The next morning we woke up around 6:30am. The mosquitoes were
just beginning to get up, as well. It was only when I mustered the
courage to step outside that I realized how beautiful our camp was,
set in the middle of a redwood grove, morning light filtering through
the leaves high above.
Waterman Gap trail camp, early in the morning
The view looking up from our camp site
We had breakfast, cleaned up and packed up our stuff. I don't
think I've ever been able to do all this in less than 2 hours, and
today was no exception. It wasn't until 10:45am that we started off
on the second part of the journey. By then, we knew it was going to
be a hot day -- warmer than the previous day, for sure. While we were
getting ready, Joe saw a bunch of day hikers at the vault toilet and
water faucet. They'd apparently started early in the morning from
Saratoga Gap and were planning to do the 28 mile hike down to the
coast in one day. Yikes! But at least they didn't have to carry all
the weight that we did.
The Skyline To The Sea Trail crosses Highway 9, Highway 236, and
several private driveways. Along the way, it's decidedly NOT all
downhill. We were immediately met with rolling hills. We passed a
couple of trail runners coming in the opposite direction. Joe asked
them if we were close to the end of our climb, but they said it just
kept on going. And it did. Up and down, up and down.
The first part of this day's hike is perhaps the least scenic,
crossing as many roads as it does. And it's also probably the most
demoralizing. Most other parts of the trail at least have long
stretches of gentle up or down. But this part is steeper. We kept on
looking to our right, trying to see when the climbing might end, but
victory seemed elusive.
Jean races away from us so fast, she leaves a white blur
on my film (I really have no idea what that is -- I did not put that
there!).
We stopped for lunch in the forest, and the mosquitoes zeroed in on
us again. After refueling and doing the mosquito tango, we continued
along the trail. The rest of the day, whenever we stopped, we would
be bombarded with squadrons of blood-thirsty mosquitoes. I seemed to
be the one complaining the least, thinking I was getting off fairly
bite-free, but I was to be sadly mistaken.
We passed a couple backpackers coming the opposite direction -- I
think the only people we saw doing so on the entire trip. Even if the
trip we did wasn't all downhill, it's still much easier than going in
the opposite direction, in which case you'd have to do roughly twice
the climbing!
Shortly after we saw the backpackers, we crossed a section of the
trail with a sheer cliff on one side, falling several hundred feet
off to the right. And then, out into the bitter sun. When we crossed
the China Grade road, much of the hike for the next mile or two was
unshaded, and the hot afternoon sun bore down on us with 92 degree
heat. The problem is that whenever we stopped in the shade, the
mosquitoes came yet again. Our only recourse was to keep moving,
hoping shade would come.
Eventually the hike did return to mostly shade. And then, as if in
answer to our unspoken prayers, we came across a beautiful vision --
a creek, set amongst redwoods and ferns, calling out to us. I believe
it was Opal or Rogers Creek where we stopped. Because we'd started
our hike much earlier than the day before, we had the luxury of not
worrying so much about racing against sunset. And so we savored the
creek, dipping our fingers, toes, hands, feet, other body parts, in
the cool gentle creek. I was tired of drinking the chlorinated water
we'd gotten at Waterman Gap, so I whipped out my water filter and
filtered the creek water to produce some great-tasting, cool drinking
water. Of course, all this time we had to do battle with the
mosquitoes. But it was definitely worth the stop.
Jean gets ready to soak her tired feet in the creek!
After our long break, we grudgingly parted ways with the creek, and
continued on the trail. Soon thereafter we began to see signs of El
Nino. Scenes of mass destruction littered Opal Creek -- huge trees
leaning over the water, landslides, sections of the trail in
jeopardy.
We saw a hiker or two. And then another. We knew we were getting
very close to Big Basin Park Headquarters as we began to see a new
set of faces around almost every turn.
And then we were there. I talked to the park ranger there to
confirm our reservations and find out that our campsite was a quarter
mile down the road, first come first served, showers were 25 cents
for each 2 minutes, and the snack shop closed in an hour, at 6pm. Of
course we went straight for the snack shop where we filled up on ice
cream and drinks (Joe had a cookie, too!). We relaxed and chatted
with people who, seeing our packs, were interested in hearing our
adventures and plans. Colorful birds flew around us -- solid blue
birds, bright multi-colored birds. I tried to take a picture, but I
was no match for their speed. I need a bigger zoom lens.
We hiked over to Jay Trail Camp down the road, and picked Camp 4.
It looked like there was only one other site being used out of the 6
main sites. As we started to set up camp and cook dinner, Jennie and
Tim joined us (they drove to Big Basin). They arrived with gifts of
fresh fruit and vegetables. Yummy.
After dinner we ventured off to the showers, which were actually
very good. Well, very good considering I was in the middle of a
backpacking trip and sorely needed one. The water was hot, the
pressure was good, and it turned out 6 minutes was plenty enough for
me. I do have to admit that it made things a lot easier to wash up
and wash dishes with a sink there. The sink and showers were only a
few hundred feet away from our camp site.
I originally put the rain fly on my tent. Joe did the same. After
stepping inside and thinking about it for a few minutes, though, we
both decided that it was a bad idea. It was 69 degrees inside the
tent at 10pm. You may think that's a comfortable temperature, but
it's way too hot to sleep comfortably in. We both took our rain flys
off. The inside temperature would later reach a comfortable 61
degrees without the rain fly on. Still, I didn't have to zip up my
down sleeping bag the whole night (though I did at least slip inside
later in the night).
Around 2 in the morning, I woke up to noises and the sound of Tim
warning Jennie (who was returning from a trip to the bathroom) that
there were raccoons in our camp site. I shined my flashlight (which
was performing better due to the heat) outside of my tent. There they
were -- two raccoons digging into Joe's roasted almonds and our
garbage. Jennie and Tim managed to take the garbage away, but the
raccoons eventually ate all the almonds. They stared back at us as we
shined our flashlights at them, then continued eating. We were of no
concern to them. I'd placed all my food into Jennie's car, but I was
kicking myself for not dumping the garbage.
Before they left, I took my camera out and took a picture. The
bright flash didn't faze them. And, unfortunately, my camera got a
wonderful picture of the mesh of my tent from the inside, but nothing
resembling two raccoons. Eventually the raccoons finished the almonds
and convinced themselves there was no more food, and left us alone.
The whole night, though, we could hear animals rustling around near
our camp site.
Update: I have been told by
readers that in some parks, raccoons are so aggressive that they actually
rip open tents in the quest for food. So, I suggest that you probably
shouldn't store tent in your food in almost any situation. If you're worried
about critters getting to your food outside the tent, then bring a bear
canister, even if you're not in bear country. If it can stop a bear, it
can certainly stop a raccoon.
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