Typical Adventures

In case it comes up: the side of the road can be a great place to sleep; 24 miles is doable in a day (but not recommended if the other people with you aren't used to long walks); hiking at night isn't really that much fun, but it's a good temperature.

On Friday night, Kat and I drove our new friends from Capitola/Santa Cruz (a good group of college-age people) down to Big Sur for a camping trip we had all been planning for a week or so. We were all pretty busy, but we checked what hike we wanted, made sure we had the right gear, driving directions to parks and campgrounds... so we set out. It's about an hour down to Big Sur, so after getting everything together after work and getting everyone in the car, the drive down was mostly after sunset. A little more planning, it turns out, would have been useful; due to the US Open golf tournament, every campground, cabin, and motel was full. We drove around for a good while, stopping occasionally to ask if anything was open- including, around 12:30, at a campground bar, which had very comfortable couches and the World Cup game. But then they closed. Finally, I went into a big lodge-type place and told the guy at the front desk that we were desperate and just wanted to sleep by the side of the road- did he know anywhere that would be mostly legal? He drew me a map to a mostly abandoned road about 8 miles up the way, so we drove to the place, turned, passed the "2 wheel drive not recommended" sign, wound up the gorge for about a mile, and found a pullout where we laid out our sleeping bags on the ground all together and slept beneath beautiful stars.

I woke first, just before sunrise, to discover that we were at the edge of a beautiful cliff, with a view of a bridge and the ocean, and that everything was covered in lupine, fennel, wild sage, and morning glory. Everyone else woke slowly, and we packed up, breakfasted, and drove to Big Sur Station, the trailhead for our hike.

After distributing food and water to various packs, we set out on what was labeled a ten mile hike to the hot springs (the internet, however, had told us nine miles). We walked up and over hills, through beautiful redwood forests and fields of wildflowers above the tree line. We crossed streams and small rivers which flowed across the path. Finally, after a few hours of solid hiking, we arrived at the first campground along the trail. The posted sign, we read as we soaked our feet in the stream, read 5 miles to Sykes Hot Springs. Halfway there...

I'll cut short here; hiking doesn't really read well as a blog post. Just envision my perspective as a montage: braiding wildflowers into a crown (trailing behind the group slightly to pick them, then running short sections to catch up); chewing on wild fennel; stepping into streams in my Vibram 5 Fingers toe shoes for the cold of it; sweeping views down the valley. At some point, we ran low on water, so some of the guys started to fill their bottles from the stream. I advised them against it (though some of them drank the clear mountain stream water anyway), and showed them a better place, later on, where a stream waterfalled down onto the path after filtering though twenty meters of moss.

Anyway, we eventually got to the hot springs. It was a long way. They were beautiful, though- six pools built beautifully and privately into the hillside above a cool, wadable river. I wished, briefly, that I had backpacked out there with a tent and infinite food supplies; I would have loved to stay forever.

Unfortunately, we couldn't stay long. The hike up had taken longer than we'd allotted, and after a half hour at the springs, we had to head back, racing daylight.
The walk back was much less leisurely, and people were a bit tired. Increasingly so, as we chewed through the last of our food supplies. After about seven miles, the sun set, and I was very glad for the forethought that had made us pack a few flashlights even though we intended to be back well before dark.The trail was rocky, cliffy, thin, and downhill. I took a couple of packs and positioned myself at the rear of the group, which helped alleviate stress levels a bit. We were closer to the end than to a campground (or any flat spot, really), so we pushed on in the light of a half moon and a few battery-operated luminary devices. I passed off my headlamp to someone in front, as I could see well in the dark. The light of the highway was a welcome sight to everyone, and as we entered the last patch of woods before the lights of civilization, the mood was almost buoyant, though our group was distinctly weary. Then we crossed a river no one could remember, and came to an intersection, both of whose forks appeared to lead backwards. We elected to bush-crash, instead, towards the lights we could see not far away- and came out in a campground a few miles up the road from the trailhead where we had parked the car. There was considerable groaning as we realized our location, but I was really glad to know a sure route- I had driven past the campground earlier that morning. And we arrived safe and sound. I got to drive back home, where we arrived at one in the morning.


A few this week's other adventures:
-Hiking at Henry Cowell State Park (full of redwoods!) with a guy named Goat, who we met at the Sunday night hoop/poi/staff burn
-Midnight soccer with new friends at a local park- talking in Spanglish throughout and then running through the sprinklers in the night and swinging on the de rigueur swingset
-Picking 70ish pounds of ollalieberries (they're a lot like blackberries) at a u-pick, then making jam from (all) of it with Kat's family's friends.