3: Sir Dave, the National Treasure.
California, Camp One.
06th September 2019.
Day Three.
Sir Dave, the National Treasure
Pool day. We didn’t want a pool day so early in the trip, but jet lag, coupled with the emotional demands of the previous two days, meant we needed a day of doing absolutely nothing.
We went to the shops first, which was probably for the best. We hadn’t done a proper food shop yet, and it was good for my confidence to get back behind the wheel straight away. If I’d left it another day, I think my anxiety would have built up and driven me nuts.
We were baffled by drive-thru pharmacy. Madness. Don’t have those at home.
Shopping was harder than we expected. I still, to this day, don’t know what people eat in America. There were so many options, but nothing seemed to go together.
We set out to make a stir fry. We found rice, vegetables, and chicken — but no sauces or anything to actually make it a stir fry. This became a bit of a theme throughout the trip: something was always missing.
We settled on bread, cheese, and some microwavable southern fried chicken. Microwavable chicken just shouldn’t be a thing. I could practically feel extra limbs growing as I ate it. Not cool.
What was pretty cool, though, were the water dispensers that filled your bottles up. $0.40 for a gallon. No plastic. Winning.
We also discovered that you could stay overnight in big superstore car parks for free. A very handy bit of advice if you’re looking to save money on campsites or need a stop-off point between destinations.
I would always check with staff to make sure it was OK, but throughout the trip we saw loads of RVs parked up towards the back of these car parks.
After the shop, we went back to the RV park to chill for the rest of the day. Our trip to the pool, however, wasn’t quite as relaxing as we’d hoped.
As a Brit, guns are scary. So, when we heard what sounded like one going off while we were in the water, we were ready to jump fences and leg it. Martha and I were the only ones in the pool — literally sitting ducks.
I was hovering in the water with just my eyes above the surface, like Buck from Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs. If anything had actually happened, I’m not convinced my stealth approach would have helped — but it felt like the right call at the time.
Part of me thought we were just being silly foreigners, jumping at a loud noise. Maybe it was a car? Or bins being collected? But then, to my surprise, everyone stepped out of their RVs and started making nervous phone calls to reception to ask what it was.
I was slightly relieved that Martha and I weren’t completely mental, but I would have been more relieved to be mental and safe than sane and in potential danger.
It turned out to be nothing. In hindsight, it could have been anything — but we weren’t the only ones on edge. The people calling reception were permanent residents at the RV park, not just nervy tourists like us.
Never in my life had I been around people who owned guns that weren’t air rifles. It was something I was very aware of — perhaps unnecessarily — but I quite like not having to worry about guns.
The other part of the day that stressed me out was discovering that the ladies behind reception didn’t know who David Attenborough was…
They were very pleased to see two young people reading instead of being on their phones, but had no idea who I was reading about. Unknowingly, I launched into everything I knew about the Man, the Myth, the Legend — Sir Dave, the National Treasure.
It wasn’t until Martha gave me a hard stare that I realised I’d been talking far too much and should probably leave the lovely people behind the desk alone.
I did, however, recommend a few documentaries on my way out.
Planning for the next couple of days took place later that evening. Campsites booked, route planned — next stop: Monterey Bay.
