OK, I don’t have the words anymore to describe Wyoming. All I can say is that this is an amazing state. The photos don’t do it 100% justice.
Two nights ago I slept in the Green Mountains, 11 miles on a dirt road off the main road in the woods. No lights, just the full moon. No noise, just the sound of the Cottonwood Creek.
Enjoy the photos.
Wind River Canyon in fog
Morning fog at Wind River Canyon
Red Canyon
Red Canyon
Wind River Range
This is real
Fall colors
Big sky
Farmland
I am still blown away. I just drove from Bridger, Montana to Shoshoni, Wyoming on highway 120. I have seen a lot of beautiful areas in the last six months; the Pacific coast, mountain roads and open areas, but nowhere changed the scenery as much as it did along highway 120.
Northern Wyoming
As soon as I crossed the invisible border from Montana into Wyoming the landscape changed. Gone were the trees, replaced by sagebrush. It had a rugged feel to it. I know this sounds familiar, believe me it was not the same as I had seen in Arizona, New Mexico, Oregon or Washington. Rolling hills to the east and impressive mountain ranges in the distance to the west and to the south, running perpendicular to the road. The mountain tops were shrouded in clouds. I was driving along the far eastern edges of the Shoshone National Wilderness which is home to mountains up to 12,000 feet and east of Yellowstone National Park.
The weather today did not want to cooperate. The entire day was overcast with some occasional showers; despite all that this area was amazing. It had a real wild, wild west feel to it. The only things missing were the stagecoaches, cowboys and Indians. I would like to know what the first settlers must have thought when they rode through this very rugged desert area.
Mountains in clouds
All of a sudden something changed. The sagebrush was no longer growing on brown soil, but it was now surrounded by yellow grass, giving it a nice contrast to the green of the sagebrush and the gray of the clouds. I just cannot image what it would look like with just a little sunshine.
The landscape and colors continued to change.
Fall - north of Cody
Riverbeds and small canyons appeared and disappeared just as quickly; filled with oak trees in their beginning stages of fall colors.
Greybull River
Foothills moved further away or they changed shapes. Further south the hills had been washed clean of their dirt by rain and erosion exposing great rock formations. The dominant colors of the hills had been green (sagebrush) with gray rock. Before you knew it, Mother Nature added some great red rocks to the mix. I was completely baffled by all these changes in such a short distance; we are talking less than one hundred miles. I never knew what to expect on the other side a hill.
None of this, however, compares to the Wind River Canyon. OMG! (for those of you not familiar with this acronym – oh my God) just south of Thermopolis (this is the Hot Springs county) you drive through this canyon; the Bighorn River to your right flanked on both sides by 300 million year old canyon walls; just astounding.
Wind River Canyon
How do I know that they were that old? Well, Wyoming seems to care about their geology and they put up signs along the road pointing out the different kind of rocks and their age. Also, there were tons of pull outs which made it easy to admire these giants and to take pictures. Throughout this drive I had been wondering what these mountains would have to say if they could talk. Just think of all the changes in 300 million years.
Wind River Canyon - you have to see it to believe it
When I arrived at my campground right along side highway 20 and the Bighorn River, I was concerned about traffic noise. No need to worry, the wind is hauling so hard (the camper is rocking) and makes so much noise that it drowns out any traffic noise. The campground is deserted, besides myself there are only two other campers. Nice, creepy and worrisome make that down right scary all at the same time. One of those times I wished I wouldn’t be traveling by myself or at least have some cell reception.
P.S. I made it through the night just fine. I woke up to some sunshine and fog making the mountains look mystical and just awesome.
Snow in September
I woke up to 46 F (8C) inside my camper, had moved the on button for the heater in the wrong direction. Outside it was snowing. I didn’t think that I would have to pull out my winter gloves in September. Heading south in Montana to where it is only raining.
Really not that cold.
Cut Bank - Coldest spot in the nation
Wow, it is hard to believe, but I have now been on the road for six months! This means only six months left until I return to New York or not. At this time I would love to continue traveling, just have to find a way to fund it. I also have to see how I make it through the winter. I just left Glacier National Park in northern Montana and they forecasted five inches of snow for tonight. I am now staying in Cut Bank, a town of 3,200 about 100 miles east of Glacier and the temperatures are dropping fast and the wind is blowing. I am just glad that I bought a small space heater before I left Glacier. This way I don’t have to use my propane to heat the camper. This of course only works when I am hooked-up to electric.
One thing I have realized on this trip is that I have to overcome my fears of the unknown. When I left New York, I was petrified of low clearance bridges, the thought of camping without power or water hook-up had not entered my mind (I spent the last four nights without either) and only two weeks ago I freaked out about running into freezing temperatures. How did I overcome those fears? It is a gradual process. Take the approaching winter. Not only was I afraid I wouldn’t make it to Glacier National Park and Bryce Canyon before the temperatures reach the freezing mark. But I also didn’t know how to make sure that the water coming into the camper wouldn’t freeze in the water hose. It took a little time and I just said to myself, so what if it gets really cold. It also helped that I did some research and spoke to people who new the places first hand. Having talked to a fellow RVer about the water situation definitely put my mind at ease. Bottom line, having first hand information and experience is the way to put your fears to rest.
Here a few stats:
Miles driven: 16,400
Gallons of gas pumped: approx. 1,500
States visited: 14
Nights not slept in the camper: 12
Lake McDonald
More about Montana in the next post.
You would have never thought that you are still in Washington State once you were south of Nespelem on highway 155. Last night I stayed at Pearrygin Lake State Park. Since it was overcast when I arrived, I could not see the real beauty of the surrounding area.
Methow Valley
Rolling hills sprinkled with trees. Not quite the same golden hills I have come to love in California. These didn’t have the golden grass, they had more of a brown tint to them. Driving east on highway 20 the hills stayed with me until I hit highway 155 when they just disappeared. It was not after I had made it through the mountains and forests of the Colville Indian Reservation when they resurfaced. However, this time they looked more like the off-spring of a California / Oregon marriage. The trees were replaced by sagebrush; the hills were no longer just round toped rolling hills, but more of the jagged edge variety. Add to that a handful of lava rocks; voila you have arrived in Eastern Washington.
The natural beauty of the area was disturbed by the massive Coulee Dam; the largest concrete structure in the United States. I guess that’s something to be proud of. The dam produces more electricity than any other.
Grand Coulee Dam
Once I got past this behemoth, nature took over again. I only continued for a little longer on highway 155 along the Banks Lake. Now the rocks had changed even more and looked more like New Mexico mountains covered in light green moss.
Banks Lake
The diversity of this country never stops to amaze me. Here in Washington you have a rain forest in the far west, moss covered trees just a little further east, the great Pacific with the San Juan Islands, which I still have to visit, and desert like conditions in the east. Can it get any better?
Cliff along Banks Lake
I spent the night at the Steamboat Rock State Park, just across from the highway, but it was really quiet. I had a gorgeous view onto this incredible rock on one side and the Banks Lake on the other. The lake is framed on two sides by great cliffs, straight up several hundred feet. You drive right next to one of them and realize how small you are and how insignificant you seem in the greater picture of nature. These cliffs have been here long before us and they are bound to be here long after we are gone.
Banks Lake
Before heading east I made a little detour to see the Dry Falls; once the most powerful waterfall on the planet. We go a few years back to the last ice age when the Columbia River ran over the falls. Wow, I can’t even image what it must have been like. It measured about 400 feet in height (that’s twice as tall as Niagara Falls) and over three miles in length. One could have produced quite a bit of energy with that one.
Incredible Dry Falls
Things come and go very quickly around here. Trees, cliffs it doesn’t matter. The cliffs of the Banks Lake just faded away and were replaced by farmland. I was surrounded by plowed fields, harvested and un-harvested wheat fields as I drove east on highway 2. The fields were gently rolling, like sand dunes.
Wheat filed
The afternoon light hitting the yellow stalks just right to look like gold. These fields are actually planted in an area considered desert.
By early afternoon I started to get tired really fast. I had hoped to make it to Idaho, but it looked like it would only be Spokane, Washington. Campgrounds near a large city are usually not the most beautiful and nature oriented once. The campground / RV Resort I ended up in was no exception. If you like asphalt and road noise this place was for you. It was a parking lot. OK, there were some shrubs and trees between sites, but it was not enough to give you much privacy. On top of it, I was facing the wall of a storage building, lovely. After so much beauty, how on earth did I end up at this RV park? A near by state park was full and another park further away did not return my call to let me know if they had space until I was already checked in, too bad. Good thing it was only for one night.
Road side curiosity - Gehrke windmill
After more than two weeks in the same spot I am finally leaving Bellingham. This was not an easy moving on. After so much time you not only get used to the company, but you get attached to the people around you.
I will miss you Carol & Sid, Dean & Louise. Thank you for everything! Next time I will go to Mount Baker. I will relish and cherish the pesto sauce and zucchini bread Carol made and Louise’s wonderful tomato chutney. I hope it won’t be another three years until we get together again.
I am now sitting in my camper in Winthrop in eastern Washington, sipping mint tea with fresh mint from the garden, listening to the raindrops falling on my roof. The drive through the Cascade Mountains along highway 20 was beautiful. The fall foliage is already starting to show. Didn’t we just have Labor Day? The Skagit River with its beautiful green / turquoise color ran along side the highway until it turned into Gorge Lake, Diablo Lake and Ross Lake. All created by big dams. Once I made it over the 8,000 foot passes the mountains moved a little into the distance and gave way to farmland and that straw like golden grass. As beautiful as mountains and forests can be, I think there is nothing greater than the wide open spaces which give you an unobstructed view all the way to the horizon. OK, there might be a barn or two.
The gray and rainy weather today was a clear reflection of my mood. Tomorrow the sun is suppose to shine, let’s hope so.
It has been some time since I blogged about food. Now that I have been on the road for almost six months I have experienced a variety of food issues, mainly the lack of good produce.
Not eating meat and poultry definitely limits my choices at restaurants / diners, especially when I travel through small towns out in nowhere. My standard choice for lunch is a grilled cheese sandwich (GCS) or tuna salad sandwich, not always so easy to get. You would think that it is very difficult to mess up grilled cheese. I guess you live in a larger town. A standard grilled cheese sandwich comes without tomato and most of the time when I ask for it the waitress ask if that would be on the side or on the sandwich it. Not a good start. The last place where I had a GCS was in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. The place could have been named “Greasy Spoon”. The sandwich consisted of two slices of white bread (one piece was the end slice) and ONE slice of Kraft singles cheese. I don’t even know if that qualifies as real cheese or if those are just chemicals mixed with oil. The French fries was still dripping with grease. No wonder people get bigger and bigger. It has happened that I forget to ask for the tomato and I end up with one hell of a dry sandwich. Of course there are exceptions. In Atlanta, Texas at a store with an old fashioned lunch counter the sandwich was dressed up with some pesto sauce, very nice. You ask why I don’t get a salad. Well, again you must live in a larger town. The salads I have had generally are made with iceberg lettuce, a slice of tomato and shredded cheese and some sort of dressing. Nutrition value equal zero. Not that the sandwich is any better in that regard, but at least it is filling and tasty.
It is not all bad, I have had some really good grilled veggie sandwiches, but they are rare. The biggest problem in small towns is the availability of fresh foods. The freezer department generally is way bigger than the produce department. Worst case the only vegetables I found in a supermarket were some potatoes, onions, a little broccoli and maybe one other vegetable. How can anyone cook dinner with that? Then again, there is the freezer department. When I do come across a great produce selection I always want to buy everything, but have to remind myself that I can’t eat everything before it spoils. Not every vegetable freezes well. I get excited when I see Portobello mushrooms. There have been fruit and vegetable stands along the road in California, but by far not enough and there selection is often limited to the current harvest.
Another small town problem is that the local market often only carries the basics; for everything else you have to drive 30! miles (one way) to the next town. Having lived most of my life in New York City, I just can’t imagine living in a place where I have to spend an hour driving back and forth to buy food. At home I have at least six supermarkets or grocery stores within a five block radius. Not to mention the corner delis for quick buys when you are too lazy to walk one block or when you realize at midnight that you ran out of milk. The selection and quality of produce we have in the city is just amazing and we do take it for granted. The crazy thing is that every tiny town, no matter how remote has a post office…
Here in Bellingham at my friend’s place I am starting to get a little spoiled. Carol has a great vegetable garden in the front and back of her house. I just walk out and eat string beans right of the vine, the zucchinis are huge and yummy, the mint is plentiful and smells so good, lettuce, garlic and more. Her neighbor has strawberries that are out of this world. Along many streets grow blackberry bushes free to all who want to pick their own.
It is not just special stuff, if you call Portobello mushrooms special that at times is difficult to come by.
I thought it was difficult to find my dark, dark European style Rubschlager bread, but I had no idea it would be just as hard to find my cereal. I wasn’t able to find any from Arizona to Northern California, not even in San Francisco, at least not at the places I looked. I was happy to find it in Mendocino, California. I thought buying five boxes should be fine. I would surely find more along my way to Bellingham, Washington. Well, I didn’t find any and I was at the verge of running out. I am sorry; I don’t just eat any cereal. A word to Kellogg’s – you need more stores which carry Mueslix! I emptied the shelves of a supermarket in Bellingham twice and have a three month supply now. Let’s hope I find my bread soon before I have to have it shipped from New York.
Yesterday I was in haven when I walked into a cheese store, Quel Fromage, in Fairhaven. I am not a snob, but I can’t just eat supermarket cheese. Cheese does not only come in yellow and orange squares. The last time I bought cheese was in New Mexico when a friend brought back some cheese from Whole Foods. At Quel Fromage I bought five different, melt on your tongue, cheeses that should last for some time. I am so glad that I have a refrigerator.
Next time again some travel stuff with photos, maybe even the last installment of my highway one trip.
Again, rewind mode.
I found a very nice spot here in Bellingham at a dock facing the Bellingham Bay. I am sitting at an old picnic table typing away. It is bliss, sunshine, water, ships, the smell of the harbor (a little garbage smell too 🙁 ), no noise, except for the crying of seagulls; my kind of place.
Good place to write
I started writing this post a week ago and had to stop because the computer ran out of battery juice. Now I am sitting indoors, watching the rain.
Before I left San Francisco I had planned on driving up highway one along the Pacific Coast and then turn inland to Sonoma county. As so often, things don’t always turn out as planned. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
The day I left SF was a work day for me and I knew I wouldn’t make it too far in half a day. My departure was further delayed because I had a lovely lunch with my friend Priscilla and her daughter Evyn. I might have been procrastinating as well. After spending time with friends it is always a little difficult to get going again. Priscilla mentioned several spots along the coast that I should see and also pointed out that highway one was very curvy just north of the city, never mind the occasional rock slide. Given the time of day and this bit of information, I decided to drive north on US 101 instead. I would back track along the coast the next day or so. Good decision, only 30 miles north of the city I started to feel sleepy. I cannot imagine how I would have managed in that condition on a windy road. One good thing about leaving San Francisco was that I would finally get back to nice warm temperatures, at least for a little while. Wearing a wool sweater at the end of July is just not my idea of summer attire.
I spent the night at a campground in Healsburg. Unfortunately, the traffic noise was a bit much and the next day I moved on to Cloverdale, just up the road.
Cloverdale is located in the northern part of Sonoma County, wine country. The campground is beautifully located on top of a hill overlooking vineyards and fields. I posted a photo in one of my previous posts.
Coverdale is a lovely big small town.
Cloverdale - Friday night
On Friday evening one block of downtown was closed off for an evening farmers market with a playground for the kids, just a handful of local vendors and restaurants. People gathered at the plaza for live music and dancing; a mini version of concerts in Central Park, NYC with picnic and all. Here you are even allowed to drink alcohol on the street, progress! Never mind that you can buy wine all along the west coast, (California, Oregon & Washington) in the supermarket. Don’t remember if that was also the case in some of the other states I visited.
It must have been a Saturday when I decided to drive back to the coast. After getting stuck in traffic at the last weekend outing I avoid driving in popular areas on Sundays. I checked with the campground manager on some local roads before I headed out. It still surprises my how little local people often know about nearby roads, especially when you deal with travelers all the time.
This coastal trip promised to be a nice one, nothing but blue sky all around. There are not many roads that lead to the coast and I picked the smaller of the two in the area.
Skaggs Springs Road
When you look at a road map you see the big fat lines for the interstates, red, black and gray lines for other highways. I prefer the black ones. You can be quite sure not to run into too much, if any traffic, and they usually run through untouched areas. Red roads can be a mixed bag, hwy 58 and 46 in southern California were awful, but hwy 26 in Oregon is beautiful, both traffic and scenery wise. Gray roads are dirt roads and require a special mind set and often a robust vehicle. Enough about lines on the map.
So I took the Skaggs Springs Road just south of Cloverdale which first lead through vineyards (beautiful)
Vineyard and Lake Sonoma
and past Lake Sonoma (gorgeous) before it made its way through my beloved golden rolling hills (do I need to say more?) and then through some forests (great pine smell, narrow & windy) before ending at the Pacific (once again jaw dropping).
Pacific coast - wow
The sun stayed with me throughout the day and I did not encounter one traffic jam.
The coastline was not always visible from the highway and there was lots private property and no “beach” access. Some of the trails leading to the water are well hidden and if a car wouldn’t have been parked at the side of the road I would have never known that there was one. I must have spent more than 2 hours taking pictures of the coast and walking through tall sticky grass. The grass looks beautiful and soft from a distance, beautiful gold color against the blue of the sky, but when you are standing waist high in the middle of it with no clear path out of it, it is a very different story.
Salt Point State Park
It is scratchy and has these very annoying seeds that just stick to you. In some areas the grass was tall enough that I hadn’t seen the buck until it jumped out of the grass some 50 yards ahead of me.
When you take a closer look at the rocks that make up the Pacific coast it is amazing that the coast has not been completely washed away. The sandstone is so soft that it just crumbles under the lightest touch.
Fisk Mill Cove
Some of the iron containing rocks “grew” in layers which can easily be dismantled by bare hands. I only did this with pieces of rock that had fallen to the beach. Not to worry, hwy 1 is still safe.
The coast became rockier the further south I traveled. Big rocks and arches stand of the coast in the ocean. Every time a rounded a corner I thought I saw something new and had to take a photo. At home I quickly noticed that I over shot, the same rocks from slightly different angles, oh well.
Arched Rock Beach
It is an amazing site and a drive that should be on everyone’s bucket list. North south works for me the best. I cannot recommend driving hwy 1 up or down in a RV or similar. Yes, it can be done; I saw plenty of them, however, some of the turns are mighty tight and you are just not as flexible as you are in a car and you have to focus on the road much more leaving little time to look at the scenery. Even driving in my big truck, without the camper, was at times cumbersome. All I have to say is – convertible 🙂
Wright Beach
From time to time I scan through all the photos I took at this trip and I have two reactions; oh my God, I have to edit all these photos and I can’t believe I have seen all these places: sandhills and hot springs in Texas, VLA in New Mexico, great waterfalls in Alabama, awesome canyons in Oregon and so much more. FYI, I will write about all this in more detail in future blogs.
I finished writing this sitting in Carol’s backyard eight days after I started it. Sometimes it just takes a while, no wonder I am so far behind with my posts. One more trip to the coast, a quick one, and we are moving to the northern California mountains and closer to present time.
OK, I know I am jumping back and forth in time, but this seems to be the only way I can stay current and play catch up at the same time.
I have been stationary for the last nine days at my friend Carol’s place in Bellingham, Washington. The weather has been great for the northwest, sunny, mid to high 60s and 40s at night. OK, it is a little bit too cool for me, but I take that any day over rain. I have switched from four wheels to two wheels, biking around town. Reminds me of back home in Hamburg where I used to bike everywhere. It is nice not to haul the camper around for a while.
This is my time to relax and not to do much of anything. Recharge time, five months on the road and 15,000 miles have left me just a bit tired.
Playing with Carol’s son Sidney, roaming around town, meeting new people, seeing old friends, and sitting around the fire pit in the evening, that’s pretty much all I have been doing. I am still hoping to catch up on my writing, keep your fingers crossed.
Oh yah, I have been eating corn on the cob! If you know me, you know that corn is the number one vegetable on my do not eat list and I do love my veggies. I tried a variety of corn in the past, white and yellow, and never liked any.
I am really eating corn!
This fresh Washington corn is super sweet and tender, yummy. Another culinary experience has been eating fresh, fresh Dungeness crab right out of the shell. Sitting by the fire and just cracking away and eating crab that was caught that day. A friend of Carol’s took us out on a boat crabbing. Basically, we watched him pull in the crab pods with the catch.
Pulling in the catch
No sitting around for hours waiting for something to bite. You need a fishing license to go crabbing and you are only allowed to bring in five crabs per license per day. The crabs you keep need to measure at least 6 ¼” across the back, that’s pretty big.
You shouldn't play with your food
We brought back 20 crabs and several of them measured more than the required 6 ¼”! Back on dry land it was time to clean and cook the crab. Not a very pleasant affair. I couldn’t bring myself to smashing in the crabs brain and than clean out its guts, sorry. I just like to eat them and rather not know how they end up on my plate. However, I did manage to clean a cooked crab.
Gutting the crab, after it is cooked
One of the crabs I had yielded enough meat for three crab cakes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a recipe.
I am planning on driving up to Vancouver this week, only a 60 mile drive from here. After that I hope to make it to Montana before it gets really cold. I know you guys in the east are still sweating, but out here it is almost fall. I prefer not to get stuck in any snow storms. From Montana I am hoping to make it through Utah to Bryce and Zion, even there the temperatures are already hovering around the 40 degree mark at night. That is a very long drive.
Does anyone have any suggestions where to spend the winter? Not Florida, please.
Rewind a month. I can’t believe it has been that long. I am still trying to take it all in.
I had promised myself to rent a convertible when I get to the Pacific Coast and I kept my promise. The day after the garlic festival I drove to San Jose to pick-up my Ford Mustang convertible. Wow, what a nice toy. As I mentioned in a previous post, the night temperatures had fallen to the 60 F mark. Well, now they were in the 50s and I knew that the day time temperatures along the coast are usually not that high either. So along with my beachwear I also packed a sweater and my lined fall jacket.
The skies cleared just in time when I put down the top of the car.
What a thrill it was to drive a car that accelerates effortlessly, no raffing of the engine and all that with a gas mileage of 21 mpg.
Did I mention that it was a convertible?
Jicky in Carmel-by-the Sea
I had picked a little road that led to the Pacific (hwy 9). Turns out that it was a beautiful mountain road, with lots of fun curves. It took me through several cute small towns, Boulder Creek was one of them. I was glad that I didn’t drive the truck on this stretch of road. It would not have been a problem, just much less fun. A lot of bicyclists took advantage of the beautiful day as well. I don’t know how they do it, climbing up these steep mountain roads.
Coming down the road and seeing the Pacific Ocean spread out in front of me was just one of those moments. It could be comparable to coming to New York and seeing the city skyline either from an airplane or from the New Jersey side. It just leaves your mouth wide open.
I drove through Santa Cruz and asked for directions to the beach houses I had seen in that photo at the garlic festival. They are in Capitola, a cute, slightly touristy beach community just south of Santa Cruz. Finding parking was almost impossible. I made it to the beach and was lucky to have ten minutes of sunshine.
Capitola
I could not believe that people were actually lying at the beach; it was just above 60 F. I was wearing long pants and a sweater. Since I was parked at a 24 minute meter I couldn’t spend much time walking around. Off I went zooming down California highway 1. At least I thought I would be zooming. After just a few miles, traffic came to a halt. What was supposed to be a quick drive down to Carmel (40 miles) took one and half hours! That put a little damper on having fun. Not that I was in a rush, but I wanted to return the car before dark. I am not a fan of driving in unfamiliar territory in the dark. Also I was looking forward to driving really fast, of course within the speed limit.
Highway 1 runs inland between Santa Cruz and Carmel and you can’t see the Pacific which was the whole point of this excursion. I figured I’ll have early dinner in the lovely town of Carmel-by-the-Sea and than head down to Big Sur only 20 miles south. I remember having driven down that way before about twelve years ago. There are these great bridges along the way and I remember not being able to stop in time to take a picture of the Bixby Bridge lit by the perfect late afternoon sunlight. Well, I didn’t have much luck this time around either. Not that I couldn’t stop, but ever since I left Capitola I had not seen the sun. The coast was shrouded in clouds, not fog. At this point I was wearing my jacket as well, I did not want to put up the top.
Once I reached Bixby Bridge I decided to turn around. Good thing I did. Once again traffic very quickly came to a stand still. It turned out that there were three events taking place in the area; a wharf to wharf run, some motorcycle event and a huge flea market. The lesson of this: Don’t travel on Sundays.
At least I saw an incredible sunset sky while I was in the traffic jamb. All in all I spent about three hours in traffic, not ideal. It turned into a very long day and I was not back at the campground until 11 PM.
If I had to chose between driving a truck or driving a regular car (convertible preferred – BMW Z4 specifically) I would go with the car. Driving is so much more fun. Yes, you sit high up in the truck, but that’s about it.
To find out if I had more luck on my other excursions to the coast you have to tune in for the next episode of “Jicky’s trip to the coast”