The adventure began Friday evening, June 29, 2012. Spillz and Kyle were going to meet me in Ft. Bragg late Friday night, or early Saturday morning. We were going to stealth camp on the bluffs. Before reaching Ft. Bragg, I bought a pound and a half of BBQ chicken, along with string cheese and an avocado. Way, way too much food. There is something about hiking that justifies a gorge fest in my mind unfortunately. I ate about half of the dish while driving along highway 20 towards Ft. Bragg, and decided to save the rest for breakfast the next morning. When I arrived in Ft. Bragg, the coast was enveloped in a soaking fog and mist. I walked around the bluffs for 15 minutes or so and my clothes were noticeably damp. To cowboy camp on the bluffs was going to guarantee a soaked sleeping bag. I sent a text to Spillz describing the situation. She and Kyle were on track to arrive at 3am. Suddenly the fog lifted and the air became drier. I resigned myself to sleep in my vehicle nonetheless. Soon it was dark, I found a spot to park, and set up my vehicle for night's sleep. It felt way to constrained and stuffy in my car this particular night, and I dozed off to the thoughts of free space and salty air blowing over the sand next to the ocean. I took one last look out my window, the fog still had not returned, and decided the bluffs were the far better choice. I grabbed my sleeping bag and found an excellent spot on the dunes. It didn't take long before I was fast asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the rocks 50 feet away. Just before I fell asleep, the sky cleared and the big dipper was directly overhead...
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