4/24
160 miles to Kamp K.
Connie drove the first 90 miles of the way to Kamp K.
I should have slept but kept seeing things pass by that made me think about beauty and how subjective it is.
You know what I mean?
Beauty seems to have to have 'new' attached to it. The locals up and down 101 see what I am now seeing, but they see it everyday. To me it is special, new and breath taking. To them it all registers as 'things they have seen before,' and not dangerous so they pay little or no attention.
Exit 768, off of 101S, to Kamp Klamath is a hairpin exit, 15 mph, then to the stop sign. Kamp Klamath sign at the intersection points left and reads 2 miles. This is 2 miles of bad paved road, patched, pitted and potted. 25 mph seems too fast.
The 2 miles seem like forever and I start thinking of scary movies that start this way.
"Are you sure this is the right way?"
"Hey, the GPS says to stay on this road. GPS's are never wrong."
About now the scary music would start and some creature of nature would dash across the road in front of them.
Just a squirrel, but it made them miss seeing the partially obscured sign for the turn off to the Kamp. The pavement ends and the crunching of gravel under the tires underscores the scarier music.
Back in the real world. We just shake rattle and roll to the sign at the entrance of Kamp Klamath and pull in to get registered.
I walk up to the office. The door is locked, but the window is open. No one visible.
I start walking around the office to see if another entrance presents itself.
No.
I start reading the signs on the door and a hand written note that says, "push button and attendant will appear shortly..." with an arrow pointing to the button.
I pushed the button and waited.
I look left then right and nobody is coming.
I look left again and a man is walking towards me now and is only about 4 feet away.
Unsettling.
Scary music riffs in my head.
He unlocks the door and gets my info and uses an orange highlighter to show me the campsite and point out facilities on the map of Kamp Klamath. He points out the baths and showers at the other end of the park, and a meadow where the dogs can run without a leash.
The site was a pull thru, making me happy, and we set up with little trouble.
The next morning I had reason to visit the bathrooms and noticed the door on the Mens did not close, so as I was sitting there doing my morning business I imagined a bear snuffling about just outside the flimsy stall. Not a relaxing morning constitution.
The next day from Kamp Klamath we drove back up 101 to the Trees of Mystery and did the tour.
It was all that I had remembered, chainsawed dioramas purporting myths as truths .
A thirty foot tall Paul and twenty foot tall Babe were still on guard, watching cars park in the lot and zoom by on the 101. Not a trace of boredom on their faces.
We paid for the tour, only humans have to pay, dogs are free. Shadow and Bentley pulling eagerly on their leashes lead the way sniffing and snufflng at all the new smells.
It is cold, not the uncomfortable kind of cold that makes your breath visible. Just the coastal grunge kind of cold. The extra layers of clothes kind of cold. Like in a hoodie sweatshirt over a sweatshirt over a tee shirt kind of necessary yet non Seattle fashion way.
We took the tram ride to the top of some ridge where we would be able to see the ocean. The ride to the top was fun. We had to carry the dogs on and off the tram as it never stopped, only slowed a little at each end. Upon disembarking the tram we walked to the rail and looked out over a vista that was clothed in fog, ocean nor mountains were visible. A few moments of this and back down we went to finish the self administered tour.
Into the shop at the bottom. Did not buy anything. Where would you keep stuff? It is not like we are going home in a week.
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