Steve and Terrie's Vacation
T: Eventually we wind down into a small flat valley, and into Coast Camp. It appears to be deserted...the wind banging the outhouse door adds to general atmosphere. Although our reservations are actually for the next day, it doesn't look like it will be a problem to stay here. We shed packs and refill water in the main part of the camp before finding our actual site, and once we do find it we actually decide to stay there -- it's more sheltered from the wind than the first sites we saw coming into the campground. There is one other camper, a lone man who seemed to be listening to the radio as we passed. He barely says hello or waves; later we see him walking down the trail towards the center of camp and he looks like he might be as sore as we are.
S: That would be saying a lot. Today, we have walked close to ten miles, including Wildcat to Alamere and back, and 7.6 from Alamere to here; including nearly 1000’ elevation gain and loss, most of it in dampness. When we started, we were unable to get a clear idea of the real distance from Wildcat to Coast camp. I’m really glad we decided to forego the two nights at Wildcat, even though the weather appears to have improved.
T: Lots of fat quail scurrying about the path at this campground...we haven't been gone that long, but they're starting to look pretty tasty to me.
S: The bunny also looked eminently edible, and I don’t even like rabbit meat. You can see how living in the wild could turn a person carnivorous in a relatively short time…
T: Yeah, I had impure thoughts about that bunny, too. By the way, the water at Coast Camp is much, much better than that at Wildcat. No signs that filtering was necessary, but we did anyhow - everything the park publishes says to filter or boil. And I'll attest to that; we've seen no ill effects from drinking our filtered water, despite the stagnant taste of that at Wildcat.
S: Nice beach here, though it’s difficult to find enough driftwood to start a fire (We hope to cook our dinner on the beach and thus save Gaza, but there’s not enough wood for a reliable fire). This beach, we later learn, is not too far from the "civilized" world. We’ll probably visit again on bikes.
Wind is a problem. It makes the cooking take twice as long as it should; lowers the ambient temperature by probably 15 degrees or more; makes you have to nail everything down lest it all fly away. I hate wind. One really great thing about our tent is that it’s almost entirely unaffected by wind once it’s set up.
There’s really not much to see here (at least, nothing we want to walk and see after already walking ten miles). Sculptured Beach is probably interesting; but it’s about a mile and a half back down the beach, so we save it for another time.
Again, we conk out fairly early, genuinely tired.
This whole thing may seem kind of dreary, as read from a comfortable chair on a sunny windless day; it was not dreary at all. Pretty much every moment had its beauty, and something to recommend it. The rain was never particularly harsh, and the wind wasn’t really biting and cold. I would do this hike again, only slightly differently (hopefully in better weather), and would recommend it to anyone so inclined.
We (well, I’ll speak for myself) enjoy the exertion of a steep climb, and the opening up of a grand view that few get the chance to see. I love the solitude of a long walk down a slightly spooky meadow in the mists; the expansive feeling of looking a mile back down a beach and seeing only our two sets of footprints. I like stopping and examining a rock or flower or even the poop from some unknown critter, looking things up in our field guides. Watching the aerobatics of a turkey vulture or raven or hawk; or the silly waddling and startled flight of a covey of quail. Scanning the breakers for seals, knowing that we’ve seen whales 20 feet from shore not far from here, and could see them again… That stretch from Wildcat to Coast was especially appealing, even while being genuinely painful on the feet.
T: It's hard to describe why this was a good trip, despite the "problems" - the weather seemed against us (the wind, always, certainly did). I particularly dislike the combination of being wet and cold and feeling that there will not be a good opportunity to get warm and dry soon, but none of this was as bad as my fears about it. I did not work myself into good enough shape to do this, so even now, days after, I'm still slightly sore and can feel the outline of the pack where I carried the weight if I touch those spots.
And yet, even remembering the wind makes me smile. People probably get sick of me going on about Pt. Reyes, but this is one reason I love it - the incredible variety of what you will experience there. You can hike a trail that travels past a ranch with placid cows grazing or reclining in the mustard and staring at you blankly, and if you're really lucky, you might see a bobcat or coyote around the next turn. A lot was done to save this area, and even now it's incredibly overrun with people, but it's still wild, and we can get to it, easily. There isn't a place I know of that's more living and breathing than this.
Part of the delight in this trip, too, is to be able to spend this time mostly away from other people. There are people in this world I like, and I can generally function ok in a world populated by them. Steve is a wonderful travelling companion, by foot or otherwise, and I'm lucky to be able to do this with him - not sure I could do it alone and actually sleep. But the shared solitude, and the constant sensory-candy (was going to say eye-candy, but there's more than just sights) was wonderful, and it will sustain me for some time to come, like a nutrient. I often think of my living ancestors during times like these, knowing that they can no longer experience anything like this, and at times during the trip I wanted to store up sights, sounds, feelings, smells and somehow transmit this to them, to explain something I think they might have in common with me. But there isn't a way to share this without doing it. Nonetheless, I store up as much sensation as I can for coming weeks.
The thing I realized that night at Coast Camp was that I was happier than I've been in a long time. Both nights I slept better than I can remember in a long, long time. The pack was much lighter than the pager I usually carry during the day.
Tuesday
S: Next morning, it’s coffee, and head out without breakfast. The trail is closed where they’re introducing the Tule Elk to a new section of the Point. A bit of debate about taking the 1.8 mile closed trail, vs. The 3.8 mile detour, but we like the Elk, and decide on giving them a wide berth. The detour means going onto the beach, and we find good packed sand near the water line, and the sun has come out, and the wind isn’t too bad so it’s really very enjoyable. Could’ve taken my shoes off… but then, I’d’ve had to carry ‘em. We manage to spot the place where the Coast Trail resumes, and we wind along on a vehicle-width trail through marshes and cool lightly-forested areas. About two miles of this, and rather abruptly, we round a bend, and there’s the Saturn.
T: The beach part of the trail was better than I'd imagined (I'd imagined staggering through sand in packs and wind). The wind wasn't so bad, the sun was out, and we were near low tide, and so able to walk on well-packed sand. It was another unexpected treat - somehow, a trip through Pt. Reyes should include a good beach walk.
S: I almost want to turn back, but thoughts of a full-on omelet and a bottomless cup of coffee are just too damned enticing. Besides, gotta save some things for later. In 48 hours, we’ve hiked some 20+ miles through very beautiful country, seeing a lot of stuff that some people will never see...
Afterthoughts...
T: I'm left feeling that I want to do more of this, but I think I'd like to try something more in the way of the ultra-light hiking, the "Ray Jardine way" (his Pacific Crest thru-hike pack - 8.44 pounds!), but in more one-nighter type hikes...I do appreciate hot water, mattresses and coffee too much for an extended trip of that kind. But I found that I liked *moving* more than anything else. We probably pushed it too much on our second day, but moving through the terrain was the best part of the trip for me...and I'm a person of inertia (ask anyone who's seen me sleep through countless movies and sometimes meetings). I'd like to do some one-night blitzes of some of our more favorite areas, including more of Pt. Reyes. REI should be hoping that Verio stock goes up and up in the coming months - if it does, I'll probably be dropping significant bucks there.
I wish I was better at drawing, to use that during trips like this; brought sketchbook, but it all seemed so hopeless.
The things I appreciated the most:
1. Polar fleece - both the new overshirt and the gloves a visitor was nice enough to leave on the premises a few months. Even wet, this stuff keeps you warm.
2. Water - good-tasting water - next time, we'll bring more water-additives, just in case of bad taste.
3. Our tent - the Northface Cirrus just stands up to anything, is quick to set up and quick to pack up, keeps us cozy and comfy.
4. Most of all, a wonderful travelling companion. No hints on how to find this yourself. Good luck.
And, of course, Point Reyes itself.