At Least I Tried

Yesterday I left Meyers Flat and made my way two hours north to Patrick’s Point State Park, in Trinidad, CA.   I pulled into the park, found a campsite just above the cliffs, and went to check in and pay.  A birdy-looking young girl was working the entrance booth.  As I approached the window, she looked up through her owl-sized glasses, and long, thin brown hair drifted down past her shoulders.  She looked as if she took the job of park ranger very seriously, and in a flat tone she asked “How can I help you today?”

View from the edge of campsite 105

  I pulled out the card from Phyllis, figuring it was worth a try but not expecting much. 

“Yah, I wanted to pay for spot 105 for two nights,” I told her, smiling.

She didn’t smile back.  It wasn’t looking good for the Phyllis-discount

She pulled out a piece of paper that had a list of all the campsites.

“105, you said?” she verified.

“Yes, 105,” I replied.  She scanned down the paper, finding 105, and made an entry into the two columns for Monday and Tuesday nights.  “This looks like a pretty nice park,” I continued, trying to soften her up a little for my impending discount-request. 

“It is,” was all that I could get out of her. She was still looking down at the paper.  “Do you know your license plate number?”

“Yes. It’s 7KCS535,” I told her.  She wrote it down.  As she was writing, I made my attempt.  “I’m kind of embarrassed to ask this, but my mom insisted that I do.  She worked for the State Parks for 25 years and recently retired. She gave me her card and said that I should show it at the gate to see if I could use her discounted rate.”  I held out the card, official seal and all.    Her hawkish nose pointed in the direction of the card, and she stared at it for about three seconds.

“Well, um,” she stammered, “Does your mother have her parks pass with her?”

I could see this was not going to work.  “Well she’s not here. She just told me I should try it. I knew it wouldn’t work, but you know mothers. I had to tell her that I at least asked, just to make her happy.” 

I smiled, trying to convey that I was not just some guy who had a business card from some random lady I met in a Starbucks, and that I was trying to use it to pull a fast one on the state.

“Well, I can’t do anything then. 

Path down to the water. Watch out for that tree!

Maybe if she called and set it up ahead of time I could.”

I briefly thought of calling Phyllis and asking her to call this girl.  Not because I was really that interested in getting into the park for free, but because I felt like I had to prove that I wasn’t really lying about the card.   “Yah, that’s what I told her.   Really, it’s ok.  I just had to tell her that I tried it to make her happy.” 

“So will that be cash or charge?” she finished the conversation.  

I paid for my campsite (full price), and went and set up my van in spot 105. I wanted to ride my bike into the town of Trinidad, so after I had gotten everything settled, I got on my bike and headed out.  Exiting the park, I turned right onto Patrick's Point Drive, which took me the 6 miles to Trinidad.  It's a narrow road that snakes along the side of the ocean, and it's dotted with several small inns, RV parks, and motels.  Looking out at the ocean to my right, I could see the craggy coastline, where a multitude of large rocks popped up from the water like wild flowers in the first warm days of spring.  I made it to Trinidad, and just as I was looking forward to exploring the town, I felt a few small drops of rain on my cheeks.  Patrick’s Point Drive is lined with tall trees that provide a virtual canopy over the road, and I hadn’t noticed the sky had turned dark and cloudy while I was riding.  Unfortunately, I’d have to come back to Trinidad later.  I turned my bike around, and raced back to my van.  As I was pedaling down the road, in my head I kept hearing songs that I’d frequently play in my cycle class:  “We’ve got some rollers here! – Major Tom by Peter Schilling,” “Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers,”  

I walked right into a "hazard" zone.

“Let’s fly down this hill! – Anna Sun by Walk the Moon.”  More bits of rain speckled on my glasses and I sped back to my campsite, trying to get there before the rain.  I looked down at the odometer on my bike:  4 more miles—16 minutes, I calculated in my head.  I could picture myself on stage in the cycle studio:  “Ok, turn the knob a little to the right and let’s go!”  I put more energy into the pedals, the black asphalt of Patrick’s Point Drive moved backwards beneath me a little faster.   Again, I peeked down at the gauge on my bike—3 more miles it screamed out.  Twelve minutes, I figured.  Even if it did start raining, I wouldn’t be in it that long.  I got to the front gate of the park and whisked past the ranger booth. Bird Girl was still in there, and she waved as I went by.  Only 1 more mile to my campsite at the end of the park and I would be safe.  No more drops were in the air, so maybe it was a false alarm.  I made it to my van, jumped off my bike and caught my breath.  I looked up; the sky still looked uncertain as to what it wanted to do.  I put my bike back on the rack, covered it with a tarp just as a precaution, and jumped into the shelter of my van.  As soon as I had I sat down and removed my shoes, I heard the first heavy drops plunk onto the top of my gold RV.  They quickly picked up pace and soon it was a downpour.  I had made it just in time. It felt almost as if the sky had given me pause, and waited for me to be inside before it took on its torrent.  I pulled out my phone and noticed I had a weak, but usable, data signal, and I checked the weather forecast for Trinidad.  It indicated rain until about 3am, and then sunny and clear for the next several days. 

This morning when I woke up, the rain had passed, just as weather.com had predicted, and the

Wedding Rock

sun was peeking above the trees.  At 35 degrees, it was cold out, and I had regretted not bringing another blanket.  I flipped on the heater in my van, though, and it dutifully escorted the cold air away.  I planned to re-try my ride to Trinidad, but started off with a walk through the park until it warmed up.   Sweat pants, two shirts, a pullover, and some thick socks were in order.  I also grabbed a black neck gaiter that Jobie had given me for Christmas and pulled it over my head.  It’s soft warmth around my neck made me feel ready to explore the park.  I checked out a few of the notable points indicated by signs in the park:  Patrick’s Point (of course), Look Out Rock, Wedding Rock, and a few others.  Wedding Rock is perhaps the most spectacular. It is not really a rock, but it is a small peninsula that juts out into the ocean, and which has a thin path connecting to it.  It gives a great vantage point to view the entire coastline.  I walked out to the top of it, and took in the view. 

Waves crashing below Wedding Rock.

Glancing north, I could see snow-topped mountains in the distance.  They encouraged me to stop and get another blanket on my travels north of here.  The sun gradually warmed up the air, and I decided it was a good time to ride into Trinidad.  I headed back to my van, got on my bike, and made the short 6 mile trip again.


Trinidad is a quaint little town, with almost an east-coast look to it.  It has a few B&Bs, restaurants, and a couple small galleries.  It does not have a Starbucks though.  Instead, I found the Beachcomber Cafe, which is a small coffee shop that has free Internet.  I ordered a roasted veggie Panini, an iced coffee, and sat down to create this post.  

Tomorrow I'm leaving Trinidad and heading up to  Jedidiah Smith Redwoods Park.  It's only about an hour and a half away, just outside of Crescent City (which -does- have a Starbucks!) It will be my last stay in California, as it is just south of the Oregon border.    

Trinidad, CA.  Looks a little like Trinidad in the Caribbean