On the Road Again…

I know I’ve used that post title before. I’m an unoriginal bastard for sure. But you wouldn’t be coming here if you were easily offended by unoriginal bastards. So I’m thinking we’re all good.

Today marks Day 1 of my vacation road trip. I needed this in the worst way possible, and even after a very long day of driving, I’m already relaxed and (relatively) at peace. The Boyfriend and Karlos make excellent travel companions due to their inability to ever say no to anything. This is how I’m able to plan out my travel route every year with minimal fuss. We have absolutely zero discussion in advance and they pretty much hop in the vehicle with no clue what the plan is or how we’re rocking it.

Of course we started our journey by traveling up Hwy 101 today. I absolutely love that route and I wouldn’t have it any other way. There are so many lovely towns and rest stops and brief respites from the demands of the road. And the road demands very little except that you enjoy your journey. My kind of road.

The Boyfriend bravely ate one of Willy's Spicy Pickled Eggs

For lunch we parked our jalopy at The Peg House just north of Leggett. I haven’t stopped there in years but I will never forget how fantastic their deli sandwiches are, made fresh while you wait. This was a frequent stomping ground in my family whenever we found ourselves over there visiting Standish-Hickey and not much had really changed, other than the addition of a whole barbecue patio. Nothing more awesome than enjoying your lunch underneath a canopy of redwoods.

Normally I don’t stop for meals while I road trip. This is because I like to use my time elsewhere, like enjoying my destination or having those unexpected “Oh hey this looks cool, let’s stop here!” moments. But Karlos is a creature of extreme habit and if I don’t stop for meals, he will shit himself and smear it on the windows in protest.

I had the fun side benefit this year of The Boyfriend apparently possessing a bladder the size of a mouse’s. So of course there were several unexpected bathroom stops. I’d grumble more about it but I remember that not everyone has a body built like a Camelbak and so my ability to retain fluids for hundreds of miles is a fluke and not really the norm.

I promised the boys we would see some Roosevelt elk on the way up and since I rarely fail to deliver, elk we had. In abundance. It amuses me how easy it is to know where the elk herds are gathering by scoping out where the tourist herds are gathering. Come ’round a bend and see a bunch of cars pulled off to the side, and there you have your elk (and your tourists). People are nothing if not entirely predictable. I have never stopped at one of these tourist gatherings, primarily because there’s no room to park anywhere since half of the vehicles are RV’s. But also because I don’t want pictures of massive elk herds. I want pictures of a handful of elk just kind of doing their thing without the distraction of flash bulbs and fat guys in knee socks and sandals going “HEY! HEY ELK! LOOK OVER HERE! YOO HOO!”

Would you like that breaded? Or how about breaded? Or breaded, perhaps?

Our bivouac point tonight is Crescent City. The Best Western we’re staying at has an indoor pool and we were hoping to get some swim time in before bed, but it seems that everyone else staying here has ten kids apiece and they’re all in the damn pool at once. The alternative was the hot tub, but we discovered it filled with a group of rather large old women wearing red hats. I can’t stand red hats. My one excitement for the night was getting to try the restaurant right behind our hotel. I’d read about it on the Internet and thought it a fine alternative to the really gnarly liquor store grub Karlos and I endured here five years ago, the highlight of which was when we realized we had no utensils in the room and Karlos was forced to eat microwaved lo mein with coffee stir sticks.

Here’s a note I feel necessary to make right now: eating anywhere with The Boyfriend and Karlos is going to be a test of my patience. They’re both self-professed foodies and fancy themselves quite the little chefs-in-training. Therefore they have this running dialogue the entire time we’re reading the menu, ordering drinks, waiting for food, eating the food, paying for the food, and walking away from the restaurant. I can see this becoming maddening. The one thing they noted about the restaurant tonight was that everything was pretty much either breaded, battered, or broiled. Karlos hates the word “broil”. It grosses him out. Which amuses me greatly. I personally didn’t have an issue with how things were prepared, since I ordered the breaded prawns. But the boys felt it limited their options and wasn’t at all healthy. Look, if I want to be healthy while I’m on vacation, I’ll go to a spa in Sedona. While I’m on the road, I’ll take my chances with a bit of fried stuff here and there. Besides, it was delicious and I was happy. Nuff said. Good beer too, by the way. In case you ever find yourself in lovely out-of-the-way Crescent City. (Karlos enjoyed his fish & chips and The Boyfriend approved of the salmon chowder, so there you go)

Tomorrow finds us traversing Oregon. And buying a tarp for the top of the vehicle. Turns out the nylon luggage carrier The Boyfriend got for the roof rack just basically shredded under the stress of driving 60-80mph for eight hours. I won’t know if we lost anything along the way until we arrive in North Bend in two days. Sure as shit hope it’s all still there. Otherwise…well, what the hell can I really do? Kick back and have a beer I suppose. It is what it is. Namaste, y’all.