Eli Lyons
We
soared down the steep country road, windows down, our hair whipping around our
necks in the cool Pacific air. The car shot out of the redwoods to the strains
of “Wild Mountain Nation” by Blitzen Trapper. It seemed appropriate. If there
ever was a wild mountain nation, it was here, in the
I
had read an article in the Times over breakfast that morning about the growing
marijuana cultivation in
Soon
the road was just two lanes, one in either direction. The redwoods were so
dense that light hardly got through at all. They crowded the road on all sides
like teenage girls around a pop star. We were encapsulated in a perpetual hug
of green and muddy red nature. Everywhere signs distracted us from our original
journey. “Drive through a Redwood!” “World’s Largest Tree!” “Hand Carved
Miniatures!” The signs had been here for a while. The owners were at least as
ancient, using the same old tricks to capitalize off unlucky tourists,
intrigued by the large words and exclamation points. All they wanted was to
take a picture with a piece of
Fools, I thought,
paying for a crumb when the whole cake lay around them. ‘It’s all right here!
You’re already in it! Explore!’ I felt like shouting. If only they could see
the real
We took our final exit off 101. You can always trust CalTrans to provide the most epic highway exit experience of your life. The overpass arched high over the now quadruple lane road, twisting in the air, offering spectacular views of the surrounding territory. I’ve always seen our highways more as architectural art than functioning roads.
We
made our way through Garberville and Briceland, finding the narrow, poorly maintained
road that would lead us to our final destination. The excitement was palpable.
We were so close. The change in air quality was immediate. Away from the
noxious fumes and human pollution, the country air was clean. It smelt of life.
The temperature dropped instantly as we crested the last hill. A large wooden
sign bearing the eloquent words, “King Range Conservation Area” welcomed us.
Cool Pacific air flowed over our faces welcoming us to the
We tore our cumbersome backpacks from the trunk. The coast arched for miles, double backed on itself, then continued its long stretch north before turning in on itself again. I jumped onto the black sand. It gently gave way beneath my boots. The salty ocean air invigorated me. The marine breezes ruffled my hair, providing relief from the hot sun. The sand stretched as far as I could see. The mountains to the east sloped down steeply onto the beach, soil mixing with sand at their feet. Trees encroached as far down the slopes as possible. Some had fallen, ripped from the ground by gravity, and lay broken on the shore. Dry streambeds snaked down from the foothills, while little trickles of water dripped off of slime covered rocks nearby. The beach was wide here, about 50 feet. We hiked for a mile before the beach changed entirely.
The foothills now abruptly cut off, near vertical for a few feet before retreating into the mountains. From a distance it seemed we could climb up onto the hills, perhaps to rest beneath a tree. Our hopes were dashed every time. The slopes were too steep to even think of ascending. There were more creeks as well. They meandered through the trees, some creating waterfalls as they fell onto the beach. Others sank deep beneath the surface, only visible as they seeped out of the sand, abruptly appearing in the middle of the beach. This gave the scenery a sort of magical feel. The beach began to narrow to about half its previous size. Rocks of all sizes littered the coast, impeding our journey. Most were fist sized, some were much bigger. All of them had been smoothed to ovals by the elements. It was considerably more difficult to walk over this medley of rock. Wherever I stepped, my ankles rolled a little. The rocks shifted around each other, constantly moving, never giving flat ground to walk on.
The beach was like this for the rest of the way. Despite the throbbing in my feet and battered ankles, I could not help feeling happy. All traces of man had vanished, leaving the primal coast. We passed fellow journeyers heading in the opposite direction. I took one look at their walking sticks, dirt-streaked pants, unkempt hair, and huge packs, and knew they were having just as much fun as I was.
Eventually, we tired of the monotony of the hike and began playing word games. We played these games for about an hour, staring squarely at the ground, trying not to remember the pain in our feet.
“A,” someone said, starting a new round of the game ‘ghost’.
“T,” the next letter of the word.
“F.”
“That’s not a word dude.”
The heat and exertion was taking its toll.
“Alright guys, I think this game is over.”
“Yeah. What should we do ne—AUUGHH!!”
I cant recall anything more horrifying. As one, we let out a scream of terror and jumped in all directions. I could feel the fear shooting through me in the form of adrenaline; a physical wave of energy. Despite the walking we had been doing for the past few hours, I felt I could have run a marathon, pack, boots, and all.
“Holy shit! What the FUCK is that thing?!”
“That scared the fuck out of me dude. Shit.”
Before us, lying twisted and mangled on the gray rocks, was a huge, glistening octopus tentacle, frayed at the end where it had been ripped from the body. It sat there flayed, surrounded by flies, curled in the rigor of death. My heart was still racing as we erupted in laughter. Once we realized what it was, the whole situation seemed hilarious.
Wiping the tears from our eyes, we continued along the beach. After three more hours we still hadn’t reached Shipman. Not knowing what to do, we took off our packs and collapsed in the shade of an overhang. I decided to scout ahead a little and see if I could see Shipman. I ran around the jut of land that was obscuring our view.
“Its beautiful!” I shouted back to the guys, ecstatic with joy.
“What? What is it?”
“Get over here and see for yourself!”
The sun was just about setting, close the horizon. That gorgeous, orange-gold light that never lasts long enough was spilling over the coast, illuminating the mist steaming off the mountains. This light bathed the verdant valley about a ¼ mile ahead of us. The trees sparkled in the ruddy light whose penetrating rays cast a sort of godly illumination on the basin. The valley radiated an aura of satisfying rest, but also of adventure.
“Dude that has to be it.”
“It’s…it’s gorgeous.”
We stood there, awestruck, bathing in glow of Shipman Creek. The last ¼ mile was a happy jog. The creek came into view as we approached. It flowed from the forest, carving its way through the sand til the waves forced it the other way. We rounded a huge rock and feasted our eyes on paradise. My legs buckled and I fell wearily onto the sand.
“Yes!”
“This is perfect! Actually guys, this is like, exactly what I was hoping for!”
We kindled a fire and watched the sun sink into the ocean. Thinking the moment could get no better, the moon rose from behind a distant mountain peak, casting its cold light onto our camp. Its reflection in the water was spellbinding, I could hardly remove my eyes from it. Wearily we trudged back to camp, read for a full night of sleep.
I curled cozily into my sleeping bag, and with the sound of ocean breathing, fell asleep.
The next day I rose early with the sun, then burrowed deeper into my sleeping bag to rest a little longer. Eventually the sleep faded from my eyes and I emerged from the tent. The air was cool and the sun hot. I made my way over to where Max was making oatmeal.
“Mornin’ dude,” I said groggily.
“I’ve been up for hours. I don’t understand how you guys can sleep that long,” said Max, stirring the oatmeal.
“You want some coffee?” I asked.
“Please!”
said
“Me too,” said Max.
“Nick?”
“Naw, I’m good dude. Thanks.”
After breakfast we began our day. On one side of our campsite was the creek, and beyond that a sandy slope, littered with giant driftwood logs. We were sheltered on the other side by a huge cliff, almost too steep to ascend. When I saw it, I knew I had to climb it.
“What you guys wanna do today?” I asked.
“I’m
gunna go run,” replied
“I’m gunna sit on the beach dude, if you’re adventuring count me out,” said Max, devoting his day to lounging.
“What did you have in mind?” Nick asked slightly suspiciously, as if he knew I was about to propose some ridiculous plan.
I pointed to the cliff and looked at Nick.
“You down?”
“You’re crazy.”
“You down?” I asked again, laughing.
“Alright. Lets do it.”
I took my camera, a few rolls of film, and the snake bite kit, just in case. Nick grabbed a water bottle for us to share.
“Are you sure we can do this?” asked Nick, looking up the weed littered incline.
“Yeah
dude, we’ll be fine.
We approached the cliff. I began to scramble up the slope, grabbing onto plants while loose soil and rocks fell, dislodged by my boots. I continued up the cliff with Nick close behind. The view from the top was remarkable. Max waved to us.
“Well, that was fun,” said Nick a little sarcastically, “wanna go back now?”
Nick walked to the edge and stood there, pondering the situation. After examining the cliff he reached a conclusion.
“Well we sure aren’t going back this way.”
“What? Lemme see.”
Sure enough, the face appeared impossible to climb down. What little hand holds the cliff had were gone, knocked off during our ascent.
“Well shit,” I said, “into the forest then?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Nick replied.
We began to climb up the forested mountain side. The slope was populated by small trees and shrubs until the redwoods took over further up and blocked the sun. The ground was covered in redwood duff and crumbled beneath our feet.
I have never seen so much poison oak. It appeared in bright green and dappled red, and every color in between. There was so much of the plant that brushing up against it was inevitable. Resigned to my fate of being really, really itchy, I clambered on.
I climbed under the first redwood, battling the dusty lower limbs. When I emerged, the mountain side looked entirely different. The redwoods grew tall, providing perpetual shade. Large ferns covered every other square foot of land. To our right the cliff continued, providing no way down. To our left, the slope curved upwards softly, then sharply, making a bowl. There was only forest for miles around us. We ventured on, unsure of where we were going or how we would return to camp.
“Lets go over there, maybe there’s a way down,” Nick said hopefully.
We scrambled through the ferns to the edge of the cliff. Holding on to a tree, I surveyed the situation. There was absolutely no way down. The ground dropped rather steeply, then flattened out into a thicket of underbrush. Even if we managed to get down, we would still have to battle our way through that dense tangle of shrubs.
Despite our seemingly dire situation, I was having an immeasurable amount of fun. This was the unadulterated adventure I had been craving. We had successfully isolated ourselves from any path back to camp, and had no knowledge of the surrounding terrain. The only people for miles were Max and Austin, who had no idea where we were at the moment. In other words, we were completely on our own, and it felt amazing. I could picture no better place to get lost.
We cut back through the ferns, which were becoming less dense. We had walked a considerable distance from camp by now, and there were no signs that the cliff had leveled off. Wondering how much further we needed to go, I walked to the precipice and, holding onto a tree, peered ahead.
“Yep. Still fucked,” I relayed to Nick, “it’s still way too steep to get down.”
“Ugh. Alright dude lets just—,”
“Wait! I see it!” I cried, cutting Nick off abruptly.
The mountain was still too steep to climb down, but ahead of us lay two fallen trees, branches still intact.
“If we can just get to those trees, I think we can climb down them,” I said reassuringly.
“And the river shouldn’t be too far from there,” said Nick. “We can follow it back to camp!”
The trees provided a ladder down the otherwise impassable slope. It was risky. After all, the trees had fallen down, implying a lack of structural integrity. We also didn’t know how long they had been lying there. They may have been completely rotten. Nonetheless, we bounded down the slope to salvation.
I climbed onto the first tree. It seemed stable. Using the branches for support, I made my way down. Nick followed behind me.
“Wait! Stop right there!” I yelled.
“What is it?!” Nick shouted, worried.
“The perfect fucking picture. Just hold on.”
The entire time I had been taking photographs, but this one captured the adventure we were experiencing.
We moved down the second tree to relatively flat ground. We were still about 15 feet above the river.
“We should find a less rocky slope and just slide down it,” Nick suggested.
After a few minutes of searching we stumbled across a small gulley in the cliff face. A small stream had worn away the earth, and rocks wet with moss formed a slippery chute. As much as I didn’t want to slide down the muddy channel, I saw no other choice.
“Alright, I’ll go down first. Wait for me to get all the way down before you even start,” I said, making sure he got the last part.
“Yeah, go for it.”
I picked my way carefully down the rocky gutter, wedging my feet into whatever gap they could find. My hands clutched to roots protruding from the earthen trough, the rocks too slippery to grasp. I was about ¾ the way down when Nick began his descent. I looked up just in time to see Nick’s foot slide off a rock, completely throwing off his balance. My arms were thrust from the wall as Nick careened into me. We tumbled down the remainder of the gulley, landing at the bottom in a heap. The mud and decaying leaves stuck to us.
“Shit dude, sorry!” Nick apologized. “You ok?”
“Yeah I’m good. That was…I’m never doing that again,” I said, examining my battered elbows.
Thoroughly beaten, scratched, and bruised by the forest, we retired to the creek. The water was excruciatingly cold. I dove in head first, held my breath, and immediately shot to the surface.
“Oh shit!” I gasped. “That bitch is freezing!”
The water rolled off my skin the moment I surfaced. The sun shot through the foliage and warmed me. I could feel my core temperature rise as the water beaded off my back. The pain of the many cuts and aches I had collected seemed to disappear in the cold mountain water. The feeling of complete rejuvenation combined with that of finally being able to find camp overwhelmed me.
“I feel like a new man!” Nick exclaimed.
Those were the exact words to describe it. We sat there on the bank of the stream for a while, letting the air dry us. Having achieved adventure, I was ready to lie out on the beach and rest my tired bones.
We left the next day at about five o’clock. We reasoned that this later departure time would be cooler, as the sun was lower in the sky. We came up with many other reasons for the rushed exodus, but when it came down to it, we all just really wanted In-N-Out.
The ride back was
relaxing. We sped out of the