"Any day outdoors is a good day. Any day on the water is even better."
My 2017 hike was a 360-mile trek on the Bigfoot Trail in California, which you can read in reverse chronical order below, or start at the beginning.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Welcome to our blog!
Here you will find the periodic wanderings of "Steady" Rod and "Spirit" Fran. We wandered around the world for 20 months fifteen years ago, and have hiked or kayaked a number of long treks since then. Scroll along the listings to the right to see which trip you want to explore, check out a little bit about us using the buttons above, or just start reading chronologically below.
"Any day outdoors is a good day. Any day on the water is even better."
My 2017 hike was a 360-mile trek on the Bigfoot Trail in California, which you can read in reverse chronical order below, or start at the beginning.
Our 2013 wandering was a 4,000-mile hike and kayak journey from Key West in Florida to Halifax, Nova Scotia in Canada. You can read about it starting at the beginning.
"Any day outdoors is a good day. Any day on the water is even better."
My 2017 hike was a 360-mile trek on the Bigfoot Trail in California, which you can read in reverse chronical order below, or start at the beginning.
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Reflections in Arcata
We drove down the coast to Arcata to meet Michael Kauffmann, the guy who created this crazy trail. We really enjoyed the trail and prepared some nice things to say. But we also decided not to ask the real question on our minds: "What were you thinking!".
Michael, a local high school science teacher, has been infatuated with the conifers of this area for years and written two books on the topic. He thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail in 2002, and in 2009 combined those two passions by mapping out the initial route of the Bigfoot Trail and completing the first thru hike. To date, there have been about 30 people attempt to hike the entire trail.
Michael peppers us with questions about the trail condition and experience. We are able to update him with details, such as that the flagging at Baldy Peak is quite visible and helpful but the flagging west of the Bigfoot Highway has all dropped to the forest floor. Mostly we just wanted to thank him for all of his efforts. The Bigfoot Trail is purely a volunteer affair, and Michael still shoulders most of the burden.
Wildcat and I continue to reflect on who we would recommend this trail to. The list is short. You need the physical stamina of a twenty or thirty years old, very good outdoor and navigational skills, and incredible persistence. We hear that one pair of hikers this year abandoned their hike the first week on the trail. Between us, we have hiked with or met most of the Triple Crowners, so that is a likely pool of candidates. But beyond that? This trail was by far the most challenging either of us had faced, both physically and skill-wise. It is not to be undertaken casually.
Michael, a local high school science teacher, has been infatuated with the conifers of this area for years and written two books on the topic. He thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail in 2002, and in 2009 combined those two passions by mapping out the initial route of the Bigfoot Trail and completing the first thru hike. To date, there have been about 30 people attempt to hike the entire trail.
Michael peppers us with questions about the trail condition and experience. We are able to update him with details, such as that the flagging at Baldy Peak is quite visible and helpful but the flagging west of the Bigfoot Highway has all dropped to the forest floor. Mostly we just wanted to thank him for all of his efforts. The Bigfoot Trail is purely a volunteer affair, and Michael still shoulders most of the burden.
Wildcat and I continue to reflect on who we would recommend this trail to. The list is short. You need the physical stamina of a twenty or thirty years old, very good outdoor and navigational skills, and incredible persistence. We hear that one pair of hikers this year abandoned their hike the first week on the trail. Between us, we have hiked with or met most of the Triple Crowners, so that is a likely pool of candidates. But beyond that? This trail was by far the most challenging either of us had faced, both physically and skill-wise. It is not to be undertaken casually.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Ocean
We start with a lovely stroll through the Stout Grove of Redwoods, a collection of giants by the river. Easy miles up the Mill Creek Trail pass by, with our first view of Sitka Spruce.
The trail ends at Howland Hills Road, signaling the final five-mile roadwalk to the ocean. Perfectly ripe blackberries conspire to slow us down and enjoy our last couple of hours.
We head to the beach, and WILDCAT wants me to take the first step into the water to finish first. While I protest that we should step in together a wave washes over both of us, answering the question. It is a tie, as it should be.
We head to the beach, and WILDCAT wants me to take the first step into the water to finish first. While I protest that we should step in together a wave washes over both of us, answering the question. It is a tie, as it should be.
The end came so fast. The beginning went so slowly, the miles never came easy, but now it is over.
The last day of any hike has never been a big deal to me; it is just another day of hiking. Soon, the Bigfoot Trail will simply become the past, and it will be time to enjoy the new day, whatever that brings. This trail is over, and tomorrow brings something new.
10 miles to the Pacific Ocean, at mile 360.
10 miles to the Pacific Ocean, at mile 360.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Redwoods
We are going to slack-pack the rest of the way to the ocean, meeting the RV at night and just carrying lunch and water with us. We climb up and over the Little Bald Hill and drop into the redwoods at the River Trail.
That was our last climb. We really are in the final stretches now. It seems like it went so fast.
8 miles to the River Trail on Smith River, at mile 350.
That was our last climb. We really are in the final stretches now. It seems like it went so fast.
8 miles to the River Trail on Smith River, at mile 350.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Slowly, slowly
Despite our earlier concern about making daily miles, now we are in great shape. We decide to finish slowly, taking our time and enjoying the last few days. I reflect that we pushed so hard early on, and now we have some extra time. Perhaps we could have eased up a little and enjoyed it more? But where? So many days we needed to get the extra miles to reach water, to get out of an overgrown area to camp, or to line up for a hot climb early in the morning. I'm not sure where we would have added days. Maybe a zero or two, taking time off for our bodies to rest?
Today we just hike down the road to the Paradise Trailhead and take the afternoon off to swim in the river again and spend time with Fran.
Despite my attempts to love the Altras Lone Peak shoes, I have given up on them. They are completely worn out with glue coming apart, the cushioning smashed to smithereens so that I feel every pebble, torn mesh, worn sole, and just generally beat up. Not to mention they still cause a bloody blister on the top of my foot from a poor quality tongue seam. I toss them to the side and pull out my New Balance shoes. They will get me to the ocean. No more Altras for me.
6 miles to the Paradise Trailhead, to mile 340.
Today we just hike down the road to the Paradise Trailhead and take the afternoon off to swim in the river again and spend time with Fran.
Despite my attempts to love the Altras Lone Peak shoes, I have given up on them. They are completely worn out with glue coming apart, the cushioning smashed to smithereens so that I feel every pebble, torn mesh, worn sole, and just generally beat up. Not to mention they still cause a bloody blister on the top of my foot from a poor quality tongue seam. I toss them to the side and pull out my New Balance shoes. They will get me to the ocean. No more Altras for me.
6 miles to the Paradise Trailhead, to mile 340.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Finishing the last tough section
Five simple miles to the trailhead and Fran with the RV. Good trail and little up or down. Yippee.
We bang out the short miles and ... no Fran. We had reviewed the plans enough that a misunderstanding is unlikely. We wait a few minutes, eat our last snacks, and consider options. Perhaps the road is blocked, or impassable with the RV. There could be worse options, such as a breakdown, but those are less likely.
We had planned this section for four days, but the overgrowth challenges stretched it out another half day. I had texted a couple of days ago to let her know to expect it us in five days, but don't know if she got the text.
Our best bet is to start walking the road. We are out of water and waiting here doesn't accomplish anything.
The road goes steadily uphill for a couple of miles, then starts down. We begin the slog uphill, fill up water at a creek, and climb.
At the top of the hill, we find the RV! Fran had driven up these roads and was concerned about overheating the brakes on the downhill. She had not received my text so drove up higher this morning to get a signal, and was able to pick up my text, albeit a little late, and then return to where we met her.
Typically, Fran does not worry too much about me if I'm tardy coming into a checkpoint. Actually, I was only late once on the PCT. She knows that I will not make foolish decisions and if I am late it is probably for a good reason. She has talked about that before. But this time she is worried since she knows there is no one else on this trail. If I have a problem, there is no one coming up behind me to help. Given that, and the trail conditions of this section, she is already considering calling Search and Rescue. She was pretty worried. Fortunately, she received my text message first.
After a nice afternoon break, we slack-pack on down the road to the Stevenson bridge over the South Fork Smith River and have a nice swim.
12 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 335.
We bang out the short miles and ... no Fran. We had reviewed the plans enough that a misunderstanding is unlikely. We wait a few minutes, eat our last snacks, and consider options. Perhaps the road is blocked, or impassable with the RV. There could be worse options, such as a breakdown, but those are less likely.
We had planned this section for four days, but the overgrowth challenges stretched it out another half day. I had texted a couple of days ago to let her know to expect it us in five days, but don't know if she got the text.
Our best bet is to start walking the road. We are out of water and waiting here doesn't accomplish anything.
The road goes steadily uphill for a couple of miles, then starts down. We begin the slog uphill, fill up water at a creek, and climb.
At the top of the hill, we find the RV! Fran had driven up these roads and was concerned about overheating the brakes on the downhill. She had not received my text so drove up higher this morning to get a signal, and was able to pick up my text, albeit a little late, and then return to where we met her.
Typically, Fran does not worry too much about me if I'm tardy coming into a checkpoint. Actually, I was only late once on the PCT. She knows that I will not make foolish decisions and if I am late it is probably for a good reason. She has talked about that before. But this time she is worried since she knows there is no one else on this trail. If I have a problem, there is no one coming up behind me to help. Given that, and the trail conditions of this section, she is already considering calling Search and Rescue. She was pretty worried. Fortunately, she received my text message first.
After a nice afternoon break, we slack-pack on down the road to the Stevenson bridge over the South Fork Smith River and have a nice swim.
12 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 335.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
The toughest part of the Bigfoot Trail
We have seven miles downhill to Gunbarrel Slide, a seemingly easy hike. But this section is completely overgrown, and the trail is obliterated. Michael Kauffmann warns that this section is tough and requires expert navigation. Buck-30 called it a challenging, very difficult section: "Get ready for hell. Way over head high and very thick brush to push through. At times I had to use everything I had to push up through the brush. I had no problem following the super vague trail as it's not even possible to walk off it."
This promises to be a tough day. We had a tough slog through overgrown vegetation a week ago, but that was just a half mile or less. I fear this one will go on all day. I hope I haven't built it up too badly and psyched myself out.
As we descend Harrington Mountain, the trail vanishes, and the brush closes in. We slowly pick our way down, but it really is not that bad, not as bad as the last couple of miles last night. I'm glad we got those out of the way yesterday. Next, we start the climb up Baldy Peak, which is pretty much straight up. The trail is horrible, just steep. We take a break at the top, munching Fran's homemade peanut butter cookies. So far so good.
After Baldy Peak, the trail deteriorated. The brush closed in and swallowed up the trail. Michael had recently flagged a route through the brush, tying flagging tape to the top of the brush every ten feet or so. Our task was then to climb up some brush branches to get a view of the next flagging tape, drop back into the dense brush and push forward toward the tape. Once we found the tape, then we would climb up again and spot the next flagging tape, and repeat the process.
The trail was completely insane. I added new rips in my skin and pack. We shoved, pulled, pushed and forced our way through the vegetation. If we were just five feet apart, we couldn't see each other. We barely made any progress. As WILDCAT says, "and then it got worse." We just kept on pushing through.
Eventually, the brush thinned out, though the trail was still invisible until we were near the Gunbarrel Slide. At the bottom, we took a nice break at Harrington Creek, cleaned up and cooked dinner. We talked about what a crazy trail this is, and how insane it is to hike. Who would we recommend this to? Not very many. Yet we both are loving it. Maybe it is not just the trail that is crazy.
With just seven miles for the day, we decide to hike some evening miles and head down the South Fork Smith River Trail. But as always, to go down, you must go up. We take switchbacks up and down, and up again.
The trail gets fainter and fainter. We expected simple trail after Gunbarrel Slide, but we underestimated The Bigfoot Trail again as it became overgrown and strewn with the downfall. As it hung to a cliff, it became narrower and more difficult. Once again, "and then it got worse." It didn't feel right. I flipped on my GPS and discovered that we had missed a turn - we were on the old, abandoned trail and a new one had taken a switchback up higher. But we were almost halfway through, so going back or forward were about equidistant, and either was likely to take a long time. We continued on, but the trail got worse. Eventually, we reached a stretch just a few inches wide at the top of a cliff a few hundred feet down. That was too dangerous. We reassessed, turned around, and slowly backed our way out.
We finally returned to the missed turn and discovered why. A tree had fallen over the new route right where it turned up the hill, obscuring the switchback. I broke off some of the branches to clear the new trail a little and piled it on the old path. It was still not great, but maybe the next hiker is less likely to get in trouble.
We hiked for a few more miles and found a flat spot to pitch my tent. The mosquitoes again are bad. WILDCAT has permethrin treated clothing that works well with moderate mosquito populations, but these are pretty thick. His tarp won't shield mosquitoes, so I've been offering him to join inside my tarptent the past few nights. Tonight he accepts the offer. The evening is hot, and our two bodies are both radiating lots of heat. It takes a few hours before it cools down enough for good sleep, but at least the mosquitoes are kept at bay.
10 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 323.
This promises to be a tough day. We had a tough slog through overgrown vegetation a week ago, but that was just a half mile or less. I fear this one will go on all day. I hope I haven't built it up too badly and psyched myself out.
As we descend Harrington Mountain, the trail vanishes, and the brush closes in. We slowly pick our way down, but it really is not that bad, not as bad as the last couple of miles last night. I'm glad we got those out of the way yesterday. Next, we start the climb up Baldy Peak, which is pretty much straight up. The trail is horrible, just steep. We take a break at the top, munching Fran's homemade peanut butter cookies. So far so good.
After Baldy Peak, the trail deteriorated. The brush closed in and swallowed up the trail. Michael had recently flagged a route through the brush, tying flagging tape to the top of the brush every ten feet or so. Our task was then to climb up some brush branches to get a view of the next flagging tape, drop back into the dense brush and push forward toward the tape. Once we found the tape, then we would climb up again and spot the next flagging tape, and repeat the process.
The trail was completely insane. I added new rips in my skin and pack. We shoved, pulled, pushed and forced our way through the vegetation. If we were just five feet apart, we couldn't see each other. We barely made any progress. As WILDCAT says, "and then it got worse." We just kept on pushing through.
Eventually, the brush thinned out, though the trail was still invisible until we were near the Gunbarrel Slide. At the bottom, we took a nice break at Harrington Creek, cleaned up and cooked dinner. We talked about what a crazy trail this is, and how insane it is to hike. Who would we recommend this to? Not very many. Yet we both are loving it. Maybe it is not just the trail that is crazy.
With just seven miles for the day, we decide to hike some evening miles and head down the South Fork Smith River Trail. But as always, to go down, you must go up. We take switchbacks up and down, and up again.
The trail gets fainter and fainter. We expected simple trail after Gunbarrel Slide, but we underestimated The Bigfoot Trail again as it became overgrown and strewn with the downfall. As it hung to a cliff, it became narrower and more difficult. Once again, "and then it got worse." It didn't feel right. I flipped on my GPS and discovered that we had missed a turn - we were on the old, abandoned trail and a new one had taken a switchback up higher. But we were almost halfway through, so going back or forward were about equidistant, and either was likely to take a long time. We continued on, but the trail got worse. Eventually, we reached a stretch just a few inches wide at the top of a cliff a few hundred feet down. That was too dangerous. We reassessed, turned around, and slowly backed our way out.
We finally returned to the missed turn and discovered why. A tree had fallen over the new route right where it turned up the hill, obscuring the switchback. I broke off some of the branches to clear the new trail a little and piled it on the old path. It was still not great, but maybe the next hiker is less likely to get in trouble.
We hiked for a few more miles and found a flat spot to pitch my tent. The mosquitoes again are bad. WILDCAT has permethrin treated clothing that works well with moderate mosquito populations, but these are pretty thick. His tarp won't shield mosquitoes, so I've been offering him to join inside my tarptent the past few nights. Tonight he accepts the offer. The evening is hot, and our two bodies are both radiating lots of heat. It takes a few hours before it cools down enough for good sleep, but at least the mosquitoes are kept at bay.
10 miles to South Fork Smith River, to mile 323.
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Uphill, and approaching the worst section of the Bigfoot Trail
We finished the downhill (which seemed like uphill) yesterday, but today is definitely uphill. After following Clear Creek downstream, we are now climbing up the West Fork of Clear Creek, gaining 3,500 feet in six miles. While the trail is okay, after a few miles we enter a dry five-mile stretch. That feeds into tomorrow's challenge, the most overgrown, notoriously horrible section of the Bigfoot Trail. We hike a couple of miles into that mess today, both to reach water and especially to get a head start on a tough hike tomorrow.
The trail evaporates near Harrington Lake, an overgrown lake with no places to lay out a sleeping bag. Someone tied flagging tape to delineate a trail, but much of it was on small twigs that have blown down, so you only see the flagging tape if you step on it. We have a GPS track but it follows a different course than the flagging tape. Neither actually has a trail associated with it so we traverse up and down, cross the outlet of the lake, and work our way towards a stream a mile away. The miles are slow, so we are thankful that we put those miles behind us today.
From here to Gunbarrel Slide, seven miles ahead, will be dry, overgrown, and tough. This is our last challenging section of the Bigfoot Trail, and it threatens to kick our butts.
9 miles to Harrington Mountain, to mile 313.
The trail evaporates near Harrington Lake, an overgrown lake with no places to lay out a sleeping bag. Someone tied flagging tape to delineate a trail, but much of it was on small twigs that have blown down, so you only see the flagging tape if you step on it. We have a GPS track but it follows a different course than the flagging tape. Neither actually has a trail associated with it so we traverse up and down, cross the outlet of the lake, and work our way towards a stream a mile away. The miles are slow, so we are thankful that we put those miles behind us today.
From here to Gunbarrel Slide, seven miles ahead, will be dry, overgrown, and tough. This is our last challenging section of the Bigfoot Trail, and it threatens to kick our butts.
9 miles to Harrington Mountain, to mile 313.
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