6/27/08: Muir Beach-Olema, CA, Eric & Marine

One of the more significant days of the trip. One that would determine the time frame of the entire West Coast.

I woke up beneath by bushes rather early to the sounds of hikers chatting as they passed by me, not realizing that I was nestled in there. It's funny what people say when they think no one's there. Reminds me of that philosophy that 'no one's normal'; we all have goofy quirks we try to hide when people are around!

I had a couple cups of cold instant coffee-- the usual-- packed up and decided today I'd get on down Hwy. 1. Part of the reason I crossed the Marin Headlands via the trail was that it deposited me at Muir Beach, which is where my now favorite road comes close to shore after separating from the 101.

I was still short on water after accidentally dumping the Camelback the day before, so my first mission was stocking up on water, then #2 was getting to the next town for FOOD! I was running a bit low, not really getting any since Cambria, before Florian picked me up, and Muir Beach isn't a town as much as a place rich people build palaces overlooking the coast. No stores. I found a neat little Inn just as I picked up the 1, went in to fill up the water and was off... back on the road.

The first thing I noticed was how narrow the shoulders were, and how many curves this stretch had... and more hills. There were times where I'd have to cross the road to get wider shoulder space and to be able to see as traffic was coming. The smoke from the wildfires that had been raging in California still held overhead too... I wouldn't see much sun for DAYS from here on out... and it mixed with fog coming off the Pacific. It's hard to tell the difference in the two, except for the faint smell of smoke and the BLAZING red sunsets. The effect of the smoke- fog and the terrain gave everything an almost creepy beauty! As though I were walking thru a Stephen King or Alfred Hitchcock movie...

And so it went... Walking, resting, hitchhiking. My feet were much better with the new inserts, but I began to develop a blister in the worst place for me: my right heel. That bugged me because these are always a big problem for me, and they never seem to callous. It was obviously from all the hills, but something that needed to be kept on top of.

I'd decided to hitch it to Stinson Beach because of that and my food shortage, and resolved to completely prepare there for the upcoming 300+ miles to Oregon. Eventually I got a ride with Richard, a 40- something guy on his way to Stinson. He told me a disturbing story about a beating/ stabbing that had just taken place in the next town up from Stinson. Apparently some kids beat a guy to the brink of death on the beach. The part that creeped me out was that he was a drifter- type... homeless by choice... vagabond.... whatever. I could be seen that way too. I quickly figured on getting thru that area ASAP.

I got to Stinson Beach and Richard dropped me at the "shitty expensive" grocery store (his words; they rang true). I went in and loaded up on tortillas, Raman, instant Oatmeal, and even bought some Tillamook cheese: my new favorite. With the lithium batteries and Clif Bars, the bill came to an ungodly $38! Are yo u kidding me?!?!

When I came out, a middle age guy spied the backpack and struck up a conversation. I wasn't exactly in the mood to socialize because of the image of the beaten/ stabbed guy floating in my paranoid imagination. He said he was camping in the hills above Stinson, and that I was welcome to join him up there if I liked. Perhaps I should have been more open to that, but for whatever reason, I just wasn't interested in staying there. It was still relatively early... 3:30 or so, and I wanted to get out of town, and past the now infamous Bolinas. He did however point me toward the library, and I was thrilled to find out it was open until 6!

I figured I'd go in and upload a few pictures and update the now lagging Trip Diary, but when I got in there I discovered that this library had the FASTEST upload speeds I believe I'd ever seen. So, I did a mass upload of pictures covering the time between Santa Cruz and there, and delayed the update. I also got a few free maps from the very friendly librarian, and more details on the beating, which seemed to be on the tips of everyone's tongue. That settled me a bit because since it was obviously BIG news, it wasn't something that happened very often. Plus, I learned that the people who did it... which included a 16 year- old, were in jail.

I uploaded until 6:00, then made my way out of Stinson Beach catching a ride with a 40- something woman in a VW Bug to the road that leads to Bolinas. I continued on up the road toward dusk, thru Dogtown and into Pt. Reyes Natl. Seashore where I began to hunt places to bed down for the night. Again, I almost stopped but figured I'd continue on a bit to see if I could either find better spots or catch a ride.

Did I ever!

Out of nowhere a burgundy Mazda 6 pulled over, and inside were a young couple in their 20's who spoke with THICK accents. I laughed out loud... much to their surprise I'm sure. I asked them, in my fatigue, if they were German by any chance and the said no... French. They said they were on holiday heading up the coast and could at least get me to the next town or maybe State Park. I liked them immediately.

I hopped in and we started chatting as we drove toward Olema. When it became apparent we would get along nicely, and they said they were looking to camp I suggested we just split a site and hang out for the night. They were cool with that, so we asked an elderly couple in Olema about the nearest campground. They said there was one a couple of blocks further up Hwy. 1, and that they were staying there, REALLY liked it, and more importantly there were vacancies. Good enough for us ...

The campsite was privately operated and thus expensive. $37 for three of us! Remember the scene in Vacation when the Griswold's get to the camp in Colorado? I did:

"$37 for THREE tents?"

Plus, a little bundle of firewood was $9!

So, yeah... almost half of my weekly budget on a campsite. I looked at it as an investment though. I thought it was likely that we'd get along very well, and since we were going the same way, I may have found the perfect ride, so I didn't stress about the money too much. Plus the place had showers and a laundromat... woohoo!! Needed both... badly.

We set up camp, and began chatting. The place was overcrowded and had entirely too many kids. I wondered if there was such thing as an adult- only campground that didn't involve nudists or swingers. I still wonder that...

Through the course of conversation I learned that Eric and Marine were traveling with much the same philosophy as I. No concrete plans or time frame. I loved that. PLUS... they were Couchsurfing it!! YES!!! It was about then that I realized how big Couchsurfing is becoming. They told me that they too had problems finding a host in San Francisco, but had already found one in Portland.

We chatted around the fire for quite awhile and got to bed pretty late. I still wasn't sure how things were going to go the next day, but figured either way was fine with me. I could continue on my own, or ride with these guys if they liked. I figured I'd get up, shower, do some laundry, and take it from there. Again though, I thought, the solution may have presented itself.

6/26/08: Marin Headlands, CA-Day 2, Muir Beach

One of the more strenuous, challenging, frustrating, and rewarding days.

I got up, packed up, and took a quick hike down to the shoreline to get some pictures and realized how far I HADN'T gone! That damn bridge was still right there! As though my 5 mile hike had taken me 3/4 of a mile. Grr...

I packed up rather quickly... relatively speaking... and headed toward the visitors center in hopes of getting water and the cell phone recharged. They were beyond helpful, I think more or less because they had some company. I chatted up the volunteer while the phone charged, filled up the water and headed toward Rodeo Beach and the 2nd half of my off- road voyage to Muir Beach. I had lingered around quite a long time, and by the time I got on the trail it was 3:30. It seemed to get dark out here at about 8:30 or so, so I figured a mile an hour was enough time. I was completely full on water, so quite heavy. Maybe close to 55 or 60 #, and I'd assumed the 2nd day of hiking would resemble the first. I was wrong.

The first leg of the hike was again the worst part. It was about a 2 mile climb to the top of "Hill 88", some old WWII military instillation. Along the way there were old military bunkers to protect the coast from a supposed Japanese invasion.

My right lower calf down toward my Achilles had begun to bother me the day before, and now due to the steeper incline and full load, was starting to really bug me. I kept envisioning my Achilles popping and being stuck out there! Yeah, yeah... paranoid.

The first climb took quite a while, and was quite tiring, and I just couldn't get away from that damn bridge!. Like biking though, where there's a climb, there's a descent. I was quite proud of myself when I got to the top after getting 2nd and 3rd winds, so I squatted down in the dirt, rested, grubbed, enjoyed the view, and said goodbye to the Golden Gate Bridge... finally.

When I got ready to leave, the pack felt VERY light. I also noticed that my ass was wet. It quickly became obvious that I had set the pack down on top on the Camelback's nozzle, without closing it, thus draining all 3 liters all over the ground! That left me with about a liter and a half in Friar Chris's boca bag, the rest of my 1- liter Gatorade bottle of water, and my 1- liter Nalgene bottle. So, 3 1/2 liters. It actually pleased me a bit, because I had consumed very little water thus far, and was now about 7# lighter. The thought of seeing how little water I could get away with carrying had been decided for me, and that was strangely just fine with me!

I got going down the other side of hill #1 along a narrow and steep decline. I ran into another guy, and older Scottish gentleman who was quite interested in what I was up to. Money being a constant problem, I was crushed when he told me that he usually carried $20 in his trousers in case he ran into a respectable backpacker, but that day he had forgotten to bring it! He may have been full of shit, but I chose to believe him. He compensated the $20 with a small bottle of water, and I was on my way.

Hill #2 was actually a road. MUCH shorter than the first, but steeper. This one was almost as exhausting, but I got to the top with no real problems thinking Muir Beach would be visible from the other side.

HA!

Nope.

There was yet ANOTHER descent & climb ahead of me! This one creeped me out a bit because after the decline to Pirates Cove, the climb seemed to follow the hill along a path of switchbacks with a pretty steady incline... less so than the other two hills, but pretty long.

About here I'd begun to seriously wonder rather or not I'd finish this leg today. I started to concentrate on my Mp3's, and enjoying the scenery... one step at a time... then remarkably my energy level skyrocketed. I got to the top with no real problem AGAIN thinking I'd see Muir Beach greeting me with open arms.

HA!

Nope.

Ahead of me was a mesa. No sign of Muir Beach. I knew it was close from the signs, so I just kept going. About 3/4 of a mile later I began to see signs of a settlement. Big houses on a hill. Signs of civilization. Todd was happy.

Eventually I got to the end of the mesa overlooking Muir Beach. There was a steep descent directly down to the beach and when I got there I took the first place to sit I could find, on a log and exhaled dramatically. Probably too much so. The sight of a a solitary person stumbling out of the bush carrying the backpack was quite a sight, as the endless stares attested to.

There were 3 or 4 people setting up tents right there on the beach, so I asked one of them if we could do that. To my utter joy he said, "They don't say we can't!"... This was perfect!! I set up the tent, unpacked most of my stuff, snuggled into the sleeping bag, and called Laina and Chris... getting ready for a beautiful night's sleep. Perfect!!

Too perfect.

My night wasn't quite over.

At about 10:00, while I was on the phone with Friar, on popped a flashlight accompanied by a voice announcing "Park Ranger! Park Ranger!!"

Shit.

He asked, stupidly, if I was camping. I mean, I had the rain fly up and everything and was wrapped up in a sleeping bag. He quickly informed me I'd be relocating. So, I started packing my stuff wondering where I was going to sleep.

The Ranger actually turned out to be pretty cool. Once he figured out I wasn't going to treat him like a fascist pig, he made it clear he was just doing his job, and actually tried to be helpful in suggesting options. Eventually he said that the mesa I'd crossed wasn't day-use, and that I'd be legal if I went back up there to 'rest', I'd be fine. We wound up having a nice little chat.

I let my fatigue convince me to try to find something that was a bit closer that didn't involve climbing, but it became obvious that was not going to be suitable. So, back up the mesa I went, via a fire- road until I found familiar ground. I scoped out a set of bushes that I could climb beneath, laid out the pad/ bag and sacked out for the night. I'm getting used to this sleeping outside stuff! MUCH easier to set up and tear down, as my experience at Muir had proved wasn't such a bad thing!

It was a foggy, damp night and my nest was situated on slanted ground and on top of an exposed root... but considering how tired I was it didn't matter much! I slept pretty well.