Brookings
Being a glutton for punishement, however, and being impressed with the surrounding beach and hopeful the park would be relatively empty on a Sunday night I decided I would give it a try in the afternoon. I heaed into town with a craving for breakfast that I hoped would not become a habit. To my shame and regret I stopped at McDonalds, leaving me $3 poorer and a little bit hungrier.
A few block down the road I pulled into a National Forest Visitor's center. As I pondered the usual available brochures (most of which I already had) I realized I was standing in the entry way to a Mexican restaraunt. I noticed the Sunday morning special was a breakfast burrito and the place was nearly deserted. I gave into temptation and presented myself at the door to a very clean and formal looking establishment.
An elderly lady (who I believe was a customer) got up to greet a friend of hers who had arrived, thne proceeded to the kitchen and said, "Ola, tghere is a man out there." Shouldn't she have said "Ola, este es hombre que?" I am sure I have spelled all those words wrong and the last sentence makes no sense, but I hope you get my drift.
A lovely young spanish female escorted me to a small table with an ocean view. She spoke very careful english. The kind that has stereotyped hispanics in television and movies (i.e. arre jou rrready to orrrrder?) This is very different than my experience in the Southwest where it seems most hispanics flip between english and spanish and are just as sloppy with their pronunciations in english as the anglos.
Within a few minutes I was pesented with a huge burrito at least twelve inches long, four inches wide and three inches tall smothered in enchilada sauce with salsa and generous slices of cantoloupe and mango on the side. A far cry from my McDonalds bacaon, egg, and cheese biscuit. I struggled to eat every last portion of the repast filled with scrambled eggs, and sausage with white gravy. I was surprised the actual check was only the promised $3.99. A miracle occurred in that I who rarely tips left a 100% tip, I was so impressed.
A guidebook I am using mentioned an RV park with beachfront camping and tent sites I wanted to check out. I crossed the Chetco river and turned toward the local marina. Next to the Best Western on the beach I found a little parking lot with RV camping and a roughly 50 foot by 50 foot grassy area with 15 picnic tables and no trees for camping. The lot was right on the beach and the sign promised high-speed internet access. I was intrigued. I stopped at the photomat style rgistration booth and inquired. The tent sites were $10 per night. As usual the proprietor claimed not to know much about the internet except she would call some guy and he would hook me up for $15. I asked if this was available in the tent are and she sais she thought so, but was not sure if she could get a hold of the guy on Sunday. As I left I passed a Good Sams RV park which had a sign for modem access, so it looks like someone is trying to implement my business idea in some sense anyway.
I explored some of the bike trails and hiked to the beach near the state park until 1:15pm when I thought it would be safe to check in. I was soon disappointed as all lanes were blocked within 1/4 mile of the park for people tryin to register. I immediately made a u-turn and started heading south to a destination unknown.