San Onofre State Park Campground. Sardine Camping for the Seasoned Flea Market Vendors.

I imagine that's what it would feel like, sitting in your tent right in the parking lot, staring at the road and hundreds of other tents.

It's amazing to me that this place is booked often and hard to get into.  I was *lucky* enough to call when there was a cancellation, and booked spot #114.  Previously, Mr Snork had booked spot #94, but after paying we discovered it was a handicapped acc. spot, and you need to have a placard to check in. When I called to change the reservation, I was SO excited they had another spot that I took it, and considered myself lucky.  All the rest were booked.  Because, clearly, it's an awesome, super popular place.

Then I read some Yelp reviews.  (2.5 stars, I believe)   And then giraffy chanced upon some google images, and we started to have doubts that two tents could fit.  She has an 8-10 person, I think.  I have a 6 person with vestibule, so the footprint of an 8-10 person.   My other camping friend has a backpacking 2 person tent, so, presumably, she and her husband can camp in a tree if needed.  No concerns there.

The google image that tipped us off.  

It's a pricey site, at $35 a night, plus $15 second vehicle fee per night.  Plus, $8 reservation fee.  So, $108 for two nights.  But that's a small price to pay for two glorious nights by the ocean, and campfire.  I can't really hope for stars in our area, but I'll take what I can get.

Unless, I get this:

That's a drop off behind that picnic table.  

This is spot #114.  For comparison, this is my tent:

But let's rewind.  Spot #114 is actually one of the better spots.  Spot #113 next to it is the campground winner, with it's own little island of dirt and bushes.  And a faraway ocean view.  It could be bearable.

#113.  They have a spot for a tent that is not within 2 feet of the firepit.  Win.

#114 is definately jealous of #113.  And can use their firepit. 

But let's talk about spot #94, the original reservation.

WTF #94

That is a wall of dirt behind it.

A dirt wall that you can't climb.

And climb it you'd have to, to see any ocean.  Which is far, far down below.

The bench is a nice touch.  

 I guess the description does say you're in the bluffs.  But I feel the description should, somewhere in there say - "waaaaay closer to I5, and railroad (practically on top of) than the ocean.

I5 + railroad view from site.

 You would for sure not hear the waves.  But you do hear the I5.  And, I imagine passing trains.  The google images we had seen made it look bad, but you must realize that is actually much worse in person.

The depth perception is off in this photo.   It looks much larger than it is.  I'm standing maaaaay be five feet from the picnic table, and I'm touching the Dirt Wall Bushes.

I consider myself a pretty flexible camper.  I don't need bathrooms.  I don't need showers.  (They have flushable portapottys and cold outdoor showers).  I'm pretty excited when there's just a water spigot in the vicinity and a view of some sort.  And, I guess, a place for the tent.

So, back to spot #114.  Which, to be fair, has ocean view.  And instead of a wall it has a drop off, which I guess is a little better.  Unless you have a 2 year old to keep track of.  Which I do.   There's also one of may be 3 trees, in the whole campstrip, hanging right over the table.  Good for shade.

That picnic table there is chained into the ground, with about 6" of slack.  And is placed in the most inconvenient spot.   I *think* I could fit my tent sideways, in front of the picnic table.  Right in between the two fire pits. and in front of my car, possibly touching the picnic table and car.  There would be no room for a second tent of any size.  Or any room for Mouse to roam.  It was hard enough to keep her away from the fire pit at O'Neill park, with its vast space, trees, twigs, and pebbles (and passing horses)  to play with.  I'm pretty sure keeping her away from the firepit with only the immediate 5 feet of dirt around it available for play would be a weekend's job on its own.

I think what I'm really getting at is that you can't go there with children.  Once you pitch a tent, small as it may be, the play area is SEVERELY limited.  You're between a wall (if you're lucky) or a drop off, and the road.  With firepits everywhere.  And picnic tables.

 It makes me sad that the state is so greedy, they stuffed all these "camp" spots in this place.  Had they reduced the number of camp spots, it would still not be ideal, but at least, you could spread out laterally, pitch a tent not on top of the firepit, and have some space.  But California is greedy and has money management issues, so, they would rather stuff you like sardines into a dirt patch, and disclose very little about it online.  I notice other, actually nice places have things like thumbnail photos of each campsite.  San Onofre doesn't, because nobody would show up.  Instead, they have a very vague and inaccurate map, and advise you that "depending on size, 1-3 tents fit per site".  No site there fits 3 tents of any size.  They are liars.

I read in some reviews that spots 1-10 were the best.

You're on a bluff.  For real. 

I liked them.  The view is nice (note lack of dirt wall), you don't have drive far into the flea market - like jungle, but you do need a 2 person tent to pull it off.  And, as anywhere else on this campground, you have to cross fingers that yours or neighbors' fire pit sparks don't ruin your tent.

Some other considerations:  smoke -  you know how you end up shifting around campfire depending on where smoke is blowing?  Well, here you can't.  There's probably a tent, a picnic table, or a vehicle next to you.

The beach - is a hike.  It's pretty, and I bet it's great when you get down there.  Lots of rocks I hear.  Very little sand.

Noise - It's like camping with 90 people at once.  I can't even imagine.  The reviews agree.

Group camping sites were lovely.  With space, ocean view, and shade.  $225 a night as of Sept 2013.

Conclusion:  I think a couple spot in the place (1-10, 66, 113) could be nice.  For a couple, a small tent, a little getaway by the beach with ocean view.  Especially if you plan on going down to the beach for most of the day.  (Will people steal your stuff while you're gone?  Probably.)

 Most of the other spots are like a camping version of prison.  Some actually back up to chain link fence.  Which isn't a huge deal, but when your camp spot is 7 feet wide.. it takes away from the scenery.  Also, the park is a liar.  Their map is crap, and I feel they intentionally mislead people.  I hope that more photos of this depressing little dirt patch crop up on the internet, so that people know to plan elsewhere.

UPDATE:  Reserve America will apparently refund your cancellation fee, and your reservation fee if it turns out that you can not physically fit your tent in the spot.  Good.to.know.

Camping Hair a Success, Must Collect Bacon Grease (unrelated to hair)

Just like I thought, it was being sneaky and I woke up Thursday morning feeling faintly waxy.  I mentally resolved to chop it all off at camp after the first bike ride.  Then I proceeded to sleep 2-3 hours while Jesse drove, since the 5am roads hold nothing for me but a bad mood. 

However, by the time we drove a couple hundred miles into Utah, and past a Starbucks, I softened up, and as Jesse was ordering out lunch from Wendy's, I grabbed a handful of those lemons they have (for water, presumably) and squeezed them liberally all over my hair.  Then I packed some more lemons into a plastic baggy (for camp tea) along with plastic utensils (Thanks, Wendy's!) and spent some time in the bathroom splashing water on my hair, in a rinsing-combing through combo under some pretty unimpressed glares.  They don't know what it's like.  Desperate times. 

I figured, if it continued to melt down, I had time and a couple more towns with fast food restaurants before the official Middle of Nowhere to barricade myself in the bathroom and squirt hand soap liberally all over my hair (the offical No Poo Fail) before reaching camp and no running water.

It must have been intimidated into submission, or it likes lemon.  Either way, it behaved beautifully Thu, Fri, Sat, and Sunday, and if it wasn't for dust/bugs/ashes, I could have rolled with it Monday. 

Key points:
1.  No Poo Win.
2.  Hair might like rinses. 

I keep the Hair bound up in Buffs when we camp and ride. 

It goes under my helmet and stretches over my neck for riding (I have a bug phobia, and a perpetual fear one will drop down my shirt when riding), and the rest of the time, and since the helmet wrecks my bangs into a sideways mohawk, it's a headband.  Or an eyepatch, when I'm not sure if I have a scrap of contact lens stuck in my eyelid, or if I've finally rubbed a scab into the inside of my eyelid (piece of contact lens, it turned out).  It prevent windblown hair mess, and more importantly, horrible things like getting hair caught in the bike chain??!  The things you read on the internet...

The Buff and I enjoying a day old pork chop:

The Buff and I resting:

I must not have a picture of where it's pulled over my head, tube like, with a face opening.  Not very attractive, anyway.  Effective for bug control.  I also have a wool one.  So.  Rad. 

Oh.  I also used Dr Bronner Magic soap on the camp dishes, during camp "showers", and Jesse used it to semi-effectively rid his hands of the gasoline smell.  That happens, when you spend all night stuffing gas into beer bottles and making makeshift bombs. 

In a semi related story - some girls came over from a campsite over, and dropped some knowledge on me.  APPARENTLY - if you collect bacon grease into a tin can, and then heat that can over fire till it burns purple, and then spear a water bottle onto the end of a LONG (key) stick, and dump water into grease, you can achieve a 20 foot high grease fire.  I am ALL OVER bacon grease for the next 6 months. 

Knee Deep in Survival Mode

I may have mentioned is it a gray, cold, stormy Southern California week. Three days this week there have been thunder storms. Do you ever worry that lightning will hit you through the window? If you don't, don't worry, I worry for you.




I remember when I was may be 9, in a village in Ukraine, my grandmother was burning the fire stove, and a thunderstorm came. My grandmother took me and my great grand mother across the yard to the underground cellar each house has next to it, in lieu of a fridge. We stood there, in the dark, next to sacks of potatoes, pickled tomatoes, and fruit jellies for a good half hour, waiting out the storm. I wondered at the time why a lightning would pick ours, the smallest of all village houses, to strike, but my grandmother was determined to wait it out, since "lightning looks for heat". We giggled whilw we were in there. I think my great grandmother may have sworn out loud. It was pitch dark. But it never occurred to my grandmother to take a chance and go back tot eh warm house. So, I guess, it's genetic.

It crept up on me with age, and fear of heights, and I wonder if it has to do with being OCD, but I am action packed with paranoia. There's lightning outside right now, and I am pretty sure it's out to get me. I researched online and found out I am safe in my vehicle in a storm. But not in my tent. Check out the National Weather Service Lightning Safety Site. The dude who got killed in his tent?? "A bolt struck a boulder next to the the tent, travelled through the ground, into the tent, and into the guy's elbow" ?! I am scarred for life just having read that. It travelled through the ground, and INTO the tent. How sneaky and underhanded is that? I think lightning, and I think avoid standing in a puddle, touching the tent poles and my thermos. I never think, 'float in the air'. I will now, though. I'm all over it.

Or, same site, check out these cows:


A little more straightforward, they were feeding through the fence when the lightning came. But still.

It also JUMPS. Take note, it travels underground, and JUMPS. This is why they tell you not to stand next to large objects that might attract the current. What they don't tell you is stuff like it can travel horizontally for 5-10 miles. Next time you're out about in a storm, try and make sure you're not next to anything for about 5-10 miles. Oh, except, I guess, if you succeed, you ARE the large object.

I am learning to make sure that when a storm hits I'm in a non convertible vehicle of some sort. Everything points to these being pretty safe. As long as you're not listening to the radio. There's always a catch. Like, the fact that it travels under ground. Or through plumbing. Or jumps.

I got woken up by the thunder noise, and I couldn't go back to sleep. (that's what I get for skipping gym and napping). Jesse isn't troubled at all, and I hesitate to share with him that I have calculated approximately 65 lightning paths that all lead to me. Most of them have to do with the bedroom window, and a couple with my mug of tea. It JUMPS, people!

Last time we camped in Moab, UT, there was a giant lightning storm dancing on the rock rides all around us. I was fascinated, and took a million pictures to catch just a few flashes.

My absolutely favorite camping picture EVER:



If you zoom in on the lightning, it even looks like a little man falling down. I think it was speaking to me. Talk about omens.

I also asked Jesse if I would be safe if, say, I curled up on top of the truck tire. As in the wheel. I spent a good 10 minutes mentally arranging myself on top of a truck wheel, in a fashion that would have all my body parts off the ground and under th truck, simultaneously. Talk about survival instinct kicking in. I decided there was about 50 lbs too much of me to effectively carry it out. Or we need much bigger tires.

Back then, cell phones weren't working, and I didn't know about this truck safety thing, it seemed like a giant steel electrocuter box, and I was safer planted on some nice, non conductive rocks; I even stayed away from the grill you see there in the picture. We were even camped out on the National Weather Safety No-no: a hill ridge. To be fair, the storm seemed to be pretty far off, and cell phones had no reception to read about how it travels horizontally for up to 10 miles. Next time I am camping though, and a storm hits, you best believe I will be holed up in the truck, folding up myself as compact as possible and thinking very small thoughts. I am not trying to hang out somewhere and wait till I feel my hair stand up (St Elmo's Fire, old sailors call it)

On the bright side, this has taken my mnd off the constant worrying that an earthquake is looming (Southern California, we're long overdue, says the History Channel). If ever I DO get lightning struck, the headlines will never say, "Unsuspecting SoCal Woman Taken Out by Freak Lightning Strike". Insead, I hope they have the good sense for something like, "A Very Suspicious Woman Taken Out By Lightning She Fully Expected As It Struck Through the Window, Travelled Alarm Clock Wire, and Jumped Out Her Tea Mug At Her".

Thanksgiving, Ducks, and Whoops

I don't like turkey. I don't like any white meat in general, and turkey has so much of it, its annoying. I also find it tough and bland, and .. the list of its offences is really too long to indulge in. So, instead, like a good Russian, I make a stuffed duck on any qualifying holiday. Qualifying means it puts me in the mood to spend $17 on a bird. Spending $17 dollars on a fatty chicken like bird seemed appalling until a recent trip to Bristol Farms, where ducks come in at 9.99 per pound, so, $40-$50 a duck pre-tax. Jesse and I laaaaaughed and laughed our way out of the door, duck-less. I was on a duck research mission that evening, and found out that Whole Foods were $4.99/lb and Ralphs and Vons at 2.88 and 2.69 respectively. I got some nice fat 6 lb ones at Ralphs, and was pretty pleased. I still wonder - the ducks at Bristol Farms weren't frozen. What happens to these $40 ducks at the end of the night? I mean, do they toss them? Can I come in at 8:59 and make an offer? Are they available shortly thereafter at or around their dumpster? Just wondering...

Russian Holiday Duck:

a duck
4-5 apples.
a package of prunes
thyme, optional
salt/pepper

I wash the duck and trim as much fat as I can. Rub the inside of it with salt and pepper, and stuff with cored and sliced apples. I don't peel my apples, since they tent to turn into much when peeled. Prunes are mixed in with apples and going into the duck as well.
I prick the duck all over with a sharp fork, or skewers, if the forks are too gentle and child-proof, to help fat escape.
Stitched close with my best surgeon work, toss the excess apples around it, and toss in the oven at 375'F for 2.5-3 hours.



Ducks are super fatty, and as the fat drains out, it helps if the duck is elevated on a rack. I don't own such a rack, so Jesse kindly rolled some foil into thick bars, and the duck rested on 3-4 of these. This way, it's not swimming in a fat-lake when you take it out.


I must warn for $17, you are not getting very much meat. But what you do get is exquisite.

We had dinner with Jesse's family, complete with an enormous 26lb turkey. It was pretty magical, and I even found some turkey leg meat I didn't object to entirely. Afterwards, we headed to my Aunt Diane's for tea and pie, where my father and step mother were visiting from Northern California. The children had dug a giant hole on the beach to play in, and aunt Diane showed us some 90 year old toys passed down in the family.



Friday morning, despite my incoherent objections, Jesse stuck to our plan and threw me in the truck, shopped for camp groceries along the way, and we arrived at Spangler (Southern California high desert) to camp and ride.



Jesse got me a WR250 a few months ago, and I'm still breaking it in. I just discovered this trip, that it's true - if you take whoops at a high enough speed they don't rattle your wrists, shoulders, and neck, and instead, you almost glide over them.

It had rained at night, we listened to the rain and wind in our tent, keeping warm in a sleeping bag with 8 blankets "just in case". There was no dust the next morning. A little windy, but you can't pick your weather, and having lived in Chicago, I'm excited to be out and camping at the end of November. Riding was beautiful and dust free.



We met some friends from ThumperTalk, a message board where I met most everyone I know. There was a band playing - for $600 they got a trailer and will follow you anywhere. There was a sea of toyhaulers and trailers. Jesse and I camp the old fashioned way, but we aren't proud, and are happy to hide out in a trailer when needed, watch Star Wars, even, and have Dave's biscuits and gravy Thanksgiving Trailer Dinner Special. (Thanks Denise and Dave!!) Not to mention the bathroom. Sometimes, and especially in 40'F, it's just nice not to have your butt hanging out in the wind.

I am thankful. Super thankful for all the happy things and people and blessings in my life.

*pictures to come

Want badly: Camping chair

Not just any chair. Alite Monarch Butterfly Chair.

Ever since Jesse and I both sat in my Crazy Creek on the beach on day, an inside pole snapped and it's only as good as a cushion now. I've been meaning to stalk upon another sale-d Crazy Creek.

Then, I saw this chair in REI, fell in love, and there's no going back. Sorry, Crazy C, We had good times, and I liked sitting low and close to campfires.. rolling you up and stuffing into my Camelbak on bike trips. And the beach.

Actually, I didn't even know what it was, and wasn't very interested while Jesse attacked the baggy, took out poles and asembled what looked like a really shady contraption. I was more interested in filling out my JetBoil collection, which happens to share the isle with chairs. When he assembled it, I wanted to sit in it, for sheer play - fall back, call it dumb, leave.

It was magical. It's a balancing deal, since the chair has 2 legs. Adding two human legs makes the four needed to maintain balance. But it's super effortless. I would know, I sat in it for a good 15 minutes in the middle of REI chair/camping cookware isle. You just kick your legs on front of you, and lean back.

I can picture it everywhere. Best of all! It stuffs little into a sack. The poles are aluminium and come undone. I want 4 of them for my living room, and 2 to keep in the truck. May be one for the office.

I looked online to find it cheaper than the $59.99 REI tag, no dice. Oh, but I want it bad..

Weekend Camping - Gorman

We were SUPPOSED to go in a cruise, four girls, but somehow everything unraveled and we couldn’t go. So, instead Heather and I planned a girls camping trip at Gorman, California – Hungry Valley.

It was a COLD valley this weekend. We stocked up on some fabulous hats at the local grocery shop. Do you ever wonder WHO BUYS clothes at places like CVS, or Gas Stations?
- Chicks who leave their house to camp in 40’F high weather with no hats. 5.99 ain’t a bad deal to save our ears from falling off. We spotted a neighbor camper getting 3 rolled up blankets at the same shop, so at least we were more prepared than that guy.

Jesse has spoiled me insanely, and took over all the loading/unloading. His truck tailgate is about 4 feet in the air, depending on how you park it, as opposed to my one bike trailer being 6” off the ground, regardless of its parking situation. The point of all this is that I AM SORE. Like, my palms, are sore. And that's considering he did ALL the prep/pack work for me. All I had to do was wake up and start driving.

He has taken over keeping track of where I put stuff. Phone? Camera? I spent half my time frantically looking for my truck key. Flashlight? Forks? I generally just walk around, setting stuff down, and he enables my behavior my constantly making a note of where stuff is, or by picking it up and moving to a reasonable spot. It only hit me during this camping trip, it is SO tiring to run around and constantly look for various objects.

Nonetheless, it was pretty awesome. We pulled up, Heather jumped on the bike, let off the clutch too abruptly, the bike promptly threw her down and landed on her. She was a good sport, got up, and asked how to have that NOT happen again. And then it didn’t. We got her putting around campground, not even stalling, and shifting into 2nd. I was super pleased, especially since she informed me when we got there that she doesn’t know how to drive a stick shift and it was a “nightmare trying to learn”

Then we went introduced ourselves to the campers next to us, and asked them to watch our bikes while we went visit town for ice, hats, gloves, and the antique shop. It was risky, but the bikes were there when we got back, although they admitted considering Craigslisting them. I probably would not recommend doing this on regular basis, if at all. Seems like a stellar way to lose a motorcycle or two.

The antique mall had an ENTIRE SET of shelves of clown figurines. Clowns are generally creepy, and a room full of them is frightening. (But this one was cute.)

It was a really sketchy, small, turn off the main highway to the one street town (Frazier Park?), with small alley-like street shooting off to the sides, all dead- ending within a block or two. There was a yard sale sign, and oddly, all yards in the town looked like a perpetual yard sale. I saw a table in the alley. Or was it a front street? It was next to a rusty boat, a more rusty RV, and a pile of wood. It had stuff on top of it. It had beautiful, although cracked claw-holding ball feet. I imagined Jesse losing his mind, if I brought it home..


Was it trash? I hope so, cause there it was, strapped in the bed of my truck. I walked about the open garage and by windows, but no one seemed interested in coming out. I took a couple branches of firewood, but then stopped, it was too neatly stacked to be assumed garbage. Which made me wonder if I have a freshly stolen table in my truck.

In a related story, I learned Heather and I can never rob banks as a team. Between my tying down the table with straps and prancing around the truck bed, the obnoxious loud idling diesel, and Heather playing on her Iphone in front seat, we screamed amateurs. Never mind the Uturns, and more loud idling, (with table already secured and visible in the back) as I was wondering if we ought take the firewood. We decided not, and regretted it later that night.

Team Log - 1; Team Chick Campers - 0:




We set up a fire using unreasonable amounts of spare gasoline I carry with me, and spent a lot of time trying to split a log. And mourning the alley-possibly-trash-wood we didn't get.



Eventually, we relocated to the big group of campers. They heard our inadequate wood splitting (Heather and I took turns to wear it down), and came rescued the log, and we brought our remaining wood, smore supplies, and our rum drinks to their fire. They were a nice group with the Infamous Motorcycle Club from Long Beach, funny, and with some awesome warm chicken and corn on the grill. (I didn’t have to step away from the fire and make dinner – WIN!)






Climbing into the truck was a little rough. I have camped before on the ground, without a mat even, so my upgrade of a blow up mattress in truck bed is just unbelievably badass and awesome to me. Heather, on the other hand was comparing it to her bed. Not so badass or awesome. I had asked the neighbors if they were chaining up their bikes, and it turned out they camped with “so many guns, its stupid”.

I chained my bikes, just in case.. but unloaded the gun Jesse sent me with. I figured the 6-12 armed gentlemen around us probably had enough ammo to take care of anything that rattled the bikes, so there would be no use for my panicky shooting in the air. The tent roof got to live another camping trip, hole-less.

In the morning, I had a dream about laughing dogs. Turns out, there were coyotes, and Heather slipped out of the sleeping bag (letting in cold, the wench!) and out of the tent, to go take pictures.


I was horrified. I have since been notified that the vicious things in Lion King are hyenas, and not coyotes, so there went my strongest argument against them, but still, the thing looked like it eats people’s faces clean off. A fox, apparently, had also frolicked around camp during the night, and peed by some tents. No doubt, marking them for the next nighttime patrol and “distribute rabies” site. Had I heard something pee around MY tent, the tent roof would have fared much worse. In addition to all this, the coyote was seen around the area I had been the night before, (illegally, as it turns out) picking firewood. Probably eyeballing my face for his dinner.


I went for a ride with the boys. Heather opted out, choosing to putt around camp again, but not before she tried the neighbors’ crf150, and accidentally wheelied it. Oh, to have a picture.. To her credit, she hung on till the front wheel came down.





We took Backbone Trail, and all 3 bikes crashed promptly in the sandy uphill. I crashed the closest to the top, though, so I felt pretty good about it. A couple of guys had only ridden street, and weren’t super comfortable on dirt bikes. For ONCE, I wasn’t the last one in the group, and even among guys! I felt all types of accomplished. Ha. Backbone Trail is sadly completely torn up.

I'm bummed we didn't get any pictures of Heather riding, so we'll have to do it again. It was also her very fist time camping, and she survived and may even do it again. Another city dweller converted. Muahahaha.

To follow: a series of pretty pictures of Southern California Landscape.