to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary, we headed off to explore our surrounds. A short walk took us to a nearby park, and then eventually down to the beach.

We’re now far enough south that the flora and fauna are becoming increasingly weird. Lots of palm and cacti-type plants are around, and there are odd birds of all sorts. Even the not-so-odd ones look a bit different. We saw

 

long-snouted plovers , dark coloured pelicans , and odd-ball ducks . And lots of palm trees:

Turns out American Thanksgiving is a BIG DEAL, with lots of travellers and visitors. Campgrounds threaten to be busy and hotels/motels are both loaded and expensive. After some online snooping we realized the motel we are in was our cheapest option, so we got comfortable, and booked in here for a few more days. Our room has a fridge and microwave, so we cooked our second Thanksgiving dinner of the year. Yum, yum.

 

The forecast calls for Freezing Warnings, and Hard Freezing Watches, which around here means two hours of temperatures of -2˚ to -3˚C. They warn to cover sensitive vegetation and not to leave pets or animals outside. It may not sound that cold, but this is around 10˚C below the normals, which makes it still a bit too chilly for camping. In fact, it looks like we’re even breaking some record lows.Temperatures are slowly returning to normal over the coming few days, so hopefully our tent will see some use soon. Meanwhile, we enjoy the surroundings:

       

Folks are friendly and warm here. We had one guy pass us by and comment, “You look like you’re contestants in the show Survivor.” I think he was referring to Ann. What do you think?

After leaving the Giants we headed to a nearby small town where we hoped to find a cheap, sleazy motel. Unfortunately we found almost nothing … a near ghost town. But the day was still young, so we decided to Press On! We left highway 101, which was a freeway at that point, and headed back toward the coast down highway #1.

Holy Schmoly, what a ride! Big tough bikers like us love windy, twisty roads, and we’ve had our share of them coming through BC. This road beats them all!! (yes, a double-!!). From the moment we started it was steep, it was dark, and it was full of quite literally hair-pin turns. Forget all those friendly and useful signs warning of tight curves … everything was a tight curve. The road was rock face on one side and drop off on the other. Too much fun.

We finally got down to the coast road and headed south, aiming for Fort Bragg. The fog, which had come and gone through the day, was now as thick as soup. Visibility was down to naught, but as long as we kept ocean to starboard we were all fine. All along this drive we could hear the ocean more than we could see it, which added a surreal quality to the drive. Eventually making it to town, we found a cheap place, and checked in for the night. A Happy Hour beer and dinner, checked emails, made plans for the next night, and then it was off to bed.

Weather remaining uncooperative, we planned to stay in the San Francisco area for two nights. And just for the record, the normal highs are 18C and the normal lows are 11C. Instead we are getting highs of 11C and lows of 3C. What happened to global warming 😉 In any case, we packed up and headed off for another great ride along the coast.

The first part of the day was nearly as twisty and challenging as the day before. The highway snakes its way along the coast. The mountains come right down to the water, so we were running through foothills; not massive peaks, but still significant ups and downs. Every valley and river that emptied into the ocean produced a steep switchback down and back up, with hairpin turns and steep drop offs. Much fun, but also quite taxing. Breathtaking views throughout.

 

Unfortunately we had to leave the coast to head inland to pick the freeway into San Francisco. Freeway travel is fast, efficient, and no fun at all. 65 mph is 105 km/hr which is fine for our bikes, but no joy for this rider. But it did get us into town fast. The highlight, of course, was coming up to, and then driving over, the Golden Gate Bridge. I wish I could include a picture of us doing this, but it can’t be done. Just imagine the big bridge, then imagine tons of fast moving traffic, and then imagine two little motorcycles putting along in the midst of all the mayhem. It was kinda scary, but pretty cool.

Our route took us through the heart of San Francisco, so we got a good view of the city. Our cheap motel was actually in San Mateo, which is a suburb of San Francisco. With Ann leading the way, and a little luck, we managed to find our way through the city and to our new home. It is quite close to a freeway, but it is also within an easy walking distance of the bay and a great park.

   

Tomorrow we plan to leave the city. Not sure where we’re going  …

Ahhh, do you feel the warmth? The warmth of the California sun?? Actually, I didn’t feel it either as the weather continues to be unseasonably cold along our route. We’ve been moteling it since we left Victoria, which was definitely not the plan. Checking the seasonal norms for our areas confirms it. We’re supposed to be in the mid to high teens for highs, and the low teens for overnight temperatures. Instead we’re getting cold front after cold front, bringing lots of rain and temperatures 10 degrees C below normal.

All this is to say we’re not complete wimps 😉

Anyway, we said goodbye to Oregon and crossed into the great state of California. Just over the border we came to a check stop which looked every bit like an international border crossing. The signs warned that everyone had to stop for an agricultural inspection, but we were just waived through. I suspect the “agriculture” they are looking for has something to do with Oregon decriminalizing marajuana. I guess we didn’t look hippyish enough 😉

We passed into the Eureka state unsearched, but with a little bit of sadness. Oregon has been so amazing, it felt sad to leave. But we have to get south, and the famous giant Redwoods of California beckoned. And we were soon rewarded as we passed through Redwood National Park. These trees are immense. When we camped on Vancouver Island near Parksville we lived in the midst of huge Douglas Firs, but they would be dwarfed by the Redwoods. Some looked to be three meters in diameter, and a hundred feet tall. Just amazing. And this was just a small taste of what was to come.

After lingering for a while in the midst of these giants we got back on the bikes in search of the night’s temporary home. Unlike most days, we had set out without a specific night’s plan. We booked no rooms, and didn’t know where we’d end up. Eureka the City (as well as the state’s slogan or motto or something…) looked promising on the Google, but when we got there it turned to be rather ugly. “Let’s Press On!” says I, so Ann our fearless leader for the day, took us off into unknown lands.

Highway 101 that we’d grown to love since Washington was slowly transforming into a freeway, complete with multi-lane traffic and speed limits of 65 mph, which translates into WAY TOO FAST! Ann spots a turn off, and we head into the unknown; towards a place called Ferndale. Turns out Ferndale is a touristy getaway for those who crave a victorian lifestyle. Most of the downtown buildings have preserved this old design, making it a quaint little city.

Our hotel had the same Victorian charm, luckily at off-season prices. It was charming, as was the owner who notices our Canadian accent. A very friendly fellow, just like virtually everyone we’ve met along this journey so far. That evening was spent in the local tavern, sipping area IPAs, and enjoying the company of friendly strangers. We finished the night with a takeout pizza and a glass or red wine.

The next day we headed off to drive the “Avenue of the Giants” through Humboldt Redwoods State Park. I figured we had already seen the big ones, but as is so often the case, I don’t know squat! The park claims to contain the world’s largest remaining contiguous old-growth forest of coast redwoods. I believe it.

It’s simply impossible for me to adequately match words and images to the immense, awe inspiring nature of these trees and this forest. You can feel their size; their sense of history. It is where myths are born. It is simply amazing.

 

 

We finished the visit with lunch in the park, then packed up and headed towards our evening home which had yet to be determined…