Part 12 - The Lost Coast Trail - Day 2 -The Danse Macabre

START HERE - THE LOST COAST PART 1

...continued from part 11

When you’re a kid, the domain of monsters is usually reserved to the typical places - under the bed, in the closet, in the basement or in gym class where Karl Koslowski reined supreme; he being the dumb over-sized farm boy who had been held back a few years.  Looking at a map of our house in Montana, it looked almost like those old world maps, the kind with the dragons, sea serpents, and scary looking mountains in place of the unknown around the edges.  We lived at the base of ‘Rattlesnake Mountain’, twelve miles North of Helena, Montana (next home after Cali).  A few miles to our Northeast, the intimidating sounding ‘Gates of the Mountains’ wilderness area and ‘Wolf Creek’.  There were other notable landmarks to keep us kids from going too far from home, ‘Rattlesnake Gulch’, ‘Beartooth Mountain’, ‘Sleeping Giant Mountain’, ‘Devils Tower’, ‘Slaughter Pen Gulch’ and twenty other places where flying monkeys surely must live.  But now, on the Lost Coast trip, we encounter a real monster.
That night at Randall Creek was very quiet, at least until 3AM when a powerful blast of wind came roaring in off the ocean.  The other guys did not feel it, but my tent nearly blew itself off the bluff - I didn't bother to stake it down because it was so calm when I set up and the forecast was for the same.  I held on for an hour, afraid to leave as my tent would surely cartwheel off into the dark without my fat ass inside.  Just as suddenly as it came up, it was gone.   During that time I heard our pots and pans clang around in the kitchen down below.  Was it a bear?
At dawn I was first up - I love sunrise and the color spectrum so I hoped to get some good pictures.   I noticed the only damage to my tent was bent top support rods.   And the pans below in the kitchen were only scattered about, but fine.

Sunrise (click to enlarge)

Morning waves - looking South

Misty Lost Coast

The other guys got up and we started to break down our tents - lucky for us the air is so dry there was no dew to contend with.  Big Agnes gets let go first as she is slow to leave in the morning.  Just pull her plug and she hisses at you as you walk away.  Great sleeping pads those are.
I continued to snap away at pictures, doing some artsy study on a yellow flower - I wanted to capture it slowly opening in the morning sun (I won't bore you with it).
Flyrod was up on the bluff brushing his teeth looking out over the ocean and spotted some whales surfacing.  He yelled to us with his mouth frothing like Old Yeller.  But how cool is that?!   I struggled to get a picture - basically I got a nice shot of the empty ocean - but I tried.  Whitey took to the task of getting the kitchen ready for oatmeal and coffee - that boy is always hungry.

Morning glow -West - awesome!!

Randall Creek

Whitey and Flyrod in the kitchen

During breakfast we discussed today's hike.  It was going to be a long one.  Our goal was make the next camp some 15 miles distant and near the end, pitch up a 3400ft vertical gain.  It was ambitious and there would be pain.  We would turn inland at Miller Flat and head toward our third day goal of Kings Peak (4088ft).  Remembering the map of my days in Montana, this map had Rattlesnake Ridge and Bear Hollow - our campsite for the night - wonderful.
Flyrod and I broke down the rest of our kit and packed our bags.  Whitey had gotten a jump on us by doing this already so he was getting some rest looking at the map down by the kitchen.  Since the trail left from the campsites topsides, we left our bags up there and went down to see what Whitey was doing.   As we headed down the path, Flyrod casually says, "Whitey, hey, there is a large snake heading toward you."  Being the laid back dudes we all are, Whitey responded, "Sure there is."  Of course I confirmed what Flyrod said adding to the age old joke among guys trying to fuck with the other guy, like "Hey, your girlfriend was over at Joe's last night." --- No way.--- Other guy --- "Yeah man, she was, sorry."   It was textbook.  This time however we were not joking.  There was a big snake.  A Crotalus oreganus and it was heading towards Whitey's Organ-anus area. Of course I took a picture.

Say hello to my little friend	Flies are the least of your problems	Snake, "OMG these boots are ripe!"
Almost gone	Salvation	Do not try this at home.

The snake, a Northern Pacific Rattlesnake (Western Rattlesnake) decided to spend some time behind Whitey.   It was a real beauty.  As you can see from the pictures it basically hung out under the log behind Whitey's back then climbed up over his boots and out under his legs.  Like Elmer Fudd says - "Be wery wery quiet..."
We were happy it all ended well for everyone.  The snake is back at work catching mice and stuff. And Whitey gets the award for having nerves of steel.  I would have screamed like a little girl and truly tested the 30-day Astronaut underwear I had on !!

On with the hike!!

NEXT PART 13 - Randall Creek to....