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Heyduke
01-01-2015, 10:26 PM
I've been gone a while. I did complete my adventure last September, hiking for 23 days and 420 miles from Santa Cruz County to my home in Eureka. I'm a nicer person now, and 20 pounds lighter. What's up?
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Common
01-01-2015, 10:46 PM
Happy New Year and welcome back

Dr. Who
01-01-2015, 11:06 PM
Welcome back Heyduke!

pjohns
01-02-2015, 02:00 AM
Welcome back!

Guerilla
01-02-2015, 02:01 AM
Heyduke! I missed your posts man welcome back.

I was thinking about doing some lengthy hiking trips like that, and trying to get as much of my needs as I can from nature, try to spend as little money as possible, see if I can teach myself to be at least a temporary survivalist for different areas. And of course, I want to do it to get deep into some kickass forests.

Did you travel along the beaches or did you go through the foresty areas?

sachem
01-02-2015, 05:01 AM
You kinda look like a younger Joe Cocker? Assuming that is a pic of you.

Heyduke
01-05-2015, 04:05 AM
Heyduke! I missed your posts man welcome back.

I was thinking about doing some lengthy hiking trips like that, and trying to get as much of my needs as I can from nature, try to spend as little money as possible, see if I can teach myself to be at least a temporary survivalist for different areas. And of course, I want to do it to get deep into some kickass forests.

Did you travel along the beaches or did you go through the foresty areas?

I did all the Skyline trails from Santa Cruz County to SF, traversed the city, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, walked the trails of the Marin Headlands, walked the trails of Muir Woods, climbed pretty high up Mt Tampais, walked the Bolinas Ridge Trail, came into Sam Taylor State Park, walked for a week up Hwy 1, did the entire Lost Coast from Rockport to Shelter Cove to Petrolia, and walked a few more days on Wildcat Road to Frendale and on to Eureka.
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Captain Obvious
01-05-2015, 08:25 AM
You kinda look like a younger Joe Cocker? Assuming that is a pic of you.

He's feeling alright.

Chris
01-05-2015, 08:42 AM
Hey, HeyDuke, it must have been quite an adventure!

http://i.snag.gy/tlJQF.jpg

nic34
01-05-2015, 09:29 AM
Heyduke, I'm jealous. Was at Tampais and Muir woods last summer as a tourist.

You da man.

nic34
01-05-2015, 09:31 AM
I did all the Skyline trails from Santa Cruz County to SF, traversed the city, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, walked the trails of the Marin Headlands, walked the trails of Muir Woods, climbed pretty high up Mt Tampais, walked the Bolinas Ridge Trail, came into Sam Taylor State Park, walked for a week up Hwy 1, did the entire Lost Coast from Rockport to Shelter Cove to Petrolia, and walked a few more days on Wildcat Road to Frendale and on to Eureka.
10073

Is that Sedona, AZ on that milepost? :grin:

Heyduke
01-05-2015, 11:11 AM
Is that Sedona, AZ on that milepost? :grin:

Signpost picture is from Elk, California. But yeah, Sedona is on the post, along with a bunch of other silly markers.

Road to Usal Beach and the Lost Coast;
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PolWatch
01-05-2015, 11:15 AM
what a peaceful pic!

del
01-05-2015, 12:06 PM
He's feeling alright.

not feelin too good myself

Heyduke
01-09-2015, 02:58 PM
not feelin too good myself

Most people would start to look like a sunburned Jim Croce after backpacking for three weeks.

I've posted my notes on an internet site, under the name 'Treeshepherd'. I might as well post them here in a serialized fashion, in case anyone is interested. It's already written up, anyway. Over the course of the next couple months, I think I'll do just that.

My plan is to take these notes and write a short fictional novel based loosely on my experience. That's my resolution for 2015. Will it happen? I don't know. I'm not very good at following through on that kind of thing.

Heyduke
01-09-2015, 03:00 PM
I quit drinking coffee two weeks before embarking, just to acclimate myself to a java-free existence. I brought no stove to boil water, one less thing to carry and hassle with.

I left on August 30th with some caffeinated chocolate-covered acai berries, and I ate a handful of those in the mornings along with some jerky, dried mango, a handful of mixed nuts, and two tablets of Peruvian maca (Lepidium meyenii). I brought sardines and some mandarin oranges.

My pack is a $10 yard sale purchase. My sleeping bag is a family heirloom, a down mummy bag about 50 years old, purchased during the 1960's at the original REI store in Berkeley. It has duct tape patches to keep the feathers from escaping. I brought my beater iPhone 4 with a cracked screen. Yes, after ranting against Apple for years I’ve finally broken down and succumbed to the future. My boss pressured me into getting a used iPhone so I can take credit card transactions and check my email on the road.

I borrowed a solar charged Powermonkey Explorer battery to charge the phone. As I was walking north with the sun at my back, it was practical to hang the solar panel on the back of my pack. I had a camo tarp, and a rain poncho, shorts, pants, 3 shirts and 6 pairs of socks. I used Vaseline to prevent chaffing, and had a better time of it wearing boxers than briefs. I began the journey bandaging my feet and doubling up on the socks to prevent blistering.

The Platypus gravity water filtration system fits into a little sack and weighs virtually nothing. I clipped my Kleen Kanteen to my pack for easy access. The Eagles' Nest Outfitters backpacking hammock stuffs into its own sack as well, compacting down into the shape of a super-burrito. I wore my Pliny the Elder hat to identify myself to other cult members who worship at the altar of Russian River Brewery. There, in the corner of the picture below, you can see part of my enchanted heavy wooden staff, crafted by a high level bard. Other than a little Swiss army knife, the magical staff was my only weapon.

Though I brought an extra pair of shoes ( lightweight trail runners ), the classic leather Adidas survived the entire journey. They now rest on my bookshelf, dirty and bloody and retired, with the thinnest film of rubber left on the soles. When someone asks me why I have a pair of disgusting shoes on my bookshelf, I tell them “Well, that’s a long story…”.

[photo: stuff displayed on my kitchen table after I reached home]
https://roadshowsteve.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/img_0554-0.jpg?w=696

silvereyes
01-09-2015, 03:17 PM
Cool!

Peter1469
01-09-2015, 04:39 PM
Sounds like a great time.

Heyduke
01-10-2015, 01:54 PM
[Jed Smith]
http://s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/lookandlearn-preview/XB/XB245/XB245844.jpg

Why this trip? I had no idea that endurance walks would become so trendy, with the movie Wild now playing in theaters. After the fact of my own trip, I learned of a documentary about a woman who walked across Australia, and of a handful of other publicized ambitious treks. I had a one month break from work, and that was the time frame within I had to operate.

For me, this project was a sort of reverse Odyssey from my parents’ home to the county I had moved to as a 22 year old. I hitchhiked to Humboldt County with my best friend in 1990 to participate in Redwood Summer. He returned to Santa Cruz after we spent 8 days in jail for a tree sit. I never came back, and had many other adventures in NorCal, but those are different stories.

Partly, this trip was about filling in the gaps between Humboldt and Santa Cruz County and to deeply internalize every inch of that territory as my homeland. Partly, this would be a sort of rain dance to break the drought. Partly, I needed to improve my physical conditioning. Partly, I sold my truck and bought my 16 year old daughter a car and I wanted to prove to myself that I can survive without a vehicle. I’m sick of driving and insurance and repairs and traffic and the oil addiction, and I have use of a company van for work. As I age, I continue to simplifying an already Spartan lifestyle, eventually to pare things down to an ascetic level.

Partly, I am inspired by the early 19th Century trailblazers like Jedediah Smith and Mountain Joe Walker. They trekked across and through and over unimaginable obstacles. They covered vast distances in California, much of that on foot. They made discoveries around every corner. They pioneered routes that others would later use to their own benefit. My trek would be a contrivance in the sense that I placed artificial restrictions on my mode of travel and the option to sleep in a hotel. But, I had hopes of weaving together various trail systems and walking corridors in new ways.

Jed Smith had brass balls, but little else. He got 29 of his 33 men killed (while two deserted) over the course of 3 years. Jed himself had his scalp ripped off by a bear, and was later killed by Mohave Indians. Conversely, Mountain Joe Walker was a mystic, and had wilderness intuition, and lived to be an old man who retired in what is now called Walnut Creek, California. Obviously, the goal for my trip was to emulate Mountain Joe.

We held our annual fantasy football draft party at my parents’ house on August 30, with 14 team owners and significant others attending. I didn’t stay up too late partying on the deck, but I didn’t sleep that well either. The walk that I had been training for was to commence in mere hours and that weighed on my thoughts as morning grew closer.

I got out in the morning sometime after 7, charged up with beer carbohydrates but not hung over. I walked under a heavy pack down into the forested hamlet of Ben Lomond and headed north. I had lived in that town from 4th grade through High School. Had I had ever walked from Ben Lomond to Boulder Creek? I couldn't remember. This trip would be full of firsts, surprisingly, for a native Californian.

Along Hwy 9, I passed many houses where I once had friends and many places that evoked memories from my teenage years. Reaching Boulder Creek, I turned up Hwy 236 toward Big Basin State Park, with the grade becoming steeper. These highways are two lane mountain roads carrying a moderate amount of traffic. After several miles on 236 I passed a monk outside a Taoist monastery and imagined him saying that the journey of 400+ miles begins with a few thousand steps.

Big Basin State Park was packed full of Sunday tourists and I found myself weaving thru foot traffic along the trails. As the miles passed, the tourists waned, but so did any chance to find water, which is why I really had to push hard to get all the way up to Waterman Gap Trail Camp. I reached my destination at dusk and hung my hammock in a circle of young redwoods. I was the only patron at the camp. I guzzled delicious mountain spring water from the faucet. I did 23 miles uphill that day on fresh legs. I had trained for this, but only while wearing a day pack. My legs would be angry in the morning.

Heyduke
01-11-2015, 12:55 PM
My knee was really hurting as I set out in the morning and it genuinely worried me. Here it was only the second day and my body was already complaining. I imagine I felt like an ant looking up at a watermelon, wondering how he’s going to roll that moon back to the nest. To distract myself from my knee and blistered toes I focused on my posture, breathing, length of stride and pace. I worked in my heavy wooden staff as the third beat of a triple metre. Typically, my legs would feel better the more fresh blood I pumped through them. The pain traveled upward until the afternoons when it became concentrated in my shoulders beneath my pack straps. At the conclusion of each day the pain was re-allocated and everything below my ears throbbed.

I was hiking the Skyline-to-the-Sea Trail, headed uphill in the direction of Castle Rock State Park. I had five miles left of trail to reach Saratoga Gap. I was leaving the valley of my youth, climbing up and out of it, slowly but surely acquiring Skyline Ridge. The trail was cut from the hillsides, winding beneath a mixture of conifer and hardwood forest. The forest floor was already littered with dry madrone leaves which crunched underneath my Adidas. I passed the occasional group of friendly hikers headed in the opposite direction.

I’ve gone somewhat feral these last two years, though I retain the ability to observe the conditioned behaviors of modern society. For this trip I certainly saw myself as a sort of hybrid animal, seeking first any available wildlife corridors. I was not observing the wildlife. I was the wildlife observing itself and I began to refer to myself as a wildman. I noticed a rattlesnake on an exposed section of sandstone as I approached Saratoga Gap. I brushed it off the path with my heavy wooden staff. The snake reminded me to pay attention, and not to drift into daydreaming. My thoughts became more present and immediate. I wouldn’t even call them thoughts, as I didn’t do much thinking along the trails. While I was forced to travel the paved roads I often caught myself slipping back into the abstract. But while I traveled along trails through the wild my cognizance was reduced to sensing and plain unfiltered awareness.

Along Skyline Ridge there are numerous Open Space Preserves which have recently benefited from a ballot measure to fund their expansion and development. These include Saratoga Gap, Long Ridge, Russian Ridge, Coal Creek, and Windy Hill Open Space Preserves, all of which offer trail alternatives to Hwy 35 for hikers and mountain bikers. Professionals make the quick drive up from the east; from Apple headquarters in Cupertino, or Google, or Oracle, or name the tech firm and its employees can probably be counted in the open spaces that border Silicon Valley. The length of Skyline Ridge is mountainbikeable, and I accommodated riders on $5,000 bikes by stepping to the side of the trails. I know from experience how frustrating it can be to be to ride on a trail with oblivious hikers.

The one issue for the thru-hiker is that none of these public preserves allow camping. It’s all strictly sunrise to sunset. My large pack attracted attention and the curiosity of my trail peers. My expedition as it was formulated would have been impossible to accomplish legally. I’m not aware of any hotels that exist along Skyline Ridge. I’m sure something can be found on the internet. Regardless, hotels and motels would be a clear violation of the wildman rules I had contrived. I would stay at a friend’s house in San Francisco and take a hot shower. Every other night I would swing in my hammock or sleep on the beach. I sought a total immersion experience. Where I could find a legal campsite not overrun by pestiferous yahoos, I would avail myself thereof. On most nights, I guerrilla camped.

[Looking back from the headwaters of the San Lorenzo River, with views of Monterey Bay]
https://roadshowsteve.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/img_02952.jpg?w=696



On that second night I slept by Alpine Lake behind a druidic rock outcropping surrounded by slender mossy oaks. Slender trees make for the best hammock pillars. The great benefit of not being attached to a vehicle with a license plate number is that a wildman can stealth camp in any park without being detected (until the rangers are replaced with bio-signature sensing drones, of course). Like any diurnal animal, the wildman finds a secluded nest at the end of each day and makes himself at home. One possible flaw with that strategy is that I typically went to sleep early in the evening, and people tell me that I snore like a chainsaw in dire need of a tune-up. My thunderous log sawing could have alerted a passerby to my location. As it happened, my extra-legal campsites were never detected over the course of three and a half weeks. I left behind no physical trace of my ever having been there.

Heyduke
01-12-2015, 12:40 PM
I am a druid. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before. And that was another purpose of this quest; to gain enough experience points to reach 4th level, or to become an Initiate of the 3rd Circle as described in the Players Handbook (1st Edition, Gary Gygax, 1978, TSR Games). A druid is neither good nor evil, neither lawful nor chaotic. He is the one character which is truly neutral. He seeks to preserve an ever evolving balance, and consequently he often plays the Devil’s advocate. That’s why everyone thinks he’s a dick, especially hardcore partisans like paladins and lawful clerics good and evil. I guess with lawful evil characters you could say that the druid plays the Angel’s advocate.

Leaving Alpine Lake there’s a trail which runs around the water and then through a short tunnel. The tunnel passes under an earthen mound. Emerging from the tunnel there are wooden stairs leading up to the small parking lot. I was still fiddling with my backpack walking up the stairs, tinkering with my belt strap and adjusting my breast strap. I walked up and onto the parking lot to find an Open Space Preserve ranger standing by her truck staring at me. It was about 7 am and it was obvious that I had camped down by the lake. She identified herself as a ranger and cited the rules which forbid camping in the OSP.

Fortunately the day had just dawned and I hadn’t used up my spells on healing my knee or befriending the wildlife. I imbued the following words with the 2nd level spell charm person or mammal: “I went down there to get water.” My words traveled the short distance through heavy morning air and poured into her ears. It wasn’t a lie. The reason I had camped down there was for the water faucet by the visitors center. Water is scarce in those parts. The ranger hesitated. I’m not sure if she made her saving throw, but she replied, “Well, I didn’t actually see you camping.” Then she proceeded to tell me that even possession of camping gear is forbidden on OSP land. I said, “I’m not camping here, I’m headed to Skylonda. It’s just dangerous to walk along the highway”.

I crossed the parking lot to the Russian Ridge OSP trailhead. At slightly over 2,000 feet elevation I caught some westerly views to the Pacific. Hawks and vultures circled above me. The turkey vultures never left me for a single day of the trip. They goaded me. Did I look so vulnerable as all that? The vultures provoked my pride and caused me to limp less and walk faster.

Further along in Windy Hill OSP, I was questioned by another ranger. This was not a ranger in the official county employee sense, but a 'ranger' in the fashion of a Dungeons and Dragons character class. He was out riding his mountain bike for the day. I had allowed him to pass a couple hours prior and he was making his returns. His appearance was much like my own, but more handsome. He was a couple inches taller than I, with better hair, a better nose and better teeth. He asked where I was headed. I explained to him the nature of my quest, and he asked me if I'd ever done anything of the sort before. Not really. I've been on 10 day backpacks in the Sierra, the Trinity Alps, the Marble Mountains Wilderness and elsewhere. I spent a month exploring Costa Rica, and a couple weeks backpacking and cycling in Holland. I’ve lived off the grid in cabins, teepees and yurts. This was different. Somehow, beyond the mere duration of this trip and the fact that I was solo, this was different.

I power-walked along HWY 35 for about 5 miles to the little mountain store at Skylonda. I carried with me $500.00 cash for all my expenses, more than I would need. I only ended up spending $320.00. Ironically, a conventional backpacking trip along the Pacific Crest, John Muir or Tahoe Rim trails would have been more expensive. Inside the store, I listened to the cravings of my body. They told me to buy the fried chicken sandwich and a pint of cheesy tortellini marinara from the deli, and six cans of Coors tallboys. I didn’t want bottles, so my choice of beer was limited. In the outdoor seating area I consumed a rich meal of complex carbohydrates.

That afternoon I descended through Huddart County Park, down down down eastward toward the valley floor. I found a park bathroom with hot water piped to the sink and I washed myself with a cloth. I finished my chicken sandwich and found a secluded redwood grove to string my hammock. The remaining beers provided relief for my aching feet. The wind in the treetops rocked my hammock until I was transported far away by sleep.

http://roadshowsteve.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/img_0296.jpg?w=300&h=224

Heyduke
01-16-2015, 02:46 PM
I awoke to the sounds of crazy forest birds. It was raining madrone leaves and brown redwood needles. Did my routine and got traily before sunrise. Just after dawn, I passed by two coyotes with healthy coats of the same red-brown color as the forest floor. The coyotes were departing for the hinterlands before the park opened to the public. The air was humid and the sky was heavy with clouds and from the last grassy bluffs I saw the streaks of rain showers to the south.

The skies had turned blue by the time I reached Pulgas Water Temple, erected in 1934 by the San Francisco Water Department to commemorate the completion of the Hetch Hetchy aqueduct. There at the terminus of the aqueduct, water from the distant peaks of the Sierra enters Crystal Springs Reservoir. The trails along the lakes are paved and popular with walkers and cyclists. I had reached the rift zone, now filled with mountain water.

The water temple is open to visitors. From the circle of stairs I beckoned the arrival of mountain spirits. They answered in the sound of many waters. I pulled out a stick of Nag Champa incense. I retrieved some herbal medicine that a medicine man had given to me at our fantasy football draft that Saturday prior. I offered burned sacrifices and my appreciations rode out on chariots of herbal smoke.

[Pulgas Water Temple]
https://roadshowsteve.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/img_0302.jpg?w=696

Just as I was leaving, I made a closer examination of the temple. I decided to walk around it three times, just because that seemed like a groovy thing to do. I noticed something that had escaped me from a distance. Inscribed in the concrete, both around the base and upper facing, there is a verse of scripture from the Book of Isaiah. It is a statement and a promise and the reassurance. The Lord of Hosts claims us for his own; “I make waters in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert, as drink for my people”.

As I hiked on I repeated those words aloud, over and over until they sank in. I was so moved by that verse that I became a little paranoid that I might alarm the passing cyclists and joggers. I took the promise of the verse to heart and carried it with me throughout the entire trip.

Some people say the Central Coast is having the worst drought in 1,200 years. Along the way, I always found drinking water just as soon as it was needed. My thoughts never lacked refreshment. Some thing or another along the way never failed to slake my spiritual thirst. “I make waters in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert, as drink for my people”

I’d picked up a lot of encouragement at the water temple, and I leaned heavily upon that, because I can remember shortly thereafter being shut down in terms of wildman corridors. A dam was under construction and the way across was shut. I had to backtrack. I had to get out along a freeway of four lanes headed south and cross a long overpass against the wind of trucks moving 80 miles per hour. I ran for 1.5 miles underneath my backpack, along the left margin of Interstate 280, hoping that a CHP wouldn’t see me and write me a ticket (or worse, send me back south). I hustled up an embankment and scaling a barbed wire fence, accidentally slicing a gash in my Thermarest.

I rested under conifers in a cushioned bed of pine needles, peeling a tangerine. The freeway no longer threatened me. Along the freeway I had found a crumpled pack of American Spirits with 7 untainted cigarettes left in the pack. If there was ever a time for a smoke, it was then.

I skidded down to the multi-use trail that parallels the San Andreas Reservoir. I dusted myself off and joined joggers and cyclists on the paved path. I was walking on the spine of the rift zone created by the San Andreas Fault.

I kept stumbling north along the fault line, toward my birthplace in San Francisco.