Brookings, Oregon 28 May 2024

Ore-GONE!

Our traditional going-away picture in front of Sienna's house. Big hugs, a silent prayer that all goes well on the homestead, and away we went, 3 minutes past our ETD.

The familiar way north – the view from just north of Westport, with Cape Mendocino vanishing as usual into the haze. 

We're on the road before the touron hordes, and get to drive the twisties between the coast and Leggett mostly by ourselves: a beautiful drive through the second growth redwoods. What BIG country this is: steep, deeply indented . . . we agree, this is our kind of country, and  dream to drive . . .

Rochelle took most of these on-the-road images, denoted with an

. . . until we come to the traffic control where they're working. Three one-lane flag-stops before Leggett. None of them too long, and they help us set the tone for the trip: taking it easy.

Lunch in Arcata at Renata’s Crêperie– more about that sweet little city below – and then it's the open road along the North Coast shoreline.

College town, home of Humboldt State, and just possibly the most relaxed college town in California, if not the nation. Lots of young spirit and, because the town and college  are embedded in the great Redwood Forest, more connected to Nature and therefore happier than many other young-oriented places. After a yummy lunch, we walk over to the beautiful North Coast Coöp past the beautifully painted storefront. Across the street from the Coöp:

Orick is a sweet little town south of Redwood State and National Parks, a large complex of protected groves of big trees.  Much better for little ones to get their schooling in a two- or three-room blended grade classroom near their homes than the two hour daily school bus ride to Trinidad.

North of Arcata, Highway 101 threads along the coast and among some big Redwoods. A lot of touron snail traffic: elder bozos driving deep-throated pickem-ups with enormous trailers or third wheels behind. Gas is expensive in this neck of the woods – $5.89 a gallon – and so, nevermind the joys(?) of herding a 10 ton beast around all the tight corners between here and there, it's hard to understand the economy. Sure, the little lady wants to feel ‘at home’ and goddess nose we need to bring the poodle . . . but does this make for pleasurable travel? 

And they can't keep up.

Over the wooded ridges and then down to the beach at the mouth of a watercourse, and then back up again. Most commercial transport avoids this section, so it's just us tourons and the snail sub-species dragging their homes on their backs.

And finally, across the state line into Oregon, over the Chetco River, and our home for the night. Dinner at Black Trumpet Bistro, and again we forgot to take pictures. Lovely food far from the mainstream. Judging by the average customer age, Brookings is a sort of Grants Pass (“Best weather in Oregon”) with a view of the Pacific.

But if you have followed us on this often-travelled segment before, you'll know I left the best part for last.

North of Orick, 101 travels through Elk Valley. In the past we have seen two or three elk, and one memorable time we saw a small family of Elk butts disappearing into the forest.

This time, the Elk were holding a Convention in the meadow in front of the Elk Valley RV Resort. The two access roads to this las resort in the world are spangled with signs telling you that you can't drive onto their property to view these magnificent beasts. A nasty little troll hustles out in his laundry cart and yells at trespassers (like us) that only want a glimpse of his Nature. What a jerk!

In the other big meadows along the way, nary an Elk. 

And then the four lane freeway veers off inland, but we usually take the old highway, the Newton B Drury Scenic Parkway – why look, here's Newton now!

Newt was responsible for putting the California State Parks system together in the early 1920s, then headed the National Park Service before becoming the long-time leader of the Save the Redwoods League. 

The way the trees dwarf us and the cars and the roadway is memorable. Those images stick with me long after the trip is over. Thank you, Newton B.!

Along both sides of the parkway, groves of giants march off into the green distance. Here I am, three meters from the pavement at the start of a trail heading east that looks like . . . see below.

Back on the highway, past the Golden Bears guarding the Klamath River bridge, and then to Brookings . . . but you already knew that. I'll try to keep things in better order tomorrow.