9/9 - 500 miles, 8 hours
I left Chico at around 2pm after having lunch with Keith and Stephanie, and spent the next 8 hours driving up to Portland. Interestingly enough, LA to Chico is almost exactly 500 miles, and Chico to Portland is also almost exactly 500 miles. But guess what? Driving the I-5 north from Chico (well, okay, where ever it is that the 99 and I-5 join) is heck of a lot more interesting. More bends, better scenery, and it's not stiflingly hot.

I got to Portland at around 10pm, and spent the night in Alii's living room floor.

9/10 - 227 miles, 7 hours
I stuck around and had lunch with Alii and a couple of her friends, who were busy yelling at each other most of the time. When I finally hit the road, it was past 1am. I took the 26 which heads towards the coast in a North-Easterly direction, and hits the 101 about 50 miles out of Portland, somewhere between Seaside and Cannon Beach. Since I was in Seaside last summer, I decided to start my trip along the coast in Cannon Beach.

The weather was great, with a beautiful grey misty overcast and sprinkling rain. Although, I then realized that I was totally unprepared for rain. Apart from the fact that I had planned on camping out at night, but had somehow forgotten to bring a tent, I also didn't have a jacket either. Summers in California make you forget that in most places of the world, it actually can rain in September...

The going was slow, mostly because I had to stop at just about every scenic view point to snap a few pictures and take in the scenery. Also hampering my way was the windy road, the occasional RV rumbling along at 20mph. Despite all that, I found the drive to be generally enjoyable. In between trying to pass crawling RVs, there were stretches of road where it seemed like I had the coast all for myself.

I got to Tillamook at around 4pm, and briefly contemplated stopping at the cheese factory, but since I still had a ways to go, I decided to press on. Well, that was the plan, at least until I saw a big huge hangar with the words "Air Museum" painted on its side in sprawling letters. As a child, I had an obsession with air planes, so to pacify my inner child (which, by at this point, had gotten bored of games and was starting to whine) I pulled off on the road toward the monstrous hangar that housed the Tillamook Air Museum. Since they were closing in half an hour, they let me in for $5.50 instead of the usual $9.50. I still got to see a lot though.

Not long after leaving the museum with a pacified inner child, my inner stomach began to complain. I wanted to get some seafood, or at least some fish, but since it's depressing to go to a restaurant for dinner alone (and expensive), I tried to look for a place that had food to go. After an hour, I finally found a place called the Light House Deli in South Beach, just out of New Port. You know you've found a good fish and chips place when they have bottles of malt vinegar on the tables. I wasn't disapointed, and filled my tummy with some of the best fish and chips I've had this side of the Atlantic. Although I just chanced upon the place, according to their website, The Oregonian said they were "far and away the best on the coast". I agree. The price, at $7.50, was a little steep for a poor guy like me, but it was well worth it.

With both inner child and stomach pacified to the max, I rumbled on. It became dark not long after that, and I started looking for a place to spend the night. They don't let you park over night in most places, so my only choice was to pull into a campground. Most campgrounds along the coast cost $15/night, which isn't too bad considering how a motel would set you back at least $30/nigh on a weekday. The catch? You gotta pay in cash. Yeah, that got me at the first place I stopped, so I drove on to the next town, which turned out to be Yachats. Yachats. What kind of name is that? I think it went something like this:

Dude A: So, what should we name this town?
Dude B: Yachats! Oh, excuse me... this damn cold is just brutal. So what was that again?
Dude A: (mutters) Yachats.... what an interesting name for a town.
Dude B: Name for a town? But that was... oh, well, it isn't much of a town anyway.

Anyway, at least they had an ATM, and that was all I needed. I pulled into the next campground I found after Yachats, which turned out to be Cape Perpetuna.

One thing you tend to forget after living in California is that kindling isn't something you can pick off the ground in many places. I bought firewood (chunks of log really) from the campsite manager, but with the ground soaking wet, I had no kindling to get the fire going. At the end, I stripped off splinters and bark from the chunks of log, which actually worked out relatively well. I spent the remainder of the evening sitting in front of the fire, lost in thought.

I spent that night sleeping in my car. Because the front seat didn't flatten out completely the way I thought it would (it slopes down because the rear seats are about 6 inches higher), I found out that I could almost stretch out if I lie diagonally, with my feet on the passenger side of the front seat and my back on the driver side of the back seat... I left the windows open a few inches so that I could hear the stream running nearby, but during the restless night, all I heard was the sound of rain (which isn't all that unpleasant either).

9/11 - 350 miles, 12 hours
Day 3 started a little past 8 in the morning, although the first stop came after only 30 miles, again as a result of an empty stomach. I stopped for breakfast in Florence, at one of those annoying 50's/60's themed diners, that apparently attracts tourists but serves horrible over-priced food. I thought I ordered "pigs in blankets", but what I got tasted and felt more like "stray animals in kevlar armor".

Fortunately, Florence marked the beginning of one of the major attractions along the Oregon Coast: the Oregon Dunes. The dunes are quite something, and stretches over some 50 miles of coast line. Apparently most of the coast line was void of vegetation until a century ago, with sand from the beach reaching across all way until it hit the lush forests. Then, about a century ago, people began to plant European Weed to stop the "erosion". European Weed is about the only plant that can survive the harsh conditions of a sandy coast line, with the ability to survive being under 3ft of sand. Eventually, a unique ecosystem sprung up where the European Weed plants grew, creating islands of vegetation sandwiched between sand dunes that provides a home for various wild animals like deer and squirrels. I can't remember exactly where it was, but there's a place where you can hike/stroll through the sand dunes and reach the waterfront. It's only about a 20 minute walk if you go the short way.

After spending about an hour at the dunes, I drove on for a while and randomly pulled off at Bullards Beach State Park. There, on the beach, I found a bunch of structures made of drift wood. I found one that appeared to be a hut in the making. It was two parallel "walls", but there were logs on the ground that connected the two walls, which seemed to hint that the original creator had planned on enclosing the space in 4 walls. So, I figured it was an Open Source project, and contributed about an hour of my time adding the framework for a third wall, connecting the two existing ones.

Knowing I was far from home, I pressed on hard for most of the afternoon. I crossed into California a couple of hours later, which didn't have the warm fuzzy feeling that I thought it might. It was warm, alright, but too much so, and the roads were bumpier, the sky not as blue, the trees not as green, and the drivers not so nice. And gas prices were 20-40 cents higher, and they don't even pump it for you. Over all, I think I prefer driving in Oregon better...

One of my main objectives in Northern California was to see the redwoods. And see the redwoods I did. Lots of them. I even slept under one (more on that later).

My first stop in California was at Prairie Creek Redwood State Park, still North of Humboldt. The park was located right next to a large meadow that supposedly was home to deer and elk; a claim I found to be true only after almost running over some deer. One of the main attractions at this park, I must say, is the "Revelation Trail". Yeah, you walk on it and have revelations. I swear, it's true; I had a revelation.

Anyway, I had fun marveling at the size of the trees, climbing into burnt out caves, gazing up at them, and, of course, hugging them. If you see a redwood, you just have to hug it.

After a somewhat rushed frolicking session among the redwoods, I resumed my drive. By the time I reached the general vicinity of Humboldt, the sun was starting to set. I came across a campground right on the beach in Humboldt Lagoon State Park, which made a very tempting stop for the night. I thought about watching the sunset while sitting next to a camp fire, and sleeping to the sound of the Pacific. But I consulted my map, even though I knew the regretful truth: I was still too far from LA top stop.

I pressed on for another 2 hours, which unfortunately made me drive through much of Humboldt Redwoods State Park in the blue hugh of dusk. For a while, I almost regretted not having stopped for the night at the beach. That would've allowed me to spend the night at the beach and then drive through the redwoods the following morning. But instead, it seemed like I would be missing not one, but two opportunities.

Fortunately, it was not to be so. At a little past 8, I turned off the highway in search of a campground. More or less by accident, I ended up driving the dark and windy roads that turned out to be the Avenue of the Giants, and came across a site about 10 minutes off of the 101.

Not long after that, I got a roaring campfire going (thanks to dry kindling on the ground), ate a quick dinner, then rolled out my sleeping bag on the picnic table and tucked myself in for the night. Lying on my back, I could see the sky from in between some redwoods, and believe it or not, a big huge meteor shot right through my limited view of the stars. Sleeping on the beach is nice, but sleeping on a picnic table under the stars in the shade of giant redwoods is simply exceptional. After all, it's something you can do only in Northern California.

9/12 - 720 miles, 14 hours I hit the road before 9am again, although my departure was delayed at least in part by the fact that my digital camera batteries had died. I found an outlet in the public bathrooms, so I loitered for about 15 minutes while waiting for the battery pack to at least partially recharge. After a short drive through the Avenue of the Giants, which I had only a very limited view of the night before, I continued south on the 101. En route, I drove through many a redwood forests, which provided for some extraordinary driving.

I randomly wandered into a small Hippieville for gas, and came across a shabby ol' Hippiemobile with an interesting message:

I had two planned stops on the way back to LA. The first was Fort Bragg. I heard that there was a beach near Fort Bragg that had fossilized trash, so I figured I'd take a look. It turned out to be quite a detour, since by this point, the 101 runs a good 30 miles inland and to get to the coast, you have to drive over some windy mountain roads. I got to Fort Bragg at around noon, and after a quick stroll on Glass Beach (because of all the pebble-like glass and glass embedded in chunks of metal), headed on South.

I drove 20 miles or so South on highway 1, then turned off on 128 which headed back towards the 101 in a South-Eaterly direction. Interestingly enough, the 128 cuts right through what must've been the northern edge of Nappa Valley, going by the number of vineyards along the route. Most of them had signs saying "Wine Tasting - Open", which got me thinking. Are drivers allowed to go wine tasting? I mean, I know you're not supposed to drink the wine in true wine tasting, but I mean, there are like a dozen vineyards in the 50 mile stretch of the 128. If I'd stopped at each one, I know I would've come out the other end mildly intoxicated (if I didn't get in a wreck on the windy roads...). Since my goal at this point was to make it home alive, I decided to save the wine tasting for next time.

A few hours after that, I arrived in San Francisco. It turns out, I had my geography of the Bay Area totally screwed up... I didn't know the Golden Gate Bridge was on the North of San Francisco... for that matter, I didn't even know San Francisco was even where it was. I got there okay anyway (getting out was another matter though).

It was the first time I was in San Francisco since perhaps 17 years ago when I went there with my family. I don't recall much, except for the fact that we went to Alcatraz and went in the submarine on Fisherman's Wharf. So that's where I went. I walked around Fisherman's Wharf for a while, had some ice cream, then was back on the road within the hour.

Or rather, I was back in my car within the hour... But I kept getting lost. I knew where I wanted to go, it's just that the streets wouldn't let me go there. Eventually, I ended up at the Exploratorium, and since it looked cool, walked around and took some pictures.

I eventually managed to get on 101-North (i.e. the wrong direction), and barely managed to escape to CA-1 right before the Golden Gate Bridge (phew!).

From there, it was a long boring drive back to LA. I probably should've gone straight down the 101 all the way back to LA, just for the sake of completeness, but it seemed like going on the 5 would be faster. At the end, the mountain pass that goes from the 101 to the I-5 just south of San Jose sucked up a lot of time anyway, so I don't think it made much of a difference.

I stumbled home a little before 1am, exactly 14 hours after I'd left that morning.

Total driving distance: 2300 miles from LA to LA.
Total cost in gas: around $300.
Total cost in lodging: $30.
Total cost in fuel for human: around $40.
Other Misc. costs: $21.