Returning to Childhood Haunts

My hubby spent several of his formative years living in southern Humboldt County amidst the redwood trees and fog. So as we planned our travel route from the Pacific Northwest to Southern Utah, it came as no surprise that he wanted to take the coastal route and revisit some of his favorite childhood haunts. First up was Prairie Creek and Fern Canyon, which I blogged about already. These two destinations were places he'd taken me early in our romance and I enjoyed reliving those old times with him. Plus, seeing elk up close always makes me smile.

Our second day on the Northern California coast found us in places both familiar and new to me, as we continued along the pathway to Josh's childhood. Driving south on Highway 101, we hugged tight to the coastline and enjoyed sweeping views of rocky shores. Our first stop was at Patrick's Point State Park to take in the epic coastline and so I could pee while surrounded by wildflowers. (You know you would too if given the option.)

Pretty pink heart flowers spring to life on this Manzanita bush.

At Avenue of the Giants, we left the highway and meandered between the big trees and tiny towns enveloped within Humboldt Redwood State Park. A short hike in Founders Grove filled us with awe and harkened us back to both our childhoods spent measuring our smallness against the massive tree trunks. I recalled a grade school trip where it took all 28 of us kids holding hands outstretched to fully hug a redwood tree. And Josh and I laughed as we drove by scenes we'd photographed more than a decade ago on our first coastal California roadtrip together.

Josh's 6'3" stature is nothing compared to these old redwoods, which were much too tall to get all in the photo. You'll have to imagine them reaching three times as high into the blue sky.

The hollow in this tree is big enough to build a fort inside! Too bad that's against the rules here.

And then we pushed onwards to Redway, a small town where Josh's mom once worked in a bead shop. We drove down the narrow streets trying to identify the house he once lived in, before heading west on a winding road. The road ends at the bluffs of Shelter Cove, where we intended to camp in a public campground overlooking the shoreline that Josh had remembered fondly from his youth. To our disappointment, that campground had disappeared in the 25 years since he was last in Shelter Cove and so we made do with a grassy lawn set away from the bluff. (It was the only tenting option in town and we were much too weary to drive back inland in search of something else, although we wavered for a few minutes.)

Our campsite near one of the only trees in the park. It wasn't private but it was available and that was good enough for one night.

Luckily we came prepared with a nice bottle of sparkling rose from our favorite winery in Oregon's Applegate Valley. And so as afternoon turned to evening I joined Josh in his brown hiking pants and black soft shell jacket traversing the dark rocks that form tide pools just below the crest of Shelter Cove. Behind us yellow mustard flowers and purple prickly thistles climbed the exposed sandy hillside. And beneath my feet, gray polished pebbles filled my slip-on shoes as the sun warmed my shoulders. We listened to the waves crash and tumble against the rocks and a lone gull screeching on the breeze. The salty sea air filled my nose, displacing the earthy scent of redwood forest we'd left behind that morning. The world felt complete as I sipped my wine while watching a momma seal and her young pup play in the rollicking waters.

Seals and seal pups playing in the cold Pacific Ocean. This shot is from the next day at Seal Rock, just a short drive from our campsite, still in Shelter Cove.

Then, hand in hand, Josh and I climbed back up the cliff and returned to our campsite to make dinner and watch the fog roll in, hiding any view of the ocean and wrapping us in its chilly embrace.

Enjoying some Oregon wine from my sippy cup at the retired Cape Mendocino Lighthouse which now stands on the edge of Shelter Cove. I felt a little ironic drinking wine here as the lighthouse door sported a hand-lettered sign announcing Thursday AA meetings upstairs.

 

Hello from the Road

After a year of traveling abroad (off-and-mostly-on), we are back in the United States exploring our backyard and beyond. A recap of the first month:

• On March 26, we arrived in Seattle at midnight and spent the next 19 days catching up with old friends; visiting our doctors, dentists and physical therapists; and enjoying all that Seattle has to offer in the springtime.
• By Tax Day (April 15 for you international readers), we were headed south to see Josh's family in Oregon and then his brother and our nieces and nephew in Redding, California.
• 4/20 brought us back north to the Applegate Valley in Southern Oregon for some paragliding and welcome conversations with our pals there. It was like returning home after a year away and I was so thankful to reconnect with the community and landscape that helped nurse me back to health after my accident last year.
• The following Sunday, April 26, we said farewell to Oregon's wine country and drove the winding road past deer and redwood trees into coastal California. In my mind, our roadtrip began there, in Prairie Creek, California--having already driven more than 900 miles from our home base in Seattle, Washington.

One of several vistas we ogled on the drive along California's wild north coast. These yellow mustard flowers always remind me of my dad who, regardless of the times I picked bouquets for him, is allergic to them.

Prairie Creek

We arrived in the mid-afternoon on a sunny spring day. The golden grasses glowed in the fields, the redwood trees towered in the distance and we were in search of a campsite with a beach view and a flat place to pitch our tent. We settled for a slightly sloping sandy tent site protected on three sides by tall green bushes with a weather-beaten and camper-engraved picnic table just a short jaunt from the ocean. It was divine.

Our plush camping palace complete with plastic outdoor rug and plenty of space for us and our crap inside.

While I drew, Josh walked on the beach. Then together we loaded up into our overloaded Subaru and drove the couple miles to the start of the Fern Canyon trail.

We had to ford a couple streams to get out to the trailhead. Luckily, we didn't need to unpack our boat from the roof to make it.

More than a decade ago, Josh took me to Prairie Creek and Fern Canyon on a camping trip with his high school besties. That same trip, his friend Jonny declared us a perfect couple when I emerged from our tent wearing a dorky headlamp which matched the one Josh sported. Little did Jonny know that thousands of other practical outdoorsmen rely on headlamps, and little did we know that Jonny's declaration would be proven out over the following many years. But I digress.

The hike up Fern Canyon at the end of April this year was beautiful. The ferns flanked the hillsides--albeit not as densely as in pre-drought days--and the winding canyon and its creek provided amble opportunities for Josh to show off his strength as he piggybacked me over the wettest stretches. You see, although my feet are about 75% back to normal, I still need to wear sneakers when I hike, while Josh can skip upcreek in his trusty Chaco sandals.

My matching top and sneakers was a happy accident; the smile plastered on my face is the result of our adventurous life.

On our return to the car, we met an unperturbed juvenile elk peacefully grazing alongside the trail. For more than ten minutes we watched him chew green grass, pose for photos, and generally do his elk-thing while wild children and loud adults hiked past just feet away. I was amazed that a 800+ lb creature calmly devoured his vegetarian dinner while I gazed on. This was one of the highlights of my day and probably even of the week. What can I say? I love wildlife.

So I drew the elk and all his velvet-horned glory.

Back at camp that night we feasted on sausage and vegetables grilled in a single pan and eaten straight from it to avoid any unnecessary washing up. The evening ended with stars overhead and comfy sleeping bags beneath us. Our Western States road trip was off to a good start.

 

 

Five days, four nights, three campsites and one boat built for two

Our first big adventure of 2015 was a kayak camping trip in Marlborough Sound. We rented a tandem yellow kayak and packed it with our tent, sleeping bags, camp kitchen, a mess of clothes and plenty of food, water and wine. Then we gently shoved off into the ocean at Picton, a port town on the northeast side of New Zealand's South Island.

The Marlborough Sound looks a lot like the Puget Sound, or at least the San Juan Islands. The water is pretty blue surrounded by peninsulas and islands made of rolling forested hills. The first difference I noticed was that the water is much warmer. On our first day, we didn't set off until after noon and the wind was picking up. Often the wake from other boats would wash over the front of our kayak, splashing me in the face. I was relieved that the water was not frigid, but rather lukewarm. At times we paddled through gusts of wind so fierce that I had to squeeze my eyes shut, turn my face away from the wind and clutch my paddle tightly so as not to let it blow away... all the while trying to keep us moving forward. Luckily, Josh was in fairer conditions in the back seat of the boat where he could steer and power us along despite my lack of assistance. When we arrived at camp, I was completely drenched and floating in a 6-inch puddle of salt water.

The second day was an easier paddle. We got on the placid water before 9am and most of our journey was flat and mellow. We saw a few good swells, but no more than two feet in height and I stayed blessedly dry beneath my splash jacket and neoprene spray skirt. Before noon we had settled into our campsite for the night on a small island with another couple of kayakers. We swapped recommendations for adventuring in New Zealand over lunch and I took a nap while Josh explored the island.

The beach on Blumine Island and our kayak overflowing with camping gear.

Encountering wildlife while camping is not a big deal in New Zealand. There are no bears, mountain lions or snakes here. Just a few possums, songbirds and the highly prevalent Weka, which looks like a brown spotted chicken. Weka are flightless birds that are curious and utterly unafraid of people. We'd encountered them before and knew the Weka liked sparkly things and had a reputation for stealing shoes and other smallish things there could carry off into the woods. So, like good campers, we tucked all our stuff into the boat hatches at night and kept a clean camp. Our kayaking mates, however, weren't accustomed to Weka and had to chase down their shoes in the morning which had been squirreled away in the bush by some mischievous Weka.

And so our adventure went, mostly peacefully and amidst a beautiful backdrop of green hills, aquamarine water, lapping waves and sea birds. We had one blustery day and so spent two nights on the lovely Blumine Island with the other American couple as our only company. Fortunately we liked them quite a bit and hope to kayak-camp with them someday back home.

As for wildlife, we mostly saw Weka. We also spotted a solitary Hector's dolphin, the world's smallest dolphin with its distinctive rounded dorsal fin. That same day, paddling to our final camping destination, we watched a fur seal sunbathing on a rock and floated atop a cloud of jellyfish. Yes, it was literally a cloud of jellyfish so dense that they made the water look light blue from a distance. The jellyfish were magical, something I was wholly unprepared for as jellyfish have always been a frightening sight for me. But safely encapsulated in our yellow boat, the hordes of jellyfish inspired only curiousity and awe. They are graceful little beasts.

Water thick with jellyfish as seen from the safety of our yellow kayak.

Our last night's camping was full of life... human life. A large family was camped there and I have to say it wasn't my ideal wilderness camping experience. Still we made the best of it and Josh found us a delightful little clearing to pitch our tent with a view of the ocean through the trees.

Josh is an expert tent site finder, as evidenced by this lovely view from our tent (in the shadows bottom left).

That night, Josh spied our first of many possums. They are an introduced species here, like all the land mammals, and they were imported from Australia for their lovely fur. Now they are considered a pest animal and efforts are underway to eradicate them.

NZ possums have fluffy tails and pointy ears, more like a raccoon than an American opossum, so they are actually cute rather than creepy.

Our last day on the water was a short one, with us arriving back in Picton before lunch. There we rounded up our gear, all 150+ lbs of it, took quick cold showers and then hopped an early ferry to the North Island.

Lovely views from the ferry as we exited Marlborough Sound and entered the Tasman Sea enroute to NZ's North Island.