"Gold coast slave ship bound for cotton fields,
Sold in a market down in New Orleans..."
Nothing like classic Stones on the CD for great driving music, I thought with a smile. I was at the wheel of our 26-foot GMC motorhome rental, after several years of driving small, fuel-efficient compacts, it was exhilerating to be at the wheel of such a large vehicle, and we were heading south on US route 101. The route hugged the Oregon coastline, and Darlene and I had been struck by the beauty of the foaming surf.
We had met just by chance 2 years ago, and it turned it to be a godsend. I was heading into the abyss of divorce, she had just come out of one, and she was someone to help me, support me, keep my right side up through a very tumultuous, upsetting time of my life. Now, both of us at 35, stronger, settled, and with a deep, deep friendship, we had decided to rent a motorhome, and take a drive from the Canadian border to the Mexican border.
Darlene came up behind me and swung into the shotgun seat. She smiled, moving her body to the beat, swaying in the seat.
"Oh yeah, great choice Angie, love the Stones, especially 'Brown Sugar'!"
The sun was halfway down the horizon, beating a path of gold across the Pacific.
"So, where are we going to spend the night?" Darlene asked.
"Well, my brother Dan mentioned a Sunset Beach, it's more of a day picnic place, but he stayed there for 3 days last year, and no one came around to move him along. The sign is half-hidden by trees, so let's keep our eyes peeled. Of course, there aren't any hookups, but we have a full water tank, and the heavy-duty battery for lights, so I don't mind roughing it if this can be called roughing it!" I finished, with a laugh.
Darlene giggled, and she said, "I'll help keep a lookout for the sign."
Thirty minutes later, and there it was. Night had settled in, I had just gone to headlights five minutes before, and they picked up the sign. My brother Dan was right, if you weren't looking for the sign, it was easy to miss. I took my foot off the gas, let the motorhome slow, then activated the right turn signal. The road started out as paved, as it went into a curve and headed downward, it turned to packed gravel. I activated the high beams and started down, the road was well maintained, and we didn't get jounced around as we descended. We reached beach level, a stretch of hard, packed sand greeted us. I took the motorhome to the end of the packed sand, and carefully steered it around, so it was pointing back the way we came. If anyone else came along to join us, I didn't want the motorhome blocking the way. I cut the lights, and the engine, and drank in the blissful silence, broken only by the sound of the surf washing against the shore.
"I think we're all alone," Darlene exclaimed. "Let's take a look!"
We hopped out and went to the far end of the packed sand. Mounds of beach sand started, heading down towards the incoming waves. It was easy to see after a quick look around that we were the only ones there.
Darlene exclaimed happily, "Yes, it's all ours! Fantastic, look at the moon, let's take a moonlight swim, how hot was it today, 97, 98 degrees? And it's still almost 90 degrees! Sheesh!"