The Lost Coast (Humboldt County, California)

A couple of years ago, I had planned to backpack California's Lost Coast Trail. As part of my annual routine, I put together a rough list of possible trips for the following year in the fall and did some cursory research. At the time, there were no restrictions or permits required to hike the trail and I was tentatively planning to hike in the June time frame. In the spring, I began putting together more detailed plans and discovered that BLM had instituted a permit system at the beginning of the new year. Further, all of the permits had already been reserved. I contacted BLM to asked if there were any exceptions since they hadn't given much notice of the implementation of this permit system, but I was met with a negative response. So my trip would have to be cancelled. Once I moved to Atlanta, I had little hope that I would ever make it back to complete this trip due to the fairly complicated logistics.

With other plans falling through this year due to the continuing pandemic, I reviewed REI's website to see if they were guiding any trips of interest. To my surprise, I discovered a guided backpacking trip of the Lost Coast listed as an option. Guided backpacking is not something that I ever really considered doing, as I'm fairly experienced in this activity. That said, the guides would be taking care of all of the logistics, which included transportation to and from the remote trailheads, planning around the tide schedules, and of course gear coordination. It seemed like a good opportunity to knock off a trip that I had written off and so, I registered. 

Prior to starting the actual backpacking trip, I flew to Sacramento and spent a few days there and then in Reno, before returning to Sacramento on Wednesday morning and meeting up with the shuttle and other participants at the REI store. They all seemed like a friendly crew. Conner, shuttle driver, gave us a quick overview of the day and the rest of us, Shilpa, Donna, Stephanie, Angela, and myself loaded our gear and chatted about our previous experience. It seems everyone here has a fair amount of trail experience, which lead me to believe this would be an outstanding trip.

The shuttle ride from Sacramento to our campsite for the night, near the Mattole River was about a six hour drive and it gave us plenty of time to get to know each other and to learn more about our itinerary. Conner was a great host and very knowledgeable of the area. Along the way, we stopped a few times for gas and restroom breaks, and then at a Subway for lunch. As we entered Humboldt County, we also stopped for a quick leg stretch at the Founders Grove of coastal redwoods. It was a short hike, but enlightening for a couple of the participants that had never had the opportunity to see the mighty trees.

Arriving at our campsite for the night, Arthur W. Way County Park, we finally meet our backpacking guides, Blu and Mishka, whom we have already heard a great deal about from Conner on the drive. They welcome us and go into further detail about the trip, which will begin tomorrow morning. We begin to sort our gear while Blu and Mishka prepare a camp dinner of chicken burritos for us. After setting up our tents, we all sit down to enjoy a pleasant evening meal together. The food is quite good and makes me look forward to what culinary surprises our guides may have planned for us. With the intense California wildfire season this year, the BLM had restricted the use of camp stoves and we were all prepared to only have access to cold meals along the way, but it seems that the restriction was just lifted in the last couple of days thanks to a soaking rain storm that came through the area. Hot food will be on the menu once again. Yay! We spend the evening getting settled in, chatting with each other, and stargazing in this gorgeous place.

Day 1

Blu and Mishka had informed us that we would be getting a late start this morning to coincide with the tides. After everyone awoke, we lazily began getting our gear together and doing final preparations before driving another 15 minutes or so to the mouth of the Mattole River, which empties directly into the Pacific Ocean. Exiting the van, the smell of salt water brine on the cool incoming breeze is somehow refreshing. As we still have some time while the tide recedes, we walk out and explore the area around the river's confluence with the vast waters beyond. It seems the tides and flow of the river are in an internal battle damming up and then once again breaking through the washed up sands. The result is sort of a lagoon, which seems to be a haven for avian life. It's quite beautiful set here between the green hillsides of the coastal mountains of the King Range.

Just before noon, we finally begin our hike of the first section of the Lost Coast Trail. While this seems like a very late start, this is one of the logistical complexities I mentioned earlier. Some sections of the trail are in tidal zones and impassable during high tides. This can force a very tight schedule for getting through those sections and our guides seem to have done detailed planning to get everyone safely through those sections.

The early sections of the route traverse coastal barrier sands with yellow and orange grasses and other flora sporadically poking out of the ground. All the while, a vast blue infinity acts as a barrier to our right. The combination of rolling waves continually crashing into the shore and the cool, salty breeze blowing in leaves no doubt of where we are. We now travel along the Lost Coast.

As the trail drops down to the grayish black sands of the beach, we see an abundance of sea life washed up onto the shore. At Blu's urging, I taste a piece of seaweed that had washed up. Apparently, this sea palm is one of the most nutritious types that exist, but as for taste, it only reminds of sea water with a hit of sand for texture. It's not as terrible as it sounds, but certainly nothing I will be making a salad from any time soon.

Approaching Fourmile Creek, we agree to stop to refill our drinking water supply. The sun has finally come out and it's starting to warm up a bit. Better to make sure stay hydrated. After the stop, we hit the trail again and in the distance see the Punta Gorda Lighthouse begin to come into view. This point marks the one of the westernmost spots in the continental United States and while no longer in service, still offers a great view and opportunity for a short break. The lighthouse is nothing more than a couple of small rooms with a beacon chamber on the second floor, which can be accessed by a rusty spiral staircase. I start to head up to the top, but after gently cracking my head on the narrow opening, decide that I'm not really that interested in going up there. 

On the beach below us, the northernmost colony of northern elephant seals are sunbathing. They seem to be drawn to a rusty old buoy that has washed up on the shore. The are magnificent animals. These all appear to be adolescents and we note some of the young males practicing their sparring techniques. There are about fifty of the them in all. Looking back the way we came, Blu points out another group of seals, harbor seals in this case, further up the beach. Apparently, the two species do not get along and the much smaller harbor seals avoid their behemoth cousins.

After a quick snack and some water, we begin the final leg of today's journey, which takes us through tow miles of tidal zone and to our campsite for the evening, Cooksie Creek. With the tide out, passing through the dangerous area is not a problem and the schedule our guides have put together ensures our safety. The geology of this area is quite interesting and the strata lines are very visible in the upturned beach-side cliffs. This mountain range is quite young and still growing from the tectonic activity just a few miles off shore. There, three great plates of the earth's crust collide and force ripples in the earth, which are these mountains.

We pitch our tents and Miska begins to prepare dinner. Tonight, we'll be having a delicious Asian chicken salad along with a noodle dish containing chicken and bell peppers and peanut sauce. It's quite tasty and much better than the dehydrated meals I often take on backpacking trips. Mishka and Blu have spent a lot of time planning our meals for the trip and have shuffled all of the food and other ingredients between our bear canisters. Everyone carries one in their pack, as bears are quite common in this area, but each day Mishka shuffles the contents to ensure she is carrying what she needs for the next meal. It's a pretty efficient system.

While there are no campfires allowed, we sit around in a circle as the night sits in and I offer up a few lateral thinking puzzles for the group to ponder on, while we look up a the Milky Way They actually do a great job of solving them in short order. As we all consider turning in, the bright nearly-full moon rises overhead and illuminates our way back to our respective tents. Time to call it a night. We put in about 7 miles today and I'm still feeling great. 

Day 2

Day two sees us on the trail a bit earlier. We enjoy some pre-made breakfast burritos that Mishka had prepared before leaving the county park and some hot tea (coffee for some). By 8 AM, we're packed and hitting the trail again. This will be a longer day and get us through the majority of the tidal sections, but there are some pinch spots that we have to be cautious of.

Leaving the safety of the mouth of Cooksie Creek, we enter a very challenging area with large toaster sized boulders that we have to walk across for a couple of miles. This area is once again in the tidal zone and we must cross it before the tide comes back in. The cliffs to our left are to steep to climb and should we mis-time our traverse of this section, we would likely be washed out to sea by the riptides and never heard from again. There is one section here, or pinch spot, that requires us to time the waves to get around a jutting piece of the cliff or risk getting soaked by the ocean. Everyone makes it around without incident.

Getting through the first section of tidal zone, we stop at Oat Creek to refill our water once again and take a short break. Here we meet some deer hunters come down the valley cut by the creek. They are friendly enough and apparently heading to some cabins that Blu tells us we will soon be encountering. Mishka, in the meantime, has been putting together a charcuterie plate for all of us to snack on. She does it in secret and up on a hillside overlooking the ocean. When she finally invites us up, we are pleasantly surprised by this delight and all take a few minutes to sit on a log and breath in the magnificent scenery while enjoying slices of salami, cheese, dried fruits, nuts, and crackers. It's a wonderful experience and we all thank Mishka for her efforts.

After a delightful, but short rest, we move on our next water stop at Big Creek. Shilpa's hip flexor is beginning to trouble her and as our guides try to assist her, I offer to take some weight. Between Blu, Mishka, and I, we distribute about ten pounds of Shilpa's gear between us, lightening the load for her and hopefully, making it less painful for her to travel over the rocks, of which we have plenty more to cross.

A bit further on and a couple of hours later, we stop for lunch. Today, we'll be having some pita pizzas, complete with a pesto and tomato sauce and a variety of toppings. While we don't take time to get our stoves going or heat these in any way, they are still quite tasty and combined with our snack stop earlier, has left no one wanting for food.

After passing the couple of private cabins that Blu had mentioned earlier, we walk along a long double-track that serves as a road for the owners. This section of the trail passes through coastal scrub-lands and is elevated above the shoreline a bit. As we walk across this vast flat area, we see a number of deer feeding on the bounty of grasses. 

Returning once again to the sandy and rocky shoreline, we reach Big Flat, which will serve as our camp for the night. Unlike last night, we'll pitch our tents on soft sands tonight and I'm sure our backs will appreciate it after hiking some 10.9 miles. The creek has been damned up by the pounding ocean waves and formed something of a pond. A couple of the ladies change into their bathing suits and splash around in the water a bit. While it's a bit cool for my taste to go swimming, I do splash some water on my face and chest, just to clean myself up a bit. 

Dinner tonight will consist of chicken tortilla soup and pasta with tuna and vegetables. Blu shares some local legends with us while we dine on the deliciously prepared meal. He tells us of a Spanish galleon that crashed just off the shore, but didn't quite sink. The native Sinkyone people explored the wreck and recovered troves of gold, which they soon hid above the area known as Spanish Flats, which we had crossed earlier today. The last living member of the tribe, Sally Bell, had shared stories with later American settlers of visiting the cave as a girl. To Blu's knowledge, no one has claimed to have found the treasure, but some still seek it in the hills above our current location. It's a great tale of local history and I truly appreciate hearing about it, though I don't have any urges to sneak off in the night in search of the cave. I do however have the urge to sneak off to my tent and close my eyes, which is exactly what I do.

Day 3

This morning, we have to get up early and break camp quickly in order to beat the incoming tide as we race across the last of the tidal zones. I wake about 4:30 AM and immediately begin to break down my camp. The others follow shortly behind and we depart our Big Flat just a couple of minutes after 6:00 AM, well before the rising sun. It's cool and foggy this morning, not that we can see well anyway. That said though, our headlamps offer enough illumination for us to pass safely across more of the black rocks. I didn't mention it earlier, but all of these rocks that we have been walking across for the past couple of days are simply the crumbles of the mountains above us that have fallen or rolled down to the shore and then beaten against each other over the eons by the incoming waves. This has resulted in roundish rocks of varying sizes. Even the surface I referred to as sand, is actually comprised of tiny rocks that have undergone this same treatment. I do find it interesting that in sections of the shoreline, these boulders appear in groups of similar sizes. 

As we walk the beach, I note swarms of insects feeding on washed up bull kelp. I didn't notice this behavior in the daylight, but it seems the bugs like the cool morning air. With the sun now starting to rise, we also find the carcass of a sea lion. It appears the animal was bitten by a shark, that then left it to bleed out before consuming it. The sea lion appears to have either swam to or washed up on shore and there, fed on by bears. The tracks in the sand and body wounds leave little doubt. It's grotesque, but a good reminder of the cycle of life.

Following bear tracks (from both a momma and her cub) along the black sands, we reach Shipmans Creek at the southern end of the tidal zone. Here we stop for a while and get some water boiling to get a necessary caffeine fix from tea or coffee. We had to forgo this luxury at our camp, to ensure we got through the dangerous section before the high waters rolled in. After a refueling, we hit the trail again.

Stopping at Gitchell Creek, we take our lunch stop. Today, we're having smoked salmon, cream cheese, and veggies on pita bread (pita and lox, if you will). It's quite tasty. Since this is a longer break, I take some time to climb over a log jam at the mouth of the creek and explore up the valley a little ways. It's a lush and beautiful area and while I don't choose to jump in, there is a pool here that would be excellent for swimming. A short time later, we hit the trail again. The coastal views here with the black sands, lingering fog, and steep mountains are just spectacular, as they have been on this entire journey.

As we make our way into the camp at Horse Mountain Creek, where will spend the night, Blu tells us the story of how the Lost Coast got it's name. As he explains, when Highway 1 was being built, they surveyed this area and realized this section would be prohibitively difficult and expensive to construct due to the jagged mountains and their proximity to the shoreline. The state of California decided to move the highway inland and bypass this section, leaving it almost completely undeveloped and ensuring we would have an outstanding place to backpack. The Kings Range, containing the Lost Coast, was later turned into a national conservation area.

Since we have arrived at camp so early (just before 1:30 PM), I decide to take a short nap in my camp chair. I'm not sure I slept more than half an hour, but when I wake, I get my tent set up, while Blu and Mishka build our kitchen on the other side of the creek. After I have things arranged at my campsite, I wander over to be social with the others in the kitchen area and we all take note of a lonely seagull behaving rather strangely. He appears to be elderly and not in good health. He wanders right through our group as if he has no fear in the world. I suspect he is near the end of his time and simply looking for a place to die. It's rather sad, but I think to myself that it will be the same for all of us at some point. Everyone eventually reaches their last day. We attempt to show him some kindness by offering some bread crumbs, but he seems uninterested. I only hope that those around me are as kind to me when my time comes.

For dinner, we have miso soup followed by a quinoa and vegetable medley, which Mishka has put together with her remaining ingredients. It's tasty. After our meal, Shilpa. Blu, and I attempt to get the crew joined in group song, but we struggle to find anything that everyone knows the lyrics to. Seriously, how can they not know Don't Stop Believing by Journey? All good, we enjoy each others company a bit more before turning in. It's been a long day and I think everyone is ready for sleep. We covered almost exactly 7 miles today.

Day 4

The final day of our journey. I awaken before most of the group and walk up the black sand beach to find a place to relieve myself. Afterwards, I just stand and listen to the waves roll in for a while. There is a pretty big swell this morning and the waves, over ten feet tall sometimes, come crashing in. It's perpetual and it reminds me once again of the cycles of this life. Perhaps that is why I enjoy being out here so much. Day-to-day life in the city can distract us from true meaning and the realities of the world around us, but out here, disconnected from society and technology, we are forced to confront fate once again. There is no escape from these things, for better or worse. It reminds me (us) that we must face our reality head on and deal with the consequences. It's our only choice.

Returning to camp, the others have started crawling out of their tents. I begin breaking down my tent. I slept well, but my back is hurting a little bit. Tossing on my pack will probably straighten it out. As we group up before starting the final leg of the trip, Miska reads a couple of contemplative passages (by Hemingway, I think) reminding us that it's not the destination, but the journey that brings us together and that we must strive to find meaning in. It's a nice touch.

We only have a short distance to walk this morning and I cross the black sands at my normal pace, ahead of most of the rest of the group. Finally, reaching a washed up redwood stump, Blu congratulates me on finishing the Lost Coast Trail. The others join shortly afterwards and are similarly greeted. We take a final picture and then walk the final steps up to the van, that has been dropped off for us here in Shelter Cove.

After a quick stop at Blu's restaurant and headquarters for his guide company, Lost Coast Adventure Tours, we climb in the van and begin the long journey back to Sacramento. We only had to hike about 1.8 miles this morning, but it was a nice way complete the trip. On the return, all of us remark on how amazing the experience was and then veer off into all kinds of discussions about politics (dangerous) and other topics. 

Stopping for lunch at the Peg House in Leggit, CA, I enjoy a couple of Pliny the Elders and one of the most delicious hamburgers I have ever had. That could easily be because it's the first non-camp food I've had in four days, but honestly, the food on the trip was outstanding and this burger is not great by contrast, but just simply great. 

As I catch up on text messages and other concerns of the real world, I look back on my GPS track to see that our final tally was 27.6 miles over four days and three nights on the Lost Coast Trail. I reminded of the great adventure that I've just completed with my new friends and I think about what my next adventure might be.

Founders Grove (Humboldt County, California)

 

I'm on my way from Sacramento to the northern terminus of the Lost Coast Trail at the mouth of the Mattole River. The shuttle ride, organized by REI and managed by Lost Coast Adventures Tours, is a six hour trip to the start of a much richer journey. However as we drive along the Avenue of the Giants in Redwood Country, our driver, Conner, suggests stopping for a short hike to stretch our legs and take in the magnificence of these ancient behemoths. Founders Grove offers the perfect opportunity for my new friends (whom I will be backpacking with) and I.

After being in the van for four hours or so, getting out to stretch my legs is most welcomed. The conversation is great and the crew I'll be backpacking with seems to be comprised of great people. As we meander down the trail, the ladies in the group, for whom this is their first time seeing coastal redwoods, seem in awe of the trees' size. I can certainly understand why. This is not my first time seeing these titans, but I remember the sense of wonder I experienced on my first visit. We make our way around the well marked and well worn loop, past the 346 foot tall Founders Tree and through this lush redwood forest. The grove and this mighty tree are named for a group of conservationists that started the Save the Redwoods League in 1918. I'm thankful for their efforts as it saved these natural wonders from the lumber saws of progress.

Continuing on around the bend, we arrive at the fallen Dyerville Giant. At 376 feet tall, this magnificent specimen was once thought to be the tallest tree on earth. That is, until it was toppled by another tree colliding with it during a storm in 1991. The fallen titan now rests like a fortress wall in the green forests of Humboldt County. 

We still have a couple of hours to go before we arrive at our campsite and it's time to bid adieu to this incredible place and these monstrous examples of natures glory. My tracking app tells me we've hiked about 1.5 miles, which includes lots of meandering and looking around as we pass beneath these millennium old branches. We climb in the van and prepare for the next step of our multi-day adventure.

Chattahoochee Point Trail (Forsyth County, Georgia)

I'm a little pressed for time this morning before starting work, but I wanted to visit Chattahoochee Point Park and see if there were any nice views. That said, I decided to make tackle this as more of a trail run than a hike. 

Arriving not too long after sunrise, I find a few others are already out getting in some miles. I quickly find a parking spot and start my run. I haven't been able to run much for the past couple of weeks due to several blisters on my right leg caused by an adverse reaction to chigger bites. With the bites healing now though, it's time to get back out there. The trail sort of meanders through a wealthy neighborhood on a surface of broken pavement, cinders, and gravel. It's a pretty decent surface to run on.

The trail continues in an l shape before returning to a course parallel with the Chattahoochee River. Unfortunately, the trail itself never offers even a mediocre view of the famous river. I do find a couple of worn paths that lead to the elevated shoreline, but even there the underbrush prevents any good views. 

As I round the final corner and return to the jeep, I'm thankful for a decent run, but the trail itself and especially the views, or lack thereof, are a bit disappointing. I won't need to come back to this park any time soon.

Smithgall Woods - Tsalaki Trail to Chunanee Falls (White County, Georgia)

Another site that I have been meaning to visit is the Smithgall Woods Conservation Area, which serves also serves as a Georgia State Park. After some research, it seems that Charles A. Smithgall Jr. assembled the acreage, paid teams to clear trash, plant trees, restock streams, and then sold it to the state at half the appraised value. He is quoted as saying "At some point, a man has to put something back. I hate to see people just take from the land and never put something back." I guess this was his way of doing just that. The land now serves as the protected home of populations of wild turkey, bear, and deer.

The start of the hike along the Tsalaki Trail is paved and after leaving the parking lot almost immediately starts a steep uphill. There area lot of folks out enjoying the oncoming fall weather this morning and as I breeze past them at my normal brisk pace, I wish them a good day. There are a number of side trails available, but two particular ones are of the most interest to me and they are a couple of miles further in.

After about a mile and a half, the pavement ends and the trail becomes a wide gravel road; still very well paved and maintained. I pass an area with a couple of dozen bee boxes, which resides to a field of diminutive sunflowers. I bet that makes for some tasty honey. As I continue on, I pass several sections offering views of Duke's Creek and eventually cross a tall covered bridge over the creek.

Not too far beyond, I find the first of the side trails that I want to explore, which leads to Martin's Mine. I always enjoy exploring in and around mine shafts and this one was apparently active during the northern Georgia gold rush of the 1830's. The trail is a single track and winds around the sloping hillsides. I find the need to wave a stick in front of me to prevent me from running face-first into one or more of the many spider webs stretched across the trail. Apparently, I'm the first person out here in this part of the woods today. Eventually, I reach an area that seems to be cut unnaturally, and as I read some of the information signs, I realize that there is not mine shaft and that this was the site of hydraulic mining. This is a very destructive process that uses pressurized water to eat way the earth and reveal the shiny gold element. While the woods has grown around the area, the scars of these water-cut inlets remain. The stone piers of a small bridge also remain, but there isn't much else to see beyond this - disappointing.

After returning to the trail, I continue on for the next side trail, which is closer to the end of the Tsalaki Trail. This one will take me to Chunanee Falls. A large boulder with a bronze plaque marks the beginning of this side trail. It provides some history and tells of a Cherokee widow that once owned this land prior to the gold rush. The trail is a little rugged and slightly overgrown, but again is a single track through the woods. With the humidity and after running through another spider web, I question whether or not I really want to push on towards the fall, but I convince myself to do so. After about a half-mile of dodging spider webs and low-hanging rhododendron, I finally find the waterfall, which was worth the trip. 

A large house-sized stone juts out from the hillside and one of the many tributary creeks to Duke's Creek washes over it. The water is flowing pretty well today, but I bet it would be stupendous during or immediately after a good downpour. I spend a couple of minutes admiring the waterfall and then turn to go back the way I came. As we have plans this evening and I've already gone slightly longer than I planned on, I need to pick up the pace to make it back to my jeep in time. I eventually do and see that I've covered about 7.4 miles on this hike, most of which was road-walking. Still though, it was a nice pleasant day and it's always nice to get out to see a new waterfall.

Lake Lanier - Little Ridge Trail (Forsyth County, Georgia)

While on my last camping trip, I got bitten by a large number of chiggers, which I had a very bad reaction to and caused swelling and blistering on my right leg. This has prevented me from getting out too much over the past couple of weeks, but with my leg on the mend, it's time to start getting some miles in again. First stop of the day is the Little Ridge Trail, which wanders out onto one of the many peninsulas of Lake Lanier. 

The trail is short and very flat, but offers some nice views of the large man-made lake and several great fishing spots, which several people seem to be taking advantage of. It's early in the day and it's wondrous to see the young sun rising over the horizon and lighting the calm waters of the lake. I always find this kind of trail quite relaxing. It's well traveled and so navigation is not an issue. I keep a pretty solid pace as I'm trying to fit in a longer hike as well today, but I always take a moment to just exist in the moment and this is it.

As I round out the trail and head back towards my jeep, check my tracking app and see that I've covered about 1.3 miles on this little early morning jaunt. It was a nice start to the day, but now it's time to get a few more miles in at another location.

Nacoochee Indian Mound (White County, Georgia)

 After a morning of enjoying the Oktoberfest Celebrations in the small Georgia mountain village of Helen, I decided to stop by and admire the nearby Nacoochee Indian Mound, which is only a mile or so outside of the city limits. I've driven past before, but never took the time to truly get out and admire the history and culture of which this Native American mound is part.

The earthen mound is thought to have been built by indigenous peoples sometime between 1350 and 1600 CE. It was likely the center of a large village and archaeological excavations have discovered 75 human burials at the site. In more recent times, the Cherokee built a village called Gauxule and which was visited by DeSoto in 1540. Today, the mound rises from a flat cow pasture. At some point in modern times, a gazebo was built on top of the mound.

While it's a little disheartening to see this cultural treasure reduced to a roadside attraction surrounded by cattle, it's at least nice to know that it is preserved in some state.