Going Bananas(lugs)

When we last left off, we'd departed from Grammy and Grandpa's house near Sacramento for all points CAMP. Our first campground location was on the North California coast in Mendocino. I thought I would deviate from my standard of giving you an establishing scenery-type photograph of our locale and instead let you say hi to this guy:

Yep, a banana slug. Spotty, slimy, beloved mascot of UC Santa Cruz, where the school motto is "We don't have any sports, anyway." These big guys were everywhere, and each day we had to do a new slug relocation program to avoid squishing them; they were nearly impossible to see until you were right up on them!

Aah, that's a little more like it: the scenic view we've been looking for with sandy beach, flowing waves, craggy rocks, and pensive poet. Our winding trip from Sacramento out to the coast spat us out on Highway 1 (aka The Pacific Coast Highway) in Fort Bragg, a small city with a preserved, quaint little downtown in addition to the bigger grocery stores and a plethora of Rite Aids. From my pre-made list of Farmers Markets, I knew there was one happening right then in Fort Bragg, conveniently on our way to Mendocino 10 miles south. You know how they always say not to shop hungry, because you'll buy way too much? For me this is true about it not being a good time to shop, but it's because I'm so hungry that my blood sugar falls out the window and my brains and reason will hop out after it. Rather than arriving home with a half-empty family-sized bag of Doritos, orange fingers and a sick feeling in my stomach that's not just diet guilt, I'm more likely to wander the same three aisles over and over, staring into space and dizzy with hunger, and decide that what I really need to make is lasagna. From scratch. A great hunger-killer if it didn't take about four hours to cook when you count the tomato sauce simmering time. Bad idea.
So with cash in hand, hungry bellies, and plenty of dinner food already in the car, we staggered around the teeny farmer's market, glossing over flower/seed stalls and trying to envision a future meal out of the goods in front of us. 
I recalled this grilled pizza recipe that we'd done in the past on the barbecue, and had a mind to re-create that over the campfire. We grabbed a fresh round loaf of ciabatta, a bunch of arugula, and a package of semi-soft chevito goat cheese. 
Once checked in at the campsite and the gear/tent unloaded and set up, Andy labored once again in wind that seemed to come from all directions at once to build us a campfire. I peered at my assembled batch of ingredients--what was I thinking, again? I washed and tore the arugula, cut strips of the tender, slightly damp cheese, and looked again over my stash. Andy had a stolen pear, pretty firm still, from his work event of the previous day. I amended my plan from pizze to panini, slid my knife through the middle of the ciabatta and sliced the hard pear. Andy took Alton on a bridge walk down a nearby trail...

...while I grilled the pear slices to soften them up and Minerva looked at me skeptically.


I circled our fire ring as the smoke stung my eyes, making me tear up and curse, and the misshapen slats of our grill caused me to lose more than one pear to the ashes below. I drizzled the ciabatta with olive oil and toasted it, then Andy and Alton came back and suddenly we had...panini. Grilled pear and chevito with fresh arugula on toasted ciabatta, no less. I was weak with relief that after all that effort, they were ridiculously good. 

After that first night, we were treated to bright, sunny days while we were there, so we went down to the nearby beach from our heavily-wooded, slug-filled campsite. 

Although we brought Alton's sand pail and shovel along, he was most interested in the driftwood and seaweed and appropriating sticks to whack against those two things as much as possible. 

After I had layered him in sunscreen on his uncovered portions, he daubed some wet sand on each cheek to get that extra element of protection. "I'm putting on my sunscream," he informed us.

Of course, the beach is the best place to relax!

Minerva was a different story, however. Anxious at the best of times to jump in any body of water she sees and go for a swim, her leashless days on the beach in Mexico completely ruined her for the rest of the trip. She did not understand why in Mendocino we wanted to tether her to a fallen tree instead of launching stick after stick into the surf for her. Poor girl. In a weak moment, we decided to unclip her and risk the ranger's wrath (and probably a fine) to let her "fetch" a couple dozen times before we re-harnessed her and persuaded her to rest on the sand.

The town of Mendocino is another preserved, picturesque little handful of streets where B&Bs abound and local business owners are king. We enjoyed a yummy couple of lunches over the days after our morning fun, including a visit to Mendocino's own Farmers Market (more appropriately just called "Market"--a scant dozen vendors with too many offering flowers, pricey sea salt and olive oil, and not a vegetable to be found). One restaurant we visited in town had a kids' play area already occupied by another three-year-old boy; he and Alton shared some giggles, but sadly I think Alton knew from his experience of our Kerouac lifestyle not to get too attached to an impermanent friend and we bid the little boy farewell once we finished our food. 
He consoled himself with slug friends. Andy and I both would crack up at the very human and very non-sequiter ways he would converse with the forest dwellers on the trip. When Andy spotted a banana slug on a fence rail and pointed it out to Alton, he exclaimed, "Banana slug! What are you DOING?" Another time, with me crouching quietly next to him to indicate a deer grazing through nearby bushes, he waved his granola bar and intoned, "Hi Deer. I have this."

Ah, here's your Mendocino sunset picture! Hard-won by Andy, who noticed the fading light and raced out to a lookout point to snap his photos. (Edit by Katie: Andy may have been the one hustling to drive to the lookout point, but he informed me this photo was actually taken by Alton, who I must mention is getting VERY adept at looking through the viewfinder with one eye.)

The Drive to Coos Bay, OR
But the fun didn't end in Mendocino by far. Our departure day had us staring down Highways 1 and 101 at seven and a half hours of driving, the longest traveling time of our trip thus far. Originally I'd planned shorter visits at campgrounds closer together, but we did some re-organizing midstream when we saw how long our setup and teardown processes were and how much the upheaval of constant new places was hard on Alton. So we called campgrounds and arranged for slightly longer stays at a few places and had to delete a few stops, such as the Humboldt Forest a few hours north in California.  
So for this day of car riding ahead of us, we rose and packed early in the misty morning while sleepy campers around us made their ways to the bathroom or prepared coffee (and I'm STILL waiting for a round of applause or something during our takedown time--c'mon, getting all our mass of gear compactly concertina'd into the Mini is pretty unbelievable), then grabbed breakfast on the go and wound our way up Highway 1. Twisting, turning...I get carsick so I was driving and felt okay, but the hairpin turns and bright sunlight strobing the windows through the tall trees were trying the iron stomach abilities of my three passengers. Minerva in the front seat next to me could not lie down, but kept her eyes trained on the highway, swaying back and forth like a buoy with all the curves. Andy swallowed hard and tried to focus ahead as well while tending to a greenish Alton at the same time. Poor little dude inhaled fresh air from the open window and looked wan and pale, but eventually succumbed to a body system re-boot and just passed out asleep. 
He awakened when we got to Leggett, the next landmark on the highway which housed almost nothing save for...the drive-thru tree! Yep, a redwood big enough to still be standing after you hollowed out a tunnel in its trunk to drive a car through. Andy got out to snap pictures and verify that we'd still fit with the box on top of our car. We did, and after preserving the memory Andy hopped in the car at Alton's insistence that we drive through it again so Andy could experience it.

The redwood highway up to Eureka is beautiful, and once we were past that first winding part it was a shame we had to scoot by so quickly without admiring our surroundings.  Just south of Fortuna we discovered the town of Alton! Yep, population 275. 

Before long we found ourselves back in our homeland of no sales tax: good 'ol Oregon. Once we hit the Rogue River, a potty break/leg stretch stop at Jerry's mail boat was necessary (Mail delivered to a town by boat, where the industry is supplemented by river tours and, I think, jetski rentals. They seemed surprised that we weren't boating, but the photo op bitty boat was enough for us.).

Andy also saw a cool-looking wreck in the water nearby. 

Finally we arrived! Sunset Bay State Beach (not to be confused with Sunset Dunes in Watsonville from a few weeks ago), our first Oregon State Park experience. Can't wait!