Long-Awaited

At last! At last! The camping trip with Ember is finally here! Though I remain sad about the devastation at Lassen and our being unable to go there, I am excited about our alternate plan.

I packed the car yesterday, save for the cooler stuff, so I was ready to blast out of the Bay Area at 8:00 this morning. The entire Redwine family—Jason, Eleni, Ember, Jesse and Ruby (listed in order of age)—drove down to meet me in Williams at 9:30 sharp. After transferring gear from their car to mine, and a few rounds of farewell, Em (in her PJs) and I set off for Richardson Grove State Park south of Garberville, three hours further on. I’d dosed her with Dramamine to prevent car-sickness, which led to her conking out after a bit.

I had checked the air quality index for the region before departing and all looked great. But as we made our way west on the long and winding road past Clear Lake, the air was horrific. My anxiety mounted when I saw it wasn’t much better after turning north onto Highway 101. Distant hills were barely visible, enshrouded in a yellow haze. I wondered if I should turn back, but decided to hope for improved conditions.

The moment I entered the park a little before 1:00, Em popped awake. At the check-in booth I asked the attendant about the bad air, and was encouraged by her opinion, based on precedent, that it was likely to improve. In fact, within a couple hours it did. I also asked her about campfires, certain (and even relieved) that they weren’t permitted in these hazardous conditions. To my astonishment, I was wrong.

Car packed to the gills, we meandered along the campground road through giant redwoods in search of Huckleberry Site 22. I got completely turned around but eventually found the place, and we began to establish camp: sleeping tent, screen tent and potty tent erected, clothesline strung between trees, yellow jacket trap baited and hung, chairs unfolded and placed, kitchen laid out, mattresses inflated and bags spread, and so on. It took nearly two hours.

Fortunately, no one was camped either adjacent to or across from us, and our site was large, so we had ample privacy. Not so fortunately, the bathroom was on a little rise above us, and our home lay in what must have been the septic field, so we had sporadic whiffs of sewage blending with the fresh scent of the trees.

Even before we were fully settled in, my beloved and energetic granddaughter was champing at the bit to explore. So off we went, first by car and later on foot, to the nearby Eel River, the main reason we chose this area as our destination. However, unbeknownst to me, because of drought and heat the entire waterway is heavily infested with blue-green algae. Did you know it’s highly toxic? I didn’t. But we found one algae-free spot: a nice little swimming hole just a 1/4-mile from our new home. On arrival there, Ember tested the frigid waters.

She soon emerged, shivering, and opted to skip stones instead.

While wandering around afterwards, we accidentally stumbled upon the start of the Tourney Trail and ventured up it just a bit. My, the trees are big here.

You’ll notice that these Ember photos are from behind. There’s a reason for this. She hates having her picture taken and has forbidden me to capture her in full-frontal mode, unless it’s too dark to get a good view of her (see below).

Back in camp again, I made dinner: salmon, corn and broccoli. 

Afterwards, the campground host—an Orange County native with a white, wax-tipped mustache who’d proudly and intrusively hung American flags, pinwheels and patriotic banners from his RV—sold us a tiny bundle of firewood for $10. He clearly didn’t approve of my mask-wearing during our transaction. His dog was cute, though.

Then Em was ready for yet another outing, so at dusk we took a brisk walk half a mile up the road to Madrone Campground, also in the park, and returned just before dark for a campfire, marshmallow-roasting, and playing with glow-sticks.

It was full-dark at 9:30 when we retired to our spacious tent where our sleeping pads were carefully arranged side-by-side. As soon as we crawled into our bags, tired Em started to nod off. Suddenly, she sprung awake again, bounding with energy, leaping around the tent. We made colorful patterns by waving the glow-sticks, and then bent them to make letters of light that spelled messages to each other. And we talked and talked and talked. I told her all kinds of stories about my past and, to my surprise, she allowed as she enjoys hearing them. I was blissful.

An hour later, my sweet child calmed and soon fell asleep, clutching Moss, her mom’s stuffed opossum.