Northern California: Wild coast, hairy roads, fickle weather.

9th Dec – 14th Dec 2021

Crescent City was our first Californian destination. We had spent the night here in the past during a car road-trip and had strangely nostalgic memories of it. Not entirely sure why as it is not a beautiful place. It is a utilitarian coastal town town with a big fishing harbour that is often shrouded in thick fog. Having experienced 33 tsunamis since 1923, the harbour and town were devastated by a huge tsunami in March 1964, killing 11 people and destroying 29 city blocks. Our pitch was in an unappealing tarmac RV park within the harbour and our neighbours all looked like longtermers in mostly tired old rigs. The not inconsiderable charge for this pleasure did not include access to the shower block (closed), laundry (also closed) or wifi (just generally rubbish and not fit for purpose). Hey ho. Its saving grace was was its location, a stone’s throw from the water. After a quick set up we wrapped up warm and headed down the breakwater to catch the end of the day and meet the fat, lazy locals- a pile of sea lions.

These were very smelly, very noisy and had annexed various pontoons and wharfs for their important ‘lying around whilst grunting at each other’ activities. The day gave us a last gift of a pretty spectacular rainbow without the rain before we headed back to the Tin Can where we sat around for a bit before heading out to dinner at the ‘Mom’n’Pop’* restaurant we had eaten at during our last visit

*non-chain historically family run restaurant usually serving hearty classic dishes with epic proportions.

The next day dawned with a cloudless sky and the sun shone for every single moment until dusk. What a treat and how good for my soul! Our onward drive took in some more amazing coastal views and inland forest vistas along the Redwood Highway. Our lunch stop was at a wildlife refuge area in Humboldt and it had a lovely 1.5 mile walk through a wetland area to stretch our legs and do some impromtu bird spotting. Our next stop was another quick overnighter in a town called Fortuna. It was nice enough to spend some time outside sorting a few things out with Big Dave. Of great importance and much ongoing annoyance – a sticker needed removing from the inside of his windscreen. This has been there since we bought him and had resisted all efforts to scrape it off. Now I had the correct highly combustible and toxic solvent in my possession. I won the battle. We sorted out our sat nav which could now attach to the newly cleaned spot on the screen, and we cleaned the outside so that all important forward visibility in sunny conditions would be vastly improved. Little did we know that we weren’t going to see the sun again for a while.

Our journey onwards took us further down US 101, continuing through the Redwoods area. We opted not to take the scenic bypass along ‘ The Avenue Of The Giants’ which takes in some of the groves of massive trees. We had seen this on our previous trip and were happy to just cruise on the bigger road due south. Happy, that was, until we made the decision to cut back to the coast on California-1. Big Dave and Tin Can weigh in at about 7 tons together, a significant heft indeed. We do try and take into account the topography of the land when we are planning our routes but sometimes we either just can’t avoid steep climbs and descents, or we just completely misjudge them. This next section of road was a big slice of both. It was horrendous! 22 miles of a narrow, winding, steep road that was unsurprisingly quite quiet. Poor Big Dave worked hard, as did Nick who was fairly vocal with his thoughts on how he wasn’t enjoying the driving experience. The forest was pretty, but that didn’t help much. We finally arrived back at the coast and stopped in a waterfront picnic spot for lunch. Big D’s brakes were stinking and we were glad that he had new rear ones as part of his recent ‘works’. Even I was exhausted.

Next stop was Fort Bragg, a small ex lumber/port town of about 7000 people, not to be confused with the enormous military town in North Carolina. There is not alot going on here since the efficient tree felling industry felled all the trees and left the mills with nothing to do. The port also suffered from the arrival of the railway to this area, negating the need for its important all-weather port for the ships transporting goods and travellers up and down this coast. There is, however, a rather marvellous walking/biking trail along the cliff tops that has fantastic views and was a great way for us to get into town whilst avoiding the footpath alongside the main highway. Our camp backed onto this path, and although was rather rustic, the setting could not be faulted. We managed a quick pre-dusk stroll until the evening saw the arrival of the second ‘atmospheric river’ of our trip. It rained all night and blew a gale. A good view rarely comes without some exposure to the weather.

Happily by morning the rain eased and we had a whole day of dry weather to wander into town. Our destination was Cafe One, a hostlery at the other end of the main drag that had been frequented in the past by friends The Jeromes, and purportedly served mighty fine bacon which was perfectly flat like it had be ironed. Unfortunately, after a 3 mile walk, it was closed. Them’s the breaks. Our homeward journey was broken up by a trip down to the old Noyo harbour and a couple of delicious mid-afternoon beers sat out at a delightful waterside bar, and we even managed to make it home via the supermarket just before the heavens open again for the rest of the night, again.

The morning gave us a brief window of oportunity between downpours to pack up and get going without getting soaked and we were on the road by 9.15 am, quite an achievement for us. It was a drive of two halves, with the first segment offering gently undulating roads and great distant views – very enjoyable – and the second segment being quite different. This next section of coastal road is like a smaller, angrier, less predicatable, stimulant addicted small brother to the well known tourist scenic drive, the Big Sur. It has the same spectacular views from a winding road carved into the coastal headlands, but the route is steeper, narrower and much more terrifying. There was a paucity of guard rails and plunging to a watery grave was a constant, overbearing thought, somewhat detracting from the enjoyment of the views. Coupled with intermittant heavy rain, even Nick had lost his nerve after navigating the 147th hairpin. By the time we arrived in our next port of call, Bodega Bay, we were both frazzled.

Bodega Bay was disappointing. All looked good on paper, and maybe in the summer, when the harbour is bustling and you can get out onto the water, it would be a grand place, but ’twas not to be for us. Our park was only about half a mile from the waterfront and ‘town centre’, but a) it was all bleak and shut down and b) there was no safe way of walking there. This country is such a slave to the automobile that they often completely forget that sometimes, somebody might want to actually walk somewhere, and that that somebody might wish to do that without the high chance of being squished. Oh, and c) it started raining heavily again and we had no desire to go anywhere. As much as we know that this state is very short of water, we are tired of this weather now and are much looking forward to getting to the desert.