Our next stop would be our last RV park before the coast, and the day was uneventful in preparation. The most exciting thing that happened all day was when I saw about fifteen snakes dart one by one off of the side of the road as we passed them. Somehow, Brenton didn’t see even one, and teased me that I had imagined it. Every time that we road passed a bungee cord or some other serpent shaped garbage on the road, he began calling out, “Snake!” and then, “How many have you seen now? Twenty?”
It was gray and rainy all day. Our campsite was a fire pit and picnic table in one of two grassy islands surrounded by a sea of gravel, RVs afloat. There were bike racks at each spot, and I was reminded that we were nearing the land of bike touring. Later in the evening, the other site became occupied by a man on two wheels. I didn’t go talk to him, but overheard him telling someone that he was on his first day of tour from Seattle, and we thought of how nice it would be to tour without trailers and be able to make that kind of time.
We splurged and bought two bundles of wood to make a fire, the first time we bought wood on the trip, and had a weak, smoky thing going that was barely able to withstand the drizzle seeping from the misty arm that draped over us from the gray sky.
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