At Sky Camp, we had debated the wisdom of setting up our tents underneath
the tree canopy. What I had thought of is that if it drizzled, all the dirt and
bugs from the twigs and leaves would rain down and dirty up our tents. But as
it turned out, , the best and level spot was directly under a huge
open tree-shaded area. We went to bed so early that it was actually nice to
have the early gloom of the shadows, and it looked like the morning sun might
peek through the edge of the eastern side.
I was a little chilly that night and
didn’t sleep all that well. Just warm enough to not want to give up my meager heat
to crawl out and pull on my polartec jacket, but not warm enough to be comfy.
Nola, who has plenty of body heat was happily commenting on how she didn’t get
too warm!
As we strolled down to take the morning air, we realized
what a tent pitched out in the open would have meant. The little dome tent down by
the hitching rail was drenched in the morning dew! We were able to pack our dry
tents and take off right after a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs or oats/granola.
About the freeze-dried scrambled eggs with bacon… all I can say
is… YUM! They were delicious and moist and had a nice firm texture. Next time I’m
leaving the oatmeal packets at home and just taking the eggs!
We hung the map in a little pouch from Nola’s
pack so the Trailmaster would have access to it whenever she needed to check
directions.
(You may think Melinda is preparing to look at the map, but she is really checking on The Chair.)
We took the Woodward Valley trail to cut down to Coast Trail so we would have as much seaside walking as possible, even though it meant a few more miles and probably more total uphill walking by the end of the day.
Along the trail we saw the weirdest thing, a great green mass up about 40 feet or more high up on a dead tree. The binoculars proved it was living vegetation instead of a giant green beanbag chair, but we could not see just what it was or how the leafy thing was living, perched up there on the dead spike of a conifer.
Talk about a jinxed area! There I am, strolling along ahead of my two companions, happily snapping photos when I see them pause, and then step to one side of the trail. They looked deep in thought, staring pensively down as they murmured. I’m missing this little moment! I thought, and went back to get in on the conversation.
That’s when I saw they weren’t chatting, but staring at a
big red blob halfway covered with a big pile of weeds and thistles. The bare
bloody rib cage was my first clue that it had been a deer. In fact, it was a
really fresh, large deer that hadn’t even started to smell or draw flies yet.
Melinda, the Trailmaster, also proved herself as the
Beastmaster.
“Mountain Lion, probably last night. You can see it ate the
heart and liver.”
That was when I remembered the last time I’d gone hiking and
had some time to ponder my status as mountain lion prey. I had been going to make a
small cape with big scary eyes painted on it to wear across the back of my
pack.
“One good thing,” the Beastmaster said, “is that our packs
protect the back of our necks.” My neck started to crawl, and we realized that
the mountain lion might actually still be in the vicinity and feel protective
about his dinner, so we scurried on down the trail.
One big landmark along the trail is the huge
eucalyptus tree marking the access for Kelham Beach .
That was where we were going to eat our lunch. Down the stairs we went to the
sand. A lovely waterfall fell to the mossy rocks directly to one side. We took
our shoes off to walk along the beach looking for a bit of a shady overhang.
Only a half dozen steps and I was running. Hot
Hot Hot! I couldn’t stop to take off my pack or get my camp shoes. The only
thing I could do to keep the soles of my feet from frying was to keep them off
the sand, one at a time, by running. Soon I heard close at my heels, “Hot Hot
Hot!” Melinda and I were running a race to nowhere. In my pain, I spied a log
of driftwood that curved a few inches above the surface. A thin shadow lay
under it. I aimed for it and then shoved my feet under it into the shaded sand.
Melinda followed, doing the same. And then here came Nola, “Hot Hot Hot!” as
she ran circles around us. “Here! Under this log!” we cried.
Finally the three of us had breathing room to get our packs
off and our camp shoes on.
Lucky Tess is small enough to tuck herself into a bit of shade.
Tess gets booties to keep her from burning her paws.
Rattlesnake Grass
After lunch, Bear Valley Trail took us inland again and
headed towards Glen Camp. We had some nice cool easy sections.
The quail were so cute!
The nicest area of today's trail.
Soon enough, the trail turned steeply uphill. At this point, we settled into our jobs. My job was to say that I was sure the trail leveled out right after this bend. The Trailmaster’s job was to say that we should be there any minute because there was only a half mile to go an hour ago. Nola’s job was to watch the rear for mountain lions and take care of the chair.
Tired Tess
Arriving at Glen Camp was a nice reward. It is a
beautiful campground, and we had it virtually to ourselves. We enjoyed time at each
campsite as it spent its moment in the warm sun.
We pitched tents under the large tree canopy. We went to bed
on the early side, me enjoying my ipod, Nola enjoying her book, and both of us
enjoying the entertainment of listening to Tess rollicking around inside the
other tent.
Just as I was about to drop off to sleep, I heard a deadly,
ominous sound. Crrrraaaackkk! A tree limb had dropped off somewhere close-by. Nola
thought it might be overhead. I didn't think so, but in my mind, I was already
diving underneath her cushion. (I like to think I would have thought again and
thrown my body over hers to protect her.)
But we didn’t die, and I hope I remember the adventure and
look for big limbs the next time I sleep under a tree.
Very nice write up. I'm trying to remember whether you left anything out, and I don't think so!
ReplyDeleteCan't wait for part 3.
ReplyDeleteCork