Alameda is a pretty safe city...but we have to get off the island if we want to rob a bank

We're here, at last. So much to talk about, but at the very least we're done w/ the driving part. I'll talk more about Alameda and Carolyn and John later-right now, Petrolia and the drive. We left Wednesday in the morning, and were on the road by about 10AM. Thanks to all you Cappella folks who helped us get all our ducks in a row-we got wine, cold cuts, and produce (natch) and it was all fantastic and useful. There's something to be said for preparation, and we were quite prepared.

We drove south, through Cottage Grove and Drain. Spellbinding, is Drain, Oregon. But after that, we were on the Umpqua and through the Coast Range, stopping for the occasional photo and break in traffic. We reached Reedsport and Coos Bay not long after noon, and pushed on to Bandon, thinking that we could find a coffee shop w/ wireless or SOMETHING. Nothing to be had-not even phone service. We didn't even really see the ocean until after Port Oroford.

Heading south, always always south. Easy navigation-just sticking to the 101. Beautiful sun-drenched landscapes/seascapes everywhere we went. I started to weary of the constant scenery-everywhere was just breathtakingly beautiful. We ate lunch in Gold Beach, in the parking lot of the High School, making sandwiches from the supplies we'd picked up at Capella. I managed to startle a lunchlady when I snuck into the cafeteria kitchen to cut an onion. I can't imagine what she must have thought of a strange man with a knife wandering into her kitchen, but she calmed down immediately when I told her I was just there to cut an onion. Strange, small places we've seen.

We crossed the border into Califorinia, stopping briefly at the Crescent City Wal Mart for bathrooms, Cadbury Cream Eggs (tis the season) and to be ogled. As we left, I realized that while I knew it was a Wal Mart parking lot, I didn't really know where-so I asked a passing pedestrian. The man looked at me like I was on fire. We got out of there as quickly as possible.

South of there, the landscape began to change rapidly. Gone were all of the scraggly pine forests and clear-cuts of Oregon's coast range. We started to drive through forests of tall straight trees that blocked out almost all of the afternoon sun-redwoods, at last. I would have been all of three the last time I was anywhere like this. The further south we get, the more the world looks nothing like what I'm used to...it's left me a little harrowed, but happy for the new.

Arcata and Eureka were next, little coastal hippie enclaves. We passed a co-op that was profiled in the last Natural Foods Monthly, and I wondered what their produce section was like. Then I remembered that I was on vacation, and swore off of all green-grocery, at least for the moment. We were trying to make petrolia by dark, and we were pleased to have made the time we did. Until...

The road to Petrolia starts in a small town about 15 miles south of Eureka called Ferndale, the Victorian Village. It's dairy country, with massive cutouts of farmers baling hay and what must have been milkmaids milking...the town itself is quite pretty, being filled with lovely victorian homes and buildings. But as we took the turns and followed my cousin's directions, we came upon the road and realized it was more than we'd bargained for. Steep inclines, one-and-a-half lanes, no guardrails, or even shoulders to speak of.

We took almost two hours to make it thirty miles on this road. Along the way, we climbed mountain after mountain, looking back over the ridges and valleys at a landscape almost totally uninhabited. After the first three or four miles, there were no longer even telephone lines visible. Just totally empty rolling hills and valleys. The pictures can't do it justice, but trust me, Dave and I were aghast for hours. I was rendered speechless at one point, which I hope drives home my point about the drive-it was incredible. Nerve-wracking and awe-inspiring and...harrowing, all at once. And always with this strange, hazy sunlight that made everything seem luminous and unreal. But maybe that's just me-all this travel's gone to my head.

We descended, finally, onto a more navigable road along the ocean (though every bridge we crossed remained one lane), and as the sun set we started to worry that we had missed a turn or somehow were lost. We lucked out, ran across a local on the side of the road and asked how far it was to Petrolia. "You're almost there" he said, and we were reassured. Forty-five minutes later, we reached the town, and made our way down the final 4 miles of back road to Nathan and Flora's house.

My cousin comes from a strange branch of my extended family-like all of us Queeners, frankly-and has no small experience living in out-of-the-way places. Flora too, seems quite comfortable with this wild, odd place. They had food prepared for us-salmon, and a salad made with sheep sorrel gathered locally. They were incredibly welcoming, and invited us to stay the next night as well, giving us a full day to explore. The next day, Dave, Nathan and I all wandered down to the beach, the northern tip of a newly designated wilderness area known as California's Lost Coast, the longest stretch of undeveloped coastline in the continental US.

We walked up the beach to some rocks where we gathered wild mussels for dinner (yes, I did just write that). Then, down about another mile to the outlet of the Mattole River, the river Nathan and Flora are there to help rehabilitate (please, post and correct my info if I get this wrong you two). Near the mouth, we came upon both an old maypole used by the local kids, and someone's elaborately crafted labyrinth. Both these objects contribute to my current theory, which is that the whole area is inhabited by witches...or possibly werewolves, I'm still ironing it out. Regardless, it was beautiful and strange.

Later, in the evening we drove up to the ridge above their home to visit Strawberry Rock. There's not much to say that would describe the experience, but I'll post some of the pictures to give you an idea.

We ate the mussels that night, cleaned and cooked expertly by our kind hosts. Again, Nathan and Flora, thank you so much more a truly extraordinary visit. We left the next morning early, and traveled the southern section of the road we came in on-easier, this way, but still no cup of tea. I should note that we're driving my mother's 14 year old Ford Explorer, and I'm not too comfortable on a stick shift. This trip then, and that particular drive, have given me ample opportunity to learn while doing. Christ, what a drive. Towards the end, we passed through a state park filled with old growth redwoods. More about that, and more pictures, after a while. Incidentally, I understand it's overcast and cool there...sunny, and 74 degrees, here in sales-tax, pump-your-own-gas California. HA!