Gusty, car-rocking winds followed us all the way there, so strong that when we arrived at camp we found that a sleeping bag had half-billowed its way out of our rooftop cargo box and was wedged partway out of the opening like a blue marshmallow. We didn't lose anything, thankfully, and Andy got our tent all set up while I drove back into town with sleeping Alton for a grocery store dinner run. When we returned to Andy, he was walking Minerva around and snapping sunset pictures, pointing out the shortcut he'd taken through the brush...right before he caught a tick crawling on his neck. He was saddled with a big fat case of the heebie-jeebies for the rest of our stay, and we put a mandatory moratorium on bushwalking in the area.
In Carpinteria we'd been getting by with "cat splash" sink baths (or no bath at all, really), so the tick incident solidified for us that not only did we need showers, we needed showers TONIGHT, before bed. In days hence, Andy and I would laugh at our bathroom situations. During the first camping leg of our trip, we were staying in three different campgrounds for three nights each, with a hotel stay waiting at the end. At the first (KOA) campground, the bathrooms were around the corner of a well-lit little kampground "street." Spacious bathroom stalls with soap dispensers and hand dryers shared building space with private shower cubicles offering up all the free hot water we wanted. Not a bad transition to outdoor living. At the second campground (Carpinteria state beach), we needed to use our headlamps to walk the short, but dark, distance to the bathroom building, but once there the bathrooms were individual little rooms with sink and toilet, and there were showers available as well. Okay, so the toilet chambers didn't have soap or a way to dry your hands and the showers weren't free, but there was hot water and we'd come freshly bathed from KOA, so we were doing fine.
Now at campground number three, all civilization bets were off. The trip from our campsite down in Dog Tick Gulch was a 1-2 minute walk up a hill to the bathroom building; not too bad IF you aren't traveling with a recently potty-trained toddler. Once there, the stalls were cramped, the sinks had no hot water, and the single bulb to illuminate the women's room was burnt out. Hoo, boy. On that first night, ignorant of the lampless state of the bathroom, I nominated myself to shower with Alton. I gathered up our pajamas, towels, toiletries and quarters and headed up the hill, thankfully appropriating our headlamps for us to walk up through the deepening dark--they became our only source of light for the shower. Concrete floors and cinder block walls sucked all warmth out of the room, and I realized that in our chilly cubicle I'd have to manage to wash us both without putting Alton down on the too-cold surfaces. A small wooden bench gave me a small spot to temporarily put him alongside our dry clothing as I undressed, shivering, and precariously perched our headlamps above the showerhead on the adjoining wall. I got the water going--a warmish, irregular gurgle--then hurriedly stripped Alton down to jump in. Accustomed to showering at home on his own, he squawked to be let down out of my arms and stand on his own, then yelped for me to pick him up when, as I suspected, he decided the floor was too cold for him. I shoved my foggy, droplet-spattered glasses up higher on my nose as I juggled our soaps with one arm and a slippery Freeloader with the other arm, my burden protesting loudly anytime my awkward motions aimed him out of the water and exposed to the cold air. I moved through our ablutions as quickly as I could, then wrapped the little guy in a towel on the bench as I dabbed myself dry and shoved my clammy legs into sweats to turn my attention to Alton. In the stall next to us, a clutch of teenage girls seemed to be trading shower products and time in the water with one another, chatting animatedly. As I gathered up my damp towels, dripping toiletries, headlamps, dirty clothes and kid, one girl squealed, "Omigod, I just did, like, the WORST shaving job!" Oh, to be fifteen again.
Our cleanliness uncomfortably achieved, we bedded down for the night and awoke to pancakes made by Andy and big plans in store: the Monterey Bay Aquarium! Minerva was dispatched to a local doggie day care in La Selva Beach, a huge, fenced 5-acre property a short walk from the water (we later heard that she had a blast and played all day, even when the other dogs would lay down to take a rest). To incite Alton's interest in the aquarium, we speculated about the kinds of sea creatures we'd encounter, including sharks, octopi, and clownfish, a.k.a. "Nemo," of course. Well, Mom and Dad nearly shot themselves in the feet on that one; giddy to meet his favorite orange undersea-dweller, Alton was ready to find Nemo at every exhibit, while Andy and I tried to intuit where the Disney fish and his gang would reside amongst areas entitled "Splash Zone," "Deep Reefs," and so on. We DID eventually manage to find a tank housing Nemo, Dory, and many other varieties of fish featured in the movie (thank you, MB Aquarium!), which left Alton's attention more receptive to admire some of the other animalia on display, like flamingoes, jellyfish, the aforementioned sharks, and some adorable sea turtles, who crowded in front of the one-way glass of their enlosure (think police interrogation room) to stare at their reflections for so long, Alton smooched the glass surface on his side to show them how much he cared. Awww.
We grabbed lunch at a brewery, sitting outside on the patio to soak up some sun before taking a stroll along the beach near Cannery Row. Alton was adamant about staying out of the water, and looking at the goosebumps on the pale legs of some kids brave enough to roll up their jeans and play in the surf, I wasn't going to argue. We all got a little pink in the face before deciding to take a sundae break at the Ghirardelli Chocolate shop...
...then piled into the car just in time for Alton to fall asleep and his parents to begin a wild multitasking frenzy of gas stop, grocery stop, laundromat, and more grocery before it was time to pick up the oh-so-tired Nerve. We feasted on campfire steak and artichokes (for which the area is known) before the wind picked up and it was time to turn in. I awoke sometime in the night to find Alton turning to me, with the chipper excitement that comes from being three and awake in the middle of the night, and announcing that he had to go potty. I tried to interest him in making it a manly adventure to share with his Daddy, but he wasn't having it, so all three of us donned headlamps for a "safety in numbers" trip. I hoisted Alton onto my hip and staggered up the hill to the bathroom, with the little dude's headlamp glare zooming crazily around the dark campground as he took in the sleeping surroundings. Andy trod drowsily next to me, looked at his watch, and chuckled. "Happy Mother's Day," he said.
Despite its unexpected start in the wee hours, my Mother's Day on the road was actually pretty nice and relaxing. We breakfasted on oatmeal, Andy revealing my gift to be a wine club membership at Cline, one of our favorite California wineries and a tentative future stop on our tour, then Andy tackled cleanup and took Alton on a mammoth pinecone-hunting walk while I read and hung out with Minerva. The winds from the night before started up again, keeping a consistent cloud cover and chilling me through as I reclined sedentary. When the guys passed through again to show me their bounty of pinecones and abandoned firewood appropriated from Sunday-departed campsites, I leapt into motion and gathered a picnic lunch, suggesting we find a park where we could enjoy it and play a little. We drove into Watsonville and easily found such a place. Chowing down on sandwiches, we finished quickly and Andy and Alton investigated the play structures all around. Strolling down a hill, they found another jungle gym and the biggest slide you've ever seen!
Complete with warnings about how hot it gets when blasted by the sun in the summertime. Not a problem for today--the Mini's dashboard gauge said the temp was 55 degrees! Andy and Alton found some cardboard box halves to use as ghetto sliding seats (rejected there for just that purpose, no doubt), and enjoyed turn after turn on the gigantic slide until a pack of daredevil kids had them scooting away.
Ready for his midday siesta, Alton and I dozed a bit in the windblown tent while Andy assembled ingredients for a Mother's Day feast. Driving around to various sweets bakeries in the small town and finding them either closed or cleaned out, even the grocery store, Andy dragged back into camp with a chicken breast (for chicken tacos) and a chocolate bar. Assuring me that we'd indulge in a proper MD celebratory dessert once we hit the next stop on our trip, Andy led the three of us up the stairs that climbed the dunes and over to the beach, providing us with a great sunset beach walk AND cell reception to call my mom for Mother's Day (love you, Nonna!). We crept along the windswept sand until it was time to head back and cook dinner. By this time, the windy day had progressed from Blustery to Gusty to Jet Turbine, and with the sun setting on the other side of the bluffs, we were getting less light and no heat at all. We settled Alton on the table with a yogurt while Andy tried to light the campfire...unsuccessfully. The wind was so intense he couldn't even light a match! When we found Alton's yogurty fingers blue with the cold (Mini temp now reads 51 degrees), we decided it was time to give up on the home cookin' and head to Applebee's, where we enjoyed both a hot meal and an order of molten chocolate cake with ice cream. Happy Mother's Day all around!
Sometime in the night the wind finally died down (which we noticed on 3a.m. Family Potty Break #2) and in the morning we were able to speed through our camp teardown process with relative ease. We were excited to depart this day for two reasons: first, that we'd be able to meet up for a brief morning's visit with Andy's cousin Brenton and his family just over an hour's drive away, and secondly that our next lodging site was a hotel! A room with real walls and a door! A private bathroom with loads of fluffy towels! A bed! The list goes on and on. After nine nights' camping in three diverse locations and climates, I asked Andy whether he was most looking forward to a hot shower, kicking back in front of the TV (including our days in Mexico, it had been more than two weeks since we'd looked at a set), or a real bed. He didn't hesitate when he looked at me, slightly surprised I didn't guess the obvious answer: "The shower. They're going to need to install a new hot water heater after I'm through." I couldn't agree more.
1 comment:
You area great writer, Katie...I can hear your voice! The shower/potty break trips had me cracking up. Sounds like you are having a fun and memorable trip.
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