Day 1: Vancouver, WA - Martinez, CA

Sight-seeing: Shasta-Trinity National Forest, Mount Shasta, and Shasta Lake 

We knew a 3-day road trip from Vancouver, WA to Carlsbad, CA was ambitious, but we didn’t realize just how ambitious until the night before. When we discovered there was no other way to arrive at Hearst Castle between the hours of 9 and 4, we decided to drive 10 hours down I-5 the first day. We left at 6:45 a.m. before sunrise and arrived at 7:30 p.m. after sunset.

Erin, Brett, and Jan at the start of the journey

After fiddling with the heat for a while, I ultimately gave up and wrapped myself in a blanket instead. It was also louder than expected due to the buffeting of air in the spaces between the window and the side of the car, so at high speeds it felt a bit like trying to have a conversation on a roller coaster. 

Our first stop was in Eugene. After filling up on gas, the engine wouldn’t start. (Evidently the battery is very sensitive and couldn’t handle the window being rolled down to talk to the employee at the gas station.) The nearest store that sold jumper cables was a mile and a half away, so Brett set out on a chilly walk to buy some while I stayed behind and asked every person who stopped for gas if they had any. When I finally found someone who agreed to jump the Auburn, I called Brett who remembered that he had the key. He instructed me to grab the spare from his backpack in the “trunk,” walking me through how to move the seat to get to it.

“There’s a lever in the back. Try not to hit yourself in the face…”

While the person with the jumper cables asked, “Do you still need a jump?” I was desperately searching for the lever. 

“Did you find it?” Brett asked.

“Ow!” I responded, as the seat hit me in the head. 

I think Dad would approve of dessert as part of a complete breakfast.

After the car was jumped, I found some washcloths in the back to stuff into the cracks to muffle some of the noise. 

We drove down the street to the Cornbread Cafe, where Brett asked me to get him “something easy to eat.” When I came back out, he clarified that he was afraid to turn the car off for fear it wouldn’t start again and that I should get the food to go. This ultimately resulted in maple syrup and butter spilling on both my shoe and the floor of the Auburn, and Brett used one of the washcloths to mop it up. We improvised using a spare pair of my socks to stuff in the window crack that was now missing a washcloth. 

The view of Mount Shasta from the Auburn.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until we passed a sign that read 17 miles to Sacramento. Brett asked, “Are you navigating us to Martinez? I need you to tell me how to get there.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Don’t we just take I-5 the whole way?” My dad would attest that sense of direction has never been a strong suit of mine.

“No, I-5 takes us to Sacramento.” He glanced over. “Wait- why is your phone in Chinese?!”

I shrugged. “Because I’m trying to learn Chinese. It’s been that way for the last 9 months.” Luckily, the delay was only 20 minutes this time instead of 2 hours. 

Our aunt and uncle graciously agreed to let us stay the night at their house, where they had arrived home from the memorial service just hours before.