The campsite was notable for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was right on the beach. You were lulled to sleep by the booming surf. Secondly, it was &#*@ing freezing! Inland temperatures soared, while we were smothered by a thick blanket of fog. We had to pack up the tents wet, ready to be aired in the heat of the Creek. Thirdly, it's the only campsite I've been to that has live karaoke! The camp host (who usually simply checks you in and sells firewood) had a tiny tv with a machine hooked up to it, and from about 5pm invited all comers to flex their vocal cords.
Friday was Meg's first ever night under canvas (and Ellen's first for around 15 years). It was the only clear weather we had, and we watched a gorgeous sunset before eating sausages (a hit!) and smores (unimpressed). I then entertained and appalled my Goddaughter by performing Fly Me To The Moon at the aforementioned karaoke. Hannah and Ellen were just appalled.
We woke to cloying mist on Saturday, and complained in the British manner. We drove inland, with a cheeky stop at Korbel, before lunch in Healdsburg. Here temperatures rocketed to over 100F, so we complained in the British manner. The remedy was a dip in the Russian River, and then a return to camp. We watched as the in-car thermometer plunged down into the 50Fs, and complained again. That night my tune was Always On My Mind. A classic.
Sunday morning didn't bring any change in the weather, or our complaining, but we packed up and went looking for sea food at Point Reyes. Things were much nicer here, as we lunched at our favourite Marshall's Oyster Shack, then drove a little way around the point for a paddle on the beach. I always forget how long it takes you to get from the Marin coast to the East Bay, but we were home in time for a very tired little girl to have an early night. She didn't want me to sing her any lullabies. Strange.
All packed up and ready to go! I was questioned for including so much warm stuff, but not for long.
Yes, we're in the right place.
Starting off light at Cline Cellars.
Meg and a monk.
How to begin a camping weekend.
On to Valley of the Moon Winery.
Megan models.
Enjoying the heat.
The closest Meg will ever get to having an American boyfriend.
Laughing in the face of danger.
Actually, it does look a little dangerous...
Crashing surf.
Raising the canvas.
I instruct Megan about how we used to do things when I was a Boy Scout. It's hard to remember that far back.
The temperature drops, but the sausages sizzle.
Keeping warm.
The sun sets into a cloud bank that would come to haunt us...
Campsite karaoke! When there was no one else there, the camp host sat and sang to himself. It looked like a good life.
Saturday morning. Meg was a bit naughty on the beach, so I had to give her a time out, Davies style.
The classic shot.
Doing my duty in 100F+.
The best way to keep cool.
Megan couldn't be entirely convinced.
How the more sensible of us spent the afternoon.
Back at camp, wishing we were complaining about the heat again.
Sunday morning, heading home.
Point Reyes.
And the most beautiful place in the world to eat lunch.
Finishing up with a quick paddle.
