Santa Cruz and Roaring Camp

Driving into Santa Cruz we felt a bit like fish out of water. All these salt-washed surfers walking/riding around with their boards under their arms, no doubt eyeing our RV with displeasure and silently criticising our gas-guzzling, probably also hitting the waves with intentions of swearing at hapless novices... or just beating them up like poor Keanu in Point Break.

No, maybe that's a bit harsh. They're probably very nice people. But we did kind of feel that there was a big degree of eco-grunge suddenly in the mix and got a bit stressed out trying to squeeze through Cliff Drive's one way streets without running over some local surfing bad-asses.

When we found a parking spot big enough for our RV on a headland north of the Boardwalk and Wharf and close to Steamer Alley, we were astounded. Isn't it funny how you can suddenly start liking a place when you're less stressed out?!

So, with free parking and fantastic views directly outside, Nath and I took turns jogging down to the Wharf and out along it and both managed to see some big fat seals. Some were even sitting up on a Pontoon like they do on Pier 39 in San Fran.

We're really enjoying the chance to occasionally stretch out and do a bit of exercise in some of these places but can't really plan ahead - we just take the opportunities as they come.

Afterwards, we drove inland a few miles and found a campsite at Henry Cowell State Park in a magical little site far from any other campers surrounded by redwoods hundreds of years old.

There wasn't much sleep - not because of anything to do with the campsite - but because little Dash was so excited about his birthday and so very restless.

The next morning was all big-time fun birthday stuff - opening presents, banana pancakes with maple syrup, trying out the new scooter around the campsite, birthday cake and then, the big surprise of the day - a trip on the Roaring Camp Steam Train to Bear Mountain.

We sat in an open-air carriage (and now anyone who's ever ridden in a steam train might squint and frown at the thought, but there's none of the nasty coal soot flying back at you because old Californian locos are oil-fed just like the logging locos on Misty Island are for any Thomas the Tank Engine afficionados out there).

So yes, seated in an open-air carriage we chuff-chuffed our way through a redwood forest boasting trees up to 3000 years old. The oldest ones we saw were 2000 - but still, extremely impressive!

We adults loved looking straight up and seeing the beams of sunlight breaking through the forest canopy and watching little leaves unsettled by the steam of the engine fluttering down like light rain. Pretty enchanting stuff.

The kids loved the whistle of course and were doing the 'pull-the-whistle motion' the whole way.

After our return trip, we took a stroll through the Redwood Grove Trail, and learnt a lot of cool stuff about the way the trees are families sharing a root system, saw a hollowed-out cave inside a massive tree that an explorer apparently once slept in and were embarrassed... not for the first time and I'm sure not for the last.

A couple of artists had set up their easels in the grove and had been working at their canvases for some time. Indy comes up behind one of them and says "Mum, what's that?" and I reply "Honey, that's a painting" to which Indy counters "It just looks like a whole bunch of squiggles". Ah, the joys....

After some more birthday cake, we drove a couple of hours inland and are in an RV park tonight, halfway between nowhere and nowhere, but with somewhere very cool in our sights.