Continued from Part 18 - Buck Creek to Shelter Cove
In hindsight one often cleans things up and eliminates the bad and highlights the good or vice versa. This was true for me. The soreness, blisters, aching joints, and missing toenails are now part of the past consciousness. The good points of the trip clearly rise to the top. Me and the boys had some serious fun.
The trip also represents a change in my life. I was on my last week of paid vacation and employment for a company I had worked for since I was out of school twenty years past. I was starting a new chapter in my life and was hoping for great adventures in the future - with this trip being the catalyst for this change. Whitey was also going through some decisions as well - he was contemplating a new job and perhaps taking the relationship with his girlfriend to a new level. Flyrod and his family were moving up to Virginia from Atlanta and returning to the town where his kids were born and have some early memories. New adventures will be book-ended by this trip.
Before that could begin however we needed to get our rental car from where we left it. The prudent hiker will leave their car at the parking lot for Black Sands beach. We did not. We foolishly left the car up by the campground we stayed at the first night. It is over a mile from the trails end. I initially told Whitey that I would drop my pack and go with him to get the car - I reneged on that deal. I was relieved to be back to the end - but wanted to go no further. I was sore and hurting. Flyrod was in the same situation. Whitey - graciously put on his orange Crocs and jogged back to get the car - our hero. We had maps for the Lost Coast Trail but we did not have a good map for Shelter Cove - Whitey had to run around a bit to find the car and was dying for a cold soda when he found it.
Meanwhile - I sat with Flyrod and looked back down the beach. In the distance Kings Peak was visible and it was remarkable to think we had climbed up to the top and looked back this way a couple days ago...and walked the entire way. When you have a car - five, ten miles, seems nothing - 10 to 15 minute drive. You miss the journey and only get to the destination. We had a journey.
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| Kings Peak - peeking out from over the ridge. |
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| Draw a line up from the left edge of the sign - you can just see Kings Peak - little bump. |
After we we collected our things and piled into the car - we headed up Shelter Cove Road to Garberville. This is a quirky little town - grocery store, restaurants, gas stations, hotels, and fun shops to poke around in. There was the whole head shop vibe pulsing in town. Of course, there are some lost hippie souls floating through life here. They all seem to have this ashen haze to their being - hair, clothes, skin. What are they looking for I wonder.
We checked into the Humboldt House Best Western and were thrilled to have running water and beds. Life's treasures. Oddly we eschewed our hygiene - no showers yet - dropped our gear and headed to the pizza place, Sicilito's, behind the hotel. We can't smell that bad. We ordered two large pizzas and a pitcher of beer. It was heaven. At the table next to us were some younger folks enjoying the same. They were describing the surf scene on the coast - almost like Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High - "All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I am fine." I especially enjoyed the young raconteur who peppered his stories with the phrase - "It was epic." His friend put him in check at one time saying if it was so epic why didn't you surf it? So much fun.
After pizza we could not really think about showers yet - our room was on the ground floor by the pool and there was a hot tub. I think you know what happened. The reason my wife is cautious getting into a public hot tub has incredible merit.
The next day we headed back to Petrolia to retrieve our other rental - I bought some beer (EEL River Organic IPA - best beer ever) at the general store, posed for pictures at the post office, and had a large black lab step on my "Bull Frog Toe" - squeezing the day's juice from it - disgusting.
We camped under the Redwoods that night - met a fun young couple from Oregon, he worked in a marijuana dispensary and she was an artist who drew some very unique art - sort of a combination medical art and robots - think Terminator.
The redwood trees are like nothing I have ever seen. I actually got a bit emotional seeing them - their scale was something photographs just can not capture. The silence at their feet is surreal - it is as if all sound is absorbed into them and we are left with a silence that we have never known. They grow in groves and are all related in some way - like a family. They seem to find a nice place that is fed by the coastal fog and sheltered from the harsh winds. I wonder what it must have been like to see them before the loggers came. Thankfully they are protected now.
'God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempest and floods. But he cannot save them from fools' - John Muir
So the trip is over now - Whitey left the next morning and Flyrod and I decided to drive up to see the Bigfoot museum in Willow Creek - the heart of Bigfoot country. We needed to amuse ourselves. Then we headed back to San Fransisco - Oakland really - and stayed with my childhood buddy who I had not seen in decades - time has treated us both well.
The next day we headed out on a red-eye and back to our lives and new adventures. I thank you all for reading my long-winded story - it was everything I hoped it would be. Until next time - yes there is another adventure - The Teton Crest Trail - stay tuned.
Ian Corrigall
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