The 200th Clog Post Mega Post Photo Blowout Extravaganza Post

Closing in on your 200th blog post is sort of like living with your parents well into your 20's; You come to the realization that you've been doing that shit far to long, but chances are you won't stop. Thank you to those who follow the Clog (Ben Fowler) and those of you who support me in life (my box). Cheers to 200 posts of pointless excrement, and many more to follow.



Whenever I am blessed with two days off from work in a row I usually feel compelled to take some sort of miniature vacation. The destination usually is well suited for skating and friends are sure to populate said region, except this time. Which is precisely why I brought Jesse along with me on a whirlwind journey to a number of undetermined locations along California's Northern coastline.



There is no better time to head out onto the dark lonely road.



Why travel to Willits California? Sometimes logic doesn't play an integral role in the decisions we make.



We met a local, who had to call the police, and ask them to unlock the gate to this skatepark, which turned out to have an amazing flow and some incredibly dreamy hubba ledges.



People sure do like to smoke themselves some drugs up in this neck of the woods, so its only natural for them to have tie dye clothing shops.



Sometimes you must ingest strange substances to help you hang tough.



As we neared Fort Bragg the weather went from ball blisteringly hot to ass chillingly cold. There was some fog and a bridge too.



Jesse and I set up camp in what appeared to be someones backyard.



The moisture level reached epic proportions



The baseball bbq was taken on its maiden voyage. Jesse insisted we cook beans, and then proceeded to pollute the inside of our tent with gases from the inside of his bowels.



There are fews things quite as comforting as a plate full of succulent wieners.



Screw dogs, fire is man's true best friend.



We could not have foreseen Fort Bragg having a skatepark... a really fun skatepark.



This little seaside town is also home to North Coast Brewing. We came, we saw, we sampled.



It was a relatively casual brewery. No paper bags.



The road home involved massive redwoods and Tunes provided by BobFM.



Beauty



and splendor. But not Splenda, that shit is wack.




If you find an empty bottle of wine in the woods and take a picture of it will it make this caption any less terrible.



Wine country children.



Done son.