#so he rolled this dinky ass joint in the car and we smoked in the park :) living the stoner fantasy

[justaboyinamazda-blog]

Thursday, May 18 Last night we slept on the beach. We weren't technically allowed to, but as long as we camped in accordance with basic Leave No Trace principles, I see nothing wrong with choosing a free oceanfront outdoor suite with a spectacular sunset view over a $25 dinky car camping site in a field somewhere. However, there were many signs lying around threatening me with a towed car if I parked overnight. The sun was going down at this point, and I was beginning to become worried about the prospect of being towed. There were some guys who had been rock climbing on a beachside crag a couple hundred feet away from where we had set up camp. They seemed to be finished for the night - they were packing up their ropes and smoking weed. Literally everyone on the beach except for us was smoking weed. The elderly couple to our right, drinking a glass of red wine and passing back and forth a pipe. The climbers, rolling a joint and packing up their ropes. The kids on top of a rock I had boulders on earlier over there. The group of middle aged moms sitting watching their kids smoke weed on top of said rock. Moonstone Beach reeked. #HumboldtCounty. The climber bros and I talked for a bit about bouldering and sport climbing in the area. After a while, they seemed to like me, so they lowered their voices and in a confidential tone, told me the guy I should talk to about sleeping on the beach was Chris. He lived in the trailer over there. He was the proctor of the beach or something, they said - the man in the charge. I headed over to the trailer and knocked. A gruff voice answered, "one second!" and the door flung open to reveal a man in his mid-sixties, shirtless. Smoking weed. Two similarly aged women regarded me from inside the trailer. They were smoking weed. What alternate universe had I inadvertently entered into? The man nodded intently as I told him my story - just a boy and his sweetheart road tripping down the coast, hoping to rest our weary heads on his beach. Midway through my story, he exclaimed, "alright boy, just know that once you enter this parking lot you're in the domain of my benevolent dictatorship, as I like to say. You seem alright - you can park your car and sleep here, but don't do anything that will bring the cops around, and don't tell anyone I told you this, or I'll put my foot in your ass!" And thus, we slept on Moonstone Beach as the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. And that was my encounter with the stoned beach sprite of Moonstone.