I pulled in right around 12:30 and there were 2 lanes of other campers waiting to check in. I immediately spied a vintage Shasta trailer at the same time as the lady in the passenger seat spied me. “What year” and “What kind” is the question I have to answer over and over again about Hammy. I recited the info and then asked her what year the Shasta was - “’58”, she replied. As they moved forward in the line next to me I told them I would come find them later and we could talk. I never saw them again; I have no idea where they went. But I was on the phone with Michael at the time I saw them and told them I would come talk to them. An event that would prove later to be significant, although of course I didn’t know that at the time (see Chapter 17).
When I had made my reservations for this portion of the trip, early, in January or February, it quickly became apparent that everyone else who goes on vacation in California during the summer wants to camp by the beach too. Really, I wasn’t the only one who had this idea? These campgrounds fill quickly for prime time, so I was only able to book one night here, but boy was I not disappointed.
I had no unpacking or unhooking to do, so I grabbed the dogs and headed west for the beach. On our first walk I couldn’t figure out how to get DOWN to the beach as the campground sits up on a high bluff, but the view was so beautiful I forgot I even wanted to go to the beach. “God”, it hit me full force; “THIS was the California I had heard about my whole life, the California I had always looked for. Over the years I have been to San Francisco, Napa, San Diego, LA, Hollywood, Dana Point & Eureka (don’t ask), but never the Central Coast. How could I have possibly missed this all these years, I exclaimed to myself. The practically empty beaches, the calm ocean waters of all of the bays, the surfers (and yes they are hot) - I was in love; deep love. NO NO, not with the surfers, the scenery!!! I stood there on the bluff and just breathed and breathed the sea air, taking it all in.
I took the dogs back to Hammy for water and that’s when I realized I had forgotten to get ice before coming into the campground and they didn’t sell it. I have a refrigerator in Hammy but for the second summer in a row it hasn’t worked after being installed. So ice is a major deal in order to keep meats and eggs and cheese cold in the cooler and must be replenished every other if not every day. Shit. Hmmm, ok. So a plan was formulated to take the dogs out on another expedition to see if there was anything within walking distance, as I was NOT going to un-hook Hammy and run into town just for ice, and I also wasn’t going to leave the park at that point and take Hammy with me.
After another exhausting foray to no avail, I said screw it with the ice; if anything spoiled I would just replace it, it just wasn’t worth this much effort. I made myself a rum and coconut pineapple drink, left the dogs in the camper, grabbed my camera, and finally found the secret passage to the beach. More heaven. I got to watch New Brighton’s version of the sunset, as the sun went down behind and off to what seemed like the Northeast of us. It also disappeared much earlier than a normal sunset in the summer, around 7:30. But it cast beautiful glows on the shore and I was busy snapping away.
I walked all the way down to an RV park that I had seen in the distance right on the beach. It was a long walk but worth it to find out the name of the park from 2 drunk guys. Seacliff Park. Definitely like to stay here next time - no walking up and down a cliff to get back and forth to the beach. Don’t get me wrong, New Brighton is a GORGEOUS campground and place to stay, but be prepared for the walk to the beach and back if you go. I know it’s hard for even me to believe, but I’m not in my top athletic form anymore like I used to be in my 20’s. It frankly pissed me off that I was tired at sea level after walking up a hill. I fucking live in Colorado, damn it, this is nothing! I finally conceded that perhaps a workout program in the near future might be in order, but of course not now.
Light was fading so I hustled back (I even jogged a little) to the campground. I made some dinner and took the dogs for one last short walk of the evening. I was surprised by the temps - it had gone from 72 down to 50 something. I actually needed a jacket, another pleasant surprise. I fricking LOVE it here!
As I strolled around, I immersed myself in the sights, sounds, and smells of a peaceful California campground in all of its glory. The vibe here this night was fantastic - people were cooking, talking, laughing, starting campfires for the night, walking their dogs. Kids actually were on skateboards, scooters, and bicycles. Others were playing cornhole or having a catch. Everyone was being friendly and respectful to everyone else, no one was yelling, no kids were screaming, we were just all at peace. I marveled at how being in this kind of environment where everyone is happy and on vacation, with not a care in the world, is so different from the “normal” everyday crap we are surrounded by out in the rat race. I was deeply happy and said “Thank You” out loud. These are the days worth living, I thought.
After the walk and a coin operated shower, I settled in to write and edit photos for the rest of the evening. I spent the next several hours watching the rest of the campground bed down for the night from my view from the booth in Hammy, as I planned to be up until my usual midnight.
Around 9:30 pm, when families had officially gone to bed and things had quieted down even more, I heard it for the first time - that god awful laugh. The campsite next to mine consisted of a group of young people, in their early 20’s. Now, I try very hard not to be judgemental or rude of other people and their flaws or looks or habits or lives. I am a live and let live kind of person. But when other people are rude or inconsiderate or oblivious to others, especially at my and others’ expense, I get pissed off and normally do not take it sitting down.
I was sitting there, literally 20 feet from them, inside Hammy, trying to work and concentrate. At 2 minute intervals the laugh would come, sounding like someting between a guffaw and a donkey braying. What was worse was that it was coming from a girl. I felt sorry for her at the same time as being intensely annoyed and wanting everyone else in the group to PLEASE not say anything else that would make her laugh. No dice. At 10 pm, when quiet time is supposed to be honored and everyone needs to shut the hell up, they showed no signs of stopping or even being aware of what time it was. I buried myself in my work and just tried to ignore them. I wasn’t in bed yet trying to sleep, so they weren’t keeping me up. That would be a whole different ballgame.
At 11:40 pm, I finished up and prepared for bed. They were still over there, fire blazing, talking in their daytime outside voices like they were the only ones around for miles. If I could hear them I knew everyone else in the whole campground could too. Why was no one else that WAS trying to sleep, yelling at them to shut the fuck up. Why was it going to be left to me? Was I the only one who WASN’T too nice to tell other people when they were being assholes? I guess so. It’s a curse.
I had to pee one more time before bed, so I grabbed my million watt spotlight and did a loop around their campsite to the bathroom. Rather than actually say anything to them, I would let Spot do the talking. At regular intervals as I walked I trained the spotlight directly on them. I was a moving target so they could not tell who or from what campsite I was from. Finally, after several moments, I heard a guy say, “Uh, I think the neighbors are trying to tell us something”. Again - really Captain Obvious? They quickly disassembled and went to bed.
You’re welcome, rest of New Brighton State Beach campground. Nighty night.
Until next time, I’m living small and loving it largely.
Eli “The Gonzo” Hunter
For full photo album of complete trip, follow me on Facebook @ https://www.facebook.com/eli.hunter.94
