Our West Coast Road Trip Itinerary (with Real Stops + Honest Reviews)
From Seaside to Sunset State Beach, this is our real three-week itinerary down the coast — every campsite, Airbnb, beach, and beautiful detour that made the trip eventuful.
South to Seaside
We began our road trip on August 31, bright and early, leaving our home in Whistler with a tank full of diesel and a truck packed with everything needed to live and camp comfortably for the next few weeks — subjectively, — and heading South for Oregon, crossing our fingers for no delays. Whether by fluke or by design, it worked: We breezed through the Canadian US border crossing by 7a.m. and within five hours of giving our houseplants a final watering for a few weeks, we were rolling through Bellingham, then Seattle, then Tacoma.
Our first real stop to catch our breath was lunch in Olympia, Washington, at an adorable downtown spot called Cove where Piper was showered with compliments while we reviewed our route to Seaside, Oregon over Cobb salads and turkey sandwiches. I first discovered the quirky Oregon township of Seaside while aimlessly exploring Google Earth one afternoon on the couch. Its carnival vibe instantly drew me in. One Google’s Street View peep later and I knew it was a town we had to visit one day — and this trip happened to offer the perfect “one day” opportunity.
Seaside delivered everything I envisioned and then some: bumper cars, beach volleyball, carousels, candy shops, clam chowder and more saltwater taffy than one could ever eat. Am I into any one of those things individally? Not necessarily — but for me, travel is about enrichment and experience: Mike and I love people-watching and making new places “our bitch,” so to speak (crass, but true). There’s something exhilarating about exploring a city you’ve never been to, no matter where it is. So even though this was a camping trip, staying at an Airbnb-style motel after a long travel day was exactly what we needed to kick off this trip on a fun note: no late-evening setup, no early-morning teardown, no chaos for a single night stay — trust me, there would be plenty of those to come…
We hung our hats (and Piper’s leash) at Ashore which was nothing but pleasant! I’d highly recommend it if you’re comfortable with a motel-style stay: clean rooms and walking distance to everything downtown including the beach. We only used the room to sleep and shower; otherwise, we were by the water or on the street, bopping around shops or enjoying food.
Quick food aside: there are myriad restaurants, cafés, candy shops, and eateries in Seaside — but most were slammed when we were there. Without a reservation, most places couldn’t seat us two. We lucked out and nabbed a tiny bistro table at an authentic, family-owned Northern Italian spot called Nonnis. As a woman who’s 50% Northern Italian, it felt meant to be — and I savoured every bite.
After stuffing ourselves with pasta, snacks, and mental snapshots for the memory scrapbook, we slept like babies and took off early the next morning for Beachside State Recreation Site — our first of many forays into national and state-run campgrounds. Before this trip, we were no strangers to camping in the U.S. (Washington, Oregon, California) and how restricted the land can be. Even if you find land where camping is allowed, the access roads are often gated. Dispersed or overland camping is nearly impossible the way it can be in B.C., so we knew that to camp on the beaches, we had to reserve ahead. We were grateful to feel confident about where we were sleeping each night. The only truly stressful moments — on this trip and others — are when you don’t know where you’re staying that night. Your morning’s get eaten by anxiety and the need to leave early enough to secure a site — but more on that later…
We left Seaside bright and early, but not before grabbing breakfast at Bagels by the Sea (and a few extra freshly baked bagels for the road). We then pointed the truck south on Highway 101 to our next campsite, taking a quick stop at Cannon Beach to enjoy the second half of our coffees.
Just 20 minutes south of Seaside is the town of Cannon Beach, where Twilight (2008), The Goonies (1985) and Point Break (1991) were filmed. The beach is lined with cedar-shake homes intermixed with modern builds, and off the shoreline you’ll peep the infamous Cannon Beach rock clusters. This beach is just beautiful and we will absolutely be returning to this area in the years to come. Coastal Oregon is beautiful and underrated — it has a special place in our hearts. I’ve never seen trees so painterly and wind-whipped as the ones lining the coast, standing behind thick rows of beach shrubs, sage, and wildflowers.
The drive through Southern Oregon from Cannon Beach to Beachside State Park was probably the easiest, most enjoyable driving day of the entire trip. En route, we got groceries at a Safeway and stumbled across Tillamook Creamery, a full-scale dairy facility where you can glimpse the cheesemaking process and sample dairy delights. Definitely worth a stop if you consume dairy! We stocked up on cheese and butter for the trip, and two hours later, we arrived at our campsite.
Compared to Seaside, Tillicum beach was much less populated and the sand was finer and warmer. Even though it was chilly and we were in sweats, we tucked out of the wind happily watching the waves crash along the shoreline. Over grilled chicken, potatoes and salad dinner, we decided that next time we’d book two nights at Beachside State Park. In my mind, getting south as fast as possible was the goal, but in practice, I’m not sure we’d push much farther than southern Oregon. One-night stays are almost never worth it: with 3 p.m. check-ins and 10 a.m. checkouts, you’re mostly setting up to cook a meal or two, wash up and leave. There’s barely any time to do what you’re supposed to on vacation: enjoy the place you just arrived. Early on, I realized planning one-night stops was a mistake. Live and learn.
Day three was a short hop to a place we’d visited in 2019: Whiskey Run Beach in Bandon, Oregon. The weather was blustery and cold, but we made the most of it, easing through southern Oregon and popping into any shop or community that beckoned before we set up camp in the early afternoon on windswept Whiskey Run.
Right beside a golf course, this beach is as close to free, dispersed camping as it gets. You can drive right onto the beach with almost any vehicle and, so long as you mind the tide charts, set up nearly anywhere. There were only a handful of vans parked in the distance; otherwise, we had the beach to ourselves and had a fun, lowkey and relaxing night. It was another one-night stay—which we didn’t mind, given the cooler weather.
We grilled fresh halibut with lemon and herbs, ran the dunes with Piper, and I even landed a last-minute illustration job that I finished from a camp chair on my laptop using our Starlink Wi-Fi. Making money on vacation—even just a little—feels like a win, especially when the weather isn’t ideal anyway.
Day four took us out of Oregon and into California. Despite the plan to head as far south as possible, both Mike and I felt a little drop in our stomachs crossing the border and leaving adorable Oregon behind. Whether it was an unconscious knowing of the tribulations ahead or just the shift in vegetation and vibe, we gave each other a look as we rolled through the tiny checkpoint that divides the states. Political commentary aside, Oregon and California share the coastline and highway, but the vegetation and energy shift is huge. The beaches suddenly drop below the roadway in a rugged and beautiful but inhospitable way.
This was also my first planning boo-boo, which added some avoidable stress. While planning, I underestimated how long spot-hopping would take — or rather, it didn’t add enough buffer for human needs like gas, bathroom breaks, and leg stretches. Bringing us back to our first travel hiccup: I took my passenger-princess throne and hit “Go” only to realize our drive wasn’t five hours — it was closer to eight or nine to Usal Beach. This was a place we’d been once before, so despite it feeling safe and known, nine hours in addition to a stop for groceries would have made it a ten hour travel day. So I did the one thing I recommend no one do on a road trip: plan the trip while on the trip — or more specifically, at a lunch stop in “dog town” Crescent City. If you’re curious, we ate at SeaQuake Brewing, next to a dog park for convenience.
Having been camping in California before, we knew the name of the game was booking the first available place that wasn’t totally awful. But Instagram-vs-reality is real with campsites — anywhere, really. Research requires a fine eye: one person’s treasure is another person’s trash, and relying on Google reviews and traveller write-ups is tricky when standards and goals vary wildly.
Luckily, Mike found us a last-minute opening at Burlington Campground (slightly inland but not off-route) and only five hours away from Whisky Run Beach. It was just what we needed. Nestled in the heart of Humboldt Redwoods State Park, this campsite wasn’t in our initial plan, and yet it seemed like the most ideal next stop. After spending a few days on a breezy beach, feeling the warmth and insulation of an ancient redwood forest and loamy pine-scattered floor was perfect.
Burlington Campground also came with a spontaneous surprise: Avenue of The Giants was a stones-throw away, an infamous road lined with ancient redwoods towering hundreds of feet high. After setting up, we head out to peep the “giants” only to happen upon a trail that led to a large stone wood-burning stove structure built by the California Federation of Women’s Clubs in 1932. It was both stunning and a little eerie. The stone was engraved on all four sides above the hearth with sayings including: “For lo in the forest comes contentment, peace and the sweet companionship of nature.”
This change of plans from a farther coastal stay at Usal Beach to inland forrest ended up being one of the highlights of the trip, and this change only added one hour to the next day’s drive!
The only funny thing about this spot worth mentioning is how incredibly quiet the grounds were. Over the muffled white noise of wind in the tree canopies, you could practically hear dropping needles hitting the soft, loamy ground. The sites were clean and well-kept, scattered among giant trees which offered privacy, and no two campsites were the same. It had a very zen-feeling, and everyone staying there was whisper-quiet. Some parks cram spots side by side with no attention to detail, but this one was thoughtfully laid out. For a last-minute addition we happened to find availability for, it felt like a small miracle to land in the afternoon, cook dinner, make a fire, relax, and enjoy a calm evening away from the coast.
South Through California
Waking up the next day we were thrilled knowing we had a booked Airbnb. It seems so simple (because it is), but there’s something deeply reassuring about knowing you have a place to hang your hat (and wash your clothes). Peppering in a home stay allowed us to slow down and actually enjoy the drive through Miranda and Mendocino — a place we fell in love with back in 2019 on our first road trip this way.
En route we stopped at Glass Beach in Waldport, a fascinating spot layered in history and sea-polished glass that was once discarded bottles and debris. The site used to be an old dump, and over time, nature has slowly reclaimed the shoreline, softening the edges of the multi-coloured beach glass and providing mud homes for the local beach squirrels — of which there were dozens! We spent an hour or so just watching the wildlife and throwing sticks in the ocean for Piper who enjoyed fetching the odd one but mostly scratching her back on the coarse sand.
After Waldport we made our way into Mendocino around noon and enjoyed a delicious meal at Flow before wandering through town to do some shopping. Having been to Mendocino once before, we were excited to revisit and soak in its artsy coastal charm and predictably, I found the sweetest shearling bag at a vintage shop where the cashier was strumming a banjo (yes, really). After stocking up on groceries and local goods at Harvest Market (including all the fixings to make a big pot of chicken soup), we drove a few clicks south to our home away from home, an Airbnb in Manchester Beach. We both would’ve preferred to stay in Mendocino proper, but booking this trip only 60 days in advance meant options were limited, but it turned out to be just what we needed.
Manchester Beach
The next two nights and three days were spent enjoying the same Airbnb in Manchester Beach which boasted a fully-equipped kitchen, a fenced yard for Piper, a sauna and a hot tub. Jackpot.
Being our first (much-needed) consecutive stay of the trip, we immediately acknowledged that more multi-night stays and less one-night stays would need be in the future, echoing exactly what we already felt at Beachside State Park. Despite it being slightly more remote than we would liked, this place was a restorative beacon of comfort. With an entire property to ourselves, a fully fenced yard, and all the amenities we could want — all things needed to do laundry, to cook, to play games, to lounge and watch movies, to rest.
Another bonus of this spot was it was walking distance to Irish Beach — albeit a less than casual walk there than anticipated: The beach access road becomes quite steep suddenly, and the walk isn’t so short, making the way out a bit of a burner. Despite this, all three of us — Piper included — soaked it up. Despite only being there two nights, we managed to completely reset: did laundry, cooked multiple meals, used the sauna and hot tub multiple times, and enjoyed watching the wild deer, day and night, grazing among the wild eucalyptus and pink jersey lilies that grows along the roadsides.
At this Airbnb, I also cooked a huge batch of chicken noodle soup which Mike brilliantly portioned into individual freezer bags acting like ice packs in our Yeti cooler to keep our food cold for our upcoming camp nights. These little things make or break a road trip. Mike has proven to me that you can’t simply show up somewhere and relax — to enjoy yourself, you have to think ahead so tomorrow goes smoothly. For instance, if we’d forgotten to freeze the soup or not re-freeze our thawed freezer packs, we’d be scrambling the next day to keep our food cold. Those small moments of foresight make all the difference.
The Dunes Detour
On day seven, after two wonderful nights in Manchester, we woke up early to prep and pack the truck, our upcoming home on wheels again. By 10am we were continuing our journey south towards Bodega Dunes. We had initially planned to stay at Westide Regional park — but it simply wasn’t our cup of tea upon arrival. En route, we explored the historic Point Arena and got coffee and the best pesto breakfast sandwiches at Cove Coffee where Piper was all the rage among tourists ushering onto the pier to go boating.
After gassing up, it was only a two hour drive to the Bodega Dunes Beach area where we’d end up spending an hour driving between campsites, hedging our bets for the best spot. Eventually, we nabbed one we had originally turned our noses up at… but ended up being grateful for once we peeped the other options.
Take what you can get and make the most of it would be my advice to anyone camping last-minute in America. And a saying we now live by is: you don’t know until you go. In B.C., if you don’t like a campsite or the vibe of an area, driving a bit farther usually rewards you with something better. In the U.S., that’s rarely the case: Driving longer doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll find a better site — or even one that allows camping at all. Land is far more locked down. Unlike Canada, where government-owned land is “Crown land” and accessible to everyone, public land in the U.S. (like BLM or National Forests) is often gated, inaccessible, or the roads are decommissioned entirely. There’s very few feelings as disheartening as arriving to a mapped FSR only to find absolutely no sign of a road.
Tirade aside, Bodega Dunes ended up being really fun, and our only campsite neighbours were another couple from B.C. — which was so ironic being that they were the first B.C. plates we’d seen since leaving Canada. From any site, you could walk over the dunes (about 20 minutes) to the beach, however, I’d suggest driving — or taking a horse as many people did. Not because it’s too long a walk, but because the trails over and dunes are peppered with horse shit, sharp shrubs and burrs. Truth be told, this wasn’t the first or last place in California where horse droppings peppered the trails and beaches. It turns out many ranchers in the area offer trail rides for tourists, so it’s common to see groups of riders (and their dogs) clip-clopping by. It’s entertaining, but also a little cumbersome.
Being another one-night stay, we didn’t have a ton of time to fully relax or explore the beach, but we did make the most of it. Another fun note about this night was that there was a private wedding happening nearby, which able to spy on with our binoculars. You could hear all the speeches and their music was loud but the playlist was admittedly pretty good: starting withThe Big Chill soundtrack and rolling into Top 40. It became our evening soundtrack and luckily, they were quiet by 10pm so we slept soundly.
Another beachside side note: many beaches in California don’t allow dogs, mainly to protect plovers (a small shorebird species). Even if dogs are allowed in the campsite, they’re often banned from trails or the beach itself — which was the case here. We had to secure Piper in our vented tent with fans and water as she wasn’t allowed to join us on the beach. Definitely something to keep in mind if you’re travelling with pets, especially in hot months. Piper was cool and snoozing in her setup when we got back, but our minds were preoccupied the whole time at the beach with wondering about her comfort.
The Southernmost Stretch Through San Francisco
The next day we were slated to hit the apex of the trip — our southernmost point: Sunset State Beach, just south of San Francisco and Half Moon Bay in California. But instead of feeling excited, I was a bit tense because I sensed more unexpected travel changes ahead. This trip had proven already that reality rarely matches expectation, and I was already unsure going into this campsite. Online, the photos of the beach were stunning, but otherwise the information I found was confusing, limited and vague.
Something we didn’t realize until after returning north to Oregon was how much time we could’ve saved using the Recreation.gov app more efficiently. Booking campsites in the U.S. can be maddening. The online system isn’t synced with on-site staff or hosts, and there’s a lottery process that’s confusing and inconvenient if you’ve never done it before. You literally have to wait near the campground without any certainty you’ll get a spot. Even worse, if you try to book online or through the app, it checks your physical location before confirming — meaning you have to be at the site to book it.
Moral of the story is, don’t roll the dice on campsites. I’m one of the most optimistic people you’ll meet, but I had a gut feeling this wasn’t going to be what I imagined, and it wasn’t.
That said, the route through San Francisco was awesome, and we stopped for coffee in Pacifica, an adorable little coastal town we wish we’d had more time in. Honestly, there were a few places along that stretch we wish we’d lingered in. Highway 101 along the Pacific is breathtaking but, in California, also nerve-wracking: soft shoulders, high bluffs dropping straight to craggy rock and beach, and no guardrails in stretches. If you go over the edge… you’re done. Mike (the best driver I know) handled every turn, but even then it was taxing — hours of hyper-focus while “on vacation.” By this point I was already learning my lesson: staying closer — maybe even just Oregon — and spending more nights in each place would’ve been better.
Expectation, Meet Reality
As it turned out, the photos didn’t tell the full story at Sunset State Beach. While we did have a reservation (and for two nights) I made the mistake of assuming it was close to towns and amenities given how close it was to San Fran — but boy was I wrong. Instead, it was tucked well within hundreds of acres of private farmland and/or protected property.
We pulled up with straight faces muttering to eachother, which wasn’t helped by the poor weather. Admittedly we were having some fun being dramatic — commiserating and nervously laughing through things must be some form of therapy… And it wasn’t all bad! The beach was one of the nicest, and despite it being cold, the sun did come out to play with us. Plus, it was dog-friendly and huge! Big point there. It was also alot closer to the beach from the campsites, so we took advantage of the day by the water. That said, the beach-cliff way down is … fun and risky haha! We walked the road the way back and it was much less treacherous.
Back at the campsite, evening fell cooler, muddier, and moodier. Luckily we had our homemade chicken noodle soup leftovers to warm us (accompanied by grilled sourdough), but the sites were so mucked out due to the ground being mostly mud with the odd hay-patch to cover mud, making it pretty unenjoyable to be outside, even for Piper. We ended up eating as fast as possible, washing up entirely, and crawling into our tent by 7pm just to stay clean and dry.
Now, I don’t mean to trash this campsite — I’m sure there are other spots that are more private and less dirty — but most sites were wide open with little to no privacy, and it’s one of those campgrounds where vehicles must stay on the parking pad. This may be fine for ground tents who can walk tents deeper into the site, but with our rooftop tent truck setup, it felt like sleeping in a parking lot instead of nature. I want dirt or sand beneath us, not concrete. Unfortunately, there would be one more stay like this to come.
Escaping Early
Ironically, as you may recall, I had booked two nights here thinking it would be our favourite spot. Perhaps if the weather hadn’t been so cold and wet we’d have enjoyed it more, but tucked in our tent on night one, we started poking around online for a better stay between there and our next spot, Yosemite area. That’s when Mike suggested messaging our Airbnb Host to see if we could check-in early. I did, we watched a movie, and off we drifted to sleep.
PICS
By morning, we had a message in our inbox from our host Juan Pablo extending us an early day checkin at no cost! The folks staying there before us left two days prior and the cleaners had already been by, so it was sitting empty awaiting our arrival, and Juan Pablo was kind enough to allow us there an extra night. When I tell you I could have almost cried that morning thinking of not having to spend another damp night on the coast after a full week of it… Within 30 minutes of waking up we were off with both coffees and the final scoops of soup in four to-go thermoses. We were determined to get from California’s coast to the ranges of Yosemite as fast as possible.
Eastbound to Coarsegold with a Mariposa Meander
Driving due east across central California — from the coast through the farms and back into the mountains — ended up being one of the coolest driving days of the trip. Before Juan Pablo invited us early, I’d looked for dispersed camps along the route and it wasn’t promising — any spots were on man-made reservoirs and flatlands where mule deer roamed with little to see but crops and sky. As you say goodbye to water, you wave hello to hot sun baking bumpy ranges akin to ancient tree stumps. There’s a beauty to the reddy-brown soil and long stretches of nothing but road, winding and straightening through hills and fields. Bleak for camping, but cool for sightseeing while driving through. Needless to say, crossing all this farmland knowing a four-night 5-star stay awaited us at a beautiful Airbnb had us giddy.
Before we arrived at Casa Roca, we took the scenic route through Mariposa, California. Mariposa is one of those charming old Gold Rush towns that time forgot — small, sunbaked, and proudly Western. The kind of place where you can potentially hear the clink of spurs and smell the leather as you wander down its historic main street lined with weathered brick buildings and hand-painted signs. Once a booming mining hub in the mid-1800s, it’s now more of a sleepy stopover for travellers en route to Yosemite, full of antique stores, cafés, and farm supply shops.
It was sweltering the day we rolled through—mid-30s and still climbing—but we popped into a few shops to stretch our legs. I picked up a Super Fencer trucker hat that (ironically) says cowboy hat and we bought some Yosemite stickers for our cooler as a souvenir. There’s a quirky, old-soul spirit here—part frontier museum, part farm town. After a quite slice of pizza at Mariposa Pizza Factory, we carried on toward Coarsegold, grabbing groceries at a tiny roadside market before heading to our Airbnb tucked in the rolling hills of Yosemite Lakes.
The Dream Airbnb (and Not Hiking Yosemite)
I thought our Airbnb, Casa Roca, was closer to Yosemite National Park — TL;DR it was just under two hours away. And truth be told, all we really wanted was to do upon arrival was just chill for a couple days. By then we’d been on the road for ten days (albeit with a 2 night break in Mendocino), and the idea of a consistent place to unpack again for a few nights was everything.
We ended up not leaving until checkout five days later. We soaked up sun on the decks, cooked all our food (we grabbed groceries in Coarsegold on day one), and explored the 20 acre “backyard” property with Coarsegold Creek running through it. We spent hours in the dry creek bed, admiring blobby boulders and “refrigerator trees,” and looking for gold (I swear I found some)! The house sits on a hill, so in the mornings and evenings we slid the accordion doors open and let the breeze run through the living area. In the mornings, the air smelled like butterscotch from the local vegetation which were abuzz with hummingbirds and wild birds all day. We saw many lizards and wild jackrabbits, and one night, we even heard coyotes howling. I’ve never seen nicer sunrises and sunsets — every single day they were spectacular.
Casa Roca exceeded our expectations, however distant from Yosemite. Piper, like us, happily alternated between lounging, going on short hikes, noshing, and playing games. Mornings and nights were cool and midday shot to mid-30s, which naturally created pockets of productivity and siesta. I couldn’t recommend this place—or thank Juan Pablo—enough. In addition to doing laundry, we also tackled some small preparatory things including washing out our coolers and cooking up a big pot of chilli, which we froze once again in portioned bags for future camp dinners. Although we didn’t go into Yosemite proper once, we have zero regrets. Sometimes what you really need from a vacation isn’t what you pre-conceived (often the big or known attractions), but a feeling of peace and happiness. In that moment, going would have been by force, and on the one day we’d have bene willing, our minds went to the fact that we’d have to leave Piper alone for 8+ hours in a strange (however stunning) house. That was enough to keep us sat, happily watching the world go by.
Rerouting East Through Central Valley to Folsom Lake
By this point we were two weeks into our trip, which is where plans got squirrelly. While in Coarsegold — probably even before — we started questioning the remainder of our planned route. While the destinations seemed cool, the experience of the big drives to get there just aren’t enjoyable in practice. At this point in our lives — being in our mid-thirties, together for 8+ years — , we don’t do things just to tick the box. We’re more intentional now and really care about our (and Piper’s experience). Initially, after Yosemite, we were going to cross the massive ranges into Nevada to hit Travertine Hot Springs — but in our old truck, the altitude gain to get there felt risky for no good reason (the risk being not having a “home” for the next 5 days if something went awry with the truck). Not to mention, the best of all the places we’d been by then was in southern Oregon, so I made it my mission to get us back there asap with enough time to enjoy it, so we ended up cutting north through eastern California to get back east quicker. The problem: it was still nearly 20 hours to the Oregon coast, meaning we had three nights ahead of us with no reservations. This meant we had to play by the recreation site lottery rules which luckily tipped in our favour…
North of Yosemite, you hit small farm towns outside Sacramento with very little to offer beyond coffee, fast food, and orchards upon orchards of pecans and almonds. Before we found the town of Folsom, we sought free dispersed camping along the Sacramento River near Bend, California, using coordinates from an RV site — but it was a bust. Do not camp on Jelly Ferry Road! That’s the thing about online research: everyone’s standards are different. What one person finds “nice” is someone else’s nightmare. This trip proved you don’t really know until you go — and that made us appreciate home more. Luckily the highway was straight and flat, so we made it to our backup spot at Folsom Lake in just a few short hours.
A man-made reservoir (which I typically avoid), Folsom Lake was quite pretty and clean, and one of the few bodies of water in the area that you can actually camp by, with a multitude of sites, all dispersed quite nicely — although pretty close to highway noise. If you recognize the word Folsom, it might be thanks to Folsom Prison (you may recall Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prison Blues, written about his time spent there). Well, at it turned out, Folsom Prison was a stone’s throw away from our campsite, just on the other side of the lake protected by a large security dam. Despite the uneasy proximity and the randomness of it all, it was a pretty decent little campsite. As a bonus, food delivered there, so instead of doing the 'whole grocery gig, we ordered Mountain Mike’s Pizza and called it a night after spending the afternoon by the water.
If I were advising someone who wants a more remote, nature-based stay, I’d suggest heading about an hour east into Eldorado National Forest, towards Tahoe area. Apparently you can dispersed camp along the forest service roads — but you need to arrive early. We gave up on that because we hit Fresno around 1 p.m.; and by the time we’d reach those on-mountain areas, it’d be mid-afternoon, and there’s nothing worse than circling at dinnertime while hungry. So we took the bird-in-hand at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area..
Shasta-Trinity & a Reset in Redding
Leaving Folsom early, we continued north into the Shasta-Trinity wilderness, assuming we’d find more accessible beauty and maybe dispersed camp on a mountain or along a waterway. Nope! Well, yes, but not anything we’d put our name behind.
Despite the vast map of wilderness roads, upon arrival at half a dozen, you realize you aren’t allowed (or able) to drive in as mapped. So we landed at another regulated site — the worst of the trip, truly. The reservation process was annoying and unclear, but we snagged a spot at Shasta Lake next to the creepiest camp bathrooms you’ve ever seen in your life (straight out of a horror movie). We wouldn’t recommend this site. Once again, far from anything once you’re there, close to the highway, no clean water to dip in, empty, strange vibe.
The “lake” reservoir was murky clay-coloured water, rimmed with oily mud. We walked Piper down imagining she could dip in. Instead we all got our shoes (or in Piper’s case, her paws) stuck in the muck, sweating in 30°C heat. In hindsight, we should have pushed the extra hour or two into the Lassen Volcanic Mountains and an area called Hat Creek we heard good things about from a local. Lesson learned, but regardless we made the most of it and had fun. We reheated our frozen chilli and grilled garlic toast and called it an early night.
We left early the next morning for an Airbnb in Redding I lined up — specifically with a swim spa (filters were ON haha). Even though the trip wasn’t over, it felt like it was winding down and the bigger outdoor adventures were deintensifying.
Redding pleasantly surprised us: a lively, spread-out town with the Sacramento River running right through it. Fresh moving water — my favourite. We took Piper to Turtle Bay and Sundial Bridge, people-watched while folks rode the funky little rail car, wandered the trails, grabbed groceries, and by 3 p.m. check-in, we were at the threshold of our home stay — where we didn’t leave until morning.
It was 35°C out, so we stretched out in the sun on the patio, swam “laps” in their swim-against-current pool, enjoyed air-conditioning and laundry again, watched a movie, and rest up in a giant California king bed before our final two-night stay back at Beachside State Rec Site. Yup, that’s right! No more chances was the motto to close it out. We wished we had booked more nights there, so, we did — who's to say it couldn’t be on the same trip?!
Last Two Beach Nights (Oregon, We Love You)
Our final two beach nights ended up being one of the trip’s sweetest surprises. We were back in Oregon — where the coast instantly felt more us, and where towns felt both familiar and exciting to explore at the same time. We made sure to stop in Mount Shasta and it was super-cute, and so cool to finally peep one of those monumental landmarks you’ve know about forever but haven’t yet enjoyed. But like many mountains we saw this trip, none really compared to ours at home in B.C..
Crossing back into Oregon, I’d initially booked us at Carl G. Washburne Memorial State Park, mostly because Hobbit Beachlooked magical online. But after a little more digging in Coarsegold, I realized that to access the beach, you had to cross the highway—and that just wasn’t the kind of experience we were craving by the end of this trip. So, we made a last-minute edit and went back to Beachside State Recreation Site, since it still had openings—and I’m so glad we did.
This time at Beachside we scored an even better spot — closer to the beach, tucked just enough to feel private — and the weather was unseasonably warm and calm, nothing like the windy chill we experienced fifteen days earlier. The ocean felt friendlier, the sunsets more golden, the whole vibe softer somehow, as if Oregon was welcoming us back. Unlike California’s beaches, we love how you can truly live barefoot at a spot like this. It’s an easier lifestyle overall, at least camp-wise.
One afternoon, we walked an hour south along the shoreline to another campground where people had carved incredible dune structures into the sand — cool caves, thrones, and fort-like walls sculpted by sand. We made our own, laughed at how bad it was, and just enjoyed the beach — nerf balling, running with Piper, watching people fly kites, and savouring every sunset. By the end, we were sun-kissed, salty, and deeply content. After checking out, we cancelled our Portland stop and made the big ten-hour push back to Whistler in one day — just ready to be home. It was worth it. We had hot everything showers and slept like babies in home-bed, grateful for the trip, and just as grateful to be home. We absolutely loved the adventure, but nothing beats loving where you return to.
x, SS
Our 3-Week Itinerary
Night 1: Seaside, Oregon — Ashore MotelNight 2: Tillicum Beach, Oregon — Beachside Campground
Night 3: Whiskey Run Beach, Oregon — Free Beach Camping
Night 4: Burlington Campground, California — Humboldt Redwoods State Park
Nights 5–6: Manchester Beach, California — Airbnb
Night 7: Oregon Dunes, Oregon — Campground
Night 8: Sunset State Beach, California — Campground
Nights 9–13: Coarsegold / Yosemite Lakes, California — Airbnb
Night 14: Folsom Lake, California — Campground
Night 15: Shasta-Trinity Wilderness, California — Campground
Night 16: Redding, California — Airbnb
Nights 17–18: Beachside State Recreation Site, Oregon — Beach Campground
Day 19: Drive Home to Whistler, BC
