Leaving Portland and heading South

Friday morning, we greeted September and bid Portland b'bye, as we turned the yaris southwest toward the Pacific Coast.  We enjoyed that very much, arriving in Crescent City, California midafternoon.  The airbnb host that evening was a young school teacher with a super sunny disposition.  If I had small children, we'd move to Crescent City just so they could have her for preschool.

We'd gotten there with plenty of daylight, so were able to ride down Pebble Beach Drive and gawk at all the awesome views, including the lighthouse which sat atop its own very large rock {or very small island}, connected to the mainland by a very narrow bridge {one lane if driving a vehicle; but very wide bridge if you are walking}.  We did not go to the lighthouse, we just pulled into the pull off area and viewed it with huge waves crashing up against the rocky base.  It actually was really a house, not just the round tall structure that housed a swiveling light.  Oddly, my hard of hearing husband heard the metronome like tone that sounded all night like.  I did not hear it until my attention was drawn to it, and then I forgot about it again.  So we both slept well.

In the morning, we set off southward thru the Redwoods.  Oh so very impressive.  I could have meandered within their realm for weeks instead of mere hours.  We did not get any pictures of live trees that truly captured their majesty.  I am partial to this shot of a downed section.

We'd stopped at a tourists' gift shop, which we had not done at all the first part of the trip.  It was there that we bought a sapling to bring back with us.  We chatted with the store owner who kept referring to us as northerners {probably heard me speak before he heard Jerry say anything, bless his heart}.  Once we let him know that we live in Mississippi, he heaved a sigh of relief and said, "oh, ok then, that there tree ought to be just fine."  Their shop offered two kinds of trees, one was more hardy than the other.  I think we had gotten the giant sequoia.  The other type was a coastal redwood that is the longest living plants on earth.  I honestly couldn't really tell the difference when I was traveling by the grand beasts, which was which.

Then we took Hwy 1, the North Pacific Coast Highway, almost to San Francisco.  It was Saturday of Labor Day Weekend and as we got closer to the more heavily populated area, more and more vehicles were parked along the road, with crowded beaches far below.  At one point, traffic came to a stand still, it was 6p local time and people were heading home for supper, the sun was setting and temperatures were cooling off.

We turned east, above San Francisco and headed toward Vacaville, where our airbnb for the night was.  I did not have a very good California map, relying on written directions I'd jotted down the night before.  My cell phone is NOT smart and the screen is very small, so connecting easily to the net does not happen, and there is no way to enlarge a map anyway.  Our hosts had left explicit instructions on their airbnb page that check in time was not to exceed 7p.  I texted them to let them know where we were and I thought we'd be there in an hour or so.  Perhaps half an hour late.

*sigh*

Apparently google maps did not take into account that it was Labor Day weekend and we must travel through part of the Napa Valley to reach Vacaville.  I certainly did not even register this and make the appropriate adjustment either.  So after two hours, I texted the hosts again and told them where I THOUGHT we were {no guarantee, tho the cashier at the gas station seemed to be very sure of herself when she said, "but it's shorter if you go this way."} and apologized that we would be later than the 7p check in time.  She texted back, "don't worry, be happy".

I took her at her word.  We pulled into their drive at 9p, opened the door to the car, and stepped out into 110 degree fahrenheit night.  About twenty degrees hotter than it had been on the coast during the day.  Our hosts were great and we loved their big dog, "Moxie".  They seemed to think that Moxie was a blonde lab.  We seemed to think Moxie was a pit mix, but didn't voice our thoughts as he was a sweetie and they were probably hoping we'd agree that yes, Moxie's a very big, broad blonde lab.

{solemnly nodding head}

Sunday found us trying like hell to get out of California only to end up unable to take this road because it was closed, or that pass because it was closed, or this other route because it was closed, or this highway because it was not to be found.  California roads were labeled with very lovely names instead of having route numbers displayed as well.  So instead of looping thru Yosemite and taking the Tioga Pass, we ended up in Lake Tahoe Hell on Labor Day Sunday.

The pretentiousness was heavily scented and I swear I was about ready to break into hives when I overhead the boy at the next table over order two mimosas with casual disdain.  The waitress loudly guffawed and then asked rather incredulously, "champagne?  here?  No, the only alcohol we serve is bud and bud light.  In bottles."  She was shaking her head as she walked away and I felt as tho my world were regaining its balance.  I wanted to reach over and slap the back of the kid's head and then tell the girl that he was with that she could do much better.  But I promised myself before I left for this trip that I would not do anything unduly embarrassing to Jerry and getting myself arrested qualified as unduly embarrassing.  Besides, the girl had that adoring look on her face as tho she was super impressed with this dolt, and ya can't talk reason into a girl who's convinced herself that she is oh so lucky to have this winner around.  Ya just can't.