Saturday, October 3
Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park
Redwood National and State Parks
California Coastal Trail Humboldt Section 1
Unceded land of the Yurok Tribe
21.14 miles
3052′ ascent
3023′ descent
ABOVE: Atop Mt. Whitney in 2009 – 14,505 ft.
Previous blogs about my cancer journey and challenges:
The Jeopardy Question – My Thyroid Story
A Caution Story – Hypocalcemia And Diamox (Acetazolamide)
After traveling to UCSF for an ultrasound guided neck biopsy, I received the call from Dr. Greenspan on October 3, 2006 that I was diagnosed with papillary and follicular thyroid cancer. Earlier this year, I realized that it would be the 20th anniversary and decided how wonderful it would be to do a commemorative hike. There’s no where better place than Prairie Creek for its spectacular and peaceful forest.
I get to PCRSP later than I prefer and there’s many cars and people with bicycles. Drury Parkway is closed so maybe it’s the first Saturday of the month thing where the parkway is closed to vehicles. Since I have a permit to camp at Gold Bluffs Beach Campground, I park in the area adjacent to the park residence. I put my pack together and add a layer since the cold is hanging in the valley as usual. A few minutes after 8:30 I walk over to the restrooms before hitting the trail.
I’ve hiked the Foothill Trail once or twice before but I’ve never started my day with it. I venture through the dark tunnel under the Drury Parkway. Someone has taken the time to graffiti on the far wall (which means they had to stand in the shallow creek) but didn’t take enough time to spell Humboldt correctly. So lame! I have the trail all to myself and I walk a short distance to my friend Iluvatar. Iluvatar is the most complex redwood tree in the world with over 200 reiterated trunks.
The sun is starting to filter through the tall redwoods as I arrive at Big Tree. There aren’t any tourists so I take the opportunity to snap a picture. Big Tree is certainly big, but it’s more of a tourist attraction.
I follow the Foothill Trail for almost an hour before forking onto the Brown Creek Trail. I’m actually warming up and ready to shed a layer. I stop for a break alongside the babbling Brown Creek and eat a snack. I decide to hike to the top of Brown Creek Trail and then fork left onto the Rhododendron Trail. I don’t think I’ve ever hiked this direction so it seems new despite recognizing several trees along the way.
I pass the Nannie Ochs redwood stump with epiphytic rhododendrons. I pass the tree roots that are still holding the same reservoir of water that I saw back in May. The blue beads of the red clintonia are spotlighted by the sun. I pass Tan Oak acorns and Douglas fir cones all in one spot. I pass what might be shaggy mane just starting to pop out of the soil.
The Rhododendron Trail always makes me wonder if I’ve been abducted. It always takes longer than it should. The trail is not easy so in the past, I attributed my slow pace to the challenging trail. But now I really think that my confused feeling comes from the fact that trail markers with mileage are wrong. Maps list the distance between the top of Brown Creek Trail and Drury Parkway via the Rhododendron Trail as 3 miles. I think it’s closer to 4 miles. And it’s not just this section of trail. I think this is prevalent across much of the park. Not all signs are wrong but most. An extra half mile or mile here and there compounded across a whole day really starts to add up.
At 12:45 pm I arrive to a silent Drury Parkway and enjoy a moment of safely standing in the middle of the road. I cross the road and head towards Zig Zag #2 as I hear voices approaching on the road. Looks like the Knapp Trail is open again going South from Zig Zag #2. Just look at all the life on this bridge! I push a good pace up Zig Zag #2 when something catches my eye and I stop. WTF people, why do you leave your toilet paper? I pass several more tp mounds as I shake my head. I top out at West Ridge Trail and have lunch on the rickety rotting bench.
I’m surprised to hear voices and three young women emerge from the northern side of the West Ridge Trail. They’re talking and nearly walk past me without even acknowledging my presence. The last girl in the groups says “that looks good,” otherwise I might have wondered if I was in a different dimension than them. I can’t image where they’ve come from. There’s long trails in the other direction and they didn’t look like they were out for a long day of hiking. Just after them, a middle-aged guy appears from the same direction. He says hi and forks in the opposite direction from the ladies down Zig Zag #2. What the heck are all these people doing out here? Wink!
I head North on West Ridge, whose actual distance is easily a half mile longer than the signs say. The trail transforms into a dark and spooky forest. The Sitka spruce forest is thick with small spindly trees desperately trying to out compete the next. But fascinating mushrooms proliferate in this environment and I’m amazed at how tough the orange lobster mushrooms are. Lycoperdon puffballs glisten in a rare beam of sunlight and are preparing for their release of spores.
There really aren’t blooming flowers this time year so the yellow Geum really catches my eye. I arrive at the junction with the Friendship Ridge Trail at 2:30 pm and there are caution signs posted. Someone has walked all the way out here to post a notice that the Coastal Trail North of Fern Canyon and South of Ossagon is severely overgrown. Hmmm……well, I’m going for it. If I have to return all the way up (800-900 ft.) via this trail I will.
I’ve never been on this section of the West Ridge Trail so it is new and exciting. The trail is clear enough but it’s obvious that very few people venture down this way. I cross over Butler Creek and then hike down its North side.
I pass a tsunami hazard sign just before I arrive at the junction with the Coastal Trail at 3:15 pm. Ossagon Creek Trail Camp .5 miles? My experience hiking the Ossagon Trail in April 2025 starts to make more sense. This was the trail I was trying to find and connect to the West Ridge Trail. Looking back at my photos, there was a “trail” of water that lead off into the thick forest and that must have been the path I was supposed to take. When I was on the Ossagon Trail, I followed the most obvious path out to the ocean but then couldn’t get back across the bog of Butler and Ossagon creeks.
I turn left towards Fern Canyon which the sign lists at 2.2 miles and is technically part of California Coastal Trail Humboldt Section 1. Ok, here goes nothing. I follow the trail back across Butler Creek as I wait for the overgrown trail to present itself. The faint tread leaves the forest and skirts its edge. The thick fog is sitting on the coast which makes me chilly. To my right are fixed dunes full of trees and grasses. The trail tread is easy and I push the pace.
After 30 minutes of hiking, I stop for a large bramble of wild rose that is decorated with thousands of rose hips. While stopped, the seed tassels of slough sedge catch my eye but present a real challenge to photograph. I’m fighting the focus on my camera when the harmonic overtones of an Roosevelt elk bugle cut through the silence. I look up and there are four females slowly meandering in my general direction. Given the time of year, I bet it was a male that bugled and the ladies were like, nope, we’re out of here.
Thickets of wild berries turning fall red are so large that they’re starting to climb into the Sitkas. There are a few spots along the trail that I have to do the bramble dodge dance but otherwise it is totally clear and easy to navigate. I start to hear rushing water and to my surprise a tall waterfall appears through the trees. I follow a short trail up to the 80-foot waterfall, totally excited at this new find. I drop my pack on a small rock patch so that I can collect some water from the fall. I lean way in as the water rains down on me. I bail on filling my water bottle full because I’m getting too wet. I retreat back to the main trail and sit for a short break. I’m cold and roll down the sleeves of my shirt.
My idea of two days of hiking has changed and I’ve been thinking about wanting the day off tomorrow. The only way to make that happen is to hike out tonight. Camping in this thick fog with the constant roar of the ocean is feeling really unappealing. I suck down the last of my electrolyte water and eat a granola bar all while keeping an eye out for the elk. Ok, time to push it.
I’ve only hiked a short distance when I hear another waterfall. It’s not super visible from the trail and I don’t feel like pushing through the brush to get a better look. Hike a ways farther and another waterfall. Wow! Post-hike research has revealed a few mentions of these waterfalls on the internet. Perhaps the middle 100-foot fall is called Gold Dust Falls but the other two remain unnamed. Or they’re all called Gold Dust Falls? Either way, the park does not advertise these as a destination which is a good thing. Above, Northern-most fall. Below left, middle fall and below right, southern-most fall as viewed from the trail.
At an outcrop of invasive Pampas grass, the Gold Bluffs almost hit glow through a small window in the thick fog. It’s about 4:45 pm as I maneuver through the drainages of Boat Creek and Fern Canyon’s Home Creek, arriving at the mouth of Fern Canyon just before 5 pm. It took me almost two hours to hike from West Ridge Trail so I’m guessing the distance is closer to 3-4 miles, not the 2.2 listed on the sign. There are more tourists here at this time of day than I was expecting. One couple asks me about the canyon and how far they can hike. It looks like the seasonal bridges have already been removed so I ask them how wet they’re willing to get their feet. They answer with a quick nope.
The seasonal bridges are gone and logs have been laid across the creek at all the crossing points. These, plus my trekking poles make for an easy hike up the canyon. I arrive at the end where I find a group of friends sitting for a break, one of which I know from work. Also to my surprise, the trail departing the canyon is roped off and closed. Well, shoot! I know I arrived at the mouth of the canyon from a different direction but there were no signs there about the closure. It’s now 5:10 pm and I really don’t have time to backtrack and add an extra mile. A new network of stairs are clearly being constructed but they must have used recycled signs because it says that a bridge is out and not to cross Prairie Creek.
The day is closing in on me so I move as quickly as possible down the James Irvine Trail. I pass several groups of tourists and then have the trail to myself. About 5:45 pm I step on the below log and the moist coefficient is greater than the friction of my shoe and I go down hard. I lay crumpled on the ground for several minutes waiting for the intense pain in my left foreleg to wain. I move my left leg and I’m relieved that it appears to still work. I try getting up but ultimately have to unclip my backpack and cameras. I’m in the middle of a tree fall across the trail and I would have had to take my backpack off anyway to get through here. I hoist all my gear under the tree and gingerly climb under one more branch. Since my pack is off, it’s a good time for 800 mg of vitamin I and a granola bar.
A massive lump aka shin burger on my lower left leg is already visible. I gotta get myself out of here before I can’t walk anymore. And yet somehow I can walk without too much pain. Or the vitamin I is really working. I push the tempo on the relentless gentle uphill until I’m sweating. I think a lot about how the forest had one more lesson for me today. I also realize that I haven’t taken any pictures of myself and do so to mark the occasion.
Everything starts to go dark around me so I talk out loud to my forest friends. I politely ask them to hold off on their appetizer hour patrol. There are a few breaks in the canopy which give me enough light to get through the darker patches of trail. I could stop and get out my headlamp but I’m sure I’m almost back to park headquarters. But the trail keeps going and going and I keep rounding turn after turn with no end in sight. The signs on this trail have inaccurate distances as well. Based on the trail signs from Fern Canyon and my Garmin watch, I should have been back to the park headquarters already. I have to log at least an extra mile to get the job done. I can see pieces of color through the forest canopy and know that I’m missing an incredible sunset. I arrive back to my truck at 7:25 pm to the last whispers of orange cream floating over the prairie.
Today is a reminder than one event or one person can change the course of your life. Cancer can suddenly delve you into a world of hospitals and blood tests and drastic changes to your body. Or one narcissistic sociopath can topple a whole family. Cancer can be a catalyst to learn about food and nutrition and the array of toxic chemicals that have become mainstream. But cancer can also show you your strength and reveal that your mind actually doesn’t know your full potential. My cancer diagnosis changed the lens through which I view the world. The construct of American society places value on the job, the career, the house, the family. As I found solace in the wilderness and pushing my physical and mental limits, those things seemed less and less valuable. In my opinion, it’s best to live life now rather than hoping for an opportunity later. Do you know how many people wait until retirement to forge out into the world? Despite all of my health challenges, I’m grateful for how my life’s path was altered. I’m indebted that my poor health launched me into an active lifestyle. I’m blessed to have hiked over 14,000 miles in the last 18 years on five different continents. Hiking has built a strong sense of self, peace and a need for the next adventure. So no matter where my footprints fall, I believe in treading lightly on this planet and honoring my connection to all things.
