Stories of the Oregon and Northern California Coast

Miles Clocked: 1738
Gallons Burned: ~40ish
Caffeinated Drinks: 11

Sorry to get so behind on posts, but things have been somewhat hectic (in a good way) here in California. The CA stories will be for another post on the blog.

It was a dark and stormy night...a shot rang out...a womans screamed...
Oh wait...this is a Blogspot post not a Edward Bulwer-Lytton novel. Anyway how about I show you a picture and then some of my recollections about it.
Story 1:

I had done some research on places to stay and Seal Rock seemed great. Not so much, because all the seals are in CA this time of year. But still I walked the beach, got some time in solitude, enjoyed the surf, and God's quiet voice whispering in the wind (totally ripped off phrase from somewhere). Shout out to who every came up with time delay photography.
Story 2:

This video shows the ferocity of the "Devils Churn." Huge white waves on this calm and windless day beat mercilessly on a channel of volcanic rock black as Hades. The good beating back evil.
Story 3:

Cannon Beach (as seen in the Goonies) was a nice get away along the highway. The cloudy and windy day meant I was essentially alone on the beach, more great solitude. Part of this trip's purpose is the pursuit of a more humble and deferential approach to my life. For this reason I have been reading about King Solomon. Anyways, in the background you can see the giant Monolith. At its base I face planted on sharp volcanic rocks into ocean water and tore up my knee a bit. (It's fine after two days of icing and wrapping) Humiliation...yep I had to limp back to the car soaking wet and embarrassed.
Story 4,5,...,Aleph-naught:

So the next night, my knee is hurting and I am tired (it seems sleep comes with difficulty on the road). With only 10 hours of daylight and so many sights to see, I am a little behind on my original trip ending point for the day (100 miles short). So the sun has set and I see a sign for "Redwood National Park". Yes! The campground is closed for the season. No! but what joy I see! The rangers left a note recommending Prairie Creek campgrounds only 22 miles away. I am a little frustrated with myself due to my poor pacing and unfortunate luck. Oh did I mention I'm at a quarter tank (about 80 mile of motion left). So I drive down Hwy 101 and exit 20 gas station-free miles later at Prairie Creek National Park looking for the camp grounds. I swear to God they actually demanded the exorbitant fee of $43 to stay the night at their "tent's only off-season sites." If any of you know me even casually, then you know: I ride the bus, I ride a 50cc scooter, and I eat out at Vietnamese Pho houses (because I am "frugal"...no I am cheap when I am alone). So this bargain minded adventurer shakes the metaphorical dust off his shoes and leaves in search of a better deal. I get back on 101 and head 10 more gas station-free miles south to Prairie Creek State Park because the park sign has a tent symbol on it. Thinking back, in the darkness I easily could have mistaken the tent symbol for the equally common tent with-a-line-through-it-symbol. So pleased with my ability to save some money, I head into this deserted park. But as providence would have it I was NOT alone.
I feel like a second paragraph is called for. I drive into the darkness on a freshly paved road that is immaculate with fresh stripping and brand new reflectors. The GPS shows I'm in a state park, so I am confident everything is going well. I drive deeper noticing that there are no helpful brown state park signs. Fog banks appear and disappear as I drive reducing visibility to 20 yards. Suddenly the road's slick new surface ends, and I find myself on a graded and compacted dirt road that breaks into ancient paving every 200 yards or so. I feel the trees closing in around me in the mid-night starless black of the foggy forest. I slow my car's progress to a hesitant trot. My mind is not playing tricks, the road is perceptibly narrowing. I get a bad feeling in my gut. A glace to my cell phone tells me that it is fully charged...but has no service. I am alone. I am tired. I am very low on gas. I am out of contact. I am hurt. I am starting to freak myself out. But I am in a state park. So I am still okay. I say aloud "You know the best campgrounds are often at the end of old logging roads deep in the woods." My voice echoes hollowly back at me in the empty car.

What would you be feeling if you were in my shoes at that moment? Cool confidence? Fear? What would you do? Turn around? Press on into the unknown?

Now about the picture...
So after what could have been as few as 10 or as many at 30 minutes of slow wandering down this dirt track I see this sign. "Warning State Prison", through the trees I can see faint light; they are flash lights. So my last thread of safety, security, and let's be frank hope snaps. I am cut off. I learned a lot about myself and my pride that night. When hope is ripped away I do 3 things: laugh, get out of my "safe" car to take a picture (I am a photographer after all), and pray. I guess my prayer was answered because I eventually got out of the alleged state park, found a rural propane operated gasoline pump on a country road, and got to tiny 10 campsite campground where I ate cold hot dogs and slept in my car.

I whipped this post up after driving back to Riverside CA following a work out at Gold's Gym in West Hollywood (Thanks Phil). For the record, this was intended to be an uplifting set of stories with an evidence of grace at the end, but I am not sure if that's how it will come across.
Chow for Now.