It’s 10:20am and we are rolling! The plan is to spend two days driving from Sacramento all the way up to the Northern Terminus of the Oregon Coast Trail (OCT) inside of Fort Stevens State Park. Along the way I’m hoping to get a brief glimpse of some of the terrain I’ll be hiking, and scoping out the rare but necessary road walking during sections of the trail which aren’t fully connected yet.
But the OCT is still at least 48 hours away. What’s in front of my eyeballs right now is a northern California I’ve never seen before. (The same goes for all of Oregon and the Pacific Northwest.)
The population of pines and lush redwoods are becoming denser, the rolling foothills are covered in green grass and wildflowers. Lakes and rivers are everywhere. Lace Lichen lazily drapes the trees. And I swear there are more shades of green slowly fading in to the scenery the further north we drive.
“Northern California so far is just constant eyegasms,” I say to K. “Just wait,” K says with a smirk, “this is nothing.”
Along the South Fork Eel River, south of Richardson Grove State Park, we stumble across a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it attraction called “The Grandfather Tree.” As I walk up to this majestic Redwood, my brain has trouble processing what’s in front of me. Standing nose-to-trunk, I feel minuscule next to this 1800-year-old tree that stretches 25 stories into the sky.
It’s an awe-inspiring but sobering reminder that we are just temporary tourists on this planet. We’re so insignificant when stacked against the timeline of living things older than we can fathom, that have endured more than we can ever comprehend.
The rest of the road trip is an abundant combination of visual splendor and creature comforts. Pre-dawn coffee in a hot tub overlooking the Pacific Ocean at Camp Trinidad. The best fry sauce ever at Arctic Circle. An unforgettable ocean sunset in Lincoln City. Mouthwatering chicken pho and pumpkin curry with K at M&P Thai Noodle.
And a constant stream of invaluable words of encouragement from both Dean and K. The enormity of what I’m about to do feels so daunting. The anxiety of the unknown mixes with the excitement of adventure, and it’s hard not to start spiraling.
My inner critic is a loud obnoxious asshole right now. “You’re biting off way more than you can chew.” “You’re not prepared.” “You’re out of shape.” “Your knee won’t survive this.” “You’re not disciplined enough to handle this. Why are you even attempting this? It’s way out of your league.”
Dean’s words play back in my head, almost as if it’s a subconscious counter-attack to those toxic inner doubts: “You haven’t signed a contract with yourself.” Yea, damnit! Why do I always put so much pressure on myself?
I feel driven to take this journey as far as I can, but I shouldn’t beat myself up if I can’t finish it. Still, the anxiety is eating away at my positivity as I drift off to sleep.…
I take my first steps on the Oregon Coast Trail tomorrow.