Photographs by the author
(During his last year of high school, my son undertook as his senior project an 11-day backpacking trip, by himself, in the Ventano Wilderness near Big Sur. This is his account, written at nights by flashlight or during the many rainy days during the late El Nino winter that continued into May. --Luke)
Note: This is my journal basically verbatim. I tried to keep it unaltered to retain the feeling of the original manuscript. For example, when my sentence structure starts to fall apart for lack of conjunctions, it can be guessed that I was in a rush, trying to write before darkness or before my morning hiking. Thank you, enjoy.
Day 1:
Yesterday, "Oh it seems so far away," I drove up from my sister Nicole's house. Getting here was actually quite a challenge. It started when I ground my car on Nicole's slightly rained out road. No damage though. Then I drove to Santa Rosa, picked up some last minute camping items (moleskin and part for filter) and was back on 101. Traffic was bad through city, what else is new. Frogs in the background now too. Then I drove to Carmel using 880 and 1, and found out the road was closed. But it said closed to all nonresidents so I assumed it was passable. I suavely drove on. 20 miles later there was a road block with a man asking probing questions. I tell him my purpose and he just laughs. "Palo Colorado Road," he says, "Ha, ha; think you can get through this to get there." Shows me picture of broken bridge. I leave.
Can't see finish tomorrow. Good night.
So I couldn't get into Botcher's Gap, my intended starting place but as you can see on the map my route is a loop. (kind of) So I decided to enter it as the closest other entrance, Arroyo Seco. I got there at around 5:30 and was all psyched to get into the woods when evil park ranger in golf cart informs me how park maintains their trails.
Me: "Pay for parking?!? Oh shit"
Evil Ranger: "Yeah it's 5 dollars a day, how many days you camping for?"
Me: "Eleven."
Evil Ranger: "Eleven days! My gosh that'll be $105."
Me: "Oh. . . I don't even have $105, anywhere else I could park and hike in?"
Evil Ranger: " No you'll be towed everywhere else too."
Me: "Oh."
Evil Ranger: "So what's it gonna be?"
Me: "Let me think about it."
He leaves and then something clicks: Evil Ranger definitely did not go to MIT. 5 - 11 is only $55. I scrounge up all money in my car including change and have $57 I drive to Evil Ranger's house, don't know how I'll get home on two dollars though.
Evil Ranger now tells me that I can buy a year round pass for this one parking lot for 35$. Que relief. I can backpack and get home. Hallelujah. I eat dinner of bread, butter and almonds and hike a mile or so in just to get out of parking lot. Set up camp by moonlight, thank God the moon's out with me for these 11 nights. I slept fine.
Anyway the next day, yesterday now, I broke camp and soon got off the little tourist state park trail onto "Marble Peak Trail." It went down to a pretty big river that it would follow for about the next 6-7 miles. During those miles I would cross this river literally 21 times 2 of which I fell in and one where I slipped and hurt my elbow. Just a bruise though, don't worry. Also the trail goes through more poison oak than air. If they could make paper out of poison oak this place would be more profitable than Headwaters. It made the hiking slow since I was always dodging it. I don't think I got it though. We'll see. Then the trail rose out of river bed into small mountains where there was less rivers and poison oak.
My feet are sore now. It rained a little last night. It was kind of fun hearing it. So loud.
It's amazing how much the sound of a jet sounds like my idea of a mountain lion growl. It gets my adrenaline pumping every time. I saw lots of squirrels and quail. Heard a woodpecker and lots of owls. I feel great.
All my equipment is working really good which is a miracle. I'm well fed, (I had to stuff dinner down) and my pack isn't to heavy. My shoulders are really sore but no one said it would be a walk in the park. Just don't have time to be lonely or scared yet, maybe if I take a day off from hiking I will. It's so beautiful out here. Gotta hike, see ya.
Day 2:
There wasn't any sun whatsoever today and barely any yesterday. It rained last night and most of today. That sucked. I could really use some sun. All my gear is a little damp and some wet (boots) but mostly I could use some sun for morale. I saw 3 tiny patches of blue today and almost did a jig each time. If you know how a couple of gray days gets you feeling in the convenience of home/society, imagine the feeling alone in unknown wilderness. I'm actually not really depressed just could really use some sun. God I pray tomorrow is sunny. I'm not really lonely either but I would just love to see people. Have a little P.O. (poison oak) but not bad. Hope I don't get any more.
Well let's see what did I do today. . . I hiked around 12 miles today but am camped at the same place I was last night. The second day of my trip went a little less suavely than my first, which if you'll remember was the day when I fell in a river twice and slipped on my elbow.
Today I also fell into rivers twice but my batting average was worse since there was only 14 fords to be made. One of the times I cut my wrist but that was kind of fun because I got to use all my little first aid stuff. The rain, mostly via wet shrubbery, managed to keep me wet and cold all day. I got bit by two ticks but got them out pretty quickly. I don't think the ticks around here carry lyme disease, at least the back of the map doesn't mention it in its tick section. My ankles (mostly my right) also gave me a little trouble. I think this is because all the trails have been fairly rained out so the ones on hills are pretty sloped rather than flat; so the ankles get bent all weird with each 195 pound step. It doesn't help that everything is either up or down, I really don't think I've seen any flat.
I saw lots of mountain lion scat today and yesterday, one wool sock (spooky) lots of banana slugs, huge ants, a newt, a half eaten snake, (might have been a rattler) and some really awesome waterfalls.
There's lots of edibles out here. Tons of miner's lettuce which is great for sandwiches and snacks, yarrow and bay leaves which are good for tea and spicing respectively.
I have to make dinner now, refried beans I think.
Wow, dinner was great. "Hunger makes the best sauce" (cliché for the day) but even in the outside world it would have been good, tasted just like refried beans with spices, amazing. The not so fun part was getting on damp underwear and soaked socks and shoes. I was chattering and it was sprinkling which didn't help. I think my feet might have had mild hypothermia but I sucked on them and gave them both massages and now they just feel really cold.
Don't want to waste my batteries so good night.
It just started to rain. . . Pretty hard too, who would have guessed.
Day 3:
God I keep looking at the map and it keeps looking like more miles than I thought it would be- uh-oh.
The tick bite I got on my left armpit is a little swollen and sore. I'm kind of worried because the other one isn't. (on my belly) I can't really see it thought (location) and I think I got it so fast that the head couldn't still be in but who knows? I put antibacterial cream on it and stretched a little. My wrist feels and looks fine. It's healing fine.
The sun's peaking out, hooray! Got to get up now.
I forgot to mention the best news, I don't think I have any poison oak. A round of applause for that please.
Shit I just got all bundled in damp gear, squeezed my socks out again, opened the door to put my shoes on and it starts raining, not even just sprinkling. Back to bed, I'm going to read.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Why am I out here? To challenge myself. Why am I out here? To challenge myself. Is this a challenge? Yes. . . Oh God yes. Well that's good then, right? Ugghh. . . I guess. Yeah, I guess it's not quite as bad right now but about an hour ago, before the deep breaths and fetal position, I was somewhere between agitated and panicked. Anyway all's well that ends well and if one looks at the big picture it probably won't be ending for a couple billion years. So cheer up lad, just because this little little, teeny one day didn't end so well, that ain't no biggy. (Nothing makes one feel quite so cynical as optimism.)
So, you want to know what happened? Yeah, well okay, today didn't go quite as suavely as yesterday. (deja vu) I hope this trend does not continue especially seeing as how it seems to grow exponentially worse each day. The irony is that I didn't even fall in the river once. Neat huh. Well I'll have to leave you in suspense tonight por que can't use too much flashlight power.
Okay it's the morning after, so what happened yesterday? I had a nice morning and got off to a late start. The weather kept having drastic mood swings between pouring rain and sun. I made the 4-5 miles to the "Marble Peak Trail" and "South Fork Trail" intersection quickly and had a lovely little snack of trail mix there. My lovely little snack was rudely interrupted by a morning shower. I shove off, make it to, I think Strawberry camp pretty soon. I then take the wrong trail up a little creek. for the next 30/45 minutes and about 1 mile I compiled a speech for the next ranger I was basically saying, How the hell dare they call this a maintained trail. After rolling down a steep embankment and almost falling into a stream I decided to look at the map. I then realized that my speech would not be necessary because the Rangers did not call this a maintained trail. I was on an unmaintained trail. (the dotted black ones on the map) I went back to the last campsite and soon found the real path. I decided to eat lunch before I went on. I noticed my jerry tube of honey had busted its plastic ring at the back. It was a disaster somewhat similar to an 8.0 earthquake in the real world. As I was licking the inside of the bag off, the jerry tube of honey (smeared with honey on the outside) fell onto my backpack cover. . . twice. That sucked but I washed everything off okay and fixed the back of the jerry tube with moleskin. We'll see if it holds at today's lunch.
So I get back into my soggy hiking boots (as usual) and get on my way. I see a half dug up Nike basketball shoe- little spooky. I do not investigate thoroughly. I move on. I see two piles of Blue Jay feathers, like a Blue Jay has been torn apart. Interesting. I will relieve any undo suspense by saying that I did not see a mountain lion yesterday. I hiked for a while along the "Big Sur River" (south fork I think) and have to make some pretty hard river crossings. Three of them I actually had to take off my shoes and do all that. so eventually I get to a place in the path where there are two broken branches across it and a plastic bag on a rock under a rock. I am suspicious but keep going. I go through some really thick poison oak and then the trail dead-ends into the water. At this point the river has turned into a very deep, at lest 10 feet, very wide, 40-50 feet, barely moving pond. The trail has done this many times before so I assume the trail continues on the other side even though I can't actually see it. I go upriver, take off my shoes and socks and wade across. I bushwhack through huge poison oak bushes to where I thought the trail was and am a bit disappointed.
(Well I just got up to take the rainfly off and take a piss. The rainfly was wet on the inside because it was real cold last night, probably upper 30's low 40's. This was because it was absolutely clear. It still is now and the sun is peeking out so that is great but I don't have faith it will necessarily stay that way. We'll see.)
Day 4:
It was definitely my most exhausting day physically but quite rejuvenating mentally and spiritually- It seems to work that way a lot. It started with being lost so I packed up pretty early and went back towards the spot where the trail dead-ended. I noticed, as I had many times before the plastic bag with the rock on top of it. This brought back the dream from the night before in which there was a note on the bag. This time I picked the bag up and saw that it did indeed contain a note reading, "mudslide ahead, cross here somehow and follow bank until you hit the path." It was very helpful in lifting my spirits. I crossed and kept going on the bank but poison oak and dangerous precipices made me hike rather high up. I hit the mud slide and had to shamble over huge uprooted trees and such for at least an eighth of a mile. The mudslide was huge, a whole side of a mountain had bee wiped away. It was quite a sight. Then I bushwhacked through more P.O. and brush and stumbled upon a pretty good looking camp. Assuming the path connected to the camp I sat down and had a little victory trail mix and tried to wash the P.O. oils off. I got going again and followed what seemed to be a trail but soon smacked right into a second mudslide, just as big as the first. I scrambled across this one and went down the other side alas to find no trail. I think maybe the trail has gone to the other side of river. I looked at the map and it looked like this might be true. I took off shoe and sock, hiked up my pants and got across. I then climbed straight up a waterfall and then up a really steep embankment. Then I hit the trail, I was quite joyous, kissing trail and so forth. Felt great. The rest of the day was pleasant, two rather large passes but they were on trails so all was cool. Latter half of the day I hiked through some of the most beautiful country I have ever been surrounded by. It was about 5 miles slightly downhill but very high up in this mountain range. Wildflowers everywhere, beautiful lush plants and interesting cacti. Great view and can't forget sunny. Magnificent.
Day 5:
Last night I heard shouts and thought someone might be in trouble so I ran down trail and saw 3 guys and a girl, about my age maybe a little older, across river. It was a huge shock to see people after 4/5 days and gave me a huge adrenaline rush. I said hi but then basically just stood there and stared- they were so out of place there in the woods- just 'cause they were human, It made me feel clumsy. They asked me how to cross river- I told them to ford it, that was the only way really. Then I just stood there and stared at them, so interesting, one had tie dyed clothes and blond dreadlocks, he was speaker for group. We tried to communicate but couldn't really over river roar. I asked if they needed any help and he says that they'll come visit later. I was quite excited and a little nervous, felt like I was going to my middle school graduation dance all over again. I tied my shoes and cleaned my tent and made a fire because I thought they might be cold after crossing river. It was almost night. They never came over though, probably didn't want to get wet and cold. That was okay though, I just sat around and watched my fire die, it was beautiful. Embers are beautiful, I think the moon will be full in three nights. Later.
"All right, bye bye," she said. And that was it.
"See ya."
Later I cursed myself for not telling her I loved her, but I couldn't have handled it without breaking down. I had to hold back if I wanted to finish this trip and I did so I held back. There's that manhood training paying off. It really gets me down sometimes how out of touch with my emotions I am, or at least some of them. I haven't cried for the longest time and I wish I could. I think it all comes out as a sort of bland pureed depression, I certainly can get in tough with that. But I haven't been depressed out here yet, until today. That was more like just an extreme loneliness and an extreme want to go home or anywhere with people. I was really ready to go home. But I feel a little better now. It helped to write this. I couldn't camp in park because it was closed but that was fine I wanted to skiddadle-
Anyhow, I hiked through more beautiful country today, similar to yesterday but part of it was totally burnt, I'd say around 4-5 years ago. That was interesting if not quite as beautiful.
I had to ford the Big Sur River this morning out of Skyes camp, that was pretty scary since the river had a real strong current but I took it slow and only in shorts and had a big walking stick. I made it okay but had some close calls.
I never saw those people again. It's kind of strange so few people are in this wilderness. Probably has something to do with state route 1 and Big Sur camping ground being closed.
I hiked about 14 miles today so I'm pretty exhausted. I'm going to eat dinner, read "The Grapes of Wrath" a little and hit the hay- hopefully sleep the last bit of this depression/loneliness/whatever off and wake up fresh and ready for the next six days- I can't believe this thing is only half over- Anyway my whole body is pretty weary so I think I'm gonna have a layover day not tomorrow but the next day. I am pretty much on schedule. I could certainly use a day to do laundry- man do I stink. See ya-
Day 7:
So not seeing where else the trail could go, there was a cliff on the left and dense tangled brush on the right, I followed the fire line. Now Bulldozers can go uphill much easier than people so there were no switchbacks or anything, almost all of the fire line was either up or down at about 45 degrees at least and it was all crumbly dry dirt and rock that slipped with each step. I would kind of crawl up hills and ski down. I almost hurt myself pretty badly twice by falling. Also to make matters worse, I had completely run out of water and the sky was now totally blue and sunny. Why it should have chosen yesterday instead of today I know not. (Not being able to do laundry today is going to suck.) So I was parched but alas it would be another 4-5 hours before water came my weary way. I saw three markers towards the first mile of the fire line that said, "U.S. National Forest Trail." They gave me a good load of false confidence. I continued on about another five miles after that, up and down this horrendous trail until it split around some peak and went right and left. I had no clue. I looked at the Map but couldn't really discern much, there was no trail splitting on the map. The map was made in 1987 and the worst fires have been in the last five years. But I doubt the fire lines would have been on there anyway since they weren't really roads, cars certainly couldn't drive on them. Anyway I hiked a bit down both of them, the right one just kept going on the ridge but the left one went very steeply down but then flattened off about 500 feet below. It looked like it might taper off and turn into a trail. I was convinced I had found the right way and was very happy. I ate lunch and started down. It was definitely steeper than anything else I had encountered. It took me a long time to get down and the part of the fire line that looked like it had thinned out was not a path but simply where the bulldozer had driven up to the ridge but not actually bulldozed. I was so thirsty by this time, and a little delirious with heat and just wanted to find the path so bad that I just kept convincing myself that this was part of the path or that it was going to lead to the path. I kept seeing possible paths in the distance but they always turned out to be deer trails or nothing at all. The real thing that kept me going on this bulldozer road was that I would occasionally see foot prints, hiking boot prints rather, and they gave me a lot of false confidence that I was on the path. They were probably just some other poor bloke getting lost like me. So after a long time and many tiresome, waterless miles I broke out of my delusional world and sat down to do some logical thinking . I needed water very badly by this time and was pretty scared. I was having a lot of the same emotions I had had the day before. I knew I couldn't get water on this bulldozed road because it followed the top of this ridgeline at something like 2,500 feet and I finally realized that I was utterly lost because I had been going North West for some miles while the trail went mostly North. So I decided to cut downhill and due west to find a stream and eventually get help at Highway 1. I zigzagged down very steep hills and to my relief found a stream about 45 minutes later. Had a power bar and kept going. If took me a long time but I finally came out at the junction of highway one and the Old Coast Highway. This was good because it was the detour people were using to get around the fallen out piece of highway. People came out of the Old Coast Highway and I tried to flag them down (jumping and waving my arms) but they must have thought that I was just some rude hitchhiker because they ignored me and drove on. This happened many times which got me quite down and anxious but finally a lady came along who made hand signals basically implying that picking up hitchhikers wasn't her thing. I shouted that I didn't need a ride, that I was just lost and needed help. She rolled down her window and said, "what". I repeated myself but by this time I was close to an emotional breakdown and my voice was all wavery like I was about to cry. I guess this was to my advantage because she pulled over to talk to me. We talked about my situation for awhile and I told her how I was supposed to wind up around Botcher's Gap that night and how I thought I might be able to get there via Palo Colorado Road. She told me that I could and that I should try to catch a ride going north to the road. She said it would be best to get a ride with a service vehicle, i.e.: police person, ranger or delivery truck, because they could use Highway 1 and it would be faster than the Old Coast Highway. So pretty soon two Mexican men pick me up who speak almost no English. They say, "You think we can get through here," pointing towards the, "Road closed, service vehicles only" sign.
I say, "Are you a service vehicle?"
"Que?"
"Que pasa?"
" We'll try, yes," laughing.
"Okay," I say apprehensively.
He's only going 60 but it feels like a hundred after being on my two feet for six days. I'm scared shitless but then I get used to it after a while. The guy in the passenger seat is filming the road go by. We get to a CalTrans worker with a stop sign. We are behind a big food truck who the worker lets by. Then he turns the sign to stop for us. We don't stop. We just keep driving and the guy with the sign chases us for a second but then the driver waves at him and the CA. guy stops and kind of sighs while waving us on. I have no clue how we got through but we did. They dropped me off at Palo Colorado Road and I start to hike up. I realize that Somewhere I lost one of my water bottles. I don't trust my backpack side mesh pockets any more. Anyway I hiked about two or three miles up this road, it was eight to Botcher's Gap, I got one ride with U.S. National Emergency Response Vehicle: late forties grizzled guy and son both drinkin Tecate brew- Hmmm, interesting. Next ride with ranger who lives at Botcher's Gap- fortunate. We talk and he lectures about river crossings and so on, lots of water this year. Then I hike out Skinner's Ridge to first creek and set up camp. It's getting dark and I didn't want to camp at Botcher's Gap because it costs $10. So as you can tell by the decline of my sentence structure I'm tired of writing. It's still pouring down rain. I'll eat sleep read eat sleep so forth. Hope no rain tomorrow. The funny thing is all in all I hiked about 17-18 miles, about three miles more than I intended, and I ended up about three miles ahead of where I wanted to be. Justice? I doubt it.
The rain has stopped for a while now but the light in my tent hasn't changed so I'll bet it's still totally cloudy. I'm going to go outside soon, I'm feeling all cooped up in here.
Well it's getting to be almost late afternoon and it hasn't done any serious raining since around 10:00. That's good but just sitting around reading ain't as much fun as I thought it was going to be, makes me feel apprehensive and vulnerable to this wild nature, like I should be doing something else besides reading, something productive like hiking. Hiking is certainly more invigorating. Maybe I'll go through my trash and burn the paper- makes me feel like I'm ridding myself of weight. Just siting around also makes me more aware of how alone I am. It feels like I've been all alone for a long time. A really long time. I think back to the beginning of my trip, and know it's a cliché, but it feels like months ago. I really miss people. It's strange, I can handle being alone out here fine now but I think about when I get out and I think that when I get out I always want to be around people I love. Thinking of the drive home alone scares me but sitting here alone, while it's wet and miserable outside doesn't really bother me. Of course, I admit I've been fantasizing some, about when I get out. Anyhow I was thinking of hiking a little bit but I decided to give my transportation a full days rest, I know they need it, see ya.
Day 8:
It started this morning when I woke up early, and packed up quite wet in an inch of snow with a little still falling. I started off and was immediately confronted by huge fallen trees crawling with snow and poison oak. (Side not: Everything in the Ventana Wilderness is crawling with poison oak. If I don't always mention it, it is simply because it is such a constant threat it slips into the back of my mind.) Anyway, the trail I was on went up to Devil's Peak at around 4,200 feet from around 2,400 feet in five miles. This was no big deal, I assumed I could get to the top in about 2-3 hours. Well, the first 3-4 miles of this trail was absolutely overgrown with what I believe is commonly called soap bush. Whatever it is called, the bush is a poky, almost brambly, very dense bush that is surplusly laden with small hard pokey leaves. The only way I could tell it was the trail at all was because there was a small amount of clearance towards the bottom of the bushes and there was not much of this brush actually growing in the thin path. Much of this brush was to thick to go through upright so yes, I had to crawl for much of the way up. Remember that there is lots of snow and slush on ground and that the cold and amount of snow on the ground is increasing noticeably with the altitude. Towards the top there is probably around half a foot, some left over from night before. Also, to make matters worse all the bushes are laden with snow and water which falls with the slightest movement. There are also lots of downed trees in the path but these I appreciate because they allow me to get out of the brush momentarily. Some fallen trees are also covered with brush, these are tricky. About a third of a mile into this there is a clearing (there have been other openings in the path just not many) and a couple is camped there. We say hi, joke about the path together and talk a little. I keep going. By the top, I have no idea how long later, I am soaked and frozen. It is very cold out, around freezing, and I have been going through water logged bushes for hours and miles. It is something equivalent to being in a monsoon I'm sure. The water literally is streaming off my goretex rainsuit. I rip my beautiful new raincoat on snag but not too bad, it can be fixed. So water has soaked into rain jacket liner through sleeves and bottom and I have very little movement in my hands and feet, no feeling, am very worried
Day 9:
Day 10:
First let me say thanks for sticking with me 'till the bitter end, it's been a pleasure.
I hiked out of Big Pines in the snow, Boots got soaked again. (I'm loosing faith in Nike's 'All Condition Gear' line, but they have been pretty comfortable.) The trail was pretty good and as you can see on the map the trail connects to an unmaintained road that goes to the Los Padres Dam and then to the Carmel Ranger Station and campground. I intended to sleep somewhere around this campground that night but it wasn't quite so easy. What the map doesn't show you is that the Big Pine Trail connects to many roads, all of which are unmarked. So throwing my fate to the winds of faith, I played rock, paper, scissors with myself to determine my direction at every intersection. I hiked on these roads, all in the generally correct direction, until late afternoon when I hit the Carmel River. Knowing that the campground was along the river I bushwhacked up it until magnificently I saw picnic benches and public looking buildings across the river. Excited at my good fortune I looked for a place to cross the Carmel, by far the largest river in the wilderness. The shallowest part I could find was up to my waist and at least 45 feet across. The current was very strong but I went slow and lived to tell the tale. I then found out that this was not a campground but rather a preschool and community center. The technicolored playground was my first clue. I didn't really know what to do, it was all so surreal, Wilderness to civilization, I didn't feel like I fit in anywhere. I thought about going back on to those roads to camp for the night but it just didn't feel right, felt like that would be fake. It was time for me to get out.
I walked down some road and into a trailer park where I asked a man working on his Datsun truck how to get back to Arroyo Seco. (my car) He gave me directions and I started walking, praying I'd get a ride. Cachaqua Road to Tassajara Road to Carmel Valley Road to Arroyo Seco Road to the ranger station. I got a ride relatively quickly with a l lady named Cathy. I was polite and interesting, telling her stories of my trip, which earned me a ride to Carmel Valley road, about ten miles out of her way. It was strange talking to someone real after all those days of conversations with different mental characters, including my feet, my backpack, just about all my gear, the weather, splinters and so on. I walked for about a mile on the Carmel Valley Road and then got picked up by a man, woman and infant from Quebec, Canada who spoke very limited English. He enlightened me to the fact that negative 40 degrees was the only time that Fahrenheit equaled Celsius- interesting. (It came up through talking about winters in Quebec.) They dropped me off at Arroyo Seco road which I walked all the way up, except the last mile of, which I got a ride with a couple of Los Angeles hippies in a VW Bus. It was a beautiful sunset and a beautiful evening so I actually quite enjoyed walking in the dark even though the pavement made my feet very sore, they still are today. So that's it, I got back to my car and it was over. The End. Goodnight folks.
See me. I'm writing by moonlight in a very beautiful and serene campsite at the intersection of three trails (two sides of Marble Peak and Lost Valley Trail) and two small streams. An owl, I don't know what type, is hooting in the background. I'm in a really nice meadow. There are gorgeous wildflowers everywhere. I hiked 14 miles today. Very tired.
I'm starting to realize how alone I am, just me and my thoughts. And the thoughts are getting stranger. I feel like that moment before sleep where all the thoughts just seem random and absurd. Everything feels like a dream. Being by myself is definitely setting in. It's been 2 days but it feels like weeks and I'm already thinking about it being over. I'm thinking a lot about Maureen, I really miss her. 
So anyhow I was about 6-7 miles down "Hidden Valley Trail" all planned to camp at "Fish Camp" when I just got fed up with it all. I was at a particular place where I was basically going to have to dive through a P.O. bush- and I just turned around. I was going to camp at the next campsite "Pelon Camp" but I just kept thinking of this camp so I popped a magic 600mg. Ibuprofen, put on an ankle brace and barged back hear. It feels like home away from home (very far away from home) and it was great to get back. It really is a great camp. So the result is I'm 4 miles away from done with the lower loop of my trip. I gave this part 3 days and will do it (minus the bottom part) in a little over one day to it gives the rest of my trip a little more breathing room. This is really nice because it means I don't have to hike tomorrow if it is still raining.
It rained all night and this journal is my excuse to stay in my warm dry sleeping bag. All the rest of my world has to offer is wet cold socks and boots. I should probably get up to hang up socks, sleeping bag, pad, boots, long underwear shirt, ace bandage and then clear everything out of my tent so I can shake it out, hang the rainfly up, eat some breakfast, granola and water, (actually isn't that bad) pack up damp gear and get hiking. But my strategic genius is limited by my motivation or lack thereof. It just started to sprinkle a bit so I feel more justified now. Maybe I'll just have breakfast in bed. Where'd that room service button go?
Anyway I couldn't find a trail but I couldn't think of anywhere else it would be. I was having flashbacks to that morning but decided to bushwhack around a little to find it. I thought I saw the top of the hill so I made for that. It was very steep and I lost footing on a loose boulder and almost fell into the river. (only about 15 feet up at this point) I actually caught myself on a tree. It was pretty cool. I kept going and made it to the top of the hill panting (I still had my pack on in case I found the trail, probably not smart) but found no trail. I then decided to go back to this one spot on the trail where it was kind of open and I thought I might have lost the real trail. I crossed the river again and this time lost one of my four wool socks to the river out of my boot. I went back through the thickets of poison oak and got to the clearing and found no trail. I looked everywhere, it seemed and found nothing but little deer trails. I will keep searching today, hope for resolution. I camped in the slightly open spot and got naked in stream to wash with technu (poison oak oil remover) I felt very vulnerable especially when I closed my eyes to put technu on face, could barely handle it. Quickly made dinner and went to sleep. Wish me luck, bye for now.
Sky is totally blue and it's a beautiful blue because I'm not lost and I had a great day. It was sunny all day, felt great.
Last night I was camped a "Skyes" campground by the main branch of the "Big Sur River." It's a great campground with lots of big redwoods and a beautiful swimming hole.
Well it's about an hour before sunset and I'm sitting in a huge oak tree at the bottom of "Mt. Manuel Trail". It's relatively clear now but has been cloudy for most of the day. Maybe that has something to do with my mood. It's mostly the touch of civilization I've gotten today. I hiked into Big Sur- that's right, I've hiked across the whole Ventana wilderness, and seen the Ocean, that was nice- and was just so intimidated and scared seeing all those numbered campsites and ranger stations and trucks and rest rooms and so much pavement. I felt like I was hiking out of the wilderness for good, like my trip was over, and nothing I was to do in the next couple hours would help alleviate this feeling. I was like a little animal in the headlights of a freight train. I just stood there in one of those little sanitized pavement patches, where Harry and Nancy come with there two kids Sara and Harry Jr. to teach them how to fly fish and be rugged outdoorsmen, dumb struck. Then I aimlessly walked around, walked by a Mexican minimum wager spraying down the sides of the ranger station, scrubbing. Probably the only thing more pointless and idiotic than repeatedly cleaning the outside of a ranger station is watching someone do it. I sat at a picnic bench and stared, I was mesmerized. Mesmerized by his high power spray gun, the sound it made, I wanted to try it. I ate half a banana power bar, walked around. I had made contact with the outside world and it was hard to cope with knowing I would be breaking it soon. The longer I stayed the more painful the break but I didn't realize this at the time. I decided to call my mom- this wilderness was crawling with calling pay phones- "just to tell her I was all right." In reality I would have liked to have called her and started sobbing and beg her to come get me. But it was a cold, "Hi, just wanted to tell you I'm fine," when I got her on the line. I almost choked/cried when I heard her voice, "Where are you honey?" But I held back. The conversation drifted into cold facts and then it was over- "Well I should probably go, got a lot to do."
Day 6:
I feel great! Stopped to have some victory trail mix. Yes, finally made it to the top of the world. Just completed the ascent of Mt. Manuel and it was hectic. It's sea level to 3,400 feet in 4 miles. It was a blast and through gorgeous land, tons of poppies and other wildflowers. I hiked through the clouds for awhile. I just saw a helicopter go by a good 1,000 feet below me, pretty cool. Well I want to make lots of miles today so I can feel more confident about my pending layover day. Oh, blessed it be. At this point I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to make the eight mile round-trip ascent of Ventana Double Cone. (this being the wilderness's namesake) C'est la vie. No biggy. Gotta burn them miles, wish me luck, here I go, due north.
It is pouring outside and I plan to stay in my tent all day and hope for better weather tomorrow. Ironically the Annie theme song is stuck in my head. So I'm praying that today will be very uninteresting and restful. I don't know how much fun being stuck in a tent all day is going to be. Yesterday however was far too interesting and also not much fun. The ascent of Mt. Manuel was great but things went downhill from there- unfortunately only figuratively. The trail follows the Mt. Manuel ridge which shockingly kept going up. The trail was very vague and unmarked and after about 300 yards ran smack into a fire line. Fire lines are basically roads at the top of ridges, the idea being that if one removes all burnable material/life from the top of a ridge a forest fire won't spread to the other side. However useful in practice they are quite ugly. Oh god I keep thinking I smell Belgium waffles, I had better have breakfast, I'll get back to you.
I'm eating my granola breakfast surrounded by snow. It rained all last night and apparently snowed about an inch too. I'm off. was very very cold last night, gotta go now.
Henceforth this day shall forever be marked in my mind as hell day. If you have read "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" and recall the priest's 20 page long description of hell, let it be known that it would be no great exaggeration to say that my day was worse. The Ventana Wilderness, I now conclude, is crisscrossed by the worst maintained set of trails this side of the milky way. That they feel at all justified in declaring these trails maintained makes me want to do bodily harm to whoever the hell they is. That they, probably the forest service, have the nerve to even call these things trails instills in me similar feelings. Now that you have the correct impression that all these trails suck -strewn with tons of poison oak, fallen trees, huge brambles and bushes, snow, dangerous fordings, often unmarked and indistinguishable- note that today I have found the worst of the worst. (Knock on wood.) Metaphorically speaking if the other trails were all Rush Limbaughs and Newt Gingrichs then today's trail would have been a Hitler or Stalin.
about hypothermia, I'm very wet. My knees are also very difficult to feel or move rapidly, quite numb because I have been crawling in snow for a long time. I decide the best thing to do is to eat and keep hiking for the movement. I stuff trail mix in my pocket and go on at a fast pace trying to generate body heat. There isn't nearly as much brush on the trail, maybe because of altitude or something else, so that's a big relief. But there is still a lot of snow everywhere and I loose the trail a couple times, but only shortly. My hands, tucked under armpits, and knees come back to life enough that I can feel a very stiff pain in them, but my feet are wading in snow in sopping wet, 'waterproof' boots. Try imagining walking with buckets of ice water attached to your feet and you will get a rough idea of what it was like. Mercifully the trail headed downhill for the next four miles so there was less and less snow. Unmercifully this meant a return of the dreaded brush, but not as bad as before. It's worth it though since my main concern is hypothermia. The sun comes out for about a ten minute gap in an otherwise rain clouded sky. So I take off my shoes and socks, ring them out as much as possible and rub my feet back to life slowly. They feel a little better and the sun left so I move on. In a little ways I come to an intersection that is not marked on the map, there is a sign up though so I follow that way. In about another mile the trail splits again with no markings anywhere. One way looks a little less like a trail so I take the other. Soon this trail dwindles off into nothingness. I assume it was the other way so I went back. This way seemed to be a pretty worn path for about a mile but then it too dwindles off. I'm not sure exactly why but this instilled a small panic in me. I sat down and took some deep breaths and fought off the urge to run screaming down the closest hill. I would be using increasing amounts of willpower to fight off these frustrated, panicky urges for the next four to five hours. I thought maybe this second trail had just been washed out and it would continue later. I continued in the general direction but no trail appeared. I went back and bushwhacked around for the other trail again, this time quite extensively for about an hour but found nothing. I tried the other way again and got to where I had bushwhacked to last time and kept going, really not sure what I was doing. I saw a ridge about a mile further and looked at the map. I convinced myself that the trail could be on the ridge so I did some really hard bushwhacking (worse than the morning's trail) and after a long exasperating time got to the ridge and found no trail. I was about to randomly go on bushwhacking in the same direction when I stopped myself. I realized that I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since around the top of devils peak and that I was probably panicky and not thinking straight. My actions in the last couple of hours had definitely not been logical, smart or safe. I went back to the closest stream and ate and drank and tried to calm down. I realized that I could always take my emergency exit out of the wilderness, through the Los Padres dam area. I decided this is what I should do unless I could find the trail shortly. I bushwhacked back by an alternate route in a last ditch effort to find my lost trail. No such luck but what I did find quite fast was a big old skunk. We were walking right towards each other when I noticed it about 15 feet away from me. It saw me but just kept on advancing. I started shouting at it and throwing rocks at it. The skunk paused momentarily and then kept coming towards me. Brave little guy. I hit it pretty hard with a rock and this compelled it to turn around. I didn't get sprayed but is smelled pretty bad for a while. I got back to my path and as usual sat down and almost cried. I was so lonely and tired. All I could think about was getting out. I backtracked to the cut off to the dam and camped at the first camping spot, Big Pines. I ate dinner and am warm. I feel much better now. I have roughly ten miles to get to a road and then a long hitchhike to my car. Hope I get a ride. I plan on taking it real easy so as to stay in the wilderness for at least approximately as long as I was planning, one day less. I'm going to come out on the tenth day so I have a day to get back to my car before my mom calls the National Guard. Goodnight.
Woke up very sore and achy, lots of hard miles yesterday. It was very cold last night and snowed all night, thankfully I'm not as high as I was yesterday. It's melting pretty quickly. Hope I'll be able to see the path all right. I'm really afraid of getting lost again, it almost feels like a daily tradition. But I guess I have got to get over that. I don't have very far to hike today so I'm going to give the snow a chance to melt for awhile before I start. Eating breakfast now.
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