The man from Mali at the party a few nights ago said, "wherever you are today is your home." VanMan from 20 years ago used to say, "wherever you go, there you are." But Diane of today says it best. "Get in the bus."
And so we have. After a few trials and a little tribulation we bid a warm farewell to Tony and sped out of Eugene, OR on March 2. The night before we went to a rockin' birthday party at a friend's house. The bus was loaded. We were in high spirits. But getting there, as it turned out, was when the fun began. One shredded tire, a few "oh mys" and a generous helping hand from our party's host got us to the fete almost on time. Since then it's been nothing but smooth sailing. (To whit: The next day at the tire shop I got to learn about bow hunting for elk from another patron and mushroom hunting from the tire guy. Plus we got a deal on the tire.)
First stop was in Bandon, Oregon. A groovy coastal town with dramatic cliffs, rock-strewn beaches, and at least one top-shelf restaurant (The Wild Rose Bistro. Go for the ravioli, stay for the scallops). We took in the sunset at the cliff's edge alongside many of Bandon's finest residents then made for our campsite in the cleanest state park we've ever seen.
We continued down the coast, passing many (we're sure) fabulous sites and stopping at (we're certain) even better sites.
Then we dropped anchor in Crescent City, CA at the Shoreline RV park (or as Diane called it, "The Last Resort"). It was late, the state park we aimed for was closed..., you know the drill.
The next morning, drinking campfire coffee, enjoying the wails of police sirens in the city and the arp-arp-arp of the sea lions on the piers, we eyed the coastline, ready to heed the primeval call of the Redwood Forest.