Santa Cruz Island, Channel Islands National Park. Part II: Smuggler's Cove

The smuggler's trail sign -- not that we needed it....

Despite being a tad fatigued after our whale riding adventure, we still had a full day of hiking before us. We were itching to hit the trails, but were first forced to listen to a park ranger drone on about safety on the island. Unsure as to whether the ranger told us to leave our gangs or our bongs on the boat (neither made much sense….), Kathryn and I simply scoffed, knowing that safety was not our primary concern. While nearly everyone else opted to go on a guided tour of the island (which is presumably where Campbell would have “hiked”), the three of us decided to tackle the seven mile Smuggler’s Cove trail.

Our trail....a long way to go. 

Kathryn and the other Channel Islands

Though we had each packed for miserable weather, we were thrilled to find ourselves shedding layers and reapplying sunscreen as the morning mist burned off. The trail was steep at moments, but straining muscles were easily forgotten as we took in the views – towering hills rose to our left and the Pacific hovered to our right. We could not recall a more beautiful afternoon. 

After a couple of hours, we finally hiked down to the cove, where we encountered what was possibly the most beautiful beach any of us have seen. The shore was covered with drift wood, rocks of all sizes, and even the remnants of a sail boat. Yet, perhaps the most breathtaking element was the sound. As one wave rolled in, another simultaneously rolled out. The continuously crashing surf let out deafening SMACKS!! And as the waves rolled into each other, the shoreline’s rocks smashed together and emitted a crackling and crunching sound. 

We dug lunches out of our packs and simply took it all in.  Some sights and sounds:

 

Of course, we couldn’t leave the beach before refreshing our tired feet in the cold water.

Heading back to meet the boat.

 As we dried off, we lamented the fact that we weren’t staying the night on the island and made promises to come back with camping gear. Though we wanted to stay at the beach for many more hours, we had a boat to catch. So we packed our things and began our trek back across the island.

During our hike, we kept a lookout for the aforementioned smugglers, but were disappointed to only be met by three fairly un-talkative and lackluster Brits – would Campbell would return from his trip with a similar affect, we wondered?  With that question in mind, we had but only a few thoughts to share with our (not-quite-so-intrepid) friend:

Kayaking in Monterey Bay

Before heading over to Monterey Bay, Kiley and I first stopped off at the Point Lobos State Reserve for some easy hiking. The scenery was breathtaking. While looking out at the sea that I would conquer in my kayak the next day, I noticed spouts in the distance. I knew at once they were grey whales and yelled, "Thar she blows!" as I pointed to the whales surfacing in the distance. The less-than-observant "hikers" around me expressed gratitude at my ability to look at nature with such a discerning eye.

While walking the trails, I was disappointed by their flatness. Yes, the views were spectacular, but I wasn't feeling the intrepidness I craved. Upon spying a cypress hanging precariously over a cliff, I decided to climb it -- just to keep up my daily intrepid mojo so that I was prepared for upcoming adventures.

The next day, Kiley and I got suited up for kayaking -- we wore water proof pants and a jacket that would prevent hypothermia in case our kayaks tipped (and, given Kiley's track record for tipping jet skis, I suited up just so he wouldn't feel singled out). We had opted to go with a guide for our first time kayaking in the bay, but she quickly sized me up and we knew that she would do no real guiding on that day -- especially since Kiley and I were the only ones brave enough to venture into the surf. Before we put the kayaks in the water, the guide warned us about the white caps that had been spotted earlier in the day. She also claimed that sharks are seldom seen in the bay, but I relished the possibilities. I climbed into my kayak and dared the crashing waves to capsize me.

We kayaked through the kelp forests, pausing only to enjoy the sea creatures who floated alongside us. A female sea otter and her pup popped their heads up right next to me. I broke several federal and state laws by reaching out to pet them. I led Kiley and the guide around the bay for three hours, encouraging them when they needed it most. After they tired, I hid my dissapointment and agreed to head to shore with them. Their fatigue prevented me from fully doing battle with the sea. I watched as Kiley and the guide took turns battling the waves as they paddled toward shore. Only after they reached safety did I feel comfortable paddling myself in. The waves grew bigger and bigger the closer I got to shore. The sea did not want me to leave and was doing what it could to defeat me! But I just chuckled, knowing I would prevail. Waves smashed against the kayak, threatening to tip me. I could see them slamming against the shoreline, taunting me, daring me to leave. At the last minute, my kayak found the top of a wave and I coasted in. My kayak and I never once wavered. Indeed, only once my kayak touched the beach did the sea attempt to assault me one last time. A giant wave slammed into my back, sending ice-cold water running down the back of my waterproof jacket. I picked the seaweed out of my shoes and looked back at the sea, silently promising that we would duel again. 

It was at this moment that I began to wonder about the land-locked adventures of one Brad Campbell.  Such a shame that he will be mocked by the very sea I tamed. 

Cool Points: 10
Intrepid Points: 7

SLO Triple Crown of Hiking

Last Thursday, while reading about my friend's attempts at intrepidosity in Ireland, I found myself almost pitying him. In his blog he is forced to adopt the persona of an Intrepid One, rather than actually being intrepid. This persona is even more confused by his seeming equation of intrepidosity with 17th century English-speak ("verily, friend, I say unto you" sounds more like a Puritan than a 21st century adventure-monger). And yet, the Puritan-speak is at crosshairs with the constant allusions to his purportedly massive balls, which results in confusion and causes one to question the veracity of his so-called exploits. To see this friend, who has accompanied the Intrepiduo on numerous stateside adventures, fall so low and yet try so hard, inspired me to dedicate my daily intrepid feat to him. And so, my dear friend BC, this hike was for you.

I began at Reservoir Canyon, tucked into the rocky hillside off Johnson Avenue. This hike is easier to ascend than to descend because it is so steep. I reached the top in a mere 26 minutes, clearly at the top of my game. After a brief five-minute rest (to snap the photo above), I scrambled down the peak. Total hiking time: 46 minutes.

The second leg of my Triple Crown was Bishop's Peak. This old favorite felt like a walk in the park after Reservoir Canyon. Total hiking time: 63 minutes.

From there I scaled Cerro San Luis, or Madonna Mountain as some of the ill-informed locals call it. True to the final leg of the Triple Crown, the Belmont Stakes, this hike is the longest of the three. But true to my intrepid form, I zipped up and down in record time. In fact, I was feeling so good that I ran a good bit of the way down. Total hiking time: 61 minutes.

As I said, I dedicate this hike to my intrepidocity-challenged friend, and hope that this feat will remind him what being intrepid is all about.

Coolness points: 5

Intrepid points: 7