Shannon also didn't have a sleeping bag because she left it in the company truck which was taken by the boys who were climbing mount hood that weekend. So, to solve this problem we took a mattress from the bunk house and made a little bed in the back of Shannon's truck. (which actually turned out to be way more comfortable than sleeping on the ground) So we left on Friday morning and drove 7 hours down to Crescent City, which is in the northernmost part of California, and found a random RV park to stay at for the night. To wind down from a long day of driving, we got Jack-in-the-Box (a first for both of us), and spent the night sitting on the beach, talking, watching the waves, and slowly acquiring severe indigestion.
We woke up early that morning, and after leaving the bathroom in the morning, I see a towing truck heading our way. So I run as fast as I can back to the truck and I'm like "Shannon we gotta go, tow truck coming!!"
We booked it out of the RV park because we weren't about to pay $18 to sleep in what was essentially a parking lot and headed south toward Arcata. On the way we ran into these ginormous Paul Bunyan and Babe the Ox statues and pulling over becomes non-negociable. 
Paul B. was much like Smokey the Bear in the way the he could talk and move his head back and forth on a lifelike 90 degree axis. Ever since we've been here Shannon had been talking about going to a California winery, so on the way I found a little winery in Orleans, CA, which ended up being in the middle of nowhere. Awesome!
So after driving along the coast in 55 degree weather all day, we were shocked by the 30 degree increase and the hot, dry, climate. It took us 3 hours to drive up into the mountains where the winery was located, but we finally made it! We were greeted by Robin, the lady who conducted our tour. She had a big beautiful log cabin on top of the mountain, surrounded by acres of vineyard, it was so beautiful. She was so cool, and we ended up just sitting, talking, and trying different wines in her house for like 3 hours. We got to see their winery area which was filled with too many barrels to count, the vineyards, and her garden. It was so cool! At the end of the tour, Robin told us about this famous Reggae festival about 2 hours down the coast that we should check out. This sounded like a pretty cool opportunity, so we headed south to Garberville.
After arriving in Garberville, we parked in town and went looking for this reggae fest. We find out that we need to take a bus 10 minutes out of town to get there. We find the bus stop, and line up with all the crazy rastafarians/hippies and get on the bus (which was a school bus). It was so crowded that we ended up sharing a seat with a full grown man and his son, with me on the edge and Shannon sitting on my lap. It was great.
The festival was enormous, attracting 50,000 people each year, and is composed of some of the craziest people I've ever seen. So we find out we need tickets and wristbands to get in, which apparently cost $100. So we are just standing around, trying to figure out to get in, and the man sitting in the seat next to us on the bus finds us and tells us he has two fake wristbands (photocopied from a printer and cut out) that we can try. So we Mcguiver some adhesive from whatever we have in our purses (I used the seal from a pack of cards), and delicately put on our paper wristbands. We pass through the first gate and get checked. Pass. Yes!
Then we are walking through this gated pathway towards the festival, and the music is getting louder. I see there is a 2nd gate of people who are more thoroughly examining the wristbands. Crap. I walk up and I am ushered into the line with a bitter-looking-middle-aged-woman- checker. Double crap. I walk up to her, smile, say hello, and she immediately looks at my wrist and pulls of my fragilely attached fake wristband. Major bummer :( Same thing happens to Shannon, and in a fit of despair, we go buy some pizza to ease our sorrows. But, in the area we had been quarantined in, there were lots of food, jewelry, clothing, and art vendors so we stuck around for a bit and browsed the goods, made some friends, and hung out for a bit and listened to the rasta jams we almost got to see. I am just happy we made it past the first gate, and we left the festival with peace.
We had some problems finding somewhere to sleep that night. We drive back to Arcata, around 11 pm, and we are famished. We find a Denny's on Shannon's gps, and race (going the speed limit of course) to fill our bellies. After another filling, yet indigestion/heartburn inducing meal, we drive around for a bit and end up parking next to the bay at the aquatics center and pass out.
We wake up the next morning to people arriving to work, and conclude that its probably a good idea to leave. We start the long drive back along the coast, and stopped at the beach for a little breather. The beach had to be like 50 degrees that day, yet people were surfing which I found confusing.
Anyways, we made it back safely, and concluded that it was a successful roadtrip despite some slight disappointments.
This week we are finishing up surveying Hamiliton Creek, and everything had been going very smoothly. Until Thursday. We survey until we are about 2 miles away from our access road, and decide that would be a good idea to try to find a trail in the woods instead of boulder jumping for 2 miles. So after poking around in the woods for 15 minutes, no trail is to be found, and we head back down for the creek. All of the sudden, my hand hurts... bad... and I look down to see a yellow jacket in the middle of my palm. OUCH! Then I feel another sharp pain... and another, and another!! RUN!!!!!!!! BEES!!!!! BUZZING EVERYWHERE!!!! FREAKING OUT RUNNING AS FAST AS I CAN, TRIPPING, SCREAMING!!! Not a great situation here, so I get ahold of myself, examine my battle wounds, and try to get out of the woods as fast as possible. Then I start having a reaction. Can't breathe, lips tingling, etc. I guess I'm allergic?? Last time I got stung I was like 10 at a Easter party and stepped in a yellow jacket nest, ending up with like 30 stings or something, so I thank Jesus that this time was not that bad. But it was a difficult 2 mile walk back, taking about 2 hours instead of one. You have no idea how good it was to reach our truck, and sleep against the window drooling all over my pillow on the car ride home.
Every day is a learning experience, a challenge, an opportunity, a chance, and an accomplishment. Throughout these last few weeks I feel myself growing stronger in mind and spirit, and thank God everyday for the lush opportunities that have been set before me.
More to come...
Cheers!
