Little Hairy- Part 3

Following our excursion at Fort Ross we drove the seven or so miles back to Jenner and pulled in to the swanky Rivers End Resturaunt and Inn. Inside we procured a few beers from a gregarious bartender and headed to the back deck, situated high above the mouth of the Russian River. The remaining sunlight felt warm on my face as a light breeze stirred the trees below. Conversation lingered on travels to come as my eyes danced along the shore in search of good waves. I had brought my board and hole-riddled wetsuit along on this trip in case we happened upon some swell- but you know what they say about bringing umbrellas, condoms, and the like.

Pushing my lust for waves aside I took a sip of Boont Amber Ale, the flagship brew from the Anderson Valley Brewing Company. This ale is a solid blend of rugged hoppiness and smooth malts- the perfect beer for winding down at the end of the day while enjoying a surreal NorCal sunset. If you ever have the chance to stop by this outstanding brewery on the road to Mendocino, enjoy a beer in the well manicured beer garden, then try your luck on their 9-hold Frisbee Golf course. What more could a nature and beer loving fool want? They certainly got it right. Their brews are well known in these parts, each label distinguished by a lovable and infamous bear/deer mascot, what's it called again? Oh yea- a Beer, ha.

As the sun dipped dangerously close to he horizon we loaded into the convertible and drove back to Little Hairys. The tide was much lower this time around, so trekking down to the beach was considerably easier. The last of the margaritas were made and we were just about ready to throw the brats on our trusty cooking rock when an unfamiliar, blinding light snapped on.

The ranger had caught us with our pants down. We had almost completely unwound and here he was to enforce the law on us unruly civilians. The night before the park service had come to the top of the cove and relayed a message that was something along the lines of "no camping/camp fires" via a megaphone. Tonight they were back again with a heavier intent to enforce law and order.

Park Ranger Michael was a reasonable and friendly fellow from the Sacramento area who mentioned to me that he spent his off days "lookin for women". Apparently they are a scarce breed in these parts. Dodger, however, had a sneaking suspicion that he was up to no good- noted by his low intermittent bark whenever Ranger Mike came close.

We had two choices. Stay the night and incur a plethora of expensive fines, or hike our gear out immediately in the pitch dark. Being that most of us are a part of the classy poor we decided on the latter. We packed as quickly as possible and I lead the charge up the skree field. This route was closer than our original trail, though I'm not sure it was any less sketchy.

The bottom half of the treck consisted of small to medium stair-like hops adjacent to and over a slowly running creek, but soon we were throwing our bags ahead and pulling ourselves over substantial boulders. Then the real trouble started. Loose rock turned into a loose dirt and the grade became steeper and steeper. Carefully traversing in a slow amble to the top, we caught ourselves many times to avoid slipping and falling a few hundred feet. I stopped intermittently to shine my light backward to show the way for the crew in my footsteps.

Once I reached the summit of the bluff I unloaded my bags and the exhausted Dodger and jogged back to assess the state of the rest of the crew. We were all huffing heavily, some of us enjoying the adventure more than others. The Ranger had hauled our heavy-ass cooler of beer and meat about half way up so I relieved gratefully him and made sure that a few other smaller bags were taken care of.

Thankfully the whole crew emerged from the depths unscathed, but especially ready for a relaxing rest of the evening. The rangers were kind enough to secure a spot for us at Bodega Dunes, a camp site ten miles down the road and sent us on our merry, slightly intoxicated way.

We arrived at the dunes right around 11pm and scavenged for enough wood to build a fire and enjoyed the most delicious semi-cooked brats I've ever had. We serenaded each other with tunes ranging from folk, to rock n' roll, to new age-indy preachings, while swigging cans of Simpler Times beer and cheap wine. Marsh mellows were toasted and stories told, and soon we were buzzed enough to crash.

It may not have been the wilderness adventure we had planned on, but it sure did offer enough of the unexpected to keep things interesting. Next time we'll just have to hike a little further out, push our luck, and find another diamond in the California rough.

Fort Ross- A Russian Stronghold in Nor Cal

Traveling north from Jenner, past our little cove of solitude, you twist and turn from sea-level to outstanding heights above the great Pacific. If you look closely as you round one of the bends, you might just notice a nondescript wooden fence about 200 meters long, that beckons from years past.

This recreated redwood stronghold is Fort Ross. Constructed by a team of Russians and Alaskans in 1812, the settlement was built to claim territory and establish a fur tradepost in "New Albion", the territory north of Spanish California. The Fort was constructed in a matter of weeks and, to the chagrin of the Spaniards, would be home to the Russians and Alaskans for the next 29 years.

We happened upon this place on Sunday afternoon as we took a leisurely afternoon drive to escape the wind and sun of the beach. The recreated fort features a couple long houses with commoners quarters, work shops, and communal dining areas, a central well, the Generals house, a chapel, and a two guard towers facing the ocean.


The cove below the settlement served as a semi exposed harbor during the occupation, and I could see why they would have chosen this spot at the time. It offers decent access to the rest of the coast for trade, yet is far enough from San Francisco to make it difficult for the existing powers to easily strike and force an outsider group to leave.

While wandering around the settlement I was in awe of how rugged and new things were in those days. Every corner you turned offered more possibilities and opportunity for personal riches. It is no wonder that this country fosters such strong desires to create the biggest pile for yourself. Our whole existence was founded upon the idea that if you just went a little farther down the coast then you would have a place of your own, and all the resources that you and your family would ever need.

I imagined myself out there 200 years ago working on a ship and hunting fur for a meager wage. The closest city 4 days away. The unknown, excitement and danger around every corner. I could disappear into a valley and build a home, grow crops, fish, and live off the land. What an exciting and daunting time that must have been.

As we drove out of the rolling State Park I looked back at the ocean and impressive wooden compound. The era of exploration may have ended, but there is always another cove and secluded wave around the bend. So make time to drive up Highway 1, put the top down, pull in to random roads, tip your hat to history, and steal away with a little appreciation for what was, and what will never be.

Little Hairy- Part 2

I awoke early, feeling cold and stiff. The fire had died completely during the night as a dense fog settled in. Peeking my head out of my 40 degree sack I saw a pink glow outlining the crown of rock surrounding the cove. I still wanted sleep so I knelt awkwardly next to the fire, added a few logs, and started huffing without much success. H meandered over a few minutes later- and being a part of the crowd who had arrived earlier the evening before- had his senses about him and took control of the fire.

Two or three hours later I awoke again feeling much more refreshed and hopped up energetically to check out my surroundings. The tide had gone down substantially overnight and aqua waters lapped lazily on the gray sand. The sky was a dazzling jay blue and the sun had almost reached our corner of the cove. We threw a few brats on the fire and after a light breakfast of cereal bars, trail mix, and fruit I was ready for the first activity of the day.

When you subject yourself to a workout a la Big V, you know that you are going to wake up sore for a few days. He did not hold back. We did a wide range of lunges, jumps, push-ups, rock weight exercises, and jogging followed by some simple yoga. The sun, salty air, sandy feet and secluded location offered the perfect meditation in motion and I felt amazing. We slowed down for a few minutes- but as is typical with myself and Big V, we couldn't stay still for long.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon included a hike to an adjacent cove, veggie tacos, and a blissful nap under the blazing sun. I have epic tan lines to prove it.

The video has been completed- but the damn budget windows movie maker won't let me publish- so I'm in a frustrating holding patter and will leave you with this picture for now...


Just as we hit the crest to the adjacent cove a small bi-plane swooped low over-head in a fly-by that would have made Indiana Jones proud.

Part 3- coming soon