Journey Return

Monday, January 20
Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park
Redwood National and State Parks
Unceded land of the Yurok Tribe
15 miles
1,465′ ascent
1,399′ descent

Davison Trail
Trillium Falls Loop
cross country attempt to Skunk Cabbage Trail
return to Trillium Falls Trailhead Parking
Davison Road to Streelow Creek Trail
Davison Trail back to Prairie Creek Headquarters
Streelow Creek Trail out and back

Saturday afternoon I started feeling the ache of sickness. I really didn’t want to give up on my planned hike and I felt ok enough. Better to be sick and hiking than just sitting at home with a stuffy nose. And so I set off just after 7am to witness the sun paint pastels across the morning. I stop near Big Lagoon for a picture of the cloudless daybreak as the quarter moon gleams brightly.

Prairie Creek’s prairie is frosted over and the air bites at my skin. I walk down the road towards the campground and pass a couple bull elk butts sticking out from the forest. At the hiker biker camps there is actually one site taken by two bike packers who are still in their tent.

The sun starts to warm the top of the trees as I connect to the Davison Trail. The flat, hard-pack trail is wide and the cold presses in on me hard. I come to the road that goes to Wolf Creek Educational Center and then cross the bridge over Prairie Creek. The Davison Trail aka road forks to the left and follows Prairie Creek.

The unfortunate highway noise is loud and constant. Despite the hum, I can hear the melodic song of an American Dipper. I tread down the road and pass an old dilapidated building with signs warning of its unsafeness. The adjacent lot is full of metal and plastic culvert pipes. A Pacific Wren sneaks in under the brush that reaches over a trickle of water pouring down the hillside.

I take a standing break at the Trillium Falls Trailhead. I drink some of my mocha drink, which is still warm, and eat an oat peanut butter bar. I add another layer and use the restroom before pushing on.

It’s a short climb to Trillium Falls and, even though I saw a few people leave from the trailhead, there’s no one here. It’s been weeks since it rained last and Trillium Creek’s flow is low. The big leaf maple looks gangly and weak without its leaves.

I continue on the loop which climbs a bit more. Then a curve in the trail is obliterated by a downed redwood tree. I walk all the way across the top of the trunk but that leaves me stuck. I backtrack and then start to pick my way uphill around all the debris.

As the Trillium loop circles back to the North, I start to look for a spot to head off of the trail. I have the plan to try to go cross country to the Skunk Cabbage Trail. I could walk on the highway but why not have a little challenge. My digital map shows me that I’m near the area where I want to head off trail. I look up and miraculously there’s a faint but obvious trail that heads down the slope.

After reaching the valley floor just before 11am, I continue to follow the trail. There are foot prints in the mud and the thick Himalayan Blackberry limbs that reach across the trail have been cut. I still have to dance through all the death vines but it is manageable. I even see a few pink flags marking the way. Yay, this is awesome! I get to a point where I kinda loose the trail. I head off more towards the hillside and immediately I’m in a bog of grasses, skunk cabbage and rotting logs. I slog through the mud and wet a short distance before deciding to turn around and go back to where I know I was on the trail.

After a short standing break I reconnect with the trail. I bob and weave and delicately release all the bramble tentacles that grab me. I take a spur trail towards Prairie Creek to a spot that maybe people use as a swimming hole during the summer. But it’s right next to the loud hum of the highway which isn’t very appealing.

I backtrack and then follow what must be an animal trail through a tiny, frosted grassy patch. It goes through an opening in the bramble which reveals a giant meadow.

I can tell that the Roosevelt Elk, and I’m sure other animals, use this path as it is quite easy for me to follow. I’m really hopeful and excited to be out here testing myself. I actually start to think that I’ll be able to connect to the Skunk Cabbage Trail.

I follow the elk prints and poop across the meadow until I reach the edge of a bramble thick with tall Cladium elk sedge and berry vines. This wall is impenetrable except for where the elk have pushed their way through. I slowly move forward, always keeping my eye on the mud in order to follow the elk tracks. A thorn latches onto my pinky finger and digs in deep. I pull the woody chunk out to the sight of blood.

Water begins to seep in at the base of my pathway and now I’m at the edge of the bog. Without the elk tracks, I no longer know the path of least resistance. I work my way through trying to use grass mounds and occasional logs to keep myself out of the water. Sometimes there’s the crunch of skunk cabbage under foot. Passage is getting harder and harder and I can feel some water seeping into the tops of my waterproof boots. Before me are mounds of eight foot tall sedges and pathways of water. I test the area around me with my trekking poles. Some holes aren’t that deep but my pole goes far down into others. I push forward trying to keep myself out of the water by standing on the bases of the sedges. I retreat to see if I can find a better path. I stand there a while contemplating my fate. I notice some Northern red-legged frog eggs near me in the water and decide that my impact on this area is not appropriate. I turn around and do my best to retrace my steps. It’s not until I’m almost out of the bog that I remember to take a picture. The bog wins this one. Bog 1, me 0.

I do my best to follow the elk’s path out of the bog but sometimes I try to push between two towering sedges and can’t move forward. There’s no point in trying because even the press of my full weight is no match for these impenetrable grasses whose sharp blades seemingly lock together. I eventually wind around and break free, walking back through the meadow. It only now occurs to me that if I had fallen into one of the deep holes I might have been in real trouble. I take another peak at Prairie Creek and consider that I could have easily walked through the creek. Regardless, I am resigned to returning to Trillium Falls Trailhead since it’s already 12:30pm. Skunk Cabbage Trail will have to wait for another day.

Obviously, I do not recommend anyone try this route. And knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t have tried it in the first place. But I am grateful for the adventure and I did learn a lot. I got an up close look at how the Roosevelt Elk travel cross country in Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. I would love a birds-eye view of watching them maneuver through this landscape. I learned about the strength of not only the Cladium sedge blades but their root masses. I learned how easily a bog can stop you. My New Balance Hierro boots really held up to the challenge, so five stars for them. Hiking is not about making big miles all the time. And all of this is a humbling reminder that nature always wins.

I delicately sneak back through all the bramble and climb the hillside to the Trillium Falls Loop Trail. At the trailhead, I take a short sitting break and since the hunger is really starting to kick in, I eat a couple bars. I could retrace my steps back to my truck but decide to add an extra loop. Just after 1pm I head up Davison Road. Vehicles come whizzing by but there are some nice quiet moments too.

I take a right turn onto Streelow Creek Trail as the afternoon chill pinches at my arm fat. After about a half mile I stop to add another layer. I set my pack down and find that my sit pad is not on my pack. I know that I used it at the Trillium trailhead for my lunch break. I panic a bit as my mind races. Did it blow away when I went to the bathroom? But it’s not that windy. Did I leave it on the bench? Did I do my hiker check? Did I put it on my pack? Did it fall off somewhere? I hike as fast as I can as I weigh my options. I think it will be faster if I hike back to my truck and then drive to the trailhead. Streelow Creek Trail is often muddy and has lots of blow downs as my mind spins and calculates. Why all this fuss over a piece of foam? It’s silly for sure. But we’ve been together since I descended Fuller Ridge and Mt. San Jacinto on the Pacific Crest Trail in 2013.

I’m almost back to the campground where an unconcerned deer family is hanging out in the prairie. A bit farther and the bull elks from this morning are still in the same spot. But this time, two of them are in the road and not permitting me to pass. I head out into the prairie but they are intent on watching me. A ranger drives by and the elk, who are unfazed by the vehicle, still have me in their sights. I return to the road but that doesn’t change anything. Ok, ok, don’t be a touron. While keeping a constant glance out of the side of my eye, I slowly loop around through the prairie. The two elk in the road eventually give up on their death stares and go back to eating and scratching. I risk a picture of the three bull elk who are also curious about what I’m doing. Picnic anyone?

After giving Fern Canyon directions to a couple, I jump in my truck and jet over to the Trillium Falls Trailhead. I am really confident that I will see my sit pad there on the picnic table but nope. I park and look around everywhere. In the brush, over the edge, in the trash. Maybe it fell off my pack so I drive Davison Road. Nothing. I get to Streelow Creek Trail and park on the very edge of the road. I hike the roundtrip one mile to the spot where I realized it was missing but nothing. I drive back eyes still peeled. I go to the Trillium trailhead and search all over again. I find a whole loaf of seemingly perfect bread in the trash. Even though I had taken my lunch break away from the parking lot maybe someone took it? The reality is setting in and I’m devastated. It’s kinda like a Wilson moment. What’s done is done, but my brain keeps going through it and through it. I remember all the trail and flight miles we’ve traveled together. Every step over the last 12 years through 10 states, 10 countries and four continents. ‘Twas a good haul! Miss you!