Manchester to Bodega Dunes campground

After a grueling but satisfying 70-mile ride (our longest leg of the trip), we found ourselves arriving at our fogged-in campsite, fit for a Stephen King novel.

Before the fog set in, however, the ride presented us with some of the most scenic views of the blue-green Pacific Ocean yet.  This stretch is where postcards are made.  A series of hairpin turns carried us onto sheer cliffs 800 ft. above kelp-dotted lapping waves.  We crossed what seemed like dozens of cattle guards and sweated through sections of highway so precarious that they're gated off during strong winter storms. 

At the campsite, the chilly fog, smell of skunk, and the constant cry of children kept our spirits down.  We holed up in Rosalee the entire evening and avoided any contact with the elements outside.