I took a quick shower, I had thought I might get too cold showering and then camping the night before. The sun was out but it was still chilly in the morning. The Mendocino Grove staff had started a fire and circled chairs around it for breakfast. The glamorous camping site offered baby bananas, pears and peaches ripened to perfection, granola bars, coffee and tea. I ate breakfast while chatting with a couple who had driven five hours with their daughter to visit the site for the weekend.
On my way out I ran into the camp's owner who showed me an elk he was trying to scare away. I told him about my run and he was blown away. He felt bad I had paid so much to camp there and said that he wanted to implement a discount program for people like me. I asked him for advice on where to find a waterproof jacket. He too advised the Outdoor Store in Fort Bragg, but said that Rainsong in Mendocino might have something too.
I retraced my steps from the night before and headed down the embankment to the street on the route. In the morning I could see why the CCT followed this street and not Highway 1, there were beautiful views of the water. I only got about a half mile down when the owner of the Mendocino Grove camp pulled up on his bicycle. He had brought me two waterproof coats to make up for the high price I paid to camp. One was his wife's and one was his. He wanted to save me at least having to worry about a waterproof coat. It was so thoughtful of him! I took him up on the offer and thanked him profusely. He took my sweatshirt and fleece to donate to other campers.
When I got to the town of Mendocino, which was much smaller than I had imagined, I decided to stop at Rainsong anyway, to see what they had. The store wasn't quite open so I grabbed a coffee at a nearby cafe and waited. I met a cyclist, Simon, and we exchanged Instagram info.
The women at the shop helped me look for clothing, it was an up-scale shop with a small outdoor clothing section. I started to worry about insulation now that I had given up the sweatshirt and fleece. The women directed me to a Kuhl fluffy coat, it would definitely keep me warm, and a Kuhl waterproof windbreaker that stuffed into one pocket and zipped up for easy packing. They had both in XS and they fit me perfectly. They were expensive but it was hard to say no, I might not make it to Fort Bragg until after the store there closed. I decided to buy them, realizing too that the waterproof jackets I had just been gifted were both actually pretty big on me. The store's owner said she could donate the two jackets for me, so I decided to do that.
The boutique had a sister store that sold shoes and socks and I headed there to look for the neoprene socks the police officer had mentioned. No such luck. But I did find some high top hiking socks and grabbed a couple pairs, I had only brought low-top thin socks, at least these would hopefully keep my feet a little warmer. My socks, despite frequent washing, had also started to smell, and hanging the socks from my pack made the smell even more evident. I kept one pair of my beloved Drymax socks, and threw away the other two pairs. My technique of drying them by fitting them over the mouth of a blow dryer had worked but had resulted in melting holes in a couple of the socks, too.
I love Drymax so much that I wrote to the company two years ago asking if they wanted to partner with me in sponsorship. They accepted my request! I didn't tell them about this particular trek, however, because given my injuries, I wasn't sure I would be able to complete it. As I would find out later, the socks I bought that day made my feet sweat horribly and caused new blisters, reminding me why Drymax is my favorite.
I stopped at one more sock store before leaving. The owner said that his daughter had been sponsored by a sock company to do the Appalachian Trail and said I should try theirs, so I grabbed a pair. They seemed too thick to me... I somehow lost that pair in my walk through Mendocino. I wished I had bought some alcohol and just found a way to sterilize my Drymax.
My dad had told me about the song "Mendocino" and I looked up the lyrics before heading out of the town and over to the bluff trail. I met a couple who asked me to take their picture in front of the ocean, for their wedding anniversary. A few hours later I would run into them again at the lighthouse.
I followed the trail around the outskirts of the small town, trying not to disturb the tourists while I jogged. The next section of the trail was a mix of roads, forest trail, and small beach inlets. I remember a cool section that felt like a secret trail through the woods, taking a route under the highway to cross a river. The guidebook had said the river must be forded but there was a nice footbridge.
At a beach just before the Russian Gulch Bridge I met Joe, who took the Saint Christopher, patron saint of travelers, necklace off his neck and put it around mine.
I missed my turn the first time for the Point Cabrillo Light Station State Historic Park, backtracked, and found the turn. I bought water and snacks at the lighthouse and ate them at a picnic table while two squirrels approached. I gave in and dropped a few crumbs for the squirrels.
After a road segment I arrived at Caspar Beach and stopped at a convenience store there to pick up another beverage, it was hot. I ran on, stopping to make a brief tour of Caspar Curiosities, a combination art gallery and store selling incense and Buddhist inspired statues among other things.
The sun was just beginning to set and I picked roadside blackberries as I headed to Jung Handle Beach and State Natural Reserve. I wondered why no one else was eating the berries. Maybe they were tired of them -- I would find them along the roads almost all the way to Oregon. The farther north I went the more ripe berries I found.
The map on the CCT website showed a small segment that went out from the highway to the beach and back to the highway again, winding around Jefferson Way. I followed the very faint trail that led off to the beach, just before Jefferson. I had to climb down rocks to get to the beach, but when I arrived I knew why this segment was included, what a beautiful place! Huge boulders dotted the small cove. I met a woman hiking with her dog there who worked in Fort Bragg and knew all about the CCT. She said the path ahead of Fort Bragg was new and beautiful. I hiked up out of the small beach and followed the trail inland. Unfortunately it disappeared and I backtracked a few times before being spit out in a resident's backyard. He pointed me to the highway.
On the outskirts of Fort Bragg my watch battery died and I decided to stop at a grocery store to buy dinner. They had ample vegan options including an Indian hot food bar and I charged my phone behind some large clay pots, and my watch with my external battery while I ate dinner and tried to plan the next segment, I was approaching the Lost Coast. I hiked on in the dark a couple hours longer -- through Fort Bragg, where I stopped at a gas station to pick up one extra bag of trail mix and a few more AAA batteries for my SPOT device, just in case the single general store before the Lost Coast didn't have them. Then hiked along a bluff trail, then a bike path, and stopped for the night at the Surfwood campground in Cleone. It was freezing again.
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