5/16: Rain in Oregon? Who expected that?

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Weather-wise, I had been spoiled on this trip. After so many clear, cloudless nights, I was in the habit of leaving my rain fly crumpled up next to my tent. Some nights, it didn't even make it out of the trunk. I liked being able to see the stars while laying in my sleeping bag.

I woke up about 6:30 with my wool blanket pulled up over my head, the usual for most mornings. Right away, something felt off. Normally I would lie there until my brain fully kicked into gear, but on this morning, something told me I needed to get up. I pulled the blanket back, and a couple of small drops hit my face. It was raining! I was up and out of the tent in a flash. Without the rain fly in place, my down sleeping bag was getting wet. If it got too wet, it would be useless to me for the next several nights. I moved it into the car and then tried to figure out the rest of my gear. Normally, when leaving camp, I organized everything into containers so they would fit back into the trunk and backseat. Now that gear was wet and anything touching the ground was covered in mud and pine needles. I did my best to contain the mess and packed the car in a way that would minimize the damage. I knew my back seat was going to get dirty but I didn't have much choice. Cooking was out of the question so I left the park much earlier and hungrier than planned.

Port Orford was literally the closest port in the storm so that's where I headed. I was both relieved and annoyed when the rain stopped just after reaching town. When I saw a sign for a scenic overlook, I pulled over to make a plan. I pulled off the road in a nice little spot overlooking the port that gave the town its name. As per usual, I was compelled to snap a few pics of the scenery. As I finished up, a pickup truck stopped in the road and the driver yelled something. I couldn't make it out but then he pointed down the road and said "Whales!" He drove off and I followed. We both found a parking spot among the dry-docked boats and crab pots near the docks, and he pointed out on the water. I didn't see anything and assumed I was missing whatever he was looking at. But then, a dark gray object surfaced in the water about 200 yards from where I was standing. It floated there for a moment, and then it was gone again. Soon after, another, smaller object surfaced, and when it dove back down, I saw the distinct shape of a whale's tail. I had never really expected to see whales on this trip. I was under the impression that you had to get on a boat and head out into open water to ever see one, but here I was, seeing my first whale in the wild. I quickly changed lenses on my camera and began shooting like mad every time they surfaced. My vantage point was too low and too far away to get a really good look at them but it was exciting nonetheless. After about 10 minutes, they moved out of view and I was left standing there, shocked by my dumb luck. Once again, simply being at the right place at the right time had gotten me better results than all the planning I had done. I got back in the car, the rough start to my morning already forgotten. I found a local cafe and happily scarfed down a large omelet and slab of hash browns while reviewing photos on my camera's small screen.

I made another stop at the beach before heading out of town. Once again, I had no plans on where I would sleep that night. Over breakfast, I had done a quick search for campgrounds north of the border and had come up empty. It was time to leave Oregon. I stopped in Rogue River to check out the famous jet boats. Being a week day early in the season, going for a ride was not an option.

Around noon, I passed a sign welcoming me to California. It didn't take long for the 101 to veer inland, now separated from the ocean by the "lost coast". Once inland, tall green trees gave way to dusty farm land and warmer temperatures. As I drove into crescent city, I spotted a sign for the Redwoods Visitor Center. This was a welcome sight for someone that didn't know the area. I looked at some maps and spoke to the ranger on duty. He was very knowledgeable and quickly listed each campground in the area along with the likelihood of getting a camping spot without a reservation. One in particular sounded promising, as it was down a narrow road deep in the woods, which would keep the large RVs away. I drove for a while looking for a sign for the turn off. Maybe I was distracted by the trees or maybe the sign had been flattened by a sloppy driver but either way, I didn't see it. I drove and drove until I finally had to acknowledge that I was far past the turnoff. I kept driving, now just looking for any sort of park, or even a cheap motel. The day wore on and I was starting to get desperate. Finally I saw a sign for a privately owned campground. I pulled in. The scenery was nice enough, but it was expensive, and I was assigned a spot far from any running water despite the campground being mostly empty. I thought wifi would help make up for the cost, but it never worked. At least I had made it before sundown. I strung up my wet gear and got it mostly dry before darkness fell. Feeling I had spent enough already, I declined buying firewood and cooked a simple dinner with my stove. I went to bed around 9:30 but didn't get much sleep due to noisy campers and the nearby road.

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