We are in Washington. We are in a region where even Walmart stocks salmon which was never frozen. So it is only appropriate to cook salmon and fresh berries. For night one, we prepared salmon, asparagus, and quinoa for dinner and blackberry cobbler for desert.
Once we had explored Glass Beach, it was time to head up the coast and inland to the redwoods. Yet, not far outside of Fort Bragg, we came across the Pacific Star Winery tasting room, perched atop the ocean bluffs. Along with its stunning views and pleasant owner, the winery sports a solid Tempranillo.
With the fire behind us but on our mind, we were extra conscientious campers today. We headed due west for Mendocino. The drive spanned the temperature gamut: from 100 degree golden rolling hills, spotted with oak, to 56 degrees in the Redwoods, overlooking Fort Bragg. Our destination was Russian Gulch campground. Apparently, it was the destination of many, because the grounds were filled by the time we arrive. Fortunately, the ranger not only advised us on where to go instead but called ahead and arranged for the last spot to be held for us. We arrived in MacKerricher State Park campground 15 minutes later and happily paid for out camp site.
Some mornings we don't have time to attempt waffles over the campfire. On days like that, we try Mountain House Scrambled Eggs and regret it, dearly.
After our hike, we were exhausted. Fortunately, I had already done the preparation work for tonight's dinner that morning. Now, with my dogs barking and my calves screaming, it was time to set up the fire and sit down to chop apples for another round of experiments in campfire cooking.
I've never reserved a camp site in advance before, but I am a convert now. After our agonizing experience searching for a camping site near Arches at 5PM, I went ahead and booked our campsites for this trip. Tonight, we lounge in the most remote site within Big Pine Creek Campground—flanked by the titular big pines and less than ten feet from the creek. It is private and enjoys the delightful comfort of white noise from the creek.
I'm not sure if Willamette Valley pinot just appeals to a different taste than mine or if the people of Oregon are getting ripped off. We've spent the last few days touring vineyards and tasting rooms across the Willamette Valley and expected more than what we experienced.
Whoever told you to not throw your food was wrong. They denied you a chance to establish a very busy restaurant founded on thrown food. Well, at least thrown rolls.
Call it serendipity. Call it fate. We call it lunch. Today, while driving through Kentucky, we saw signs for the home of the original Kentucky Fried Chicken and its accompanying museum. Food and a museum in one place? Excellent!
Ah, Santa Barbara! Sure, I could say we visited for the cute downtown but who would we be kidding? It was all for the pinot noir. Though our wine tasting travails were limited, they were quite fruitful. It was for this reason, and this alone, that we had packed two coolers. One is for ice and food. The other is for wine.