the lost coast - day two, continued

It must have been around 5 PM or so when we set up camp. Andy scouted a few areas and we settled on this site with the rusted-out barrel and log - right at the point where the mountains tapered off into very low "cliffs" that banked down into the beach. I remember being so tired as Andy swiftly pitched the tent and I helped put our stuff inside. Andy tasked himself with gathering driftwood for our campfire as I sketched our sea findings of the day.

Fire is such a beautiful thing. We spent a few hours after dinner feeding the flames, and with the amount of wood we had we could have had a bonfire going all night. But the weight of the day's hike totally wore me out, so I retired to the tent early, as the fire snapped and crackled with Andy taking care of it. Rolls of fog creeped in, and a calm, pleasant evening peppered with rainfall overnight turned into a wet and grey morning...

the lost coast - day two

The morning of day two was cold and clean and heavy with moisture. I think I leaned up against the side of the tent during the night, and as a result the condensation pooled and soaked through my sleeping bag and led to my rising early. I unzipped the tent, stepped clumsily over Andy, and went poking around the area surrounding the campsite.

Drops of moisture were everywhere, hanging off of evergreen tips, suspended on tree branches. I sipped some drops off of trees as I followed the scent of ceanothus and examined all the lichens and flowers and stones underfoot. I took care of morning business and listened to the stream running off into the rolling ocean waves, and after all this quiet time I picked my way back to the tent to find Andy starting up some coffee and squinting at me through eyes that had been in a deep sleep only moments before. We had a hot breakfast of oatmeal and torn-up dried apricots, swiss cheese croissants and coffee and spiced tea, then Andy packed up the tent and we readied ourselves for the second day of hiking.

Did I mention the black sand beaches? I love that this beach exists. I want to visit every beach with black sand in the world. There would be stretches of this sand, then outcroppings of boulders, then fields of medium-to-large rocks, and this constant change in terrain really wore out my feet, but the change kept it interesting. And then there would be breaks along the beach and the cliffs where the streams cut through and run out to the ocean and some of these were so gorgeous we would stop just to stare and take it in.

About midday we began to notice the tide pools on the edges of the shore, and we would take breaks to explore them. We saw one ochre sea star, a lot of mussels and snails, kelp and various seaweeds. We spotted one sea urchin rasping along a rock and cormorants and seagulls flying and taking breaks on some of the bigger boulders at sea. Since the tide had gone out tons of sea treasures were left strewn on the beach and gave us new things to focus on...so fun!

Walking along the beach got old (wet sand and heavy packs, ooog) so it was great to go up into the hills covered in wildflowers (hooray!) and poison oak (nooo) and trek along on dirt for a while. And with the mist rolling off the mountains towards the shore, the sun intermittently shining hard and then peeking out from behind sheets of grey clouds, day two was a pleasant and almost easy hike compared to day one...!

the lost coast

Ten days ago I drove up to Berkeley to embark on a backpacking/camping trip with Andy to the Lost Coast in Northern California! Once at Berkeley we assessed all of our supplies and packed and repacked our clothes, food, and camping gear until everything was in order. The next morning we were off! It took us 5 hours to drive up to the trailhead to a community called Shelter Cove, the starting point of our 23 mile hike. It was immediately a sight to behold, with shores of black sand strewn with giant driftwood trees and branches, tumultuous waves of "unusual size" and awe-inspiring forests that seemed to grow right up against the shore.

The only thought looming on my mind once we had our packs on, as we started our hike, was that we'd gotten to the trailhead a little later than anticipated, thanks to an unreliable map and our own hesitancy, and the tide had already started to come in. Though we had read many warnings about hiking the "impassable at high tide" strip against the incoming tide, we determined that we'd make it albeit narrowly, so we trekked something like 9 miles in about 4.5 hours.

It was difficult. I was totally unused to hiking with a big pack on, nor stomping on damp sand, or scrambling over boulders and rocks with said pack strapped on. I could feel angry spots on my feet already forming, which an icy stream crossing or two unfortunately couldn't help. We passed a group of six stopping for lunch, and worried about if they'd be able to make it with several miles to go and time against them. Andy was calm and encouraging, but I was nervous and stressed about my greenness in backpacking and helplessness against the ocean. After rounding corner after endless rocky corner (though maybe it was like...six of them) we finally made it past the impassable zone, to a delta where a river flowed out to the ocean.

We stopped to make camp. Andy scoped out several areas while I sat and massaged my sore feet, and then after crossing the stream to assess these areas, we decided on a clearing surrounded by scraggly trees and lush shrubs, close enough to the ocean to hear the pounding surf, close to the river to hear it rushing along, and near some abandoned otter burrows (?) of some sort. Andy pitched the tent (I helped a little bit) and then we tucked in to a delicious hot meal of reconstituted freeze-dried lasagna, which was amazing after our long day. After dinner I settled in, exhausted, and watched Andy build a tiny fire. I remember I could hear it crackling in the cold air - I was happy to be on this trip, and happy that we made good strides on our first day.