A few months ago I read Wren’s mystery post and was reminded of Babe and Paul on Highway 101. We opted to pay the fee to get in after noticing that it was pet friendly.

I’ve had my picture taken in front of  both Paul and Babe a number of times, but don’t quite recall wandering through the Trees of Mystery myself. It was fun and even a bit entertaining, but I’m not sure that I need to do it again.

Turns out that one of the perks of pulling off the highway to see these trees is that Paul Bunyan talks to the visitors. It was like  meeting the Wizard of Oz, leaving Barry and I standing slack-jawed listening to the kids shout questions at the oversized giant. He used the word ‘folks’ a bit too much for my taste and sounded a bit like Barack Obama.

While inside the actual park we force Sydney to ride the Sky Train. Just as we had our mouths agape at Paul Bunyan’s speech patterns, we also found ourselves in awe as we rode our tiny green gondola over the tops of the trees that we had just been walking next to. The ride was quiet with a breeze blowing through our swaying little pod.

We are all the way here in the magnificent Redwoods and it turns out that they love dogs less than Edmonds. We were kind of expecting this, but it still hurts. We love our dog more than is probably necessary or reasonable. For this reason we smashed her into our backpack and took her on the trail with us. Her little paws didn’t touch the forrest floor. We promise. Scout’s Honor.

She was really into it. I think that she really would rather be carried anyhow. For the duration of our time on the trail she sniffed, gazed and pretty much let it all hang out, at least until we got back to the car.

It was swift and quick to not move around with a short little dog needing to smell each and every leaf. We kept seeing other dogs left to sweat-it-out in their own cars. SO SAD. I get it. I do.

BUT wouldn’t it be cool to have an off-leash dog park at the head of each trail so at least dogs wouldn’t have to wait for their anxious owners to return? I know, I know, not the best idea, but I told Syd we’d try not to take her to any more National Parks unless there was a change.

Last night we fell asleep  huddled in our tent talking about past 4th of July celebrations, both reaching back into our memories to recall our childhood traditions and newly developed ones.

We determined that for this year it wasn’t important to partake in the local festivities that Crescent City has to offer, mostly because we  had  just spent the afternoon walking around town watching the city slowly come alive with preparations for today’s celebration and were excited to feast our eyes on some huge trees.

As we wandered through town yesterday we noticed not only the city’s love for reminding visitors of the tsunami in 1964, but also Glen’s Bakery, which had signs up announcing it had gone out of business after 60 years. It might have been old and closed but Glen’s Bakery still had that delicious look to it. I know you know what I mean.

Well, our plan to hit the trail bright and early was foiled when we woke today and overheard some local campers talking about how Glen’s Bakery was opening for the 4th of July. The sound of excitement and astonishment in their voices led us to put our plans on hold and make our way back to Glen’s….only to arrive and find that there was a massive parade of locals lined up to taste Glen’s one more time!

I stood in line and heard two ladies gushing behind me about how happy they were that Glen’s was back! It was hilarious. There were cute little old ladies fluttering around handing out cups of coffee and tasty treats while people dressed in their festive reds, whites, and blues happily waited in the line to support this tiny and old joint.

I ordered two cookies and two apple turnovers and peeked my head in the restaurant next door halfway expecting to see  a group of old men huddled around a couple steaming pots of coffee playing cards. It just had that feel to it. Old pictures of JFK, newspaper articles from Glen’s Glory Days.

Once I had my loot, I headed back outside to find Barry and Sydney enjoying the start of the local parade, bobbing their heads along to the beat of the soundtrack  of all-songs patriotic. We opted to hit the road and eat Glen’s delicious treats on the trail rather than stick to the parade route.

I have always been told that I have beautiful hair and was even trained by my Grandma Lowman how to gracefully take compliments from strangers telling me what a gorgeous color my hair is. This post isn’t about my gorgeous hair. This post is about Barry’s hair.

Barry has beautiful hair. It curls, it is thick and it grows like those dang weeds in my garden. Not only does it grow like a weed but it also makes for a great show each morning, even when we aren’t camping. When we are camping/surfing/being plowed by piles of sand, however, his hair has it’s own life. It’s kind of like a teenager, doing as it pleases with nobody else in mind.

Looks normal here, right? I thought so too.

I mean, what exactly is normal, right?

How is it possible to have your hair do that? Does the saltwater really work better than L.A. Looks?

It doesn’t really look any better from that side either, does it?

The top? Oh. My. God.

Phew. Luckily, we bought The Vacation Hat to help when the hair becomes so unruly neither one of us know what to do with it. Not only does he look super cute in The Vacation Hat, but I also happen to think his hair looks beautiful when standing up at all angles from his head…can’t be that much of an improvement over my wind-blown dome.

I dumped about a pound of sand out of my ear this afternoon after we returned from the beach to our car. Trying to fight the fight against the sand just isn’t an option on this trip.

About a week before we left, Barry’s brother, Brian, got a ride from us for whatever reason and even he made a comment about  how much sand we had in our car. This was before we spent majority of our days lolly-gagging on the beach.

We’ve pretty much steered clear of the beaches filled of tourists that instantly drop their beach chairs once their white little toes hit the sand. We’ve discovered a new favorite beach in Oswald State Park. You have to walk down a winding path for about 3/4 of a mile before discovering the beach.

The fact that getting to this beach means you have to essentially hike down a trail allows for it to feel much more remote than other nearby destinations. Each time we’ve been there, we’ve been able to find a private and peaceful area to call our own.  Sadly, today was our last day at Oswald West State Park, as tomorrow**, bright and early, we hit the Tillamook Cheese Factory (yummy!) and drive to southern Oregon!

** I’m attempting to write a couple more posts right now and will have them post tomorrow and in days to come. In the past, it hasn’t worked, but I’m crossin’ my sandy little fingers.

This weekend we went up North to attend Adam & Alyssa’s wedding (Congratulations, guys!!!!) and to visit our families. I found myself in a panic after finishing my book Sunday morning because having a good book to read is necessary in my life, especially in the months of June, July and August! 

I was rooting around my old bedroom’s bookshelf and I came across a box of my old books from when I was a teenager. Many of these books I read over and over again and some of them I’ve never cracked. I pulled a few of the not-so-sentimental ones with the intent of adding them to my classroom collection, but also pulled a couple of them to read again! Many of them are Newbery winners from the late Eighties to the mid Nineties. 

Tomorrow we will hit the road for a few weeks and with me I have packed a bag full of books, some of which came from the box I found in my old room, some from used bookstores, and even a few newbies that I’m thrilled to smell! 

I have always loved by birthday. Perhaps it is selfish to love the day you were born, but I’ve always loved my birthday. I share it with Michael Jordan. When I was young(er) he would send me birthday cards. Interestingly enough, MJ has the same handwriting as my dad…..

I had read about Cave B months ago from a blog that I follow and told Barry about it in passing. Without my knowledge  Barry booked us a weekend there for my 29th birthday. He’s so sneaky. I, on the other hand, am not….mental note: be more like Barry come September 14th.

It was gorgeous.

We went on a hike where Sydney was able to practice living life off-leash. This is a good thing, as we went to the dog park recently and became concerned that she chose to ignore all other four legged friends. Luckily, she started behaving like a dog: sniffing, digging, sprinting, ignoring. Phew.

The weather was cold, the trails were empty and it was a fantastic day to be outside. We decided that it wasn’t completely necessary to test the water; however, we did see a car with a surfboard on its rack.

After heading back to our super-fancy room and drinking hot chocolate, we hit up the winery tasting room sans camera.   I had been day dreaming about the seafood bisque I had the night before, so we bought a bottle of wine and headed to the restaurateur.  Since we had already experienced the restaurant we decided to utilize the fireplace and comfy couches.  Delicious. Not only that, but we were given a hint to order the onion rings that were not on the menu. We ordered and they were surprisingly tasty and cheap.

Sadly, the Element had been giving us car troubles on our way to Cave B and we had to wake early on our last day to ensure a timely trip over the pass after (hopefully) getting it fixed in Wenatchee.  We dropped The Green Machine off at the Honda dealer and bounced with our pug in hand. We found a state park nearby and again practiced off-leash time.

Before we got the call that our vehicle had been fixed (yay!) Sydney insisted on a photo shoot.

She’s so selfish. I would never ask someone to take my picture on their birthday.  On second thought, I probably would.

Sometimes I forget how nice it is to be able to commute to work on the train. Today wasn’t one of them.. I took the later train home and since it was Friday most of my fellow commuters had already fled Seattle. Umm… Not a good idea to be taking strange pictures on the train. I’m getting some weird looks. Anyway, I wasn’t one of the early departers. However, I was rewarded with a trip along the water as the sun started to peek out which made for a pretty relaxing end to the work week.

It looked like a couple of the local kiteboarders were hoping to take advantage of the northerlies. I can usually see them throwing down their moves for the train crowd, but it wasn’t quite windy enough today.