Camino Day 6--6/25/20

This was the shortest day of all, and the one that most closely mirrored the walk on the Camino...heading down a long downhill toward a dam! 

                            

Day 6: Gibraltar Road/Angostura Pass toward Gibraltar Dam

Representing Borres to Pola de Allande

Although Day 6 was our shortest walking day, it was our longest driving day; it's a slow drive up to the trailhead at Angostura Pass on Camino Cielo. As it turns out, this trailhead is directly across Camino Cielo from the Tunnel Trailhead we climbed to on Day 3 (so that's what all those cars were for!). There was considerably less euphoria involved in reaching the summit by car. With a heavy marine layer down low, we had to use the windshield wipers on the drive up. We were glad to be getting an early start, since the  sun was shining at the ridge/in the backcountry and we anticipated that temperatures there would be in the  90s in the afternoon. I was grateful for the shadows on the road in the morning and I hoped there would still be a little shade by the time we made it back up. 

                                 

Early in the hike, I heard (felt? still not sure) something just above and off the trail that made me feel like there was an animal out of sight. I immediately switched from happy hiking mode to "snakes on the brain" mode. When I was training alone on hikes back in 2017, this happened nearly every time I went out on a hike. Something would trigger a nervy feeling that I couldn't shake and either I was looking for snakes everywhere, or constantly scanning above for a stalking big cat, or worried about nefarious humans just behind the last bend (those are my personal big three). I never actually turned around and quit because of it, although once in response I did take a detour that left me on the edge of a cliff and another time I called and talked to my mother on the entire isolated segment of the hike (thanks, Mom). 

Snakes on the brain is mainly an issue when I'm walking alone. This time, however, it was a little reinforced by two things: first, J was vigilant along with me. Second, there was so much evidence of wildlife that it seemed very reasonable to assume we were not alone--although we didn't see another human the entire time we were walking.

                                            

The (deceased, I'm afraid) tarantula we found in the middle of the road early on emphasized the wildness of the place. Years ago, the first time J and I were up this way, a tarantula chased him down the street as he tried to take a photo. Ha! The dusty road we walked this day revealed multiple animal tracks, including several snake trails and some large, padded feet with retractable claws (ie, not a coyote or bear...). So we walked "large," made some noise, and regularly checked behind ourselves. Probably the lack of cell coverage for much of the hike contributed to my hyper-awareness.

Checking out those fresh paw prints

The walk down was lovely and again, it was so nice to be on a road where we could walk side-by-side. With only seven miles or so on the agenda, we didn't make it to the dam (although we'd like to come back and do that hike sometime). Much of our camino conversation today was spent looking forward and parsing priorities for our time and energy post-camino. An ongoing conversation with many different facets.

Turnaround Point Day 6


On the way back up, we crossed a number of tracks that hadn't been there on our way down (!) and watched a (non-venomous) snake make its way across the road in front of us. Occasionally, something above us would disturb the earth, starting a cascade of small rocks that wound up on the side of the road we were walking on. 

                                            

love having something red catch my eye that's not poison oak

We continue to be in awe of the beauty in which we find ourselves. We often get to see the front country, so we are more accustomed to those views; it's good to be reminded of the grandeur that's up and behind us. The scale and spaciousness reminded us of the Grand Canyon. 

                                

                                

We made our walk uphill at the same rate we went down. As J observed, the elevation grades designed for cars are just a lot easier than those that are biped--or quadruped--only.

Back to the start/finish line

Once we got back to the van and stretched out, we took a quick walk down the Tunnel Trail.

                                        

Can you see why?

J planted a gallon of water for us to pick up on our last day(!!).  As we looked around us at the trailhead, we saw several other similar water jugs tucked away--we aren't the only ones with this idea. Water. So critical, and so so heavy.

So, we will be up this way again on Day 8 to wrap up our Camino de Santa Barbara with one more trip up to Camino Cielo--on our farthest and highest total hike yet. Yes!!! It is happening!!! (I hope I can do it??!?). 

When she was younger, M. called these "wishes"

I'm so grateful to have been supported and encouraged by so many over the course of this walk and the years leading up to it. Thanks for your words. And thanks to J for being ALL IN in so many ways: more than just keeping us hydrated and not attacked by mountain lions. But also those things--they're important.

Ultreia et Suseia! 

Camino de Santa Barbara Day 6

Hi Dear

Hi Deer

Driving home--Still cloudy down in Santa Barbara after our hike

This one ran out to the car to welcome us home

PS After getting home, I checked on whether those padded prints were a "big bobcat" or a "small cougar" (the two options we gave ourselves at the time). Definitely not a bobcat. 😳

Camino Day 5 --6/23/20

Mussel Shoals to Carpinteria (and back); lunch at Rincon Point.

Representing to Pola de Allende to Berbucedo

After having two bonus holidays thrown into the regular rest day rotation (J's birthday and Father's Day), we hit the trail again on Tuesday. Having walked the coast of Goleta and much of Carpinteria, on Day 5 we walked the stretch between Carpinteria and Mussel Shoals. For all twelve miles we listened to the sound of the waves.

This cool morning was the first time I've worn a jacket on our camino. It was also the first day that I struggled with the way we have to do our camino walking out-and-back--retracing our steps instead of making the progress that walking from one town to another would mark clearly. 

I like to see progress. Today the camino-en-casa seemed a little bit fruitless. We did have fun walking together, though, the entire morning but especially as we walked from Rincon to Mussel Shoals. We have driven past the walk/bike path here hundreds of times on our drives south. Today we got to be "those people" using the protected trail next to Hwy 101 walking for the sake of walking. 

                                

Before too long, though, we took advantage of the low tide to take our walk down onto the sand.

                    

I also got to snap a photo of J just after I suggested a harebrained scheme for next summer. As usual, he tried to find a way to engage it respectfully in spite of its apparent absurdity. The struggle was real. It was hilarious.

                        

He really is often up for my crazy ideas. The camino in the first place was a bit of a reach; a substitute camino around Santa Barbara made perhaps even less sense. And yet here we are, logging the miles. I'm thankful. Thankful for the time together, to look ahead together; and that we are a team.

Southern turnaround point

Heading north again we found our way through the bluffs up to Tar Pits Park.

                    

Making my own Camino arrows (in seeping tar) as we go

Tar seeps on the beach

Hike?

We came from the other direction; he hadn't seen the sign

We again had to turn and make our way back to the starting point (we parked our car in the middle again today so that we could reload on water mid-hike). 

Um hi there silent train. Surprise!

I never knew this trail existed between Rincon and Carpinteria! It was a lovely walk connecting two parks. On the way back I missed a turn and we did a bit of extra walking before realizing we were stuck on the side of a hill at a paragliding launchpoint. We don't fly and needed to retrace our steps: a discouraging discovery at the end of a long walk. Trying to see that episode as just part of the walk instead of a waste/detour is a gift that J has and I'm trying to embrace.

Here's the trail!

Today was a day of putting one foot in front of another:

One foot in front of the other, my darling
Lift up your face so the sun can shine on it
Frailty is a friend who makes you sleep 'til the morning
The mountain is high but it's floating on the ocean

--"Palm Lines," Lowland Hum

We are frail, but we are being carried along. Even when it might feel like we're not getting anywhere much. And it's a beautiful journey!

Picnic lunch on the beach AFTER the hike!

Camino Day 5

Camino Day 4--6/20/2020

Day Four marked the end of the first half of our Camino de Santa Barbara. At just under 11 miles, most of this day's hike was on our training grounds and very familiar.  Because it was my training trail, I wore my tiger hat today. J has wanted to hike all the way to Montecito Peak from our front door for a long time. Today was the day!

                              

Camino Day 3: Montecito Peak, with an additional spur toward Camino Cielo

Representing Tineo to Borres

Early Saturday we headed out of our own front door as we have done so many times before. As we approached Mountain Drive from below, I saw a Montecito Fire/Paramedic truck pulling slowly around the curve above us. As we reached the top, we saw what I'm pretty sure was a planted "rescue doll" for a training drill. As we have been venturing lately into more isolated areas, I have thought quite often of our local Search-and-Rescue crews. I'm glad they are staying up on their training (and that they didn't have to come pull me out on Day 3). 

"I'm probably going to feel like this in a few hours"--me

Our regular route means about a kilometer on Mountain Drive as we walk about a kilometer to Cold Spring trail. The trailhead looked different from the last time we saw it two weeks ago: a new temporary bridge is being installed. We will soon be able to walk across a bridge instead of fording the creek for the first time since January 2018! 

Same trailhead/different look

                                

I was grateful it was a cool day with a thick marine layer. There's almost no shade on this trail and it can get quite warm on sunny days. After Wednesday's hike, I was mentally prepared for it to be difficult--even though I knew we were "ready" for it. This hike is two miles shorter than what we did on Day 3, but with an additional 430 feet in total elevation. We've hiked the first miles of this trail basically every weekend for at least a year, so I know the route well: where the soil is loose. Where I'm going to wait and get a drink because a better view is coming just a little ahead. I also know the long incline where I'm going to have to regularly stop and let the circulatory system in my right leg catch up on getting oxygen where it needs to go. It's so strange to have the two sides of my body not match up in their ability to function under effort. On the one hand, I'm constantly reminded of my weakness. On the other, every regathered step is a cause for gratitude.

                                            

On Saturday we left that particular rough stretch far behind, though. And I was glad to know where the beautiful views were...even though we couldn't see them through the fog. One popular spot with panoramic views near the power lines looked like this:

                                            

In spite of the occluded distant view, the things closer in were still visible. Thank goodness.

 

The power lines are 1/3ish of the way to the peak. We hiked up past our usual turnaround point (which is the eucalyptus tree closer to the peak) and kept rising. As we made our way up that last stretch, we cleared the fog layer and walked into the sunshine. A benediction.

The last two hundred meters to the top are a scramble up the steep scree-covered slope. Getting to the top in one piece definitely involves endorphins. 

                                

looking back down--the trail up seems to just drop off

We stayed at the top and rejoiced for a bit before heading back down; there weren't clear views of much besides the marine layer, but I was very glad that we had gotten above it. 

One step at a time getting down

After our descent from the peak, we continued toward Camino Cielo for a bit, walking that stretch for the first time and previewing our last day of the trail (I am hoping to hike to Camino Cielo via this route and then down the Tunnel/Rattlesnake route).

Just look at that smooth, smooth path for walking! It was so nice to know that it gets easier going after the Peak. So much easier and quicker than this:

                                            

We hiked back down to the Eucalyptus tree and had lunch sitting on its roots and looking out into the fog again. N. made me a "Camino Shell" a few weeks before our Camino de Santa Barbara began, and I have carried it with me every day. 

 

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It was just a beautiful, beautiful day. A hard-work-but-good-work sort of day. Back on our own turf we talked about our usual, stuff-of-life sorts of things: important things but with a flavor of everydayness. And a deep gratitude that days like this get to be included in our everyday category. 

Turnaround point Day 4 (Montecito Peak down there in background)

Today, more than any day on our little Camino so far, I felt strong. Like I can do this. Having walked the early part of this route often on timed out-and-backs, I can remember when one hour from home would barely get me gasping up to Mamre. (It's an oak tree, burned out in 2017 and regrowing since. We have named myriad markers on the trail!). Over months and years an hour has seen us get farther and farther along. Now we regularly go two hours out and two hours back on Saturdays. Sometimes, I feel like "that was a strong hike **for someone whose body has absorbed all that mine has due to cancer and its remedies.**  On this day, our hike felt a little like graduating into having my body back: to losing the asterisks on my hikes. We did a thing. We were given this thing, and it was good. 

back home...the hike ended at our front door. ♡

                                                    

PS I gave J a long-sleeved hiking shirt on his birthday, to experiment with an alternative to constant sunscreen (re)application. Our daughter N. took one look and drily remarked: "Great. Now you can look like a professor even when you're hiking." She's hilarious. And it does suit him.