Woke to find the tent very damp. The toilets were full of yellow ochre coloured chewing gum, as if a whole pottery class had chucked away what they were doing and tried to conceal t with tissue paper. The old guy jumped out of his even older Oldsmobile and said “the water is on now” I told him it was nasty back there and packed my things to find a cleaner place to do what was necessary.

Back on highway one, it started as if completely under a cloud but it soon cleared, the road carried on curling and twisting around and up and down the coastline, through sappy green forests alternating with cliffs and charming wooden painted houses all morning. I stopped at a pretty town Mendecino – offloading the blog I had written the night before as well as a few unmentionable offerings. The coffee shop with its bulletin board crammed with self-help and home spun arts and more serious cultural events contrasted with the towns further north, out of reach of the hippy-middle class boys and girls escaping from San Francisco.

A stop to see the giant redwoods t Navarro River State Park

further north, like as far as Eureka it would change to a more industrial and serious state of affairs.

I was tossed out of the way by furious thundering 18 wheelers carrying lumber to and from the sawmills, some returning back with two back axles folded on their backs. I was chased down a mountain by one of these lumber lorries. The crazy driver would not let up, I followed the speed limits but he did not let up. Eventually the road widened and he charged past me – I was to find him crawling up another hill at ten miles an hour, helpless under the weight that had propelled him past me. Nutter.

A House with scores of signs commemorating the dead and those gone to fight the foreign war. I stood there for some time, stating at the inscriptions. Later, I bought a flag and taped it to the bike.

Adopt a highway: citizens or groups of citizens can volunteer to keep a section of  the national highway system clean. Margaret told me of a man in his 80’s who did this every day, on a steep hill which he bicycled up and down each and every day. There is a sign up to display who is the volunteer. Today I saw a sign which read “Dads against Meth” Meth, being the drug not meths the drink, I suppose.

Fort Bragg, neat and tidy town, I got some leads from Radio Shack as mine were faulty to transfer some field recordings for Wavelength on Resonance FM. William English wants me to phone in an account of my goings on – I don’t know about the field recordings however….

Toyshop in Fort Bragg

After Eureka – a grim industrial town I turn off  Eastward to cross the Rockies on highway 299. On the way I paused for a few stops, at a thrift shop and a dollar shop – did some recordings there

– then finally stop for the night in a delightful little town called Weaverville, complete with its own cinema. The man in reception did not have the phones in the guests’ rooms working for the Resonance thing but offered me to use the phone in reception. Broadband works so I took the room.