Monday 11 September 2000: Campground in the Fog

Elisabeth: We drove into Eureka, got gas for the last time (and at $2.15 a gallon my twenty didn't come close to filling up the tank), and sent postcards home. Then, shunning civilization, we came up to Redwoods National Park. A six mile curvy one-lane gravel road by the name of Davison brought us to Gold Bluffs Beach, where we chose one of the only campsites here to have several bushes surrounding the tent area. (The site is right next to the ocean and often windy and foggy.) Remarking upon the signs proclaiming "Danger - Elk" (which beasts were later to attack us) we spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach. Our Martian cliff dwellings in the sand survived at least until the evening, whereupon we returned to good old site #4 for a hearty meal of spaghetti with string cheese.

Jon: The fog throughout the day was remarkable. I am now going to remark on it. Along the beach were were alone in the fog nearly all the time, and it wreathed the golden cliffs and dark green trees with with unspeakable majesty. We dipped toes in the ocean (properly cold) and saw seals playing in the surf. No sign of elk yet.

Not much else happened. We had no campfire at night, and went straight to sleep. (The campsite bathrooms have lights and mirrors and sinks, they smell clean, and there's even a solar heated shower, can you imagine?)

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