(no subject)
WHAT TO DO WHEN A BRIDGE bREAKS IN TWO...
"Umn, mom, where did you say the trail was?"
I stared at the small river running down the hill before us.
"Oh, right here..." Mom answers.
That was how it started. You know, parks really should put up notices to tell you that a trail is closed or a bridge wiped out before you are five miles in. Oh well, what can you do?
Fallen trees and water from the recent storm created an obstacle course as we slowly wound our way along what was once the Skyline to the Sea trail, but which now resembled something akin to a war zone.
At the first river crossing we came to, the bridge was gone, but there was a redwood not far away that we could use as a bridge and you know, I think it really gives you some meaningful insight into my upbringing that mom, josh and I opted to use a tree to cross a rapidly moving river rather than turn back.
The next bridge was nagging onto the bank by its nails and eyelashes, but we managed to cross it without falling into the water.
Skyline to the Sea is a twelve mile trail full of newts, birds, and long expanses of flat trail in which to sing loudly, spin around, talk or daydream. Mostly I daydreamed this time, since there wasn't really anything to talk about with mom. I think I may have accidentally stepped on a newt, I wasn't sure if it was me or the people in front of us, but I cried anyways and made sure to keep a close look out for newts the rest of the hike. (I saw more than a hundred at different times and was very paranoid by the time we got to Waddle Beach)
At the Falls I grabbed a sharp stone and scratched another tally mark onto a fence post by the bench. Second time walking this trail in as many months, woot!
We continued walking, climbing over fallen trees and splashing through storm creeks and puddles deep enough for even the larger of the newts to swim around in.
Around 3:30 or 4, as the sunlight began threatening to dim, we encountered THE STREAM.
Or at least, last time I saw it it had been a stream, now it was a muddy river full of rapids and undertow. The plank bridge which had once spanned it was broken in two, one half having caught on a rock on our bank, the other having been pulled up by the current onto the other bank. There were many boulders which we may have tried using as aids in crossing the river, but they were wet from mist and covered in that particular kind of lichen one finds exceedingly easy to slip on. There were no fallen trees within site, cliffs on either bank, and when I tried to foard across on foot I nearly broke my ankle because the river bed was so uneven!
So, here is where we foudn ourselves.
We were about at the halfway point of the trail, with 5 miles to walk forward and 6 back the way we came. We had very little sunlight left, no way to cross the river, and, oh yeah, mom discovered at that moment that we had forgotten to pack a flashlight.
We couldn't turn back, I pointed out, because then we would have to navigate drop offs and all those storm made creeks in the dark, plus we would still need to re cross that one creek we had encountered earlier- in the dark. With no flashlight. And with my little brother (age 7) in tow. Not goanna happen.
We tried moving the bridge, but it was too heavy. STill, we wasted a good half hour in that endeavor.
We walked up the river one way, then down the river the other way. Finally, I saw a hopeful sight- Farther upstream a very thick redwood had fallen creating a perfect bridge across the river. The only problem was that to get to it, we either had to swim (thus defeating the whole purpose of using a log) or we had to got BACK onto the trail, and hope that we could find a way to get down to the log from there.
So to cut a long story short, the only route to the redwood was a 75 degree slope of unstable mulch and wet slimy things that slithered into one's shoes. I took the lead going down, now that I think of it, whenever I can I take risks for my family or close friends, not for any noble reason though, I’m afraid, but simply because i would have no clue as to what to do if they got hurt, or if they would remember to keep it together and not panic, whereas I'm pretty sure that if I got hurt I could think of something to do, or at the least not panic.
DOwn the slope we went, (I found out at this point that my Teva sandals had no tread left and one refused to velcro so I took it off and tossed it down the hill with a prayer that it wouldn't fall in the water)
We got to the redwood and slid across it as the water raged far below us, then found a deer trail full of the kinds of narrow windiness my kind like so much, and followed it until we found the main trail once more.
Mom discovered she DID have a flashlight, the trail became steadily better until it faded into pavement, rays of setting sun filtered through the trees and mist as the far off roll of the ocean waves gave us false hope that we were nearing the end of the trail. It was only later that we learned you can hear the ocean waves three miles from the ocean. Oh well.
On the side of the trail, beside a big mud puddle, was a large caution sign reading "Dangerous Slope, Even Surface, CAUTION!!!" Figures, don't it? That puddle was dangerous, but the bridges being broken wasn't?
Right before we stepped onto the sandy beach, in the last meadow of the forest, I waved to a pair of does who stood outlined against the fading pink sky. They looked at me as they chewed a patch of grass.
Sitting on a grey boulder, watching the ocean rise and fall as I waited for Russell to come pick us up in his car and take us out for dinner, I laughed to myself, I couldn't help it.
-Cc/Fawn
"Umn, mom, where did you say the trail was?"
I stared at the small river running down the hill before us.
"Oh, right here..." Mom answers.
That was how it started. You know, parks really should put up notices to tell you that a trail is closed or a bridge wiped out before you are five miles in. Oh well, what can you do?
Fallen trees and water from the recent storm created an obstacle course as we slowly wound our way along what was once the Skyline to the Sea trail, but which now resembled something akin to a war zone.
At the first river crossing we came to, the bridge was gone, but there was a redwood not far away that we could use as a bridge and you know, I think it really gives you some meaningful insight into my upbringing that mom, josh and I opted to use a tree to cross a rapidly moving river rather than turn back.
The next bridge was nagging onto the bank by its nails and eyelashes, but we managed to cross it without falling into the water.
Skyline to the Sea is a twelve mile trail full of newts, birds, and long expanses of flat trail in which to sing loudly, spin around, talk or daydream. Mostly I daydreamed this time, since there wasn't really anything to talk about with mom. I think I may have accidentally stepped on a newt, I wasn't sure if it was me or the people in front of us, but I cried anyways and made sure to keep a close look out for newts the rest of the hike. (I saw more than a hundred at different times and was very paranoid by the time we got to Waddle Beach)
At the Falls I grabbed a sharp stone and scratched another tally mark onto a fence post by the bench. Second time walking this trail in as many months, woot!
We continued walking, climbing over fallen trees and splashing through storm creeks and puddles deep enough for even the larger of the newts to swim around in.
Around 3:30 or 4, as the sunlight began threatening to dim, we encountered THE STREAM.
Or at least, last time I saw it it had been a stream, now it was a muddy river full of rapids and undertow. The plank bridge which had once spanned it was broken in two, one half having caught on a rock on our bank, the other having been pulled up by the current onto the other bank. There were many boulders which we may have tried using as aids in crossing the river, but they were wet from mist and covered in that particular kind of lichen one finds exceedingly easy to slip on. There were no fallen trees within site, cliffs on either bank, and when I tried to foard across on foot I nearly broke my ankle because the river bed was so uneven!
So, here is where we foudn ourselves.
We were about at the halfway point of the trail, with 5 miles to walk forward and 6 back the way we came. We had very little sunlight left, no way to cross the river, and, oh yeah, mom discovered at that moment that we had forgotten to pack a flashlight.
We couldn't turn back, I pointed out, because then we would have to navigate drop offs and all those storm made creeks in the dark, plus we would still need to re cross that one creek we had encountered earlier- in the dark. With no flashlight. And with my little brother (age 7) in tow. Not goanna happen.
We tried moving the bridge, but it was too heavy. STill, we wasted a good half hour in that endeavor.
We walked up the river one way, then down the river the other way. Finally, I saw a hopeful sight- Farther upstream a very thick redwood had fallen creating a perfect bridge across the river. The only problem was that to get to it, we either had to swim (thus defeating the whole purpose of using a log) or we had to got BACK onto the trail, and hope that we could find a way to get down to the log from there.
So to cut a long story short, the only route to the redwood was a 75 degree slope of unstable mulch and wet slimy things that slithered into one's shoes. I took the lead going down, now that I think of it, whenever I can I take risks for my family or close friends, not for any noble reason though, I’m afraid, but simply because i would have no clue as to what to do if they got hurt, or if they would remember to keep it together and not panic, whereas I'm pretty sure that if I got hurt I could think of something to do, or at the least not panic.
DOwn the slope we went, (I found out at this point that my Teva sandals had no tread left and one refused to velcro so I took it off and tossed it down the hill with a prayer that it wouldn't fall in the water)
We got to the redwood and slid across it as the water raged far below us, then found a deer trail full of the kinds of narrow windiness my kind like so much, and followed it until we found the main trail once more.
Mom discovered she DID have a flashlight, the trail became steadily better until it faded into pavement, rays of setting sun filtered through the trees and mist as the far off roll of the ocean waves gave us false hope that we were nearing the end of the trail. It was only later that we learned you can hear the ocean waves three miles from the ocean. Oh well.
On the side of the trail, beside a big mud puddle, was a large caution sign reading "Dangerous Slope, Even Surface, CAUTION!!!" Figures, don't it? That puddle was dangerous, but the bridges being broken wasn't?
Right before we stepped onto the sandy beach, in the last meadow of the forest, I waved to a pair of does who stood outlined against the fading pink sky. They looked at me as they chewed a patch of grass.
Sitting on a grey boulder, watching the ocean rise and fall as I waited for Russell to come pick us up in his car and take us out for dinner, I laughed to myself, I couldn't help it.
-Cc/Fawn