The free hotel the night before had allowed me to remove a splinter from my big toe that had been bothering me the day before and to pop a blister near my ankle with a sterile needle I had in the sewing kit the clerk at the previous hotel had given me. The splinter was definitely bothersome, I would be running fine and then all of a sudden get a jolting pain at the front of the toe. I don't think I realized it was a splinter until I was at the hotel. Had I camped it would have been much harder to sanitarily deal with the splinter and blister. I had lost some miles on my daily average but was glad to have resolved those issues.
I was also able to wash the problem blister and let it dry out over night. And I laid out my sleeping gear and poncho so it could dry after the rainy previous night. Washing my clothes was always a luxury too. I had to dry them with the hotel blow dryer in the morning as I had gotten too far north and the weather had gotten too cold for me to wear wet clothes out into the day. The sleep probably helped with fighting off my cold sores, and it was good to brush my hair every few days, it got too tangled otherwise. Not sure if due to combing through the knots, stress, the hiking, the vegan diet, or just that it was getting too long, but my hair seemed to be falling out during the trip.
I made complimentary coffee in the room, ate a couple of the pastries from the night before, thanked the girls at the front desk one more time, and headed out. Next was a very short bluff trail with a big sign announcing it. It had the first CCT emblem I had seen in a while. A cool sign and a nice little trail for people staying at the hotels in town. At the end of the trail I reached a coffee shop and stopped to use the wireless Internet as the hotel the night before hadn't had a good connection. I appraised the terrain ahead and then headed out again.
The small town of Anchor Bay was only a few miles down the road and I stopped in a convenience store to buy a vegan sandwich. As I was eating a woman who had parked in front of my table outside said hello. I told her about the CCT (by this point I felt like an ambassador for the trail, surprisingly few people living near it know it exists). She asked, "do you always do challenging things?" I told her about how I majored in math because it was hard. She said math had always come easy to her but writing was difficult. She wished me luck.
Before leaving I went back in the store, in search of bungee cords to secure the warming clothing I was now carrying under the cords on my Nathan hydration pack. I had found a bungee cord by the side of the road just before my walk through the Gualala Trail but it had fallen off before I got to the coffee shop. Luckily the store had one last package of cords and I bought it. I couldn't even remember the name for such things but a young man at the store helped me find them. I have a new appreciation for bungees! The cords helped keep my pack from bouncing. I had also had trouble with clothing secured on the outside coming loose. And I used a small one to help hold the solar panel in place, while I had it.
I had had to leave the sweatshirt Andy gave me behind as it was too heavy to carry, I held onto Kim's hat as it was lighter, I mailed it home at the first chance I got. At the store in Anchor Bay I grabbed a cheap stocking cap, lighter and more compact than the amazing purple and pink kitted hat complete with braided tails to tie under the neck that Kim had given me. Elliott had given me a fleece but now I worried I could be too cold, I picked up a small lightweight sweatshirt in the Anchor Bay store.
I made one more stop -- the coffee shop, before leaving town. I met retired photographer, Ron Bolander there who took a few more pictures, I still need to ask him for these. We discussed the trail up ahead and he said that I should definitely check the tides at Bowling Ball Beach. Sure enough, I would be hitting that section during high tide. And the guidebook confirmed it would be impassable, I was sad I would have to skip this cool section of the trail.
It was about ten miles more to the next town, Point Arena. The sun was out and warmed things up. A few miles down the road I thought I would stop to eat some of the candied ginger I had bought at the health oriented supermarket the night before. I looked up and whose mailbox was in front of me? None other than "Bolander." Another strange coincidence.
I wrote in my notes about the cars that yelled to me that day. One guy yelled, "You're awesome!! Hell yeah!!" as he drove by. A woman standing outside her house yelled to ask what I was doing, she yelled back, "You go girl!!" Just before I got to Point Arena a car pulled over -- "uh oh" I thought. But to my surprise, it was the owner of the hotel from the night before! "Did you sleep well?" he asked with a smile. "Point Arena is just up ahead."
The general store / market and deli was open when I arrived and I stopped to charge my phone. The boy working said he had never made a vegan panini so would invent one (just like the guy at the cafe before Santa Cruz). After I told him I liked it he said he was going to add it to the menu. Plastered over the windows were signs for shows and activities. Later a couple would tell me that Point Arena is the hippie epicenter of California.
To avoid crossing the Garcia River, which the guidebook warned was sometimes unsafe, I took the alternate route, which used a bridge. By the time I got to Stoneboro road it was dark and I began to think about where I might camp. Ron had said the dunes by the beach would be a good spot. But I wasn't ready to stop walking yet, so made my way along the empty shoreline -- maybe there would be more dunes up ahead.
The beach was wide and walking on the packed sand near the water I had trouble making out the geography of the land to my right. After a few miles I knew I was close to a campground in Manchester State Park and wanted to camp there, but couldn't find a way off the beach. There were low cliffs that I didn't want to try climbing. I also didn't want to bushwack to the campground. Earlier I thought I had seen lights that looked like they could be the camp but now there was nothing. I moved closer to the cliffs, walking slowly through the sand to try to look for a way out.
Up ahead I suddenly saw two lights bobbing, they must be a couple with headlamps! I jogged faster trying to catch up with them. The lights would disappear occasionally, I figured behind an outcropping of land. As I got closer they disappeared once and for all. Gone. I ran up to the place I had thought they went out and sure enough, there was a trail leading off the beach. I followed it, not knowing if it would lead to the camp, and after a quarter mile, just as I was about to turn back, I spotted a spigot with water. I was relieved, it was over fifteen miles to the next town, Elk, and some of those miles were on the beach. I had found the camp. Nearby was a low tree with a clearing underneath, I laid out my bivy, a little nervous about the iron pieces sticking up from the ground and the green mold? that covered the tree, but too tired to find another camping spot. I thought about my eventual trip report and its similarities to a "trip" report. This trek was like a dream.
Trail Notes:
To avoid crossing the Garcia River, which the guidebook warned was sometimes unsafe, I took the alternate route, which used a bridge to cross the river.
Funny to see an "End of Trail" sign. But it made sense to have one here, so the tourists don't try to keep going through the brush. I didn't find signs marking the official beginning or end of the CCT.
Thought of my friend Jennifer, the raw foodist.
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