We’re 40 miles from the Oregon border, but California, it seems, will not release its grip. Our overnight in this place has turned into an extended stay. Extended for how long? Who knows? It began with some bad bearings on one wheel, which partially damaged an axle. Fortunately, there's a Good Sam Garage in Eureka, about 35 miles from here. We’d have to stay locked up at night at the garage while they fix the camper, and it’s backtracking a bit, but not so bad. Plenty to watch at night on the Firestick.

So, first things, first, we call for a tow, because the wheels are kind of messed up so we figure it’s not really safe to pull it to Eureka. We wait for the tow. The day goes by. The driver calls. Asks some questions. Then tells us no way he can tow the camper, he’s got nothing to put it on. (Why didn’t he tell us this hours ago)? Turns out there are no providers in this area (this vortex of an area) that have a flatbed to tow the camper.

So plan B. If you can’t bring the mountain to Mohammed… Get someone to come out to us. Good Sam, after many hours, finds a mobile mechanic. (It’s now Tuesday). He comes. (He looks something like that rough character, Gar, from the movie, Mask, with Cher. Strange, I know, but that’s the first thing that came to my mind). He checks the wheel. Says he needs parts that he’s pretty sure he can get; he’ll make some calls. Day goes by. He calls to tell us he can’t find the parts.

Meanwhile, we have to move the trailer soon because the spot is reserved by someone for later this week. Wednesday morning. Called the camper manufacturer. As long as we can find a part number, they can overnight us the parts. Nope, that won’t work. Turns out the part is made by a different manufacturer. We call them, but this one is much less responsive than the first.

We get a phone call. It’s Gar, and he’s got the parts! He comes right over to attempt a fix. He’s here now, (Wednesday), and it’s only 9:18 am. Maybe now we’ll make some headway.

As the saga unfolds, we have been partaking of the local niceties: beach combing in search of agates, strolling along redwood trails, following the path that circles the strange elevated pond in the center of the park’s wooded area, conversing with the weirdos who work and reside here. (Reception lady with the Hillary voice reserved for children — “Don’t get too close to the elk!” — notwithstanding).

Not such a bad place to get “stuck,” I suppose, but then, that’s how it starts. You’re trying to leave one day, and the next, you’re seriously considering the park as a real estate investment/seasonal place of residence. “Yeah, we could buy this place, and run it for part of the year — get some workampers to run it the rest of the time…

Because everything here seems so idyllic: from the ever-smiling Bud and Emilee (yeah, the dog smiles too), to the lazy, lolling elk that attract dozens of cars daily from off the highway, with people getting out just to watch and take pictures of them. (Who knew elk-watching was a thing? But then, the elk are probably in on it too). Because even though, suspiciously, there is no internet at this park, and a very poor cell signal, we’re lulled into complacency by the wild, placid beach just 3 miles down the road which gets full bars — the best LTE signal we’ve had the whole trip, as a matter of fact. So we just have to amble down the road apiece to do our internet stuff on a beautiful beach — how rough is that? While the anomaly connects us to the matrix, and I think I hear Hotel California playing softly in the background….

Hah! I’m losing my mind. We’ll laugh, maybe breathe a collective sigh of relief at long last as we watch Elk Country receding in the rearview mirrors. Will that be a week from now? A month? (Last trip, the anomaly held us for three months). Or, when we get out of the vortex, will we find that years have passed? AHHHHH!