We were up bright and early and on the road by 0900. That’s two days in a row which is a modern day record for us.

We got gas in Brookings, OR for $3.79/gal which was a good thing because the further south we went, the more expensive it got. The California border arrived at 10 to 10. That’s 0950 for some of you. Shortly thereafter, we arrived in Crescent City where gas was $4.28/gal.

Since leaving home our eyes have been assaulted with so many shades of green that it’s like driving through a kaleidoscope. Pretty amazing. A great deal of the trip was through some very impressive redwood trees. Majestic. The road was straight for a long distances so the view was like traveling down a topless tunnel where the trees came to a point in front and behind us.

At 1007, when the the speed limit jumped from 55 to 65, Diane’s got excited and took advantage of the +5 mph rule and bumped the rig to 70 mph. That’s when she’s at her best – speeding. So, when we turned off Highway 101 onto California Highway 1. My first mistake was to have chosen that route. My second mistake was telling her we could have gone a lot farther on Highway 101 before heading west.

California Highway 1 is one of the most crooked roads in the entire world. Seriously. And it’s longer than all the others. The first time we travelled that highway was many years ago and we vowed then to never, ever, take that wrong turn again. But, I allowed it to happen. Shame on me.

At one point I took a video which I intended to share with everyone to show how horrible it was. Trying to hold the camera (my iPad) almost made me car sick because she kind of overdid it for the benefit of the prospective viewers. I’ve never been car sick before.

At 1027 we encountered a construction with signs that alerted us to be on the alert for a flagger. Instead, here’s what we encountered instead of a flagger …

It appeared the highway was in danger of falling off into the ocean, which is about 300-400 feet straight down. Nice. So they gave the real flagger a break, to save his life, and made all of us driving stop and sit there for what seemed to be an extraordinarily long time. All that weight just sitting there, waiting to slip off into the ocean.

Once we reached the coast, and actually saw the water, Diane pulled over and actually decided to let me drive. What a treat. I didn’t make it 20 feet before she started telling me how to keep the car on the road. Thankfully, there wasn’t very much traffic so I lowered my seat, moved it forward as far as I could, let my mouth go a little slack, assumed a frightened look in my eyes and dropped the speed to 30 mph. I did this for every car we met. When she was finally able to communicate, she suggested that I put the seat back where it belonged and she’d leave me alone. So I did as did she. I think I won that round, but she took over driving tasks at Fort Bragg, about 1615. Once back on the road she admitted she had to drive because my driving scares her.

We arrived at our chosen accommodations about 1800. Like normal, I was allowed to go check us in, because she drove. I chose to leave our confirmation in the car, against Diane’s wishes. I left it because they never want those things, just a credit card.

At the front desk the first thing they wanted to see was the confirmation. Since I didn’t have it they asked for ID, which was in my wallet … in the glove box. So, I had to take the walk of shame back to the car, get the requested items, and tolerate a great deal of ridicule from the driver.

Now it’s getting late. I’ve had to publish this once already to get a photo installed, so some folks have already read it but they’ll have to read it again.

Oh, our accommodations are very nice. We have our very own little park model cabin with very nice furnishings, two TVs and a fake fireplace.