Pacific Coast Highway

From the majestic Redwood forests, we continued our journey southwards, still hugging the coast as we meandered and wound our way along what is considered one of the most scenic roadways in the entire U.S; the Pacific Coast highway. Treacherously narrow and windy, this incredible stretch of roadway snakes it's way along the rugged and wild northern Californian coastline traversing steep cliffs and spanning across several bay's and inlets. Our average speed dropped right down to a meager 20 miles per hour as we slowly coerced the hefty and sluggish 'A'rby' - our adopted name for our R.V derived from 'Harbajan' to Harby via R.V - along and around the twisting single lane. During this time, we spent one very memorable night in a deserted state park high up on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. With nobody in sight, expect a dubious looking Abalone diver, we created a heaving bonfire around which we successfully roasted a chicken in a discarded Weber shell. The following day saw us continue to navigate our way down toward San Francisco - not before another roadside lunch overlooking Salmon Bay and a group of core 'Norcal' surfers dodging seals, rocks and the knee-deep sandbank for a fickle and shifty righthand peak that broke inside the sketchy river mouth. Needless to say, this portion of our trip was perhaps the most scenic and at over 80 miles long, certainly afforded us one of our more memorable drives of the entire 21 day trip. 

The Avenue of the Giants

After several day's spent along the Oregon (Hoskins) Coast, it was time to cross the state line into our third and final U.S state; California. After a celebratory roadside lunch, some impromptu beach cricket and our first real ocean swim in the still very, very chilly Pacific Ocean we headed into the fabled Redwood forests for 2 day's of some of the most remarkable natural scenery encountered anywhere on our travels. To walk amongst these ancient tree's - some as old as 1500 years - is a truly cathartic and indeed humbling experience. These prehistoric giants tower hundreds of feet straight up with the predominate vegetation found only on the sunlight tops, affording any visitor a daunting and awe-inspiring experience within the company of these magnificent feats of nature. We were privileged to camp two nights underneath the towering redwoods in the Redwood State Park, one alongside the translucent Smith river. Our day's were spent riding amongst the forests. navigating the winding detour roads southward into the park and then hiking in and around the old growth forest - the section of the park that accommodates the oldest and tallest giants. Sadly, pictures in these forests do little justice to the remarkable experience of walking among them. With only shafts of light filtering down to the ground and a heavy density of tree's towering hundreds of feet directly above your head - to truly capture the enormity of these tree's is decidedly difficult. Needless to say, like any travel experience, pictures simply never justify or adequately prepare one for the reality of actually being there. And the Redwood forests of Northern California is certainly one place where the cliche of 'actually being there to believe it' runs truer than most. 

Cape Blanco

Perhaps the most memorable and indeed defining portion of our Oregon sojourn was our visit to the very desolate Cape Blanco. A state park by definition; the area was immaculate and strikingly beautiful. Landmarked by the Cape Blanco lighthouse, the headland jutted out into the wild Pacific ocean shadowed by miles of unkempt beach. But the defining character of this section of coastline was the littering of rocky outcrops jutting out of the ocean - some as far as 3 miles out to sea - that added a depth and texture to the horizon found nowhere else along the Pacific coast. We stumbled upon this remarkable wilderness after diverting off the 101 trusting in only a vague parks map but were rewarded with an endless section of empty and sheltered campsites high up on the Blanco headland. Subsequently, sun-downers were the unanimous call and so after our most traditional braai to date, we spent the rest of the evening perched high up on the cliffs graced by one of the more glorious sunsets we'd encounter on our entire journey.

Into The Great Wide Open

The next leg of our journey saw us continue directly South down along the 101 - the scenic narrow coastal highway that winds and twists it's way along the Oregon coast. For the most part, the road is uncluttered and carves it's way unobstructed by nothing but the ever-changing landscape and small clusters of seaside towns and villages through which the road itself passes directly through. Naturally, the area is filled with state owned parks and reserves, many of which offer excellent RV campsites; sheltered, private, wild and surrounded by the natural foliage. It was via these state parks that we slowly traversed our way down the exquisite Oregon coastline. With little else but running water and a braai pit, we relished the simplification of our existence and celebrated with heaving, late-night bonfires, walks and rides onto empty, windswept beaches savoured with meat cooked over foraged wood. It was a time away from cities and people. We had space and blue skies and no agenda save for choosing a campsite each night. These peaceful nights spent under the northwest ski were interspersed with more generic activities like a visit to the Sea Lion Caves, some feeble attempts at sandboarding and the odd instant noodle roadside lunch. It was this leg of the journey where we really relished the practicality of our RV and the resourcefulness that this type of nomadic existence evokes.