A Strange Smell (7.29.10)

The Redwoods are majestic. These tireless sentinels watch the Pacific Northwest Coast for hundreds of years at a time. What would be the catalog of sites from a Redwoods grove? We woke on our second day of travel from Portland to San Francisco and continued south along the Redwoods Highway. The air was cool and fog blanketed much of the area though it shifted in a way that hinted of a beautiful day to come. We were in search of Gold's Beach and the hopes of arriving early enough to find a campsite.

The road narrowed and the dense fog limited visibility in all directions, making us feel as if the only ones moving this morning. It was a moment of tranquility, a time to relax into thoughts when the hint of a powerful smell reached my nostrills.

"Do you smell something?" I aked Krista. Of course she did. Her sense of smell is so much more sensitive than mine.

"Yuck, it's like something died. Where is it coming from?"

We rolled down the windows. The smell intensified. Heads out the window, we realized that this smell was internal. "What could it be?"

"Audrey..."

We pulled over at the next shoulder to see Audrey staring out from her travel kennel, covered in poop. She has to be in the kennel because of space and the upcoming plane trip but this was gross. The walls, her blanket, the top of her head and everything in between was covered. The smell was almost overpowering. What to do? Her eyes begged for some immediate action but that was not possible. There was no water around. The door slowly closed as she likely cursed me for not rescuing. We hopped back into the car, rolled down all the windows and raced towards the closest campground. The beauty of the Redwoods Highway was now a thought of the past as the crisis set in.

Reaching Elk Prairie campgrounds, we found a water nozzle with enough pressure and set to washing Audrey, the kennel and a few bags unlucky enough to be near the kennel windows. Unfortunately, Audrey was sick. A 3:00 am jaunt that morning likely led to a smells-so-good-that-I'm-gonna-eat-it delicacy. As she commenced vomiting we snagged a remaining camp site, called it a recovery day, and hope to see Elk.

Frank