Cape Blanco also has cabins to rent...and horse camping! Didn't get over to the corrals but I can readily imagine riding to the beach we're walking to.
I know it's close because I smelled the salt air last night and the sound of waves rocked us to sleep. Turns out the beach trail is just down from our site.
Exquisite views in the morning light.
Art longing for his Rover...
Sneaker waves will getcha...
Mmm. We walk down.
See tiny me? This beach is a world unto itself.
With monster seaweed.
And high-tide caves.
It's tough to leave, but we're driving a little further up the coast in search of a wi-fi connection, so I can keep you current. We pull into the Charleston Marina RV Park, chosen for its proximity to water, fresh fish, and the ethers. The harbor is sweet.
And most of the people parked here are fishing. These folks are steaming their catch and taking it home in giant coolers.
As we prepare to choose a site here, I secure the yellow stairs at the back of the camper...but not fully. They drop with a loud THWACK onto the cement drive, splintering like painted firewood. Oh no. I broke the stairs. See them hanging off here?
My boyfriend gets to work quickly. He's being very kind about it. Parking at RV places like this is kind of a Harold and Maude experience--recall how they picnicked among the detritus? Not that the folks here are anything but genuinely friendly, but parking this/close to neighbors is the antithesis of being out in nature.
We walk a good distance to a Marine supply store to gather bits for repair. The guys here are friendly...and the posters unique to the region.
Art's all over the fix when we return. Setting the thing like a broken leg (with lots of glue).
Next day, good as new. Sorry for sideways photo. We're hitting the road again and I'm outta time...
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