Short Version:
Elk are large
Long Version:
Carlos Puyol missed one goal but scored the one that counted in the end, sending the dirty Germans crashing out of the World Cup*, and setting up a final worth watching between Die Nederlande and Espana. The final whistle of the semi-final heralded not only the end of Deutsch dreams of Cup glory, but also the end of our time at the Lost Coast Brewery and Cafe. Almost. First, though, there was growler action to take care of.
We acquired our growler, which is awesome and has a gleeful little silver man as its handle, in Bend, Oregon, on the same day that
Anoushka and Craig acquired theirs, in Estonia, or possibly Latvia. Ours was full of Black Butte Porter until the night in San Diego, and it had lain empty ever since. Today, though, we spied a growler-like vessel hanging above the bar, and deduced that we were in an establishment which would likely fill our growler with their foaming goodness. And fill it they did, with Chocolate Porter. Yum.
A quick stop for gas turned into a slightly longer-than-planned stop for gas, gum, insect repellent, peanut-butter cups**
, and drinking water, but eventually we were back on the road, northbound, on our way to Prairie Creek Campground, as recommended by someone on the internet and by the "Camping in Northern California" guidebook***. The "Campground Full" sign was up in the window of the Ranger Station, but the friendly, fruity ranger offered us a spot in the enviro-camp**** instead, which we took, despite (or possibly because of) the likelihood of bear encounters.
We saw Steller's Jays and heard the bird that makes the noise like a ray-gun though, which was kind of nice - we'd not seen or heard either***** for
a long time. We made a fire and 
drank from our growler and fell asleep instantly. Apart from Janine, who didn't fall asleep for a long time, because there was a monstrous growling, snarling animal noise going on inside the tent. Insofar as I believe that it actually happened, I reckon it's probably what kept the bears away.
It took us a while to get up and ready to ride t
he next morning, but eventually we made our way down to the coast road, where we saw elk. Hoor
ah! Elk! Then we read an informational sign which told us that elk are also known as wapiti. Which was depressing, because that means that there are elk in NZ, and they're just another introduced pest species. Still, it was hard to hold onto anti-elk sentime
nt in the face of large herds of females (which are quite large) grazing en masse close to the dirt road we were riding down, and downright impossible once we found the first big bull, which we'd been led to expect (by the same damnable informational signboard that tried to ruin elk for us) that they'd have shed their antlers recently, and would
currently be sporting velvet-covered nubbins******. In the real world, the first big bull we saw had bloody big antlers, and when Janine's brakes let out an almighty shriek as she stopped for photographic tomfoolery, he started waving them at her, in a decidedly grumpy way. We left, rode several miles up the coastal t
rail, with sea and fog (and elk) on one side, and steep, forested hillsides (with waterfalls but no elk) on the other. Then, just as we hooked inland, we found some more big bull elk, also fully-antlered, and also tetchy. We photographed them anyway, then left, and ro
de up a hill, which wasn't entirely welcome, then down a long, smooth road through groves of enormous trees, along some more trails, and eventually up the dirt road to where we'd left the Reaper, 3.5 hours earlier.
On our way out of the Park, Elk Meadows was devoid of elk, but full of cars driving really slowly in the hope of spotting some elk. Which weren't there. They're all in NZ, being pesky, or down by the coast, being impressive.
* = Really they have one more match to play; the playoff for 3rd/4th against uruguay. It's the match no team wants to be in, but often provides a more entertaining spectacle than the final, as the implications of losing are so vastly reduced.
** Janine LOVES these. I like them about half as much, which is still liking them quite a lot. Not sure why peanut-butter doesn't have a market presence in NZ as broad as it does here, where you find it in every conceivable food setting, particularly sweet and semi-sweet settings.
*** = The guidebook which had already put us wrong several times, particularly on campsite pricing. We think that when the State of California went broke recently, one of the resulting actions was a wholsale increase in pricing at State-run campgrounds. So, instead of paying $8-15/night, they're asking for $25-35, for a patch of relatively flat ground in a negligible-facility camping area. Interestingly, the hike-/bike-in sites are much cheaper ($3/person/night), so it looks like they're trying to sneak a vehicle tax in under a false name
**** = Longdrop instead of flush toilets, bigger sites, further from carparking but also from camp-neighbors. And $15/night cheaper. We liked it.
***** = May be the same bird. Anyone in a position to confirm or deny whether or not Steller's Jays sound like a kid pretending to fire a ray-gun, please let me know.
****** = All together now; (E) A nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, (A7) A nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin! (REPEAT)
Elk are large
Long Version:
Carlos Puyol missed one goal but scored the one that counted in the end, sending the dirty Germans crashing out of the World Cup*, and setting up a final worth watching between Die Nederlande and Espana. The final whistle of the semi-final heralded not only the end of Deutsch dreams of Cup glory, but also the end of our time at the Lost Coast Brewery and Cafe. Almost. First, though, there was growler action to take care of.
We acquired our growler, which is awesome and has a gleeful little silver man as its handle, in Bend, Oregon, on the same day that
Anoushka and Craig acquired theirs, in Estonia, or possibly Latvia. Ours was full of Black Butte Porter until the night in San Diego, and it had lain empty ever since. Today, though, we spied a growler-like vessel hanging above the bar, and deduced that we were in an establishment which would likely fill our growler with their foaming goodness. And fill it they did, with Chocolate Porter. Yum.A quick stop for gas turned into a slightly longer-than-planned stop for gas, gum, insect repellent, peanut-butter cups**
, and drinking water, but eventually we were back on the road, northbound, on our way to Prairie Creek Campground, as recommended by someone on the internet and by the "Camping in Northern California" guidebook***. The "Campground Full" sign was up in the window of the Ranger Station, but the friendly, fruity ranger offered us a spot in the enviro-camp**** instead, which we took, despite (or possibly because of) the likelihood of bear encounters.We saw Steller's Jays and heard the bird that makes the noise like a ray-gun though, which was kind of nice - we'd not seen or heard either***** for
a long time. We made a fire and 
drank from our growler and fell asleep instantly. Apart from Janine, who didn't fall asleep for a long time, because there was a monstrous growling, snarling animal noise going on inside the tent. Insofar as I believe that it actually happened, I reckon it's probably what kept the bears away.It took us a while to get up and ready to ride t
he next morning, but eventually we made our way down to the coast road, where we saw elk. Hoor
ah! Elk! Then we read an informational sign which told us that elk are also known as wapiti. Which was depressing, because that means that there are elk in NZ, and they're just another introduced pest species. Still, it was hard to hold onto anti-elk sentime
nt in the face of large herds of females (which are quite large) grazing en masse close to the dirt road we were riding down, and downright impossible once we found the first big bull, which we'd been led to expect (by the same damnable informational signboard that tried to ruin elk for us) that they'd have shed their antlers recently, and would
currently be sporting velvet-covered nubbins******. In the real world, the first big bull we saw had bloody big antlers, and when Janine's brakes let out an almighty shriek as she stopped for photographic tomfoolery, he started waving them at her, in a decidedly grumpy way. We left, rode several miles up the coastal t
rail, with sea and fog (and elk) on one side, and steep, forested hillsides (with waterfalls but no elk) on the other. Then, just as we hooked inland, we found some more big bull elk, also fully-antlered, and also tetchy. We photographed them anyway, then left, and ro
de up a hill, which wasn't entirely welcome, then down a long, smooth road through groves of enormous trees, along some more trails, and eventually up the dirt road to where we'd left the Reaper, 3.5 hours earlier.On our way out of the Park, Elk Meadows was devoid of elk, but full of cars driving really slowly in the hope of spotting some elk. Which weren't there. They're all in NZ, being pesky, or down by the coast, being impressive.
* = Really they have one more match to play; the playoff for 3rd/4th against uruguay. It's the match no team wants to be in, but often provides a more entertaining spectacle than the final, as the implications of losing are so vastly reduced.
** Janine LOVES these. I like them about half as much, which is still liking them quite a lot. Not sure why peanut-butter doesn't have a market presence in NZ as broad as it does here, where you find it in every conceivable food setting, particularly sweet and semi-sweet settings.
*** = The guidebook which had already put us wrong several times, particularly on campsite pricing. We think that when the State of California went broke recently, one of the resulting actions was a wholsale increase in pricing at State-run campgrounds. So, instead of paying $8-15/night, they're asking for $25-35, for a patch of relatively flat ground in a negligible-facility camping area. Interestingly, the hike-/bike-in sites are much cheaper ($3/person/night), so it looks like they're trying to sneak a vehicle tax in under a false name
**** = Longdrop instead of flush toilets, bigger sites, further from carparking but also from camp-neighbors. And $15/night cheaper. We liked it.
***** = May be the same bird. Anyone in a position to confirm or deny whether or not Steller's Jays sound like a kid pretending to fire a ray-gun, please let me know.
****** = All together now; (E) A nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, (A7) A nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin! (REPEAT)
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