Hard Coe 2012 Pt. II

Ant drops us off at the entrance of the trailhead. We unpack our gear and sit tight while he drives back to the park the jeep then walks the two miles back to the trailhead. He's a good sport. Becoming restless, we kill some time by traversing the dusty bank and going down to the stream below us. The water is trickling stream, only a foot wide at some points, opening up to a pool about fifty feet long by twenty five feet wide. It is very clear with a slight green stain. There are no signs of catchable fish, although we do spot some tiny mosquito fish.

I light up the blunt I had been carrying. It's pretty well rolled if I do say so myself. It makes its round. Then another. And another. That feeling returns. I am at a precipice of something great. Of a great accomplishment.

The weather is cool. Actually a little too cool. I had taken off and packed my extra layers knowing that I will be sweating soon, but sitting and waiting in the shade has me uncomfortably chilled. I know that soon, I will be begging for the cloud cover and so I am anxious because we are losing optimal hiking weather.

Soon Ant is back and we prepare to embark. FishTrick suggests we take the Anza trail, noting that it will be less steep with more tree cover. Trusting his judgement, I agree and so we make a left at the first fork instead of a right.

The hiking starts off rough. Having spent so much time fishing and not hiking, I could really feel the toll that that fact was having on my stamina. By hour's end, I was not anticipating another two and a half to three hours of this.

FishTrick is right and our route is pretty cool with decent tree cover. Something that I'm sure was appreciated by the Coe First-timers, although, ironically they probably did not appreciate it, having not yet felt their backs blistered by the brutal open sky. There were many breaks taken and as the day wore on and the sun crept higher and higher into the sky, the number of breaks only increased.

For the time being, I take the lead as we progress further and further into the undergrowth. A rustle. I glance over and catch a brief glimpse of a blur shuffle into the foliage.

"Guys! Check it out!

The rest of the troupe catches up. We sit silently for a moment before several wild turkeys emerge from the growth. Wild turkeys are known to be very territorial. They watch us, more wary than scared. We use the time to catch our breaths then move on our way.

We all continue, on and on, as the trail winds through forest thickets, across babbling creeks, and along sheer slope cliffs before depositing us past the tree line, on an abrupt incline, surrounded by an endless field of tall, dry grass and a breath-taking view of the surrounding valley. We all stop and put down our pack. Our backs and shoulders ache. Our shirts are drenched from perspiration.






I take the opportunity to pack a bowl in my pipe. I light up and release the smoky breath into the air. The wind literally rips it from my lips and in an instant it is gone. I pass it to the left. I am met with shakes or the heads or flicks of the wrist. Fine. More for me, I guess. I remind everyone to make sure to stay hydrated. And again we're off.





Only a few minutes later, we are greeted by the remains of an abandoned ranch. Old and dilapidated, it gave off an eerie feeling. All that remains are the wooden posts of what appear to have been a horse pen. Like a treacherous Siren, the sprawled wood partially hidden by the tall grass almost beckons one to come and frolic within it's innocent enclosures. However, a closer look at the grass stalks reveals their true nature. There were already frolickers abound, concealed in the vegetation.

Ticks.


Definitely not the kind of place you want
to come across lost and alone one night.

Now that the trail is bordered on either side by long grass we needed to start being tick-smart. We each keep a vigilant eye on each other as we walk in line. Every twenty minutes or so, we stop and spot check one another, wary of ticks looking for their next meal.


Blacklegged Tick: Vector for the dreaded Lyme Disease

Our cautiousness pays off, as one tick after another is identified and removed. They are quickly disposed of with a quick flick of a finger.

However, ticks are a shifty lot and despite the due diligence and persistent tick-checks, a lone intruder managed to infiltrate our ranks. While hiking, FishTrick let out a yelp and it was soon discovered that a tick had bit him on the waist.

Luckily, it didn't have a chance to bore in and FishTrick sent it back form whence it came with an OK KO.

Then on we continue...