September 20, 2009 – Garberville, CA

Let me say first that there is some level of disagreement between Geri and Don as to where exactly we are. Don says that we are effectively in Garberville, as that is the closest incorporated community; Geri says we’re in Benbow, because the local newspaper refers to individuals as residing in Benbow. I really don’t have a dog in this fight (Ha! Ha!), because I’m just glad to be in a park that has a lot of nice grass to roll in. Don told me that when he was a pup, he would ride a bus (called a Greyhound!) up the 101 to stay with his Great Aunt and Uncle in Oregon nearly every summer. Every time he passed through this place, he would look out the window of the bus at the magnificent Benbow Inn, see the fine cars of the rich and famous parked around it, and tell himself that, someday, he would stay there too. Well, today marks the second time he’s stayed at the Benbow Resort. Except, it’s across the highway from the old Inn, and it accommodates only recreational vehicles, such as ours. Checking the Benbow’s website today, he found that the King of Jordan stayed at the Inn last year while on a motorcycle tour of the northern Californian and Oregon coast. Maybe when Don gets off this motorhome kick he’ll get to do the real thing.

Our voyage from Trinidad down to Garberville/Benbow was relatively short and uneventful, except for having to fuel at a regular gas station, with the usual space limitations and the need to keep inserting credit cards every seventy-five dollars. No real truck stops along this route. But the highway is very good, and traffic is light, so we sailed along very nicely. We got a very nice site at the RV Park, with lots of grass and a shade tree; very comfortable for me. Geri and Don went into Garberville to do some shopping, I napped until they came home, Geri took me for a nice walk, and I got my dinner. They snacked on some stuff they had been squirreling away for when they weren’t really hungry, and I got no plates out of it.

While Geri and I went out for another walk, Don took a cigar, a glass of Duggan’s Dew of Kirkintilloch, and a book of Glencannon stories out to our patio; when we returned, we could hear him laughing and coughing a half a block away. That’s what Glencannon stories do to him. Who is this Glencannon? Well, of course, Don has told me about him, and even read parts of some stories to me. Colin Glencannon is the principal character in a series of stories written by an author named Guy Gilpatric many years ago, most of which were published in the Saturday Evening Post. Mr. Glencannon is the Chief Engineer of an ancient tramp steamer, the SS Inchcliffe Castle, a British flagged vessel. Most of these stories take place prior to WW II. A man of unusual genius and monstrous capacity for Scotch Whisky, Glencannon’s escapades in various ports around the world make for hilarious reading for men of partial Scotch ancestry whose past lives include serving as engineers aboard antiquated steamships. Not that I’m talking about anyone in particular. Oh, by the way; Glencannon’s whisky of choice? Duggan’s Dew of Kirkintilloch. Well, I had to write about something today, and the pickings were kind of slim. Tomorrow is excursion day, and I’m hoping it will be eventful and interesting!