Nonimmigrant: 45 minutes away from it all

Hannah and I are back from a wonderful weekend away in the country. The Marin Headland is just a short trip over the Richmond Bridge but as soon as you get there you're in a land of redwoods, dappled sunshine, and breathtaking coastlines. Hannah and I booked ourselves a decadent weekend at the Samuel P. Taylor State Park campsite.

By decadent I mean that we had an air mattress to sleep on and there were only two of us in the tent. It also turned out that we were five metres from the bathrooms and their hot showers. Does this really count as camping? We put all our food into the raccoon locker (they don't have bears out this way), unfolded our camping chairs, and popped open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate our great escape.

With no electricity (and therefore no wi-fi!!) we were in bed shortly after sundown. At around 2am I was woken by the sound of scraping metal. I rolled over, trying to ignore it, but after another ten minutes of commotion I shook Hannah. "I think there's a raccoon stuck in the bin!" I exclaimed. "Not tonight dear..." she mumbled sleepily. "No, really!" I said, pulling on my fleece and grabbing my torch.

There at the end of our campsite were two raccoons, one sat on top of the huge rubbish bin and another hiding under a car, squeaking loudly. Hannah appeared, and after taking the requisite photos (see below) we debated what to do about the third one, noisily and obviously stuck inside the dumpster. Dismissing Alien-esque thoughts of the furry monster jumping at my face I flipped the lid open which Hannah deftly caught, and thus avoided waking the entire campsite. A few jumps and a bit more scrabbling and the stripy-faced mammal inside managed to claw its way out, rejoin its friends, and disappear with them into the night.

As I climbed back into bed there was a scratching at the tent door. I unzipped it to see the same raccoon, returned. "I am the spirit of the forest," it said, "and take the form of a raccoon at night. For showing me this kindness and saving me from the bin I will grant you a wish." "Um...thank you," I said, surprised. "How about world peace?"

"Hmmm," pondered the raccoon, scratching his nose. "That's a bit beyond my remit. How about I rustle up some acorns for you...?" "Don't worry," I replied.

"Suit yourself," it said, and snuffled off. The rest of the night passed without incident.

The following day was spent on gentle hikes and chilling at the campsite. I finally finished reading my book, we explored the local river, Hannah paddled on the beach while I napped, and that evening we climbed the nearby hill to look at the stars. Away from the city lights they were phenomenal.

This morning we struck camp and headed to Stinson Beach. The campsite had been hot and sunny for the entire weekend, with the redwoods making it pleasantly shady, but down here on the coast the sea fog had descended with full force. This didn't stop the surfers, swimmers, paddlers, and sand castle builders, but the whole scene was reminiscent of a North East beach holiday rather than a Californian getaway. There were shark warning posters, but that was it.

We cut our losses and drove up Mount Tamalpais. This is the type of mountain I like - 2,500ft high with a paved road all the way to a car park at the top. From here we could see that the coastal fog was just that, and inland the sun shone brightly. The view was amazing, taking in the city, virtually every bridge over the Bay...everything. We freewheeled all the way back down to Berkeley and this evening's Rosh Hashanah dinner.