Day 36: At Last, Mendocino: Skunk Train, Ocean Cliffs & First Impressions
After years of sitting on my bucket list, the day had finally arrived—I was going to explore Mendocino. The drive would take about two hours, but my excitement wouldn’t let me sleep. Like a child with nerves before Disneyland, I was wide awake by 3:00 a.m., scrolling through research and sketching out a loose plan for the day.
Until now, my only glimpses of Mendocino had come through Instagram reels—luxury boutique hotels, dramatic cliffs, and wild nature. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure what awaited me. I decided the highlights of the day would be the dog-friendly Skunk Train and the Botanical Garden. Where I would stay? I left that open-ended, maybe even pushing onward to Santa Rosa if the night called me there.
The Skunk Train departed Fort Bragg at 11:00 a.m., which meant I had two hours to get there. By 5:30 a.m., it was too late to fall back asleep, though I wished I could—I worried I’d burn out mid-day and need a nap. Instead, I lingered in bed, browsing the web and checking the pre-market. At 6:30 a.m., I finally pulled myself up for a warm shower, grateful for the heat against my chilled skin after a night spent with the air conditioner blasting in the 60s. It was an old analog model and I hadn’t figured out how to adjust it.
But it didn’t matter—I was due to check out soon enough. By 8:30 a.m., I was packed and out the door. I hadn’t checked out this early since the second day of my trip, leaving Paso Robles. Most mornings I’d linger until just before checkout, moving slowly, letting the day unfold. As I left the Benbow Inn, I took one last look at the historic bridge outside my window, spanning the dry Eel River below. I often wonder how long places like this can keep going; the charm is undeniable, but the upkeep must be immense.
Alas, I was on my way. I took Highway 198, which proved to be quite the challenge—mile after mile of winding roads, slowing to 20 or 30 mph through sharp turns, often pulling over to let faster drivers pass. Yes, I drove like a grandma, but I wasn’t in a rush, and I certainly didn’t want to be reckless. I had thought I’d make it to Fort Bragg in time for the 11 a.m. Skunk Train departure, but between the zigzagging forest roads and tempting vista points, time slipped away.
At one point I passed a sign for “Drive Through a Redwood.” The detour was only half a mile, but it cost $15. Tempting, but I stuck to my plan. By 10:30a.m., I was still 20 minutes out—cutting it too close. I hadn’t even finished buying my Groupon ticket, which would save me $10, almost covering the $11.95 fare for Max. Yes, even my dog needed his own ticket. The stress of rushing didn’t feel worth it. Instead, I decided to catch the 1:45 p.m. train. That gave me time for lunch and a relaxed wander through Fort Bragg.
I stopped at a few vista points along the ocean cliffs before arriving in town, early enough to buy tickets and grab food. Lunch was at a Thai-Mexican fusion spot. Against my better judgment, I let the server talk me into the special—blackened tilapia—that turned out not so special. I had my eye on the pineapple pork loin, something more unique, and probably should have gone with my instinct.
By 1:30p.m., Max and I joined the line to board. To my surprise, there were plenty of other dogs—Max even made a few friends. I was excited for what I thought would be a 75-minute ride. In reality, it was only about 30 minutes round trip, with a 45-minute stop in a wooded clearing where people could buy snacks and stretch their legs. It felt more like a stall than a scenic journey—a bit of a disappointment. While waiting for the return trip, I researched hotels and settled on the Mendo Bungalow, which I’d seen in earlier searches. Nothing fancy, but far more reasonable than the $400+ boutique stays that, realistically, I wouldn’t have had time to enjoy.
By the time the train pulled back into Fort Bragg, it was after 3:30 p.m. Visiting the Botanical Garden no longer made sense—I’d only have an hour before it closed—so I left it for tomorrow. Instead, I drove 15 minutes south to my hotel in Mendocino. As usual, the photos online looked better than reality, but at least it didn’t smell like mildew.
After dropping my bags, I headed into downtown Mendocino. Most shops had already closed, but Max and I wandered Main Street. Passing a bar, a group of men called out, “Free drinks for people with cute white dogs.” I laughed, but kept moving. Later, on my way back from the cliffs—where we caught the last of the daylight over the ocean—the same men were still at the bar, only this time one of the men came out of the bar to the sidewalk shouting and upping their offer: “Free drinks for girls in shorts. Free drinks for girls in sneakers.” A woman nearby chuckled, “I think those guys really want to buy you a drink.” It was comical, though I wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
Dinner options were slim, and the only viable spot, Flow, didn’t allow dogs—so Max waited in the car while I ate. Afterward, I debated circling back to the bar, but the hollering had ended, the men gone. Instead, I decided to make a practical stop: Ashley, my car, was long overdue for a wash. I drove back up to Fort Bragg, only to find the car wash was cash-only. Who doesn’t take cards these days? Frustrated by the wasted trip, I turned back to the bungalow, took a long hot shower, and called it a night.
