In the summer of 2017, I decided to drive the Pacific Coast, from San Francisco, CA to Portland, OR. The first leg of this journey took me to Eureka, CA, through the incredible sceneries of the Avenue of the Giants and other huge trees that you can literally drive thru. Leaving Eureka, I’m about to make my way to Oregon.
Waking-up in Eureka, CA
I fell in love with my room in Eureka, from the moment I walked through the door. I could live here. The multiple windows, the large bed, the fireplace. I could stay and write. At that point, that’s all I want to do. When I booked it on AirBnB, I was a little worried about the shared bathroom. In the end, it was absolutely no bother and I can only recommend the place to anyone passing through.
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I’m up early, as usual. Probably better if I want to get a bit of work under my belt before hitting the road again. Plus, I’m nine hours behind France… So early morning work is a perfect solution when being nomad on the west coast.
Once the emails are checked and the meetings are wrapped up, I walk around the old town of Eureka and have breakfast at Los Bagels. Two of my favorite foods wrapped up in one yummy location. What’s not to like? Scrambled eggs and guacamole on a jalapeño bagel. I’m in heaven.
I am surprised by the amount of homeless and mentally deficient people I see around here. Wonder if there’s a reason to that, but I can’t find an answer anywhere. The old town reminds me of those Western movies I was a fan of when I was a kid. I’m in for a treat.
At 10:00 am, I’m fed, I’m caffeinated, I have gas. Time to hit the road. Next stop: Crescent City, CA. Another town I had on my list, just because the name felt so poetic. Except that I never made it to Crescent City. I messed up with my Google directions and end found myself in Oregon… Oh well, that’s where I was heading anyway, right?
How I blew my entry in Oregon
All along the coast, the drive through the Redwood National State Park is breathtaking.
I really wanted a picture of that “Welcome to Oregon” sign. I had my camera prepared as I was driving. I looked and looked, and looked. And, for a minute, I stopped paying attention, which is, of course, when I crossed the state limit.
I have been driving for three hours at that point. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I’m not going back. Right after the sign, I notice my first “pot store”, marijuana is legal in Oregon and there’s a real business around it. It’s fascinating.
I stop for lunch in the most intriguing diner: Dee-Ann’s Tea Room Cafe in Brooking, OR. I’m surrounded by elderly people and tea pots. Odd place.
There’s another four hours of incredible driving and sightseeing waiting for me, until I reach the Oceanside Beachfront RV Resort. I have chosen a something special for my second night on the road. I’m sleeping in the silver bullet, my own private Airstream.
The sun is still out when I arrive at the camp. After settling in the Airstream, I walk down to the beach and savor a Ginger Ale with my feet in the sand. This place reminds me of Scotland. Yet, it’s bigger and wilder and incredibly peaceful. I know the next day will be a totally different adventure, so I enjoy my solitude and communion with nature. On this beach, in Oregon, I breathe happy.