The Mendocino County coast is an absolute gem. The defining feature of the coastline is the rocky headlands and coves that string along the coast. Driving south along Highway 1, you cruise along the edge of a cliff a couple hundred feet above the pounding surf. Most of the road lacks safety rails, but it's a fun road to drive in our little Honda. Anytime I'm driving along the ocean, I'm on the lookout for a wave to surf. There was a 4-7 foot South swell filling in along the coast, which is pretty much a perfect set up for Mendocino's rocky points. I saw plenty of good, solid waves with nobody out...so I did what any sane Hoosier turned surf bum and waited until I found a spot with a couple people out. I didn't want to be the first guy from Indiana to get nibbled on by the 'GrayMan'.
The area around Fort Bragg and the town of Mendocino is a collection of state parks and national seashore. We had visited the area a couple times before for quick hit and run type visits. Fort Bragg is a sleepy, dying logging town attempting to transform into a vacation town. It's on the way to being somewhat of a mecca for cold-water free-divers. Mendocino (the town) is a quarky, artsy town that sits on the Mendocino Headlands. It's definitely a great place to visit and have a walk around town, step into some shops, and have a pint of locally brewed ale.
Justine and I made a quick pass through the towns and headed out along the coast to find a decent campsite away from the weekend crowds. State Park campsites are packed on Saturday nights with RV's and families, so we opted for a campground off the beaten path. We found a sweet campsite nestled amongst pine trees and within earshot of the crashing waves and the odd barking sea lion. After we secured a good campsite and set up our tent, we headed into the town of Mendocino for a pint of brew and to wait for the marine layer to burn off. There is a little pub called Dirty Dick's, which pours only local microbrew and offers sweeping views of Mendocino Bay and the Big River estuary from the bar stools. After a couple pints, the fog burned off and we had an afternoon of sunshine. We headed down to the beach at Big River. I walked out to the beach, took one look at the waves, and then headed back to the car to pull my wetsuit on. Justine opted for a good book and a soak in the sun.
The waves were decent and I had the lineup to myself. After my surf, we headed back to camp and lit up a bonfire. One of our favorite parts of camping is always cooking over an open fire. Justine had picked out some delicious ribeye steaks, sweet potatoes, and french bread for dinner. After stuffing ourselves, we retired to our lawn-chairs and basked in the fire. We took in the sound of the fire crackling, sea-lions barking, and the smell of the cool salt air mingling with the smell of a cedar fire.
We woke up early Sunday morning, packed up camp, and headed out to look for a little breakfast joint we'd heard good things about. We ended up finding the cafe, but it was closed for remodeling. Plan B turned out to be a typical greasy spoon diner. After breakfast we needed to walk off our biscuits, gravy and french toast. We headed to Jug Handle State Park and took a trail that followed the headlands around and offered views of more coves and more sea-life. I know it sounds like all we did was look at ocean stuff, but it really never gets old. The ocean is always different and the views are never quite the same. There is something awe inspiring about looking out into that vastness. We ended up finding this little cove that didn't have footprints in it and scrambled down a gully onto the white sand. We spent the morning poking around the seaweed and taking it all in.
After Jug Handle State Park we headed down the road and I talked Justine into pulling over at the Point Cabrillo Light Station to have a look around. We've been to enough historical sites to be weary of them, they are usually filled with loud bitching kids, beleagured parents, and crusty octagenarians. We braved the parking lot and took the half mile stroll out to the Light. It was cool, it had all of the historical stuff that you'd want in a restored lighthouse. The original buildings were restored and filled with artifacts. The Light Station itself was decent, it's definitely no Cape Hatteras, but it does sit on a cliff a couple hundred feet above the surf.
After the stroll through the Light Station, we headed out to find a new campsite to stash the tent. I'll let you in on a little secret about scoring prime camp sites. Go claim a site around 12:30 in the afternoon, most campgrounds make people leave around noon if they aren't spending the next night and most people don't start looking for a spot until late afternoon, so that means there is a plethora of open sites for the taking. Go find the best spot, drop your tent, claim the site and then head out for your afternoon of fun. When you get done with your afternoon of fun, your prime spot will be waiting for you and you can spark up your bonfire and watch the suckers that waited until the end of the day drive past and look upon your site with envy.
We camped out at Russian Gulch State Park, which is known for it's prime diving, ocean bluffs, and hiking. We spent the waning hours of Sunday afternoon lounging on the beach and playing fetch with a dog that belonged to the other couple on the beach. I was seriously tempted to pull on my wetsuit and spear a fish, but the wind picked up and the water clarity died. We opted for a hike out along the bluffs and through the forest.
Sunday night brought another campfire and a fire cooked meal. Justine grilled a stuffed chicken breast and I had a slab of lamb. Another great camping trip was coming to a close. Justine and I swilled beers around the fire and thought back on all of the great times we'd had along the way.
I'll be the first to say that I'm so thankful for my marriage. Working at a bar, I hear all kinds of shit talked about marriage and whatnot. It goes in one ear and out the other, because marriage is such a team effort. Justine and I always joke about having a 'team building exercise' on our trips. It's a polite way of saying we need to figure out a way to work together and make something happen when an adverse situation comes our way. Our team building exercise this trip was only having one headlamp. For some reason we only had brought one flashlight with us. Now next time you are out camping, try cooking a somewhat gourmet dinner in the dark with a single light. It takes some teamwork and it'll work your communication skills. We made it work and had a blast doing it.
It's funny because we've been on this strange adventure referred to as marriage for a couple years now and we still feel like we're honeymooning. Maybe it's because we're living out here in California with only a couple friends and we're traveling around all the time, but I also think it's because we have this mindset about life-like we're not going to fall into that trap of everyday life. We're not buying into the crap you see everyday on TV that boils down to keeping up with the Joneses. I feel like we have this great hybrid of Hoosier upbringing combined with this Tom Sawyer-esque romanticized idea of what an adventure life can be.
The noble author and his wife, posing above the cove at Russian Gulch
Justine trying to get a peak over the edge at Jug Handle State Park
Point Cabrillo Light Station
1 comment:
I smell a travel guide in the works. You should start taking pics of the greasy spoons, markets,local people, etc. Think of all the baby boomers who will have a lot of time on their hands in retirement.
Start keeping a hiking log and it would be great if your blog had a little map of the coast linked so your journey could be followed.
Post a Comment