Nuts

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July 14, 2013 (sorry dont have time to caption photos, but it gives you a taste. I'll post better pics when I have more time)



It's our 5th day on the big Pacific Northwest road trip (although it's my 8th day since I started the drive first and had a few fun days in Santa Barbara with Marna). We're camping on a spot right across from the bathroom and the path that leads to the beach. It's pretty freakin awesome.

I guess because this is such a popular camping destination (Beverly Beach State Park in Newport, Oregon) the animals are pretty ballsy. Too early this morning Joe goes to take a pee and comes back into the tent with his precious can of toffee peanuts.



"Damned chipmunk was trying to get to my nuts," he says and crawls back under the sleeping bags. When I feel something crawling up my leg, thinking it's Joe fucking with me, I casually look over my shoulder. All time and sound stops.



Chipmunk eyeballs me.



I eyeball him.



And then, Chipmunk! Next thing you know Joe is squealing like a girl as the chipmunk flies his way (sorry my leg twitched). Up goes the sleeping bag to volley the rodent back to my side of the tent.



Joe is up on his feet (who knew he could be that nimble?). Chipmunk is now hanging from the roof of the tent. Joe tries to maneuver it to the door. It hides behind my hair.



Meanwhile the folk outside must have thought we were having one hell of a time because we're screaming, we're laughing, the tent is bulging all over the place, and I'm yelling "get it out!"



Chipmunk escaped, and we survived without any bites or scratches. As I type this the little fucker is back on the picnic table (inches from my feet) looking for Joe's nuts. Joe, exhausted, is back to snoring.



Our trip so far has been one amazing surprise after another. Our first night in Northern California was in a little cliffside, fishing village called Trinidad. Driving into town you first notice the dusty, strung-out, dreadlocked 'hikers' (although I'm thinking these guys are wandering heroin addicts who have no freakin clue of how in the hell they ended up this far north).



We were suspicious but tired, so we went for it and rented a 'villa' (translation: mobile home with a loft) from we assume a fisherman's wife. The office reeked of fish and old receipts. Part of me just knew we were the first victims in a Stephen King version of Psycho.

"Baby, there be rednecks outside our bedroom window," Joe whispered. Turns out our new neighbors were harmless. The skunk, however, who resided nearby was not so kind around 3 a.m. when he decided to spray near our bedroom window.

By day two we pretty much looked as rough as our neighbors.

And I'm being totally unfair here because everyone, including the lady who checked us in, has been welcoming and friendly. Best of all, we humans, are the least of it when visiting this part of the world. Hiking is a treat --- don't worry about the cool temps and mist, you'll be sweating going up those steep hills that brought you down to the beach. My pictures show this better than I can tell you. Just know I had no idea how much I'd be reminded of Ireland on my own country's shore.

Trinidad the town is also well worth a visit. Just ignore the dusty crew hanging out at the exit/entrance ramps and drive on in. There is a bed and breakfast and other hotels there; we just didn't see them until later. There's also Moonstone winery (hahahaha love the hippie name), which I didn't get a chance to sample, but it's cute. We enjoyed checking out the Mom & Pop restaurants, shops and art galleries, and plenty of adorable vacation rentals.

We spent our second night in Crescent City and tried to hike to the spot where the redwoods touch the sea, but it was six miles (mostly uphill) and we had no water on us (what in the hell were we thinking?!). That said we hiked quite a bit of it, and yeah it was awesome. The next day we strolled through Patricks Point State Park (awesome), and Jerediah State Park (holy-shit-those-redwoods awesome).

Day three took us into Port Orford, another cliffside, fishing village (this time in Oregon). Our inn keeper suggested we hike the trails near the old Coast Guard station, and wow. Again, Ireland in America.

If you take a right at the tower trail onto some other path that winds through buttercups and daisies, you find yourself coming up to a fenced in rock that juts out, so you stand there in the wind and look. If you're patient the resident whale will pop up. After you about fall off the cliff because you can't believe what you just saw, two of his buddies will do the same. I don't know how long we stood there, but we were hypnotized watching them circle the area. I can't believe how close to shore they are. It's not even whale-watching season, but we got to see three of them.

I was pissed at Joe about something when we got back to our hotel. Our room faced the back yard, which overlooks the ocean. I'm right in the middle of calling him a dick when I see two deer nibbling sweat pea. I could almost touch them. The young buck looked at me like, "and aren't you the bitch ruining his day."

That night ended with us on a park bench watching the sun set while eating cheese and crackers and enjoying a bottle of wine I bought in Santa Barbara (so much for bringing that puppy home). We also saw a herd of elk while driving up some steep, dusty road to nowhere, and a bunch of other things (my fingers are getting numb typing out here in the cold).

Considering we still have a lot of hiking yet to do, I'm a little concerned that we might actually run into a bear. I guess as long as he doesn't crawl into our tent looking for Joe's nuts we're good.

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Comments

[maryanne stahl]

Nice nuts!
Love this! I envy all your trips, but this one sounds especially lovely and back-to-naturey. You are such fun to read.

[Badgette]

Oh how I wish we could do one together...
as you well know I LIVE for vacay time. I swear my ever-growing hiney will get back to visit your corner of the world, and you know there is always a place for you hear --- too hot for chipmunks, so it's all good.