Why haven’t we ever been to Patrick’s Point near Trinidad, California before? Having been to the Redwoods National Park and some of the nearby State Parks that also feature redwood trees, I must admit that I might have taken it for granted that we’d seen what was worth seeing. That is until today. Of course, there’s the blight that is Eureka, which in reality is quite beautiful in its own right, but the drug problems afflicting that community create a homeless problem and, in turn, a crime problem that has tainted the area in my eyes. Even at our lodging for the night, we were warned about leaving anything in our car if we were to visit Patrick’s Point State Park up the street as our host knew people whose cars had been broken into and even her own car had been robbed. With our out-of-state license plates, she felt, we’d likely be targeted. Keep in mind that we are 4 miles north of Trinidad proper and 30 miles from Eureka; such are the problems with California’s current unemployment and homeless situation.

We’re at the end of Stagecoach Road and about to turn left in order to return to Highway 101 so we can begin in earnest our drive into Southern California for our last night out on the road. Instead of taking that turn, Caroline asked for one more detour to the right.

This was where she wanted me to go, more or less. Actually, there was a lighthouse shown to be in the area. Well, that lighthouse is about 15 feet tall and hardly qualifies as a legitimate safety beacon for passing ships as it’s more a decorative building hiding behind a hill. We are now endeared to the area though, and make a point of putting it on the mental list of places to return to.

In an age where public toilets are a rare commodity due to the pandemic, these redwoods will suffice in bearing witness to our need to release the waters from within.

And then we drove and drove and then drove some more. We drove all day with very few breaks for photos, especially once we entered the Bay Area via Oakland on the 580 before hitting Interstate 5, where we’d have to pass the bovine fattening factory zone some call Cowschwitz.

The interstate was slow due to holiday traffic, for although California authorities asked Californians not to travel over Thanksgiving, it was obvious that very few heeded that warning. Our excuse for being out here is that we live in Arizona with a Republican Governor who is toeing the line for the President and doesn’t give a shit about life, and we are too stupid to think for ourselves, so we threw out the little caution that eeked into our brains and went on this here Remote Self-Isolation Vacation because we are selfish and self-absorbed, well just like Californians really.

Off the major highway, we found ourselves on a farm road that grew smaller and smaller until Google had us on a dirt road for a short stretch. If an alien spaceship had hovered over us after dark in this vast black plain of nothingness, we’d not have been surprised. Finding Highway 99, we were soon in Bakersfield, and before we knew it, we were pulling into our hotel in Tehachapi. Tomorrow we go home.

Edit: Nearly out of Bakersfield, we got off Highway 58 on Oswell Street, heading to Ben Paca Mexican Grill. I wanted some Mexican food, and as far as joints near the freeway were concerned, this one came as highly rated as one might hope. The Hot Cheetos Burrito for about $10 caught my eye as I’d never heard of such a thing. Should we pass through again, we’ll be getting another one of those!