We traveled the nearby coastal mountains of California, to camp for one night in Portola Redwoods State Park.

Erik Hohned One (and sons) were to join the adventure, but didn't. Wife swapped in her friends: the Luo family. "Because you don't want to waste your reservation money." Wife WAS not interested in camping, but the Luo family's sudden inclusion changed her mind. She wanted to go.

Preparation and departure were stressful as always. I doubted this adventure was going to succeed.

We twisted up highway 9 to highway 35 (Skyline Blvd) and through the hills around Portola valley. Leigh got carsick. She puked on a big bowl of fresh Strawberries. Next time, dedicated recepticals to be provided.

We were nigh out of gas at the entrance to the Portola Redwoods park (where sign there says "no gas"), so take a detour to Woodside via La Honda to get gas.

At the park, the Luo family was set up already. They wanted to gather wood. Sign and camping form said "No wood gathering allowed." We bought firewood, and lectured those Chinese people about following the rules and preserving the public camping places. We grilled over the fire: Chicken Legs, Corn-still-in-the-husk, hot dogs, "Shishamo", and Salmon. It was another outting feast. After that, the great American Camping Cultural Tradition: Smores!

Turns out the wife found camping to be fun. She actually wants to go again.

As I lay me down in our cozy four person tent on that Saturday night, I stared out at the blurry star light filtering through the canopy and felt a deep happiness. Second time ever to go camping (for me), and everything was right.

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