The Lost Coast

 

From Cape Blanco (see previous post) we headed further down the Oregon coast towards the California border. We stopped in Gold River, Oregon to do a little laundry as there had been an “Eliot” incident first thing in the morning involving urine and a fleece blanket.

The laundromat had a change machine that you fed paper bills into and it gave you quarters for the washing machines and dryers. I’ve always been fascinated to come across these machines and wonder why I’ve never seen them in Canada. And I wonder how the machine knows you are giving it a real bill and not something you’ve whipped up with your Epson printer.

In any event, while the fleece blanket and a pair of jeans washed and rinsed, I walked along the main street and discovered a very fine bookstore that also had a good selection of used CDs and I found and purchased a disc of piano music by Joaquin Rodrigo for $4.00 US.

Shortly after leaving Brookings, Oregon we passed into California. We spent the night at Patrick’s Point State Park. The overnight rates in California’s state parks are quite outrageous. The rates jumped some time ago when California was having big financial difficulties and it was either raise the rates or close the parks. But, really, $35 a night for a plot of ground and access to water. No electricity, no hot shower in the morning. No wonder the park was almost empty. You will have to ask me in person whether or not I paid this fee since there was no attendant when we arrived nor in the morning when we left.

South of Eureka and Arcata, California there is a large section of coast that’s difficult to access. Hwy 101 swings quite far inland to avoid the cliffs and mountains that discouraged road making. This stretch of coast is called “The Lost Coast”. There are a few roads that venture into the northern part of this wilderness to a couple of hamlets called Petrolia and Honeydew. The northern end of these few roads begins in the town of Ferndale.

Ferndale is a charming little town with lots of gussied up Victorian style houses and buildings.

I should have known we were leaving civilization behind when I saw that the road out of Ferndale to the Lost Coast was called Wildcat Road. Although Ferndale lies in a flat river valley, Wildcat Road immediately began to climb. What I thought would be a nice 40 mile backroads tour took forever as the road was in terrible repair. The only places I’ve seen worse potholes are on the road to my sister’s place in Nova Scotia and maybe the section of Grant Street in front of my house in Victoria. They’re a friendly bunch who drive these hellish roads though. Not one failed to wave as we passed. Sometimes it was a hand wave and sometimes just a finger raised from the steering wheel. You’d have to know those roads awfully well to risk removing a whole hand even for a quick wave.

But the coast when we finally bumped and jolted our way there was quite beautiful.

 

The road from Honeydew back to Hwy 101 led us into a beautiful redwood forest on a narrow road that was sometimes just a single lane between two of these giant trees. The road was still full of potholes.

We spent Wednesday night at a private campground just north of Leggett. It cost less than $35.00 and included electricity (which I was happy to have for our little heater) and hot showers in the morning. It was one of those RV parks where there appear to be people living there long term. These places can sometimes feel a bit creepy but this one did not make me uneasy. The couple who run the place were very friendly and the fellow was wearing a t-shirt that said something about Jesus and redwood trees but I didn’t like to stare or comment in case he might launch into some sort of sermon on the evils of the forestry industry.