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.

we meet again, st. louis

I was in St. Louis over the weekend to witness the union of one of my oldest and dearest friends to his beautiful bride and partner, on the campus of Washington University where they met during their undergrad. It was such an exciting and beautiful way to start off the month of March!

The first time I traveled to the city was four years ago by way of Kansas City from Los Angeles on a 30-hour train ride. That time I was in the city for less than 15 hours and it wasn't nearly as frozen as it was this past weekend, for back when I went it was early spring rather than mid-winter (although I know it is technically spring right now!). I shared a hotel room with another close friend of the groom, and over an evening of zucchini and portobello fries and beer we became fast friends. This time it was her first visit in the city, so the morning of the wedding we decided to go see the Gateway Arch and visit the St. Louis Art Museum. We rode the subway east which was packed with people, which puzzled me until I realized that it was Mardi Gras. I didn't even realize this until I looked more closely at the throngs of people outfitted in purple, gold and green and giddy with the prospects of the day. My new friend chatted with some locals and they showed her their beads and their energy was crazy and infectious. We strolled over to the arch after making our stop, took silly pictures, and upon realizing that we wouldn't make it to the museum, took our time on getting back and wandered around St. Louis.

I feel a little older after this weekend, which I guess is apt for having just attended the first real wedding of someone I know, one of my best friends. The sudden realization hit me that this is only the first of such ceremonies that will occur amongst my peers, which is kind of exciting (I guess). I found myself getting extremely emotional all throughout - so much that I would look away to quell the tears, but then I would tell myself, "No! Stay in the moment!" and just keep watching as my eyes continued to mist over. I may have to go to St. Louis one more time in the future, to see that damn museum, and to visit the newlyweds again on a more relaxed time schedule. Until then...!

sunrise at vasquez rocks

This past Sunday, Andy and I awoke at 4:30 AM to haul ass to Vasquez Rocks State Park in Santa Clarita. It was pitch black as we hurtled up the highway, and our only imperative was to make it before the sun rose up over those hills. Andy had packed us a picnic lunch the night before, and I prepared thermoses of hot tea the morning of...! It was still dark when we got to the park but as dawn drew nearer, the sky went from black to inky blue and gradually began to lighten. Andy pointed out the Pacific Crest Trail running through the park as we picked our way through scrubby junipers and sagebrush and felt that strong silent hum of dawn thrumming through our bodies.

The sun was supposed to rise at 6:37 but it felt like it happened ten minutes after that. We wondered aloud what sunrise really means - when the sun is over the horizon, right? But I guess it's a bit more subtle when you're eagerly anticipating it.

Of course when the sun did pour its rays over the peaks and washed over the hills and rocks and dips in the land, they were a beautiful rosy hue, tinged with gold, flaring off into tangerine halos. I am consistently thrilled by daybreak and how it swiftly and powerfully it really does make itself known.

It was a great decision to get to Vasquez Rocks early, before that dry heat set in. After scaling incredibly steep bluffs and eating our picnic lunch-now-breakfast, Andy showed me how much of a mountain goat he really is as he hopped around me, encouraging my ascent to that one large peak shown right above as I clutched at the sandstone for handholds, footholds, and stayed as close to the rock face as I could. We surveyed the alien landscape around us and watched cars slowly file in to the park as we packed up and readied our exit. Overall 10/10, would come again.

desert riding

Thursday evening after work, a quick trip to the store for victuals and a half hour of frenzied packing, I hopped into a truck lugging a trailer of motorcycles and discarded/salvaged Christmas trees and went with Andy and Kyle to their usual campsite east of the Salton Sea. We pitched the tent by candle-(flash) light and I fell asleep inside while the others caught up with their old friends who had already been on site since earlier that day.

In the morning I went on a bleary-eyed walk with Andy, yawning and shuffling along through the desert already blazing with the sun's heat at 8 AM. We picked up rocks and discussed the coming activities for the day, and Andy described the lay of the land as we crunched along.

Andy showed me how to start up, and shift gears on a quadrunner, and I puttered around in the stretch of the canyon, getting stuck in a bush and backing out of it, and getting used to steering this funny teal 4-wheeled ATV with a Misfits sticker on its front. A few hours later, everyone was ready for a ride and, after searching for a particular canyon campsite, we went on to Lookout Point. It was tricky to get up there, and I did alright that day (but the next day wouldn't be the same story...!). Everyone in the party had years of motorcycling experience so it was exhilarating and intimidating seeing everyone in their element out there.

We made it back and as I took off my helmet and gloves, I noticed my hair thick and gritty with the dust it picked up on the ride. Andy noticed it too and chimed, "I've decided I rather like you with grey hair!" Unrelated to that comment, it stayed pretty grey for the rest of the weekend.