Motorhome News from North America 8

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Motorhome News from North America 8. March 28th - April 7th 2006

Farewell fair California. The Golden State

Sequoia Sempervivens, the California Coastal Redwoods, are the tallest living things on earth. They can grow to over 350ft, weighing in at a massive 45 tons. They get that way through a rich diet of alluvial soil, foggy insulation, and around 100 inches of rain each year….we know all about that. Northern California has enjoyed nearly double its average annual rainfall for this time of the year and most of it has landed on us.

Some of the most spectacular redwoods line the Avenue of the Giants, a winding 33mile stretch of road leading us north through Humboldt Redwoods State Park. The forest walk at Founders Grove offered an ant’s eye view of the dark underworld beneath these mighty trees, sparkling where torchlight-thin shafts of golden sunlight penetrated the canopy, lighting the forest floor in tiny bright pools of ferns, moss-encrusted litter, redwood sorrel and calypso orchids, in a humid frenzy of dazzling emerald. There is a moment of enlightenment in this green cavern, the feeling of a minnow beneath the ocean, when the insignificance of man can be fully understood, for amongst these giants we are all but Lilliputians. Vast swathes of these huge trees were felled in the rush to build houses for the early settlers, but much of the remaining ancient woodland is now protected within the State Park system.

I gaze aloft, and ponder that man, in his greed, shall have travelled these lands in search of gold and in the process, displaced the indigenous peoples, the Yurok, the Hupa, Tolowa, Karuk, Wiyot and Chilula Indians; savaged the elk population for food and hide and ravaged these awesome trees - these benchmarks of life on earth since before the time of Christ. These are the people we know as Americans today, but it would be well to remember that they came from Europe. Then, surely, my entrepreneurial-self would have done the same 150 years ago.

Lumber is still big business in these parts, as evidenced by the long rows of sawn redwood and fir beside the 101 in Scotia, the home of The Pacific Lumber Company and one of the last company-owned towns in North America. We chanced to meet a retired Native American taking the air on the jetty at Point Arena Cove. He spoke of his love of nature and the beliefs of his forefathers, with great pride and passion. This whole nation would surely have been a different place left in their hands. California’s State animal is the Grizzly bear, the emblem on the State flag. But there are no longer grizzlies in California. They probably shot them all and stuck the last one on the flag.

John Steinbeck once wrote;
‘The redwoods once seen, create a vision that stays with you always….from them comes silence and awe. The most irreverent of men, in the presence of redwoods, goes under a spell of wonder and respect. They are ambassadors from another time.’


The floods of 1964 brought havoc and hardship to a number of dairy towns in these parts. The amazing town of Ferndale, a short drive inland, lives on to tell the tale; for here, the clock stopped that year as floods devastated farms and stock along the valley and the economy collapsed. Ferndale’s faded Victorian facades are set on wide sleepy streets, the shop windows have not changed since that day in 1964, the Rep’ Theatre keeps its glazed front ticket office and the hotels are genuine pop-ups from grandma’s picture book. I’m sure you’ve heard of it; Ferndale is home to the ‘World Championship Great Arcata to Ferndale Cross-Country Kinetic Sculpture Race’, a three-day event held every Memorial Day weekend. Any human-powered vehicle will do, the more bizarre the better it seems, so, if you’ve any whimsical ideas on how to reduce the American smog-count, you now know where to come.
Eureka, a little further north, is the largest Californian city north of San Francisco, with a population of 26,600. Here, we encountered the first signs of a fishing community of any size, encapsulated amongst ornately timber-clad and pastel painted Victorian houses. The town is thought to have been named by early prospectors, when gold was first found in the hills. Think of the picture for a moment.

Birding has been good this week, despite the lull in activity as migrants hesitate awhile, like us, waiting for the rain to stop and temperatures to rise a little before heading north to the sun and summer. We walked at Arcata Marsh, along the spit between the beach and the inland pools to watch the incoming tide send red knot flashing across the water in great clouds, so reminiscent of bright October mornings on the shores of the Wash at Snettisham as the tide sweeps across the mudflats. A spectacle of beauty beyond words.

It may well prove to have been somewhat naive of us to join the Escapees, KOA and FMCA camping clubs so early in our travels, though our pre-travel research left us in little doubt as to their virtues. You will already have gathered that we are far from being conventional travellers, by-passing towns and cities, seeking out the most remote and natural spots and occasionally dipping into ‘the stuff that tourists do’. It’s what we do and the way we do it, that brings us to the State Park campgrounds rather than club sites most nights; to enjoy the wilderness, the informality, the great views and the wildlife, on the fringe of walking tracks and nature reserves. There are 278 State Parks in California alone, most of them with good basic camping facilities. Each site has a host, usually a retired couple in their own RV, to look after camper’s interests. Uniformed Park Rangers wearing Boy Scout hats and side-arms driving white throbbing pick-ups are never far away; checking everyone’s paid, safe, and behaving themselves. The parks cover more than 1.4m acres and 280 miles of coastline. Camping is relatively inexpensive, and it suits us well. This week, we have camped beside the grey Eel River, overlooking the bay watching fishing boats to-and-fro at Eureka, encircled by lovely trees, watching grazing deer and elk before us on the edge of the forest north of Orick, and deep amidst the giant redwoods alongside the emerald rushing waters of Smith River near Crescent City. Each day offers a new panorama to fill the heart with wonder and thrill the weakest of spirits.

We stopped a while in pleasant Crescent City before finally saying goodbye to California; another rainy day in another tidy fishing town, checking out the Chamber Visitor Information Centre for leaflets and books, and the Library for the Internet. Crescent City hosts ‘The Goose Festival’ each year around this time, as the Aleutian geese (tiny Canada geese) gather locally to refuel before the last leg of their flight to the breeding grounds. We had seen hundreds of these Aleutian geese in the fields the previous day and hoped to join in the festivities on Saturday, but heavy rain overnight and the following morning washed out all thoughts of birding for the day. Our hopes of sending the latest ‘blog’ were also dashed when we discovered the library was closed from Thursday to Monday because of funding shortages. Schools are also suffering from lack of funds here, we’re told. It’s the same the whole world over!

Give me a hand for a moment, before we finally leave The Golden State. Close your eyes and think of California. If I’m not mistaken, the ladies amongst you have a picture of a bronzed lifeguard on a golden beach in heavenly sunshine (some of you fellas may have a similar vision of course!). The real truth is it’s rained a lot for us along the northern coast, there are no lifeguards around in the winter and the cold, cold sea, is only fit for very fit surfers. Weather aside, we’re left with the feeling that everything in California is a little on the expensive side compared with Arizona: food, campsites and petrol (gas) in particular. In both Arizona and California, the price on the label is not what you pay at the check-out. This is indeed the case in most States. California adds 7.25% sales tax to all purchases with the exception of food. We paid a little over 8% tax on Winnie in Arizona. There is still no sales tax on goods in Oregon; the vote continues to go against it, but tax gets collected in other ways there, 11.5% on hotel bills and 12.5% on car rental for example. You don’t get ‘owt for nowt’ as they say.

Rain came with us as we turned inland at the northern tip of the California coast for a taste of Oregon, up and up the steep road into the mountains on the snowline at just 4,000ft, to the Oregon Caves National Monument. Grey cotton-wool clouds hung in the trees threatening more rain, but it was a good day for being underground; it doesn’t rain in caves does it? Yep, it sure does. Well it certainly drips in copious quantities, but the guidebook had prepared us for the cold, the damp, and the wonderful experience of a 90minute tour below the mountain, in dimly lit corridors, on precipitous ladders, through narrow passages - and the spectacle of scintillating formations that only caves can conjure up.

Our move inland offered us the opportunity to investigate road conditions in the mountains further west with thoughts of visiting the enticing turquoise-blue Crater Lake before heading further north. Free Wi-fi at our campsite near Grants Pass gave us access to a website with video cameras at strategic spots on the major highways and pictures of the snow-packed roadsides west of the Lake ruled out the high mountain route for us. Disappointed, but not downhearted, we headed for the coast once more, away from the threatening snow through scenic wooded valleys, into the heart of logging country, passing tractor unit after tractor unit carrying logs to the timber town of Dillard, south of Roseburg. Logs come in to one end of Dillard by truck and out the other on trains, as planks and woodchip. At Coos Bay, along the coast, they move timber from one mill to the next by rail for further processing by the shore directly onto ships for transportation.

The first impact of Oregon is the reduced price of Gas. Suddenly we are paying $2.50 instead of $2.70 plus per US Gallon and campsites are cheaper too. There are few Park Rangers in evidence in Oregon State Parks so far, and certainly none touting firearms - quite possibly a reflection on ‘trouble’ potential near major conurbations in California, though we have felt welcome and perfectly safe throughout our journey to date. A couple of campers told us they had served in Napoli with the US Navy until recently and they were happy to be home in the States, away from the need to be forever looking over their shoulders, which prevails in many parts of Italy. We share those feelings, but still pledge to be vigilant whilst travelling here.

We hit the coast at Bandon, a delightful little fishing port turned art colony, with rustic shops and cafes by the harbour and picturesque wooden homes (they’re mostly single storey), along the cliffs. Bandon is the Cranberry capital of Oregon. Janice would be happy there, she loved it - particularly the free samples in the sweet shop, ‘Cranberry Sweets’, offering chocolates, jellies and fudge - delicious!
Beautiful sandy beaches backed by stands of fir and golden gorse stretch up the coast, beyond Coos Bay, North Bend, Reedsport and Florence, where vast sand dunes, sometimes as much as two miles wide, divide highway from sea for forty miles and white lighthouses perch on every rocky outcrop. Fast-flowing creeks and rivers deposit fallen trees in the estuaries along the shores in tangled masses of weather-worn driftwood on rocky coves, and gemstone collectors scour the outgoing tidal waters, heads down, in search of agate.

With a keen eye for something different, we stopped off at Sea Lion Caves to take the lift 200ft down into the depths of the cliffs, almost to sea level, where hundreds - yes, hundreds, of rare Stellers sea lions congregate on the rocks in the caves between fishing excursions. There would be a hint of zoo in this experience were it not for the vastness of the cave (the largest sea-cave in the world, it’s claimed), the constant thunder of crashing waves, the nose-twitching stench of fish-eating seals, the deafening roar of excited males guarding their chattels and the cry of pigeon guillemots darting in and out on black and white wings. I’ll file that one near the top of my memorable moments list.

It has slipped our minds to check out the house prices in this lovely part of Oregon, where you could come to retire and forget the rest of the world exists - if you could afford the healthcare insurance. Generally there are a few pictures with prices in the realty windows, so we’ll check ‘em out should we find a town up the coast. Estate Agents’ (realty)advertisements appear in all the tourist media; maps, lists of 101 things to do, Chamber of Commerce publications and local papers. Advertisements feature pictures of ladies in their best hair-do’s, cuddly husband and wife partnerships, cute ladies with cute smiles and their cute dogs, and whole teams of grinning realty staff including the tea lady - but never, ever, a picture of a house!

The call of the mountains is ever present if you’re a grey-haired nomad on wheels. It’s a magnetic force that inevitably draws us back to the pure air and dramatic vistas across the edge of the earth. Beyond Yachats and Newport we took stock of our Oregon experience; shackled to the coast for fear of snow, and chose once more, to turn inland - towards the peaks of the Cascade Mountains. Wish us luck!


Janice and David. The grey-haired nomads.

PS. For those of you alert enough to have spotted the technical error on our route map (pointed out by little brother Michael), we would like to assure you we’re not in the middle of the Pacific. The map with News 6 showing our travels to date was a bit of an experiment, and like many of those by Archimedes before us, it didn’t work the first time. We’ll have another go at it one day when the internet clock is not breathing down our necks. The bird photographs by the way, are mostly shot on my camera (Fuji finepix 7000) using the 19X telephoto lens. They are all taken in shaky hand-held mode as those of you with a technical eye will have noticed, but we still hope you enjoy them as much as we do. We have seen an Osprey or two every day along this coast, but they are usually too far away and always difficult to focus on in the air! We’ll gladly switch to plants if you’d prefer; they generally stand still, which is more than can be said for butterflies.

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Photos

The Mighty Redwoods
Janice in Lilliput

The Avenue of Giants
Winnie in the trees

Ferndale
A touch of Victoriana

Elk
Can you spot Winnie in the background?

Oregon Caves
Spectacular!

Timber!
From shore to ship

Lighthouse
At Hecata Head

Driftwood
On the beach

The intrepid traveller
Now, where did I leave that camel?

Sea Lion Caves
Spot the pigeon guillemots!