We read bunches and bunches - first of all, because we could and second of all, because it rained the first day and night. What goddess prompted me to rent, in August, a Teardrop Trailer for our October vacation? "Rain, schmain " we said, warm and snug in our little bug.
|The Teardrop trailer, named The Chili Pepper, a.k.a. our savior|
We camped at Bodega Dunes State Campground, one of our favorites go-to spots along the Sonoma Coast. The campground is set back from the Pacific ocean beach, hunkered behind long dunes; our campsite was bordered a thick stand of eucalyptus and a creaky hallway of old and dignified cypress, planted as windbreaks by farmers long ago. It's beautiful even in the rain, and especially beautiful from the cozy-warm hella-cute super-fab little tag-along.
|Eucalyptus in the mist|
|A faint path wends its way between |
two rows of cypress
|Our morning espresso cart - a bit soggy,|
but serviceable. Yay for canopies!
|Reading nook extrodinaire! Note plenty of cubbies |
for all your books, munchies, spare glasses, pens, notebooks.
Serendipitously, we had tickets for the Picasso exhibit at the de Young Museum in San Francisco for that unexpectedly rainy day - perfect timing, eh? The drive to SF from Bodega is about about an hour and a bit, but heck, we were on vacation, but what else did we have to do? And nothing much better than a museum on a rainy day, I say.
So, after a few doses of camp coffee - note the espresso pot on the propane stove, 'cause that's the (only) way we roll, strong coffee, sraight up - we drove into P-town for breakfast, drove to SF for the exhibit (fabulous, of course - thanks, Stephanie!), drove back to camp and scurried into the Teardrop, visually provoked and culture-sated. And we still had plenty of time to read a bunch more before we went out for dinner at a seafood/Mexican place just down the road.
Still raining, before, during and after. Not a hard, sluicing rain, just relentless, thick and starting to get on our nerves. But, look, ma - no muddy tent, no soaked clothes, no damp sleeping bags on a cold mat or sagging air mattress - which, swear to Jumping Jupiter, starts to deflate from the moment you shove that little plug into the air vent. Much as we loved camping, that was the main reason we'd given up on it: our grouchy backs just couldn't take it anymore.
The next morning, the rain was over. A full moon graced the skies that night and the rest of the week was sunny, breezy, just about perfect.
We're so smitten with The Can, we're plotting ways to procure our own. Because between staying dry and sleeping on a real, very comfortable mattress, it feels like we can camp again.