The Pacific claims another victim

The rain continues as we cross into California and the Redwood Forest. A narrow bumpy scenic drive was recommended and it took in-between giant towering Redwood trees. That night a storm rages outside and the rain doesn’t stop until morning. We awake to clear blue skies and the California sun once again.

At breakfast, well that’s what they called it at the motel but I tend to disagree, three Canadian girls tell us about their misfortune in hitting rocks the previous night and popping three tyres. It was dark and the storm was in full swing along the craggy coast. Landslides and rockfalls are very common.

Again we’re in Crescent City, I think named so due to its long crescent shaped beach. As we pass the beach I notice a large smooth rock like shape that seems to be attracting a bit of attention. We pull in and take a look. It turns out to be a large sperm whale lying dead on the sand. I’m not sure what happened but it may have been there as a result of the previous night’s storm. A fin, its eye and some innards had been cut out and blood seeped back into the sea. There was a bit of a whiff in the air as the sun warmed up the area. It was a pretty horrible sight.

Through the Redwood National Park we check out humongous trees that grow tall and wide and red. These are the biggest redwoods in the world. Along Highway 1 winding its way through trees wider than the car we continue south trying to beat the dropping sun before the dark makes it tricky to negotiate, there are no lights out here.

It would have to be a road with the most hairpin bends and undulating blind corners I’ve ever driven. Great looking but it takes forever to drive 35 miles to the small coastal town of Fort Bragg. We pay more than we’d like for a room and then a pizza but find $20 on the floor so all is good with the world.

Another ‘continental’ breakfast starts the day. I’m not sure what continent has a breakfast consisting of only muffins, pastries and coffee. Oh yes I do, North America.

The road continues to wind up down and all around whilst keeping a close distance to the ocean. We pass briefly through the colourful town of Eureka along the way. It has many painted wooden houses with various spires and ornate decorations as well as the odd street mural too. And a great name. ‘Where are you from?’, ‘I live in Eureka!!’ Sounds good I thought.

It takes a few hours to cover the 130 odd miles to our destination but we get there in the mid-afternoon sunshine. It’s as great looking as ever as we pass over that famous reddish bridge across bright blue water looking to our left at the white hilled city for the third time on this trip. San Francisco we’re here again. This time we’re staying to see it properly, warts and all.