After the lovely, full friendship revival experience of Newport, Oregon, my journey continued south on HWY 101. My goal was a bit of salt water kayaking and a bit of shinrin-yoku (forest bathing) in the Redwoods State and National forests.
A little northern Californian town, Crescent City, with a crescent shaped bay, not far from Redwood groves of note, and, according to the internet, nice looking beaches for launching a kayak or just hanging out on a beach, seemed a good base camp for this.
A few things messed with this perfect plan of mine. When I got up bright and early, before 5am, ready for a dawn launch, the fog was so thick I could hardly see two feet in front of me. I had brought my smaller sit-on-top kayak (because it fits inside the Red Pony) and no deck lights at all.
Foggy paddling isn’t something I do in the desert. Even though the tide was low and waters seemed calm, launching in such poor visibility, in waters foreign to me, in a rocky place called Battery Point indicating potentially violent waters, (think about the meaning of the word “battery” in an era before electronics dependence) in a decidedly not very high performance vessel, (sometimes called the plastic bathtub toy in my household) without deck lights seemed to go against all boating safety training I have ever had.
More importantly my gut feeling, my na’au, as Hawaiians would say, said “don’t launch”. For water people, water is sacred, an elemental thing which speaks to one’s na’au. Always listen to it. Respect it. Be humble before it. I was taught everything I know about salt water paddling by one ancient Polynesian in the Pacific Northwest, and my living-the-dream, idyllic years of paddling Hawaiian waters. I wasn’t about to defy those teachings.
Reluctantly I left the kayak in Red Pony and explored historic (aren’t all lighthouses historic?) Battery Point lighthouse on foot from the shore.
Fortunately I didn’t have any restrooms dogs with me, so I was good to proceed.
The art around the lighthouse is typically seaside quirky in the naive or folk art style. One driftwood piece seems to indicate that, though restrooms dogs are forbidden, cartoon cats who leave perfect fish skeletons might reside here.
A whale breeches from nail polish glittery turquoise waves at the stairs where once was a tree, while an old man of the sea stands at the wheel of his boat, tall mast and sails behind him.
The fresh paint on these works seems to indicate lighthouse keeper duties include guardian spirit maintenance.
A red bench perfectly placed for sitting and staring out to sea (whale watching maybe) has clever cutouts of Battery Point lighthouse on the backrest.
There were also some real marine mammal (whale) bones.
At this hour, as usual, no one but me and a million seabirds were out and about.
I saw no sign of lighthouse keeper but informational posters told me all I needed to know about this lighthouse or “private aid to navigation” as the information piece below calls it.
After a peaceful time exploring Battery Point lighthouse and very foggy beach I went to forage for the day’s food at the local grocery store. As I turned into the parking lot, Red Pony began making the most terrifying tin can rattling wail which seemed to emanate from underneath the front. Nothing was obviously scraping. It was still before 7 am but, with food supplies gathered, Red Pony and I limped back to the cheap hotel I had chosen as a base for this piece of the journey (campsites were fully booked - height of tourist season) to research car doctors. We found Kyle with five star reviews on various online sites and navigated our distressed way to his humble backstreet-ish auto repair shop (thanks to my phone
Maps app) as soon as he opened at 9am. Kyle and Don diagnosed a cv joint issue. The part was ordered and would arrive by 9 am next day in time to be fitted and get me six hours down the road to Santa Rosa for my hotel reservation and scheduled weekend meetings with my meditation teacher - the only inflexible part of this whole journey.
It could have been worse. Darwin wrote that the secret of success is adaptability. I now had a day which I had planned to spend in Redwood forests, to spend exploring a little northern California beach town.
Fortunately Crescent City is a very walkable town, with an entrance to a six mile piece of the 1200 mile California Coastal hiking trail, known in distance hiking parlance as the CCT, right outside my hotel, visible through the window in my room.
I will tell of the harbor, tsunami history and Pebble Beach in my next post. The garden needs watering.
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