Miles biked: 0 (865.9 overall)
I have spent the past few days in and around the Redwood Hostel, which is about 12 miles south of Crescent City.
The reason for such stagnation, or the main one at least, is that I am meeting Dad Saturday in Arcata -- actually, picking him up from the airport just north of the city Saturday night -- so we can do some hiking for a few days.
Arcata isn't more than about 66 miles from the hostel, a ride I could do in one day. So, I figured, why not find a nice spot and hang out for a few days. Having a hostel around here is a big benefit, too, because it's a cheap place to stay (just $16 a night) with all the amenities (except for Internet, TV and cellphone service) of your average suburban home.
I've also found no reason to hurry toward such a close destination because I've found a hiking/driving partner the past few days, Corby, who is driving all over the West but has stayed a good week here in Redwood Country.
So I've hung around and had some good times with Corby exploring this beautiful section of northern California.
SUNDAY
The tricky part of the weekend, for me, was Sunday. That's because while I was able to book a bed at the hostel for Saturday and Monday, it was all full Sunday. So I wasn't sure where I would sleep/camp that night.
That remained undecided throughout the day, but it didn't stop me from doing a little tramping. This was made much easier because Corby has a truck, which (obvious statement of the day) can take us to trail heads throughout the area.
So on Sunday, Corby and I hiked a long 0.5 miles to the so-called "Hidden Beach" just 2 miles down 101 from the hostel. While the beach doesn't seem like a local secret -- it's even on the area map -- it was isolated when we got there and very clean.
It also had the most driftwood of any beach I've ever seen, which is how someone who'd stopped by before us had set up a half-tepee against a rock face. Underneath the sticks was a patch of sand that, it looked like, could be used as a one-person campsite.
At the time, the thought of sleeping there was intriguing. So with time to kill, Corby and I started added different-sized logs to the open spaces of the structure in an effort to make it as thick as possible.
I was just starting to get excited about it, as I added a few logs above the small entrance door, when all of a sudden the facade collapsed.
I laughed, shook my head, walked away and took a few pictures of the destruction.
Maybe someone else will take advantage of our unfinished work, I thought.
Sunday evening, after exploring and not finding any suitable camping spots right around the hostel, I told Corby of my unsuccessful mission and he offered up his Tacoma as a sleeping spot. Having successfully slept in cars before, I graciously accepted the offer.
And after we headed to Crescent City for a late dinner at the Apple Peddler Restaurant -- a 24-hour diner, which is the only place open after 10 besides the fast-food joints -- I crashed in the Tacoma's front seat and slept decently, considering the circumstances.
MONDAY
I woke up Monday knowing where I'd sleep that night. I didn't, however, know what else the day would bring. I did know that I'd be rolling along with Corby, who had added an extra night to his stay instead of continuing north to Oregon (he has a schedule just as loose as mine).
After devouring a killer batch of blackberry pancakes for the second consecutive day -- Corby crushed the berries, I made the cakes -- we hopped in the truck and headed to the Klamath Overlook, a spot high above where the Klamath River, about 6 miles south of the hostel and running through the town of Klamath and the Yurok Indian tribe, meets the ocean.
It was a long, twisting, uphill ride that made me thankful I wasn't on the Trek 520. (I'm all about being "hardcore," but sometimes it's nice to take the easy route.) And when we reached the outlook, we were greeted with phenomenal views, in both directions, of the Pacific.
For the second straight day, clouds dominated the sky. But they also gave it a cool appearance, sitting just above the rolling hills to the south.
We then decided to get some real exercise and walked the half mile straight down to an overlook closer to the ocean.
That is where, folks, I saw my first whale!
We were casually staring out to the south, taking a few pictures, when a small black object in the water caught our attention. But as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. And we had no proof that it was actually a whale.
But after about 3 minutes, it reappeared. And this time, it spouted out some water. We never saw a tail, but there was no doubt -- we penciled it in as a whale. For the next 12 minutes or so, we tracked the creature's slow progress south, and Corby, a photography enthusiast, took several shots of it.
I can't say that watching a whale is interesting, but being able to say that I saw one -- especially without going on one of those tourist-trap trips -- is pretty cool (at least I think).
It was a solid start to the afternoon.
The evening provided the real drama...
After getting $5 footlongs for the second straight day -- that was the main economical attraction in the tiny, tiny town of Klamath -- and relaxing for a while, Corby and I decided to spend our final evening around the hostel exploring the beach.
So we headed across the street -- it's about a 100-yard walk, no joke -- and started walking north.
First, we had to take off the socks and shoes, my walking shoes being my Tevas, and cross a tiny stream leading to Wilson creek created by the high tide. That wasn't too bad, and we knew it was worth it when we came up a cool, intimidating rock structure.
To the right was a tall, sleek, concave rock face. To the left, just on the edge of the water, was a similar, though not as high, structure.
We climbed up as high as we could on the left-hand side before heading back down and around to the right, where we were able to take a path down below the structure around to the other side. That is where we found a makeshift campsite, with a little fire ring and everything.
It got us thinking that maybe we'll stay there tonight. Rock walls on each side could even prevent shelter from rain (depending on which way the wind blows).
I was having so much fun that when I saw two even larger rock structures in the distance, I thought, "Hey, let's go check those out. They don't look that far."
It was the first dumb decision of the evening.
My sight had deceived me, and the huge rocks were much farther away than I had estimated. Walking from rock to rock almost the entire way, we got to the structures with maybe 45 minutes until darkness (and we'd been walking for two hours).
Of course, we'd been moving slowly, checking out every cool spot, looking at every living creature in our way -- we saw crabs, starfish and the ugly, gross banana slugs common in this area -- but still, we were a long way from the hostel.
That's when I made my second bonehead decision.
Thinking that it'd be difficult to make it back to the hostel by walking along the rocks, before darkness, I thought that there might be a trail by the two, large structures leading up to Highway 101, which was above us to the east.
We knew that it was somewhere up there, but the problems were that 1) We couldn't see the road or hear cars; and 2) There was no man-made trail leading upward.
Still, we bushwhacked our way through some nasty terrain -- there were prickly bushes, not to mention holes that were easy to step in -- and were even up to our waists at one point.
And we got nowhere, saw no signs of a trail leading up.
That's when, thankfully, Corby touched something that made his hand, suddenly, itch like crazy. Thinking he might have touched poisonous oak, he became alarmed and we immediately decided to get back to the rocks.
As I'd laugh about later, it was just in the nick of time.
Because once we reached the rocks, we were able to scramble all the way back to the beach across from the hostel in a mere 30 to 40 minutes, getting there just as darkness was settling in.
It was quite the accomplishment, needed only -- of course -- because of my inane decisions. But it made for quite the adventure, gave me a story to tell, taught me a lesson about decision-making and distance perception and made me almost kiss my Tevas, which somehow had zero problems with all the rock-to-rock hopping.
After a couple glasses of water, we headed back to Crescent City for a well-deserved meal at the diner.
It capped a pretty eventful day (and stay at the hostel), and I didn't even touch the bike. (I'm sure it has relished the break in the action.)
TONIGHT
Now, I'm spending a final day in the area, getting all this stuff done before Corby and I take a final short hike -- probably less eventful than yesterday's -- to a spot high above the ocean cliffs.
We'll camp somewhere in the area tonight, possibly on the beach, and then part ways in the morning.
THE NEXT FEW DAYS
I plan on biking a little more than 40 miles Wednesday and camping at scenic Patrick's Point State Park before heading to Arcata Thursday and spending two nights in the area before picking up Dad Saturday.
It's been a relaxing few days, and nothing should really change in the upcoming week.
But I'm not worried about the recent/near future lack of miles on the bike. It's not like I've lost the ability to ride long distances.
The final destination, of course, is always in the back of my mind.
Of most importance, however, is enjoying the journey -- day by day -- however things transpire.
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