Today was something of a slow start. When we finally woke up, composed ourselves and left the motel, we decided to head out for a walk in search of food - we’d spotted an In-N-Out burger place (a Californian favourite) a short distance from where we were staying when we arrived, so we decided that would help us gather what remained of our minds before we set out on the road again. Unfortunately, we timed our walk with an absolute deluge of rain and the 3 or 4km journey left us sodden by the time we arrived. The restaurant itself, whilst immaculately clean, was pretty icy with AC blaring so we sat and shivered whilst we waited on our order. The food was excellent, and genuinely helped with our recovery, but the rain really hadn’t let up by the time we finished so we made use of a local Uber - a luxury, but it felt like a necessary one.
A quick change to get out of our wet clothes and we were off again. The roads north still hug the coast so we could watch the storm driven swells rage against a slate grey sky - as we continued, we noticed the shoreline break from the rocky edges we’d seen so far into a broad, grey sanded ribbon. We pulled off the highway and found a space to park the car and headed through the scrubland dunes that hemmed in the beach, which eventually gave way to a genuinely breathtaking beach - Clam Beach, to give it its proper name. The muted tones of the sand and sky, the roaring of the surf and a surfeit of jet black ravens gave the place a gloriously macabre atmosphere as we walked along the beach. The coastline is starting to include huge freestanding atolls, that stand stolidly off the mainland to be battered by the wind, rain and sea - these were clearly visible from the beach so we started to walk along towards them.
Along the way, the dunes continue to grow and recede, with high stretches seemingly cleared of vegetation and marked only with hardened fragments of driftwood, all to the screeching chorus from the ravens. We go as far as we can but our progress is impeded by an outlet from a nearby river and we stop to admire the view - just as we’re preparing to turn around a dark, fluid shape emerges from the water and lopes towards some rocks. It’s a sea otter, returning from whatever activity drove it to enter the water in the first place, the first real bit of wildlife we’ve spotted so far.
We walk back along the river as we return to the car - it seems like we’ve only been gone for a few minutes but more than two hours have passed. We continue up along the coast, the roads now alternating between sheer cliffs and forests almost mile by mile. We’re aiming for a small town called Crescent City, which is perched right on a large natural bay - we drive into town as it’s getting dark and a quick web search suggests a place for dinner. We head to SeaQuake Brewing, a local brewery and restaurant which turns out to be very good - pulled pork sandwich and chicken tacos - although, somewhat incredibly, I was asked to present my ID before I could order a beer. A surprise, but a welcome one. After dinner, we head to the Crescent Beach motel, a small place right on the shoreline, so much so that we can hear the beating waves as we decamp from the car. The room is older, and whilst serviceable, hasn’t been heated in a while - we discover a built-in deathtrap heater that operates like a massive hairdryer but seems to keep out the biting cold. Tomorrow we’ve planned our first real hike of the trip, so I’d better get some rest.