Journey Return

Saturday, April 12
Flint Ridge Trail
Del Norte County
California Coastal Trail Del Norte Section 9
Redwood National and State Parks
Unceded land of the Yurok Tribe
9 miles
1,693′ ascent
1,622′ descent

After departing the High Bluff Overlook, I drive the short distance down the one way Coastal Loop dirt road. It’s late enough in the day that I’m a little worried about getting a parking spot in the tiny Flint Ridge parking area. Yep, cars aren’t parked very well and there’s no room left for me. I back up and park in a little pullout spot on the bluff’s edge. Groups who are there together should park behind each other, rather than side by side. I get my backpack ready to go, put clothes out of view in my back seat and then hit the trail just after 6:30 pm.

I climb the short distance to the campground where the spots seem pretty nice and are private enough. Looks like there are several families in campsite 3 and a big group in campsite 8. This time of year the sites are lush and already filled with tall grass. I go back to the trail junction where the rotted off sign is on the ground. The trail is quite overgrown and I dodge stinging nettles and crawl under a bridge of salmonberry vines.

The trail opens up and there are flowers everywhere. I’m astounded by the size of the Giant Trillium (Trillium chloropetalum) and I’ve never seen such thick mats of miner’s lettuce (Claytonia perforliata).

I recognize the leaves of the Drops-of-gold or Hooker’s fairy bells (Prosartes hookeri) but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in bloom. Love! Speedwell hides underneath.

Cow parsnip (Heracleum maximum) is starting its upward climb and will tower over the Pacific bleeding heart (Dicentra formosa).

The trail climbs to a window view of the Pacific while I’m serenaded by Chesnut-backed chickadees, Pacific Wren and a Wrentit.

The line through the False lily of the valley (Maianthemum dilatatum) leads up into the forest and away from the wind.

Western Trillium (Trillium ovatum) brighten the path to the best salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis) that I’ve ever tasted. The second berry was not quite ready yet, and I left it for the next animal.

After almost 2.5 miles, I am near the top of Flint Ridge. It’s nearly 8 pm and the forest has been growing dark. But there’s a glow at the ridge top that gives me hope that I’ll find a camping spot. The ridge is just above me and it looks like it’s completely covered with salmonberry. I decide to climb up and see what I can find. I push past a couple sword ferns and what do my wondrous eyes see but my home for the night. Natures miracle of duff that piles perfectly on the uphill side of large trees. I drop my pack and push a few more steps up to the ridge where the rush of the ocean is suddenly quite loud. And there’s not an inch of open ground. So I turn around and head back down to my quiet palace for the night. Because I know the routine so well, I manage to set up my tent without the aid of a headlamp. I get everything situated, change into my thermal layers, eat a few snacks and figure out that I have cell service. Crazy.

I listen to a mostly quiet forest as I drift off the sleep. I wake up and my feet are cold. Dang, should have changed my socks too. I do my best to warm them by rubbing them together. I drift off to sleep again and the next time I wake up, there’s a bright light shining. At first I think it’s from my charging electronics but then I realize that it’s the full moon. And luckily the giant redwood is blocking most of the light. Nothing worse than a bright moon blinding you all night. I eventually give in and get up and pee just outside my tent door. I toss and turn but sleep the rest of the night until the sky starts to brighten with dawn.

Sunday, April 13
Just about 6 am I hear a far off Northern Pygmy-owl whose slow repetitive call almost sounds like an alarm clock. Much closer and in the trees near me I hear an unusual bird call. It could be an Osprey but it sounds different. I turn my phone on and the Merlin app tells me that I’m hearing a marbled murrelet. Wow! Could it really be? The old growth redwoods and the proximity to the ocean adds up but I’m skeptical. A few minutes later I hear it and record again. Merlin repeats the marbled murrelet identification with a red dot next to its name. (My later research into murrelet calls confirms that Merlin was correct. I’m so blessed to have been able to hear one!).

As I change into my hiking clothes I hear the unmistakable knocking of a woodpecker. It sounds large and resonant. Pileated woodpecker calls good morning confirming what I suspected. There’s only one woodpecker around here that can make that much noise. It’s almost 7 am and I manage to pack up my tent in 5 minutes. I start hiking at 7 as the sun begins to pierce the forest.

The trail follows just below the ridgeline before starting the descent to Marshall Pond. The redwoods are old and magnificent, full of character and charm.

I pick my way through a section of downed trees before rounding the corner to Marshall Pond. The pond symphony is going strong. Red-winged Blackbird, Mallard, Wood Duck, Song Sparrow, American Robin, Stellar’s Jay. But I don’t hear the forest constant Pacific Wren. As I search for a view of the pond, I spot large black bear tracks in the mud at my feet. It would be fine by me if I don’t see this big bear.

I find a view and berry vines grab at my legs as I push forward towards the pond’s edge. The sun reflects brightly as steam rises from the water’s surface. Water lilies and lake lily pads fill the edge. Mallard ducks circle around and then land on the water. Wish I could get out there and float around too.

I turn back up the trail and make my way to the large bridge over Richardson Creek. I find a soggy, rotting log to sit on for breakfast. It’s the perfect scene. Trickling creek, sun beaming through the forest, a chocolate oat bar with a cold mocha. Pacific Wren sings me a breakfast song. I pack everything up and start the climb back up through the spectacular redwood forest. There’s occasional vehicle noise from hwy 101 but it’s Sunday morning which means it’s pretty quiet.

There’s an area where the water flows down the mountain, nearly all the way from the ridge top. For most of the distance, the water is above ground. But at some point the water goes below the surface and filters through this aerial log. Gritty mud has accumulated on the trail and the dripping water is visible as I hike under it.

I near the ridge and hear another special bird. Merlin confirms Bald Eagle. I scan the forest canopy for a large nest but I don’t see anything obvious. I wonder if it’s a pair and I wonder if they have any eaglets.

Hutton’s Vireo and Brown Creeper tell me their stories as I cross the ridge. Not to be outdone, Red-shouldered hawk chimes in too.

Seems pretty fresh and wasn’t there yesterday.

Tiger lilies are getting ready to bloom their beauty.

I descend back into the sitka spruce and red alder forest as Wrentit, Pacific Wren and Wilson’s Warbler all tell me about their morning.

The Flint Ridge Trail is a real gem. It’s full of amazing old growth redwoods and the bird diversity is unlike any other trail I’ve been on in this area. The beauty of this trail rivals the old forests of Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. Other than the campground, I didn’t see another person the whole time I was out. I had the whole forest to myself which always feels like a special gift.

I get back to my truck at about 11 am and find that it has safely survived the night. It’s a beautiful sunny day without the crazy wind of yesterday. I drive out along the Coastal Drive and even stop to see where the old Klamath Bridge used to span before the 1964 flood. Here’s some more photos of mouth of the Klamath River from the South.