July 11. 503 miles. Direct.
Or take in this scenery:
Begin sitting on the shores of Smith River. This chillin’ time commences with a crackle-bang of limbs falling from the canopy. “Widowmakers,” the loggers call them. Followed by tranquility along the remaining undammed river in California. The view goes straight down to the rocks. Virtual meshes don’t know what to do with this clarity and map them onto the river-textured surface.
Gas up at Klamath who’s lands we’re on. Masks enforced. “Please respect our community.”
Drive exclusively on scenic highways wherever possible. Howland, Drury, Avenue of the Giants. 503 miles plus.
Stop and get out for one last jaunt. Walk barefoot to better hear the understory.
Back to 101. From dripping greens to dry yellows.
Round about 8:30: Willets. Pull in to El Chicano across from Taco Bell. Leave the chains behind. Luis takes our order encouraging veggie mole from his grandmother’s recipe. As he distributes the checks a conversation about Anime between those who don’t watch “like normal.”
Arrive Good Nite Inn in Rohnert Park at midnight. Under copycat art prints on the walls sleep like a blackout.
