Backpacking Henry Coe State Park (Day 3): Humbled And Broken
Welcome back to the blog! This is part 3, so if you missed the first 2:
Jason Evangelho
Jason Evangelho
I woke up to predawn darkness, but had enjoyed a blissful solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep! Sure, it was due to sheer exhaustion and pain, but it was 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep nonetheless. That‘s something I rarely accomplish at home in a comfortable bed.
Both my calves and quads were still burning from the steep ascents and descents yesterday. I had a few blisters on my feet, undoubtedly from sloshing around in soaking wet shoes and shoes. Perhaps worst of all, I had some seriously uncomfortable chaffing on my inner thighs.
I know it’s not the sexiest thing to write about, but as I mentioned yesterday, this blog is aims to capture both the beauty and the everyday struggles of hiking and backpacking.
As I cooked up some oatmeal with brown sugar and dehydrated apples, I started contemplating today’s journey. I estimated at least 12.3 miles, and I had to make it back to the Visitor Center by 5pm.
I was dreading it. The threads of negativity that lingered yesterday grabbed hold and sunk their tendrils deeper into my thoughts. I mentally kicked myself for not buffering in a rest day, for not diligently wearing my water shoes during those creek crossings, for not doing whatever would have prevented the chaffing. Then I cursed for having all these negative thoughts in the first place. A vicious cycle I needed to stop dead in its tracks.
I hit the trail by 7:15am, feeling hopeful, if a bit apprehensive, about the lengthy trek ahead of me. Cold and pain and blisters aside, it was a beautiful, peaceful morning. Hiking during sunrise does a lot to buoy your spirits.
The first several miles of Day 3 were incredible, and mostly flat. Then Willow Ridge happened.
You know how your grandparents would always tell tall tales about walking 5 miles to school, uphill, both ways? That place actually exists and it’s certainly Willow Ridge Trail.
This is what the ranger had called “The Roller Coaster.”
It seemed to go on forever. Steep ups, steep downs, repeat.
Reaching Coyote Creek again was a dream come true. It smelled strongly of mint, and I eagerly flung off my shoes and sunk my blistered feet into the icy water. I spent 30 minutes here eating lunch and gathering up the strength for the last leg of the hike.
At this point I had to make a decision. Hike about a mile upstream through waist-high water on The Narrows trail, or brave Poverty Flat Road again. Avoiding the creek would mean slightly more mileage, and significantly more climbing and descending, but I chose what was familiar because I was slightly nervous about staying in the freezing creek for an extended amount of time.
Nature Never Stops Humbling Me. That’s A Good Thing
I don’t want to bore you with a mile-by-mile report of this final day. Nor do I want this to devolve into a pit of complaints. But I will say this: between Willow Ridge trail and Poverty Flat Road, I’ve never been so pushed to the edge of my physical and mental limits. There was cursing, there was a bit of crying.
There was also a deep well of determination I was tapping into, that I didn’t know existed before today.
But it all served to do something instrumental: it humbled me.
Nature never stops humbling me, and I’m grateful for that.
When I first hiked up the Mist Trail in Yosemite with 40 pounds on my back, it felt like the most difficult and taxing thing I’d ever done. After finishing Upper Yosemite Falls, it retroactively felt like a cakewalk.
By the same token, this backpacking trip made Upper Yosemite Falls feels like a cakewalk. It drove home a strong sense of progress.
The Vivid Colors Of Henry Coe State Park
I originally wanted to make this post longer, but I’m about to set foot on the Oregon Coast Trail and need to wrap it up. Let’s close this out with a look at all the beautiful wildflowers and splashes of color I came across during this adventure!
My favorite by far was Henderson’s Shooting Star!
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