Sleepy town, noisy R.V. Park

Bodega Bay is a real disappointment for anyone familiar with the shops of the small towns on the Oregon Coast. There's very few restaurants and stores here. Not impressed. The R.V. Park we're stopped in is nice enough but what they call "full" hookups -- isn't. Guess I'm getting spoiled already. Oh! Pardon me. I guess cable TV is more important than black/grey water dumpage. Sheesh! Ok. It's not all that bad. At least the fresh water is tolerable. We're expecting that to change soon. That is... the taste of water to drink. I've never been very impressed with any water from California. Always has that fizzy, soda, heavy taste that I knew so well growing up. Wiley water is a legend in its own time. Nasty stuff, but we never knew better. Great for the teeth and the digestive track (had an iron stomach when I was a kid) but it won't win any awards for flavor. Southern Cal water is like that. For those of you that have had the pleasure of this experience, you know what I'm talking about. Ok. The little grocery store here is actually a ritzville catering shop so I wouldn't waste my time stopping there. Seriously. How many pint-sized grocery stores on the coast do you know of that have a complete ice table loaded with every sort of specialty cheese made? Oh, and an impressive collection of wines. Ok. They can be forgiven some of that. This is wine country after all. Still...

We had a bit of excitement getting here. Not bad, really. God watches over us. Cat had wanted to take the drive down the Avenue of the Giants. A beautiful drive and well worth the time if you're so inclined. It's a stretch off US 101 that takes you through some beautiful and very large Redwood trees. Unfortunately, I was running quite low on fuel and had to return to the highway early in search of a gas station. That was an exercise in faith. Don't these people drive cars? It was unreal. Each small town we passed seemed to be more than happy to feed you or give you a place to sleep (got both already, thank you very much) but did it matter if you would be able to leave? Maybe that's the ploy. Hmmm.... hadn't considered that before. Probably got a hand-pump gas can you can pay three dollars a gallon for if you get desperate. So I'm buzzing along looking for a place to pull off and fill up and there isn't any. I'd started looking when my low fuel alarm warned me (at 1/4 tank) and still hadn't seen anything. Getting down to a bit below an eighth and Rich is starting see visions of setting up camp on one of the many mini-exits along the way. I did take one of the exits that displayed a Diesel fuel sign thinking that they might have unleaded too but after three miles of uphill winding road away from the highway, I decided it was a "bad idea (tm)".

Got back on 101 and the next exit had gas stations. About time! Then the next thought occurs to me--- little town...little gas stations...little room. Ever try to pull fifty feet of truck and trailer into one of the usual whistle stops you see. Yeah. Right. Not me. Thankfully the Shell station I was shooting for had a sizable lot up to the pumps. Getting out was another matter. Thanks goes out to the guy from the store that helped back me out into the street and get back on the highway. What fun. Nearly $70 poorer and a full tank we were again on our way. Yeah, if you didn't know, gasoline in California will set you back some $2/gal. Such fun.

Before we parted, I'd told Cat that if we got separated I'd look for her in Ukiah. These little two-way radios are nice but the range is not great. Good for the highway but only if you're within a mile or so of each other. Especially in the hills. So Nick and I are toodling down the highway looking for her and never spot her. Come to find out later that she was doing the same thing. She'd rushed to get back on the road and was trying to catch up to us. Little did she know that we were still behind her. Rolling into Ukiah, I heard her (welcomed) voice on the radio. She'd pulled over in a truck stop at the first exit into town. Shortly after I pulled off and found a place to park she ran into a bit of trouble. The bike rack fell off. Fortunately, in the parking lot and in a place that was not right in the way of the big fellas. That could have been a problem. Or not. Truck drivers are generally a good sort and are most always quite helpful. Especially if you're a woman in distress, which she was. As I walked up to the car she'd already drawn the interest of two different drivers, ready to help. The plastic on these tote things is not to be trusted. The web belt holding the bike rack to the trunk of the car had pulled through on one side and since the rack requires even tension on all sides, the additional strain busted the other side completely off and the whole thing just fell off right there in the lot. Praise God that it had not happend on the road. It would have been disaster, I'm certain. I restrung the belts and all is well now. A minor incident, thankfully. It could have been much, much more.

We'll be heading out of here today on our way to San Diego. We had thought to spend some time in San Fransisco but we've done that before and Cat hasn't been farther south than L.A. and would like to see it. Besides, we'll probably stop at Sea World and take in some sights. The trick here is hitting the Grapevine early and LA before traffic gets completely out of hand. For those that don't know, the "grapevine" is the name given the freeway that climbs up and over a sizeable hill between Bakersfield and LA. The last time I was through here, the only non-stop travel through the place was around three in the morning. We won't be doing that but we will try to avoid the rush, at least. It may take an overnighter in a rest area. We'll see.

By the way --- what is this thing with the Californians giving all these hiways names. Even mapping software does that. Santa Monica freeway -- Grapevine -- Santa Anna freeway -- Garden Grove freeway.... sheesh! What happened to the original designations? I guess it's their way of standing out from the crowd. Whatever. Give me the number so I can find my way. I used to hate that when I lived here and being reminded of it brings up some old memories.

Time to get rollin'