The section of the California coast south of Ferndale and north of Fort Bragg is appropriately known as the Lost Coast. This rural and mostly private region boasts spectacular forests and undulating mountainous terrain spilling down to the ocean. Cliffsides are steep allowing a density of plants and ferns to cling to the slopes. The rain began to fall as I climbed up higher on Mattole Rd, coating the pavement in rain slick leaves and pine needles. I rode on down this bumpy and patched road until the salt spray of the ocean coated my visor. I stopped to camp at a Humboldt County CG just as the light faded to night. Rain poured from the heavens driven by a major storm blowing in from the Pacific. A small wooden building very similar to a bus shelter was tucked away in the far corner of site #1 and I pulled in behind. The dry interior looked like a promising way to avoid using my hammock tonight so I spread out my sleeping pad and bag inside. The winds and rain picked up around 10 pm snapping branches of the large Doug Fir towering overhead. Just as I was about to fall back asleep, a rhythmic drip began on my head and then feet. The moldy old roof shingles had began to leak and my gear was soon soaked. I grabbed the bivy sack in the darkness and put my bag inside. By morning at 6am, my sleeping bag and bivy were soaked through and my boots wet inside from blowing rain. Not good. I settled on Fort Bragg for the night and rode south in search of the cheapest Motel to air out my gear and have a shower after more than a week or two. I stopped to camp at a Humboldt County CG just as the light faded to night. Rain poured from the heavens driven by a major storm blowing in from the Pacific. A small wooden building very similar to a bus shelter was tucked away in the far corner of site #1 and I pulled in behind. The dry interior looked like a promising way to avoid using my hammock tonight so I spread out my sleeping pad and bag inside. The winds and rain picked up around 10 pm snapping branches of the large Doug Fir towering overhead. Just as I was about to fall back asleep, a rhythmic drip began on my head and then feet. The moldy old roof shingles had began to leak and my gear was soon soaked. I grabbed the bivy sack in the darkness and put my bag inside. By morning at 6am, my sleeping bag and bivy were soaked through and my boots wet inside from blowing rain. Not good. I settled on Fort Bragg for the night and rode south in search of the cheapest Motel to air out my gear and have a shower after more than a week or two.
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Elk Prarie is one of my favorite side trips on the 101 in Del Norte County. The park winds between tall stands of old growth redwoods reaching 350ft and up to 2000 years old. The road winds around their massive trunks with reflective markers to caution the TV drivers. A nature walk into the enveloping surroundings is an unforgettable experience in the temple of nature.
The weather has been cloudy but mild as I work my way south down the CA coast. Mornings on the ocean are quiet, just the crash of waves on the beach, cry of sea birds and the wailing of sea lions on the haystacks. Rain is coming this evening for a day or two but for now I'll enjoy the sun.
The forecast overnight and for Monday was almost an inch of rain. I climbed up the S. Smith River into the NF and set up camp. As the sun set, an Australian family in a minivan showed up, or more accurately a ginger woman in a long dress approached me through a tunnel of wet orange leaves and sword fern. In a strong Australian accent she tells me she has 5 kids but they won't be up late. I glance around my campsite by the river and offer it to them. In 5 minutes I'm completely packed up, veggies and rice dinner in my cup and bouncing up the rocky road as their minivan scraped by. "The gift of travel is the best thing you can ever give those kids." I say through his opened window. A wide smile grows under his red, green and gold hatbrim, "Thanks". The forecast overnight and for Monday was almost an inch of rain. I climbed up the S. Smith River into the NF and set up camp. As the sun set, an Australian family in a minivan showed up, or more accurately a ginger woman in a long dress approached me through a tunnel of wet orange leaves and sword fern. In a strong Australian accent she tells me she has 5 kids but they won't be up late. I glance around my campsite by the river and offer it to them. In 5 minutes I'm completely packed up, veggies and rice dinner in my cup and bouncing up the rocky road as their minivan scraped by. "The gift of travel is the best thing you can ever give those kids." I say through his opened window. A wide smile grows under his red, green and gold hatbrim, "Thanks". I bounce along and finally turn for the 3mi 4x4 trail to Rattlesnake Lake, mostly because I liked the ring of the name. Muddy bogs and sharp boulders met me it the fading light of day. After a long three miles I reached a flat campground area and a Lilly Pad covered lake. This would make a nice "Rain Camp" for the upcoming storm. I bounce along and finally turn for the 3mi 4x4 trail to Rattlesnake Lake, mostly because I liked the ring of the name. Muddy bogs and sharp boulders met me it the fading light of day. After a long three miles I reached a flat campground area and a Lilly Pad covered lake. This would make a nice "Rain Camp" for the upcoming storm. The forecast overnight and for Monday was almost an inch of rain. I climbed up the S. Smith River into the NF and set up camp. As the sun set, an Australian family in a minivan showed up, or more accurately a ginger woman in a long dress approached me through a tunnel of wet orange leaves and sword fern. In a strong Australian accent she tells me she has 5 kids but they won't be up late. I glance around my campsite by the river and offer it to them. In 5 minutes I'm completely packed up, veggies and rice dinner in my cup and bouncing up the rocky road as their minivan scraped by. "The gift of travel is the best thing you can ever give those kids." I say through his opened window. A wide smile grows under his red, green and gold hatbrim, "Thanks".
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Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
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