When we arrived at our campsite yesterday, I thought “oh how pretty and secluded, look at all the beautiful ferns”. Who was I kidding? It is creepy. It’s all dark and damp and slimy vines hang from the trees, and there are scary sounds coming from the bushes. I’m just waiting for the twang of banjo notes.
Shawn wasn’t feeling well, but I wanted to see the sunset over the ocean, so I decide to venture out on my own at 6:15 PM. The campground is dark and overgrown. Little paths veer off the road forming black tunnels of wet. Ominous sounds from the gently rustling bushes make me fear a mountain lion will pounce at any moment. I doubt clapping my hands and yelling “scat” will have the same effect on the mountain lion as it does on the neighbor’s cat who skulks through my backyard daily. I reach the deserted parking lot where the wind is making the bathroom door creak reminiscent of a haunted house. I consider turning back, but I want to see the sunset damn it. I am brave. Maybe a little dramatic too…
At the next parking lot, I take a left and climb a trail leading to a sunny outlook. As I snap pictures, I take a look to my right and see the couple from Oklahoma that I met in the parking lot posing at the top of a huge rock. Dang it. I want to be on that rock too. So back down the trail to the parking lot and then up the twisty trail and rugged stairs to the top of the rock. I got my sunset.
Updated step count: 7,516 (one-third adrenaline-laced fear, two thirds giddy about the beauty of my surroundings)