Thursday, June 12
Humboldt Redwoods State Park
Unceded land of the Sinkyone
Start: Grasshopper Peak
Stop: Bull Creek Flats Trailhead (West most starting location)
10.41 miles
740′ ascent
3,710′ descent
After watching the sunset, I crawl into my tent ready for some good sleep. Everything is a bit tilted so I shove a few pieces of clothing under the downhill edge of my sleeping pad. The wind is still blowing with occasional gusts but it’s not too terrible. All the physical activity of a long day of hiking often makes it hard for me to fall asleep. I do eventually drift off for a few hours before the gusting wind wakes me. I try to fall back asleep but I lie half awake, half asleep for a long time. In my semi-consciousness, a bright glow starts to blast the tent. Since I do have cell service, google tells me that it is the full Strawberry Moon. It gets that name because this is the time of the year that strawberries begin to ripen. Because it’s almost the solstice, it appears low on the horizon and won’t be this low again for almost another 20 years.
I eventually give in and crawl out of my tent to pee, desperately hoping this will help me fall back to sleep. The full moon and wind beat down on me as I check out the night sky. As 1 am passes, the gusting wind intensifies. I reach my hand up to the high, central pole of my tent as it vibrates and flexes to the side. I know I should have set up my tent with my feet into the wind but the small space just didn’t allow it. So here I am with the side of my tent getting blasted and bent with every howl. My rings and headlamp that I keep in the tiny overhead pocket shake out onto my face. In an attempt to sleep, I put in my earbuds but I can still hear the constant roar of the wind. After the overhead pocket rattles and empties onto me again, I add my trusted owl friend Bubby to the pocket to help hold shit together. I watch the central pole of my tent bend in the wind to the point where I’m sure it’s going to break and collapse. It flexes over and over and for some reason, I hold onto my tent just in case. It happens so many times that I actually start to have faith that it will hold. I’ve never seen my big agnes tent tested in this way and I’m impressed. With each bellow, the center pole continues to bend to the side. I keep a watchful eye, while also trying to fall asleep. At some point, the exhaustion triumphs and I do get brief periods of rest.
I keep hoping that the wind will ease as daylight approaches but my wish is not granted. The minutes tick by slowly as my tent continues to vibrate, so I’m grateful when the horizon starts to brighten. Just after 5 am I force myself to change back into my hiking clothes and start packing up. I’m utterly fatigued and don’t really feel like going anywhere. After 16 years of hiking, this has to be one of my worst nights ever on trail! Breaking camp at dusk or even 2am because of a bear was better than this. Even my garmin watch wasn’t able to record any sleep. I emerge from my tent just before 5:30 am to find the valley below me completely filled with fog. The mountain tops always look like islands sticking up out of the frothy ocean. This was a constant and beloved scene at my Smart’s Mountain home.
I fight the wind, but eventually get my fly, tent and ground sheet stuffed back into their waterproof stuff sac. Geez, wonder if I might have been better off cowboy camping? My left shoulder is sore from my sony camera hanging on it all day yesterday, so I decide to load it inside my backpack. After all my packing efforts, I’m hot and sweaty. I hoist my pack and rush up to the top of Grasshopper Peak. The sun still hasn’t cracked the horizon as I take my first looks to the West. Somehow, I had completely forgotten about the full strawberry moon but there she is beaming in the morning pastels.
I walk over to the East side and wait for the sun’s glow. It takes longer than I expect but the rays glint across the top of the fog at 5:50 am. I watch the sunrise for 10 minutes before stepping down over the edge. I could retrace my steps down the road but decide to try out the faint but signed Grasshopper Peak Trail.
The trail is followable but is often overgrown and blocked by downed trees. The burnt trees from the 2003 Canoe Fire stand like tall tombstones. Their dark profiles sharply contrast with the dry hillside and the fog far below. I mostly ignore the pain on the outside of my left knee since I’m more bushwhacking than walking. The sun casts long shadows, and the tugging wind is slightly less since leaving the summit. I’m careful to maneuver around charred trees as buckthorn dumps blossoms onto me and my pack. I make a giant jump down from a tree onto which I could barely crawl.
It takes me a half hour to traverse the .4 miles and reach the junction with Grasshopper Trail Camp and Grasshopper Road (Greig Mutli Use Trail). The wind is ripping down here too and I’m surprised to see a tent. I’m tempted to look around for water but don’t want to disturb the tent occupant since they don’t have their fly on.
I start down Grasshopper Road and the pain on the outside of my left knee is drawing my attention to it. So much so that I’m slow to notice a gang of bucks in the road. They are happy to climb up the hillside and away from me. After I round the bend in the road I decide to sit for a break and some breakfast. Orange-crowned Warbler, Northern Flicker and Olive-sided Flycatcher call out over the fog.
The light is changing quickly as I hike down the steep road. The pain in my knee is undeniable and I’m having a hard time walking downhill. I pause to watch a finger of fog uncurling below me in a nearby canyon.
At 7:30 am I shuffle into the junction with Greig Road to find a closure sign on the side of the road. It’s a posted order detailing an area closure for road rehabilitation. The closed roads are also highlighted on the map. The roads are the only “trails” that connect and cross this part of the park. Wellll, I’m not sure what they expect me to do. It was posted almost a month ago so maybe they’re done? It’s not like I can easily backtrack. You can’t just post a sign in the middle of nowhere and expect people to know and or turn around. The Humboldt Redwoods State Park website certainly didn’t mention this closure. It takes me about a minute to figure out that I will be proceeding into the closure area, especially given the pain in my knee. Farther down, I had planned to hike the Baxter Trail but now I’m on a mission to take the most direct route back to my truck.
I don’t hike very far before I hear the definite rumble of a big truck off in the distance. I can see its lights approaching as I stand wayyyy off the side of the road. He slows upon seeing me and waves. Ok, that’s a good sign! I walk 5 minutes before another truck comes rattling past. The driver waves. Truck after truck after truck passes me. Luckily, I can easily hear them approaching and have plenty of time to safely get off of the road.
I can walk ok on flat or uphill but going down is so painful. There’s that brief moment when my knee needs to hold me before my other foot hits the ground again. Ouch. I pass a few trickles of water and stagnant horse troughs covered with a thick layer of dust. After about an hour on the road I reach a window where I can look back up towards Grasshopper Peak and see the watch tower.
I’m consumed with my side shuffle so I don’t see that a small herd of Roosevelt Elk are in the road watching me limp towards them. Once I stop and we acknowledge each other, they all bolt up the steep hillside out of sight. I can still hear them when I pass below them on the road. Only a few minutes later, one of the giant dump trucks thunders down the road. Wow, good thing the elk had already exited the roadway. Truck and after truck pass me and they all wave again as my mouth fills with grit.
I decide to push and wait to take a break until I reach Whiskey Flat Trail Camp. I arrive at 9:20 am and the camp is right on the road. I take off my pack and I’m immediately swarmed by hundreds of mosquitoes. I sit down on my sit pad but quickly realize that I don’t have the patience to defend myself. I stand up and eat a bar as I do the mosquito dance. I can’t take it and I head down the road within five minutes of arriving. No break for me. Just as well, since more trucks come bouncing down the road.
All the vegetation along the roadway is layered thick with dust and is more brown than green. Right at the Baxter Trail junction, I’m shocked out of my pain stagger by some spectacular and tall redwood lilies. The bright stamens stand out from the white to pinkish-purple petals, or tepals in this case. Despite the layer of dust, their exhibition is a gift to witness. It turns out that the redwood lily (Lilium rubescens) is endemic to California, is fairly rare and is threatened by development, logging and road maintenance. Yep, these beauties are right on the edge of this road.
The trucks are headed back up the road and they’ve passed me so many times now that they no longer wave. Even a water truck joins the parade. This route is a real bummer and it’s not just the trucks. Maybe I’ve just got negative pain brain, but this long, steep road has to be one of the worst ways to get to or from Grasshopper Peak. Johnson Camp Trail was just so lovely that the steepness of the Grasshopper Multi Use Trail (GMUT) aka Road was short and bearable. I hit the junction with the GMUT about 11 am which means I have just less than a mile to reach my truck. Hutton’s Vireo, Western Flycatcher, Brown Creeper and Red-shouldered Hawk all welcome me. I kind of hold my breath as red peaks through the trees. I’m grateful not only to find it still parked there, but still intact. I change my bra and shirt as I suck down some gatorade. I swat away a few more mosquitoes before I get into my truck about 11:30 am. I drive the short distance back to Mattole Road and this time, I notice the same area closure signs that I found earlier this morning. They probably were there yesterday but they are small and off to the side of the road. Oh well.
I had toyed with the idea of driving back home through Petrolia and Ferndale but it seems like the fog is still hanging around plus there’s the issue with my knee. By some stroke of luck my left leg can still manage to work the clutch. I drive North on the 101 and can barely keep my eyes open. I probably should pull over but instead, I read every sign out loud to keep myself awake. I power through to Costco gas before getting home about 1:45 pm. Time to see about this knee.
Journey Return 