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.
No comments:
Post a Comment