Since my boyfriend and I drove from San Francisco towards the redwoods last September, I have been dreaming of a dense fog that hangs in the trees and blocks out the ocean. Having grown up in Arizona, something about that wet, heavy air of the Northwest stayed with me. I sometimes close my eyes at night and pretend I’m back on those misty roads winding through the old growth, the fog slipping away at the last second just long enough to see what’s up ahead.
Did I mention we were in a sleeper van with a giant snowman painted on the side of it?
This baby was our ride and our hotel, and it was probably the best decision I’d made that year. (Although, my boyfriend would tell you I bitched a little bit about the lack of creature comforts.)
One particular foggy day, the thick white seemed to follow us wherever we went. It hung close and tight, creating a blank backdrop where the blue of the ocean should have been. We’d drive through winding roads with dense overhang, the leaves changing from grey to green as our trusty snowman-van plowed through the fog. It’s cloudy fingers clawing the countryside, beckoning us to follow.
This is my favorite way to travel. In a world full of plans and deadlines, it’s nice to have none every once in a while.
For anyone curious:
Uniquely inspired sleeper van: Escape Camper Vans
Our route started in San Francisco and stayed close to HWY 1 all the way up to The Redwood National Forest. Hugging the highway the entire time, we took several small detours along the way. One of my favorites was Cuffey’s Cove, a ghost town of a former settlement from the late 1800’s. I can’t stress enough just how much this place sucked me in. It’s what I see when I close my eyes and imagine that lingering fog closing in.
Also, I am one of those cemetery freaks. No better way to experience a piece of history than to spend a moment among those who lived it.