The rain did start to fall as soon as I laid down the night before. It fell hard at times. The wind also blew cold into my tent. But all was good. That second tarp worked perfectly, and after one minute, my sleeping bag held in all necessary warmth. This is where camping rocks.
Slept in to 7 am. Again, I’m not a marine, but that is late.
At the same time, with that second tarp, my eyes did not discern the brightening day at 5am, and it was cold and wet outside. It’s much easier to get up at 5 in a warm home without having to dodge mud and puddles, knowing you’ll sit in warm and comfortable chair to drink coffee.
But it was good enough. The hot, black goodness brought happiness and optimism. Today I’d go down to the beaches. Today I’d look at the Pacific. Today I’d go my furthest west because, hereafter, it was time to start vectoring eastward… all the way to New York.
At 9 I was off to Rialto Beach, which was about ten minutes down from Three Rivers campground. It was ok. Seriously, nothing on the coast this trip, from California to Oregon to Washington, had really blown me away. It all looked the same: rocks, sand, trees, clouds, gloom and cold, crashing waves you can’t do anything in.
Yet, I had to see this part of Washington.
After sauntering here and there for about three hours, sometimes walking barefoot, I was ready to say goodbye to the Pacific Ocean. If I don’t see it from Washington or Oregon again, even for the rest of my life, I’ll probably be fine.
But only God knows the future.
Thereafter I made it back to Three Rivers and ordered coffee and a cheeseburger at the restaurant. I ate there specifically to post blogs and photos. Of course the internet was down. So there was no point to ordering the cheeseburger in the first place.
Thereafter, the feeling of fat-ass started setting in, so I took a walk down the highway for a bit, and then went down some old logging road, for about 1:45. The guilt of sitting at the campsite after eating such crappy food I just couldn’t justify.
Got back close to 6. Started a fire. Read Rothbard’s A History of Money and Banking in the United States till darkness. Rothbard saying that the United States never really had a free market in banking, that is, banks were never allowed to fail as they should for their inflation, jolted the hell out of me. I’ve known for decades that the real history of America entails the secret war to control the young Republic’s issuance of currency, and that the bastards ultimately won with the Creature from Jekyll Island. Nonetheless, Rothbard’s phrasing on just how compromised America’s most vital sector of the economy was from the beginning made me realize how far America has always been from the ideal, as it is far more now than ever.
Then lights out.