No tent means you're sleeping out in the open, and that's what I did for the first night. We arrived delirious at our campsite at around maybe 3 in the morning after stingily passing up "other" campgrounds. I slept on the forest floor with only a thin one inch air cushion separating me from the Earth. It was Earthy? My mummy bag rated to 0 degrees Farenheit left me comfortably snoozing below the stars with only trees to shadow my view. The second night, it rained. Cory and I were miserable, so was Roxy. Why? We compressed and contorted ourselves to sleep inside a Volkswagen Bug. But the morning was rather spectacular, to wake up surrounded by thousands year old and hundreds feet tall Redwood trees.
What drove Cory, was a search for mud. Fitted with off-roading tires, his 1962 Volkswagen Bug can climb and descend off-road trails, slide through mud and crawl slowly and annoyingly up highway grades. The rewarding and Berlin's "Take my breath away" moment came when we followed through with Hippy Tim's advice and veered right at mile marker 90.88 on the road out to the 1 from the 101. What we encountered and navigated was an off-roader's fantasy mountain that led to a private beach, accessible only by off-roading your way there.
(The photographs are large so click on them)