ocean – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Raining in Brookings Oregon

Of course it is, it is doing something dramatic just about everywhere in the country right now and the southern Oregon coast is no exception, in spite of that “Banana Belt” description for our current location. The National Weather Service is actually predicting the possibility of scattered snow showers down to sea level, and temperatures well below freezing tonight and tomorrow night “on the beaches”. Whew! Makes me happy for tank heaters and a nice little electric heater to keep things cozy inside.

After a couple of months hanging around home and Grants Pass, the second home, we decided to come to our third home, Harris Beach State Park. We needed a change of scenery. I suppose Mo needed a change of scenery, especially that daily view of fabric and sewing machine on the dining table.

I am comfortably settled into the super comfy, super convenient new dinette with a view out the windows, watching the surf breaking over the black shadows of marine rock sea stacks below us on the beach. It has rained all night, but the thick spruce above us makes the rain fall in spurts and fits as it sifts through the trees to the roof, random and not at the steady rhythm of raindrops in more open areas.

We have been entertaining ourselves with radio, tv, reading, computing, and for me, some knitting. Resting, napping, and a few damp walks here and there have rounded out the schedule, or non schedule you might say. Mo took Abby for a walk this morning but so far I am still in jammies…oops…it is no longer morning!

We arrived early on Saturday, a bit before the official 2pm check in time, and even a bit before the 1pm check out time. As expected, the front row was full, the view row, all with cable hookups. When we came over, we didn’t expect to get front row, but we were hoping for cable so Mo could at least watch her 49’rs game on Sunday. Mo stopped at the dump to do a little pre-dump before we settled in and I drove the park looking for a spot. Sure enough, a nice guy was hooking up his fiver in the front row and I asked if he was leaving

Yup, he was, and he said that by the time we got back with the MoHo three more folks had asked about the spot. Lucky us! A23 is probably our favorite site in this park, with ocean views, a bit of tree cover for protection, nice shrubs around to block public view of our table and firepit, and of course cable, water, and electric. No sewer, but we can handle that for the four nights we plan to stay here.

That first day was gorgeous, and Mo unloaded the firewood for our planned campfire, but instead of cooking outdoors we wandered off to Harbor to the Chetco Café for our traditional fish and chips supper. Love that place, so much that we didn’t even mind waiting another day to polish off the Thanksgiving leftovers.

Thanksgiving was as delightful as expected, with family gathered at Melody’s house to partake of the fabulous cooking of both daughters and a couple of Melody’s friends as well. It was a good day and it was nice to go back home with a pack of leftover containers and no mess to clean up.

Things around Melody’s house are up for some changes with Kevin heading south to Mountain View for his Google job this week and Melody in full Christmas mode at the jewelry store in the midst of rehearsals for her play. Seems as though grandson Xavier is also trying out for “Grease” so things should just be hopping around there in the next couple of months.

Mo and I drove to Grants Pass and visited with Deb at the cottage overnight before pulling the MoHo out to enjoy the biggest reason for the Grants Pass property…just two hours to the beach. The drive was beautiful and the change of scenery was divine. Yes, we knew rain was coming, but that didn’t matter in the least. Love coming to the ocean any time of year.

On Sunday, even though it was cloudy, the rain held off long enough for us to get some good beach walking time and ball time with Abby. Balls and beaches are her favorite thing, but it was a bit bittersweet as she seemed to be somewhat less energetic than before. She loves it so much, but the years are catching up and she tires more easily. Hard to watch our animals age. I suppose it is hard for our kids to watch us age. Better than the alternative, at least we are all still here.

On a last note….I have changed some plans for our three month travels. Jeremy will be coming along after all. My heart just can’t deal with abandoning my sweet cat after 17 years of loyalty, even if it is at my daughter’s home. He is so needy and attached to us, and to Abby, and to our life together. We decided we will just deal with whatever his age requires for the trip. Jeremy is heading for Florida! I know one person down there who will probably enjoy meeting him. Karen and Al are serious cat people who have been through the “old cat thing”, and I hope that I can introduce them to Jeremy.

Later: The rain stopped, and cold notwithstanding, Mo got a great fire going tonight.

Raining on the Oregon Coast–Really!?

It is exactly what we expected when we planned a trip north from Brookings for this week in mid February. Why north when the possibilities for good weather were probably much better if we went south? The MoHo is in Brookings, and for the last few trips our route has been south, heading for the California beaches, the California deserts, warm days, sunny skies. But that is the key word, California, and we decided it might be nice to skip the traffic and people and explore our own magnificent coastline farther north than we have been together in the MoHo.

The plan was for a leisurely amble north toward Astoria, fully expecting rain and storms. There are huge groups of people who migrate to this coast specifically at this time of year to storm watch, and it is also time for the migrating gray whales to be moving north. Imagine our surprise on Saturday afternoon when we arrived in Brookings to sunny skies and temperatures as high as 60 degrees! There wasn’t a bit of fog except for a low bank on the horizon far west of the shoreline, and the bluebird skies were wonderful.

When we left Rocky Point, the sun was shining on the freshly fallen skiff of snow and over the pass we passed through some serious winter conditions with a bit of whiteout here and there. In Medford it was cloudy and raining, in Grants Pass the hail and sleet were pounding hard on the roof and then we passed through intermittent rain and squalls and sunshine all the way to Hiouchi, where we habitually check to see if our “spot” is empty. Usually it is taken, and we smiled remembering camping there along the little creek. It is a great little campground just inland from Crescent City.

With the MoHo stored in Brookings just a few minutes from Harris Beach, we have no need to stay anywhere else. Harris Beach has become our first and last night destination of choice. This time when we opened up the storage shed, all was perfect, no bad smells, no vandals cutting holes in the walls to ransack our rig, no mice shredding anything at all. Even though we assume the MoHo is safe, we have learned the hard way that when she is away from us for a few weeks at a time, who knows what surprises might await us when we open that door.

We drove immediately to the park where we scored another front row site with electric, water, and cable. Other sites in this row were completely full since most of them have a tremendous view of the ocean. Our view was not quite as dramatic, but we still could see the wide open sea from our back window. In spite of the sun, the wind was chilly and even though we picked up some local firewood bundles, the wet grass and cold breezes kept us cozy and warm inside.

We set up the rig, and then ran back to town to buy enough groceries at Freddy’s to be sure that we would qualify for our ten cent off fuel cost the next morning when we planned to fill the empty MoHo. Just down the street from Freddy’s (Fred Meyer Stores for those who aren’t Northwesterners), is the delightful little quilt shop I found our last time in Brookings. I thought it might be nice to check in there that afternoon since the next day was Sunday and of course quilt shops probably wouldn’t be open. Big surprise!

I had somehow managed to hit the first quilt shop in a list of 14 in the last weekend of the ongoing Quilt Run 101, stretching from Brookings all the way to Astoria. I had Sunday and Monday to get my passport card stamped at each of the 14 shops to qualify for a fancy Janome quilting machine or one of many gift certificates. Whoopie! We had already decided that we would move fairly quickly through the southern and mid coast where we have traveled before and slow down to explore the north coast, so the two day run wasn’t really much different than our original plan.

We woke on Sunday morning once again to brilliant sunshine and no fog. Winds coming from the north were cold, but I guess that is what keeps the fog away this time of year. Before we got back on the road, we enjoyed walking in the morning sunlight down toward the beach and were aghast at the level of the high tide. The entire beach was almost completely inundated, something we haven’t seen before. Texting back and forth with my daughter, I mentioned it and she immediately sent the following text message to me:

“When the Moon, earth, and Sun are positioned in a straight line at new or full Moon, the tide producing forces of the Sun and Moon are added together giving extra low tides called “spring tides”. These are the best tides for beach combing, clamming or visiting tidepools. During the Moon’s first and last quarters, the Sun and Moon act at right angles to each other, and the result is a much reduced tidal range called a “neap tide”. Mom, you are seeing mixed tides and the highest high tide is in the morning in the spring”

So did she touch type that whole thing into her phone or copy it over from somewhere else?!!

I can’t remember when we have driven this part of the coast in sunshine, and it felt like we were in a completely new world. The quilt shop run was great fun, especially for Mo doing the driving, since almost all the shops were right on the main highway and parking on this lovely Sunday was easy, many times we pulled the MoHo and Toad right up to the front of the shop.

As a brand new quilter, I had so much fun seeing all the different styles of quilting and the different focus of each shop reflecting the owner’s artistic bent. We made it all the way to Newport on that first day, visiting 8 of the 14 shops, and Mo had a nice day while I shopped, walking Abby in the sunshine in all the little towns. In Florence, Mo was walking down the street and met a little girl who loved Abby and said, “Do you want me to go home and get my dog?” Mo said no, but within minutes the little girl was back with her dog, a sweet little beagle, who loved Abby as well. Too bad Mo doesn’t carry the camera!

South Beach State Park, just south of Newport, is familiar to us, a place where the beach is some distance from the campground, but roomy and we knew there wouldn’t be a problem getting a site. By the time we reached Newport, the sunny skies were just a memory and the normal gray clouds of the coast settled in around us. Again, in spite of the lovely campsite with a great fire pit, our wood went unused. The soup I had thawed went unused as well, since we thought it would be fun to go down to old town Newport for some obligatory coastal fish and chips. It was surprisingly busy in spite of the rain, but we found a table at the Rogue (used to be brewery but they moved the brewing part across the river) and had halibut fish and chips for 13.95 market price. It was a great little place, with fun people watching and a cozy vibe. I topped off the perfect halibut with a Dead Guy Ale. Gotta love those crafted brew names.

We left on Monday morning with only 135 miles and six shops to visit between Newport and Astoria. As we drove north through the rain, the landscape looked much more familiar, with mist and fog shrouding the green mountains around us. Sometimes the ocean was visible through the fog, and other times we couldn’t see much. I filled up the day with color, however, and Mo enjoyed hanging in the MoHo reading while I shopped. A couple of times I was asked if I had a husband waiting in the car. Nope! There were a few guys shopping with their wives, but others just rolled their eyes at the thought of a patient person waiting while they shopped for fabric. I couldn’t help thinking of Rick and Paulette and all her shopping trips.

We gassed up the rig at Costco near Warrenton and unhooked the tracker for the ten mile run to Astoria, where I visited the last two shops and turned in my completed card with just minutes to spare. We will slow down and visit Astoria again in the next few days, since I was worn out with shopping and was definitely ready to settle in for the night.

The rain intensified as we backtracked to pick up the MoHo and drive to Fort Stevens State Park it was raining hard. Paul and Nina had recommended loop N for nice open sites, but when we arrived, the only loops open in the huge campground were H and I. H had two rigs and I had two rigs, so we picked a spot on the I loop right next to the showers, something we often avoid, but it didn’t matter since no one was there. Worked out perfect for me and I made use of the shower at 3AM just steps from the door, but you already know that part of the story.

The next day we planned to explore Fort Stevens, and decide whether we want to stay here or move a short distance south to the Camp Rilea Family Camp. Tune in to find out!

Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet

Seems as though time just slides by beautifully when winter slips in. This was a work week for me, and the one day I had to drive to town to the “real” office was the day before the huge northwestern snow storm blew in. Lucky me! The rest of the week I worked at home, snug as can be in my little office with the wood stove cranked up high and the cat snuggled in next to me in his bed. Mo plowed a few times, I shoveled and ran the snow blower, and we hauled half a cord of wood to the porch, but the storm didn’t cause us a bit of trouble.

I am working on a rocky soil problem, and my head is filled with stones, cobbles, boulders, and gravels of all sizes. Each of these has a specific size and description of course, and eventually I will get it all sorted out and plugged into all those nice little NASIS fields and someday someone will request some interpretations for the Knot Tableland and out will pop a nifty little report, generated specifically for their area of interest from the data we gather, refine, and populate.

As I sit in the office fiddling with numbers, my mind wanders back to 2004 and 2005 when I was mapping out on the Knot Tableland, and dug a ton of holes in those stones, cobbles, and gravels and described those soils. It was hot and dry, and most of the time I was alone. That is the way we work in soil survey more often than not.

So this week, my mind has been split between recalling those memories as I look at my old descriptions, and talking on the phone with the project leader in Klamath till my ear was sore. ( I gotta get another ear piece!) We resolved the issues, and on this Saturday night, two more soils are written, cleaned up, and put to bed in NASIS.

Then, right in the midst of the worst of the windy snow, I got a call from my daughter Deanna saying that she and her husband were coming down the five and did we want to meet them for a short visit before they chained up to go over the Siskiyous. Wow! Deanna and Keith have their own truck and haul jet engines all over the country, but they haven’t been down this way in at least two years. I don’t get to see my daughter very often, so Mo agreed to drive, whiteouts or not, and we headed over the pass to Medford.

We had a great visit at Shari’s, next to the big Pilot truck stop where they could park the rig. I even remembered to bring the sweater I am working on for Deanna to check the fit. It was perfect and she likes the colors. I still can hardly believe this little girl of mine drives that great big truck.

Somehow, in the midst of everything else, remembering the last days of our trip home from the desert up the California coast just slid right by with an occasional thought, “Oh yeah, that!”. So here is the promised “rest of the story”.

When we left Vandenberg, there was a bit of fog hanging around making the hills look mysterious and mystical. The route led through Pismo Beach, a beautiful place to spend some time, but since it was only 9:30 in the morning when we arrived and still quite foggy and chilly, we decided to continue on to San Luis Obispo. First I had to check out the local quilt shop, and with early morning traffic in the small town almost non-existent, we had no trouble parking the MoHo right in front of the store. I browsed through the windows, but decided that waiting another 90 minutes for them to open was silly and we continued on toward breakfast.

Our route home from Vandenberg AFB could have been simply a run up the 101, but why do simple when challenging is an option. We instead decided that we were up for the winding beauty of California’s scenic coast highway 1. Listed in many places as one of the most beautiful drives in the world. Why in the world would we miss the chance to crawl along the steep cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean in a motorhome towing a car.

One of my favorite restaurants along this part of the coast the the Apple Farm in San Luis. We were seated in the beautiful glassed in gazebo with brilliant sun shining in the windows framing the lovely hills surrounding us. As usual, breakfast was scrumptious, with home fries and “California Scramble” which included lots of spinach, artichokes, olives and other California stuff. I really appreciate my California upbringing and being exposed to things like artichokes, avocados, and olives as everyday food. I grew up eating lots of fresh stuff from the lush gardens and orchards where we lived that are now just pavement.

We continued north to Morro Bay and our last chance to hightail it back over to the simpler route along 101. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and when we saw the sign saying it was only another 135 miles to Monterey we decided to go for it. It was a great drive. Winding and a bit challenging at times, but nothing too difficult. The only thing about this road that is bothersome is the lack of places to pull over and actually spend time. I was in the passenger seat, and the skies were a just a little bit murky from the morning fog, so my photos aren’t that great. Of course, with the proliferation of digital photography and google search, there are at least a bazillion photos of every single stretch of this beautifully amazing stretch of road. I even have some from other trips we have taken, so I wasn’t too concerned about missing out. In fact, it was nice just being able to do the white knuckle thing now and then without worrying about photography.

Our evening destination was the Military Family Camp at Monterey Pines RV Park and Golf Course. This camp is on the grounds of the Monterey Naval Postgraduate School. We called ahead for a reservation, because even at $30 a night, that was cheap for anything else around that part of California. It was good that we did, because the camp was nearly full. Our rig is technically 26 feet long, and that is what I answer when asked when making a reservation. We were given a nice pull through site on the phone, but when we arrived we were told she had moved us to space 22. I think it was the shortest, tightest space in the park, and a big 40 footer was in our originally assigned space. After crawling around slippery ice plant to try to hook up, and struggling to get level, we decided that in the future we should say we are 30 feet long so we won’t get relegated to the worst sites in the camp!

The campground is adjacent to a beautiful golf course, but the camp itself is really crowded and tight, and is backed up directly to the airport and hangars. Loud noise for much of the night, and the occasional bomb going off now and then made things interesting. We settled in, and decided to try to find a grocery store. Safeway was only 1.5 miles away, but my gosh, the traffic was horrendous! One of those things I forget about California until I get back there. We were glad for a nights rest and hookups, but might not try to come back to this one unless absolutely necessary. There aren’t any Passport America parks anywhere in the vicinity, though, so it was good for a night.

The next day we decided to do another 250 mile run and spent some time searching around Streets and Trips, CampWhere, and AllStays for a place to spend the night. We considered trying to get as far as Trinidad and the free casino, but then found a beautiful little park right on the 101 just north of Willits. Creekside Cabins and RV Resort looked really great on the internet. I tried calling to verify the Passport America Park status, but no one answered so I left a message. After driving through the Bay Area, we were ready for a nice night in a quiet place.

Winding down into a damp, dark canyon, we felt a bit of consternation, but thought maybe the park would be OK. The turn in came up suddenly and we pulled into the driveway only to discover a huge iron gate, tightly closed. It was dark and spooky there, even in the afternoon, but I got out and rang the bell. No answer. We were in a pickle because the rig was cocked at a weird angle and there was no way we would get the car unhooked and we couldn’t back up or turn around. I finally walked into the park and realized that this place might not be the best place to be. There were really old rigs with blue tarps, big dogs with spike collars, strange looking people, and a LOT of junk.

I finally flagged down a somewhat “high” dude and asked him if he could open the gate to let us come in and turn around. He was hemming and hawing but then the camp host appeared, another strange looking woman with wild hair and a gazillion tats and piercings, and said we could come in and look around. One of the reasons we wanted the park was to see some TV that night, Mo was looking forward to one of the debates, and when this woman said, “Yeah we have maybe 6 channels”, we decided boondocking was a far better choice and we managed to get turned around and outta there! Whew!

It was getting late and dark but we got back on the highway thinking we could find a casino, or a pull out or something. I had no cell phone signal, but unbelievably there was still a Verizon signal on the MiFi and I found a park about 40 miles farther up the road. We pulled into Richardson Grove RV Park a little bit later, settling in just before dark and hard rain started falling. We thought we had it handled when we left Monterey. I used all the tools available, found a Passport America Park, used the MiFi and GPS to find it, and still ran into the unknown factor. We still laugh about just how much different that Creekside park looked in person than it looked on the nice internet web site. By the way, it was no longer a Passport America Park, either, and the fees would have been 40 bucks for one night if we had decided to stay.

We surely were glad to return home the next day to our beautiful, safe, cheap, gorgeous space A12 at Harris Beach State Park in Brookings. Ahh, home, or almost home. It was so good that we settled in for two nights and three days before packing up the Tracker, putting the MoHo to bed in the storage building, and traveling home to Rocky Point.

September 10 The Banana Belt Delivers

Clear skies, temperatures in the 80,s and new friends, it was a perfect day on the coast. Mo and I were laughing as I sat down to write this blog, trying to come up with a title. Titles shouldn’t make a bit of difference, but I have found that they do. Our blog post last spring titled “Vandalism” has received by far more hits than anything I have ever written. I sometimes wonder if folks are actually searching that word when they find it. Other titles, simple ones like “A beautiful day at the ocean” can slip by with not a soul paying any attention at all. Makes me laugh. Not that post views are the only reason to blog, but of course I can’t help noticing. I thought about the title, “Shocking!”, and then letting my first sentence be something like, “Shocking that it was 85 degrees at the coast today.”

The morning dawned brilliantly, with most of the summer fog lifting even before we were out of bed. We called the storage facility at 8:30 and “Mr. Wilson”, a charming and very accommodating gentleman, said, “If you are a Harris Beach I’ll meet you at the storage facility right now.” Seems as though he made the right purchases at the right time, with several storage facilities and home rentals scattered throughout town. He drove up in his new Prius, and measured all the door openings to find one that was 12 feet high. We found a great space, with plenty of room to back in, and he was fine with us paying him now and having the rent begin on November 1st.

With that major chore accomplished, we wandered around town a bit and did some shopping before ambling back home to our lovely sunny spot with a view of the ocean in the distance. Lunch was simple and we relaxed and waited for Connie and Tracy to appear in mid-afternoon.

Right on schedule, at 2PM, the two of them walked into our campsite with Hunter, the beautiful greyhound dog with fine manners and an incredibly sweet disposition. Hunter and Abby got along well, and Jeremy who was outside on the step, thought that this large new creature was incredibly interesting.

As is often the case with RVing friends, we launched right into comfortable conversation at the picnic table. Comparing notes on coastal weather, campgrounds, RV destinations, rig configurations and all those interesting topics that make my townie, non RVing friends look a bit vague and simply yawn. A walk down to the southern end of Harris Beach on the South Beach Trail with the dogs was on the agenda, and with a couple of camera toting shutterbugs and two happy dogs we took off walking.

The time at the beach was great, and the dogs were perfect entertainment. We laughed and talked some more and did the obligatory time-release camera shots on the beach, propping cameras on near-by rocks to take photos of the four of us together. It was great fun. Mo and I are solitary travelers, enjoying our own company and not big socializers, but now and then some companionable friends are a delight. I know our paths will cross again, and next time we might actually have to get out the dominoes!

Back at camp, with some good Alaskan Amber and a few snackies, the conversations flowed on till early evening. The two of them had a couple of hours to drive back to their camp at Cape Blanco and hopefully they made it home before dark. Mo and I decided that all the excitement was just too much fun and we skipped the campfire for the evening and settled in to watch a delightful little movie called, “Love For Rent”. I think the R rating is for some of the four letter words in the beginning, the most of the movie isn’t R at all. We both really enjoyed it.

Sep 8 A day at the beach

Maybe we were a bit optimistic when we thought we could just amble off to the Oregon Coast without worrying about planning ahead. After all, September and October are the best months of the year on the coast, and all those folks who know about the summer fogs have been waiting for the warm sunny skies predicted for this week.

When we left Rocky Point and traveled to Grants Pass before turning west on Highway 199 the skies were filled with smoke from fires nearby and far away. The temperature climbed as we dropped down into the valley, and as we passed the Valley of the Rogue State Park along I-5 the thermometer read a blistering 102 degrees. I thought of the Gypsy G-Mas, Connie and Tracy, as we managed to stay cool with the windows closed and the air conditioner going full blast. Last I heard, they were camping in this lovely park, although not quite so lovely on this incredibly hot September day.

The western route through the Illinois Valley is a familiar one to us. The winding curves that follow the Smith River in California to Highway 101 don’t seem at all scary any more. As the miles passed, we watched the temperature gauge drop steadily. Turning north toward Brookings, I could smell the ocean and the hot sun was gentled by a misty fog drifting from the ocean to the surrounding hills.

When we arrived at Harris Beach State Park, we were met by a sign stating that all electric sites were taken and the only available sites were for tents or rigs less than 20 feet. The attendant was a bit concerned, but she decided to let us try to slide into one of those sites. The MoHo fit just fine, with the Tracker parked sideways with ALL FOUR WHEELS ON THE PAVEMENT! Yes, those are the rules. The other rule is that no generators are allowed in the park, ever.

It was after 7 by the time we settled in, but supper wasn’t a problem because we had grilled chicken and cucumbers in vinaigrette while we drove down the road. Setting up the rig without hookups is an easy thing as well, and after a nice long walk through the campground we settled in for a cool moonlit night of reading and early to sleep.

The attendant was concerned that we were officially too long for the spot and told us to come in at 10 the next morning to see if there was anything available. Seems as though the park is almost completely filled every night this week. Waking to fog this morning wasn’t a surprise, and after tea we drove into town to get a few groceries, check out the potential storage place, and take a short drive up the Chetco River. There is another state park about 7 miles east away from the ocean and the sun was out. We both were in a beach mood however, and decided that if there wasn’t anything at Harris Beach we would go down to the Beachfront RV Park, right along the ocean, rigs lined up in a row on pavement, with a bit of dry grass, but full hookups.

After ten, back at Harris Beach, the new attendant at the window was skeptical about anything available for the next 3 days, but then as an afterthought decided to give us a site that is usually saved for last minute overflow. We got a site with electric, water, and great cable TV all the way through the weekend. Once again, everything worked out just fine.

The move across the park was a snap, and within minutes we were set up comfortably, and enjoying our space. I even opened up the awning and put up the chili pepper lights that I haven’t had a chance to use for a very long time! After lunch we took Abby for a long walk down the South Beach Trail to the ocean.

The fog was still drifting about, lifting a bit now and then, but never completely going away. In spite of the fog it was quite warm, and we could have worn shorts and skipped the jackets. It was surprising how much warmer it was down on the beach than is it a couple of hundred feet above the cliffs in the park. We had a great time with Abby, and for the first time she decided that going for her ball in the ocean waves wasn’t as scary as she thought. We found some brackish backwater for her to practice, and then Mo started throwing the ball toward the surf and Abby went right after it. Before our walk was finished, Abby was going right into the waves after her ball, and only once did a wave catch her and throw her around a little bit. It was great fun.

Tomorrow is wide open for relaxation, walks and one more special treat. Tracy and Connie are just north of us at Cape Blanco and plan to come down tomorrow afternoon for a meet and a visit. I’m tickled that we again have a chance to meet some fellow bloggers. Tracy and Connie have a great story, deciding to go full time and live a life outside the box. I have followed them for some time now and am looking forward to hearing some of their stories in person.

As early evening settles over the park, the skies are clearing and the sun is shining brilliantly. Tonight the moon is nearly full. Mo has a great big campfire going with wood we bought here at the campground. Crossing from Oregon to California with firewood is frowned upon so we paid the pricey 5 bucks a bundle to follow the rules and use local wood. I am so happy to be at the beach again.

A few more photos of our day at Harris Beach are linked here.