Burgers and beer at a Ska themed diner in Oakland with Rusty, then breakfast in one of those small-town yuppie diners in Cotati with Chris. Then it was redwoods. I quite liked all that. It was full of darkened, winding roads, moss, and strange little gift shops. In a perfect world I could own one of these and just hang out, never having to do anything ever again. In this world, I'm sure my parents are happy I don't find being the bum cashier at one of these places gratifying.
The cities of Eureka and Crescent City took on larger than life aspects in my brain as I went on. Turns out they aren't beach-spanning paradises, but kinda shitty drive-through towns. In fact, a lot of the northernmost northern California has sort of a con-artist thing going. Some of these cons are charming, like the Yorok tribe's perplexing tourist trap "Trees of Mystery".
What are these trees? It is, indeed, a mystery. I imagine they're trees that fight the oppression of their people. By day, they take on the guise of a nobleman tree, but by night, they don masks and battle the tree tyrants than no doubt about. They are masters of disguise, these trees. The sheriff tree, called in to keep the trees of mystery in line plots and schemes with his henchmen. "What are we to do with these trees of mystery!?" he fumes. Then, KABOOM! the trees of mystery were there the whole time, disguised as the henchmen! Then a pine-scented duel ensues. In truth, it looked like a gondola ride.
Less charming was the way Crescent City conned me with gas prices. How much is gas in Oregon? I wondered. I had no clue. I knew, at some point, all of Oregon was full service only. That must mean higher gas prices, right? So, in Crescent City, $2.75 a gallon. Right over the border in Brookings...$2.18. Also, since when is an RV Park a campground? Thank God I finally found the Florence Keller campground, home of the outhouse with piped in Poison. That, my friends, is service.
To strain to reach a point, Mission Accomplished.
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