Coast Trail

Coast Trail
14.8 miles
8.25 hours
Start: Coast Camp
End: Five Brooks Trailhead Includes: Coast Camp, Coast Trail, Kelham Beach, Wildcat Camp, Stewart Trail, Five Brooks Trailhead

Hike 49
November 19, 2013

After a wonderful nights sleep at Coast camp, I awoke to a drizzly morning. I packed-up my wet tent and rejoiced at my last minute decision to bring an emergency rain poncho. I slipped on the light yellow poncho and headed back to Coast Trail to retrace some of my steps from the prior afternoon.

It was too rainy to take many photos, but the rocky contours of the coast were spectacular in the rainy mist.

I stopped under a giant eucalyptus marking the entrance to Kelham beach. I took off my oddly uncomfortable pack and leaned it against the base of the tree. I could see it was getting wet. I was 3.6 miles along with another 4 miles to go to Wildcat Camp. Thanking the beautiful tree for its shelter I shouldered my pack and continued.

A handsome garter snake made a futile attempt to sun himself in the middle of the sloggy path. He sluggishly slithered off the trail and into the grass.

The rugged coastal path wend its way through moist forests filled with lichen-covered trees and giant ferns shining slick green against gray skies.

A lone blue lupine stood like a dew-jeweled treasure, breaking the monotony of grays, browns and greens.

I spotted Wildcat Camp from about a mile above it. After this long, chilly hike I was looking forward to snuggling in my warm sleeping bag.

My camp site was very near  the ocean. I hoped the rain would abate so I could make dinner and put up my tent. I waited a few moments, and realizing the rain would continue, commenced with my tent. Once up, I threw in my pack and crawled in to roll out my sleeping pad and bag.

As I pulled out my snuggly, warm bag, I felt wetness. Maybe it's just damp, I thought to myself. It will be all right. As I unrolled it I realized the entire head section was dripping. No wonder my pack felt so heavy! Crouched on my haunches, I tried to decide if I would be alright spending the night out in a wet sleeping bag. The last thing I wanted to do was pack-up and hike the 7 miles to my car.

After a moment, I realized staying was impossible. At this point I surged into survival mode. I realized I had approximately one hour of light left and at least 3.5 hours of hiking left. In overdrive I undid the tent and stuffed everything back in my pack. I took a moment to review the map and decided I had to take Stewart Trail. which is really a road. If it was going to be dark, I needed to be able to see the trail or potentially get disoriented and lost. It was a longer route, but ultimately safer.

I pulled my headlamp out of my pack and charged up the hill toward Stewart Trail. My objective was to get to the top of the ridge before dark, so I would be somewhere familiar as I walked the last hours in the dark.

I was relieved to find the Stewart Trail sign at the top and took a picture of the sign in the dark. The rain was really coming down and it was completely dark. The raindrops refracted the light from my head lamp making it impossible to see more than a foot beyond my face.

I had never used this headlamp and took it off to check if it was working right. I shined it against my hand and realized it was dimming and I still had two hours to go! The arms of my sweatshirt were soaked to where I could wring out water. My pack was taking on water and its weight bit into my shoulders. Adrenaline kept me moving forward.

I took off my pack and rested it on my wet toes; the trail was a soup of mud, water and horse manure. I had packed spare batteries and needed to find them before the headlamp went dead. Standing with my feet close together, I leaned over my pack to keep the rain out. I opened the drawstring top. In the dimming light I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the location of the batteries. I found them: two AAA batteries.

It was then that I realized I would have to turn out the light to replace the batteries. I took the lamp off my head, pulled it close to my bent body and clicked it out. Orienting to utter darkness, I popped the cover open and gingerly explored the contours of the tiny batteries to determine how I needed to put in the new ones. After plucking out the old batteries, I gently pushed the new ones into place and snapped closed the cover. Still bent over my pack, I gave the silent prayer "Please Dear God let it work!" I clicked the power button and light cut through the darkness,  illuminating the trail ahead. Hallelujah! I wasn't going to freeze to death in the rain groping around in the dark all night!

The next two hours were long, but not terrible. Adrenaline kept me going to the very end. After 15 miles and over 8 hours hiking, I was never so happy to see my car.

I drove home, took a shower and fell into my soft, warm bed. Ooh, I do love an adventure and I was happy to be home.