Weeks 37 & 38: Riding the California Coast

Author’s Note

Hi there,

Before we get into what I like to think of as the beginning of our summer adventures, I feel like we need to talk about the elephant in the room: it isn’t really summer anymore. Oops.

If you haven’t noticed, we’re a little behind on posting—two months to be exact. I can easily come up with excuses as to why our posting schedule is so late, like how we operated with basically no reception for weeks at a time or how we’ve been hiking like mountain hopping maniacs. In general, it’s been hard to find the time to write while we’ve been knee deep in this cycle of fun and exhaustion. At the end of the day, however, Sam and I decided early on that we would savor as much of our time left on the road as possible.

With all that being said, I wanted to talk to you because the end of the summer also happens to be the end of our Gap Year. Though we still don’t know the exact date of our arrival home, that day is less than a couple weeks away from now. So where does that leave the blog?

I’ve decided that I want to keep posting like normal, even when that means we’ll be back home in New Mexico. I have a special idea in mind for how we’ll wrap everything up, but you’ll just have to wait and see what that is ;)

In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy reading about our summer just as much as we enjoy writing about it.

Best,

Kes

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Redwoods State and National Parks, California

by Kes the Photobean

July 6th, 2022

If I asked you to describe Sam and I in a few words, what would you say?

Would you mention our adventurousness before our stubbornness? Is the first thing that comes to mind about our knack for wiggling out of sticky situations or brashly running into them? How about our tendency to love hugging trees?

If you thought the latter, that Sam and I strike you as a couple of hippies born too late, then congratulations, you caught us. There’s no better feeling than wrapping my arms around a tree and holding tight. This small action fills me with a strange sense of security, a tightness in my chest that soothes my nerves.

I’m convinced the world would be a better place if everyone hugged a tree every now and then.

As for me, I’ve hugged some beautiful trees, from towering Ponderosas to ancient Bristlecones. But, until now, I had never hugged one of California’s Coastal Redwoods. These trees are the tallest on this Earth and can stand eye level with the top of a 40-story skyscraper. To wrap arms around the entirety of the largest of them, seven people would have to stand hand-in-hand.

My team of tree-huggers may be small, but what we lack in numbers we make up for in determination.

Challenge accepted. Our hunt for the perfect tree hug began on an old stretch of dirt road that crossed right through a grove of old-growth redwoods.

I’ll admit that it didn’t take too long to find a nice and huggable tree. These giants are everywhere!

It’s really hard to fathom just how large these old-growth trees are until you’re standing right next to them.

So. Big. Did I mention that already?

A trail off the dirt road allowed us to walk through the forest and get a closer look at the life these trees live. Of course, that also means that fallen trees may become victim to the human urge to be remembered.

A human looking up at a Redwood has the same scale as a mouse looking up at a human.

Since fire is crucial to a healthy Redwood ecosystem, it's not uncommon to find trees that have burned from the inside out. Even when burned these trees can still be strong and happy!

In an awesome show of collaboration, one of the tribes that call this area home is working closely with the State and National Parks Service to manage the Redwood ecosystem and keep it healthy. I loved reading information about this special place through their eyes.

Fern Canyon

When walking amongst such stoic giants, it’s hard not to feel reverent. After all, these trees have been alive for centuries, if not millennia, bearing witness to a world with many different faces over the years. I’ve never felt so small, so insignificant in comparison.

One of my favorite hikes from this Gap Year was through the heart of this Redwood ecosystem.

The day before our 10-mile hike, I felt like death on toast. The night before, I chugged Nyquil and crossed my fingers that the worst was over. The morning of our hike I raided our medicine cache with the hope that my bones would stop hurting long enough to carry me through the day.

What’s so special about a trail that would make me want to be on it so badly? Well, for starters, it would give us the chance to be alone with some awesome trees. To listen to the natural soundscape of birds and flying squirrels aloft in the canopy. To finally get a chance to internalize just how large these organisms are.

To my absolute joy, the cocktail of meds in my system successfully quenched most of my pain. Sure, the job wasn’t perfect, but it’s normal for your neck to hurt when you’re always looking up, mouth wide open.

The trail, winding its way around the feet of giants, was wide enough for the two of us to walk side-by-side. Add in five miles of walking downhill, and we had the perfect recipe for a downright leisurely stroll.

We may have taken to that thought a little too well, because our first mile took way longer than it should have. It’s not that we were dragging our feet, there were just way too many things to look at. Ferns of different shapes and shades blanketed the forest floor. What would otherwise be harsh summer sunlight was easily diffused by the giants’ leafy crowns. Banana slugs dutifully snacked on their forest’s litter.

I love banana slugs.

I love banana slugs.

I love banana slugs.

Just look at him sluggin’ away!

This one even modeled for me.

Not a banana slug, but just as cute.

If I didn’t know any better (or the meds any stronger), I would have expected to see dinosaurs munching on distant leaves. To know that these giants are directly descended from those that lived alongside such terrible lizards is a humbling experience.

The trail itself was beautiful. I loved watching it snake its way around the forest floor.

Of course, we got caught up doing what we do best.

After miles of endless oohs and ahhs, we had to cross a few bridges. Most carried us over gentle creeks and bubbling streams, but soon enough I could see Fern Canyon take shape. The water gradually got further and further away, carving ever deepening gutters into the ground below.

Finally, we saw it. Fern Canyon. Though the name itself isn’t particularly jaw dropping, don’t let that take away from the canyon itself.

The canyon from above.

The mouth.

Ferns growing on the steep walls made for the perfect backdrop.

Smile!

Time for a quick snack break.

The canyon even has its own waterfalls, they’re just a bit more tame than their cousins.

Sheer walls adorned with leafy ferns and salmonberries welcomed us with open arms. Remnants of fallen trees collapse into the ravine, adding to the complexity of Fern Canyon’s ecosystem. Logs become barriers to the stream, slowing down its flow or otherwise rerouting it. This can create pools for salmon and other fish to lay eggs. These fallen trees also act as perfect bridges for the adventurous tourist.

I love the colors of the wood against the ferns.

Two fallen logs sit and watch a distant mossy waterfall.

Little did I know when I took this shot that this was actually the only way through the canyon.

Dodging sharp branches and doing a little parkour, we finally made it back on the main trail. Sigh. If only we could stay longer. Thankfully, we still had another five miles before reaching the Jeep, all of which were uphill. Armed with the power of drugs, I gladly marched up the winding trail with camera in hand. Sam was a little less energetic than I was, though that’s mostly because he was the one stuck carrying our 15-pound backpack, five pounds of which was pure tortilla.

The sun finally burned off the sea fog, leaving dappled rays to paint the forest floor.

We've seen countless big trees, but I'll never be able to fully comprehend their size.

Together, we spent the entire day walking amongst these redwood giants. I guarantee that nearly every person who walks through these woods today feels the same sense of pride when seeing such trees. There’s a powerful, yet silent wisdom that these beings carry beneath their crowns, one that encourages the mind to wander.

More than a few times Sam and I wondered aloud how anyone could possibly want to cut a single one of these trees down. But many did. Beginning in the 1850s, these forests were felled to make room for pasture and farms, followed quickly by logging. Now, less than 200 years later, 95% of the old-growth redwood forest is gone. If it weren’t for concerned citizens like those who formed Save the Redwood League, who knows how many giant redwoods would have survived. Today, that same league has been working closely with tribal, federal, and state authorities in order to do exactly what their name implies: save the redwoods.

Above all else, I find it incredibly moving when I learn about the people who cared enough to protect our natural spaces. After visiting so many national parks, I’ve often heard a familiar story; someone marches in, exploits the land, and, just before it’s too late, someone else fights to protect those very same places. In a weird way, that gives me hope. Because that means that, right now, you and I can be one of those same people fighting for the places we love.

After all, who could say no to protecting one of Mother Nature’s gems?

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We Finally Reach the Pacific Coast

by Kes

July 8th, 2022

The Pacific coastline is insane. Vertical cliffs drop 1,000 feet down into nothing but seafoam and kelp. Mansions hover along the cliff edges, playing a nail-biting game of chicken with the sea below. Wildflowers peek through the sea fog while cattle graze along the cliffside meadows, completely unaware of the million-dollar views just beyond the edge. This scene is just a foreground for the Pacific Ocean, her deceptive blue monotony the keeper of endless secrets.

Lucky for us, views like these were in our future for the next week or so. Thanks to the daring engineers that created Highway 1, Sam and I were about to drive down the entirety of Northern California’s coast.

The drive was beautiful, yet decently terrifying. Going any faster than 45 miles per hour felt like a death wish as the Jeep trudged up and down the steep, winding cliffs. Occasionally the sea fog let up just enough for the ocean to shine a brilliant blue. Other times the fog settled between the ocean and the cliffs, masking the water in an impenetrable gray veil.

There were a few times where we forgot to turn on the radio and drove in silence, lost in the scenery.

It'll never not be weird to look out your car window and see yourself above the clouds.

A few highlights along the way include searching for waterfalls in not-so-secret coves, creeping on elephant seals, and battling the ever present stress of finding a place to camp.

Can you spot the waterfall?

Don't mind us, we're just spying on a few mysterious lumps of seal.

While most of the elephant seals were lounging together on the beach, a few rowdy stragglers were wrestling with each other and putting on quite the show.

The flowers that pop up on the rocks above beaches are so vibrant!

Don’t let the crazy views fool you into thinking that everything was sunshine and rainbows. Finding a decent (read: free) place to camp was a lot more stressful than I think either of us expected. One night we broke and ended up paying for a campsite. Another night we drove six miles up and over a mountain to a distant beach, only to have our camp swarmed with a group that had no less than 20 people with them.

Of all the nights we spent on the coast, however, my favorite had to be when we slept on a precarious mountain slope.

Driving so far above the ocean will never feel normal.

Beggars can’t be choosers, but these beggars also don’t have a death wish. We set up the Teardrop in the most level place possible, and that in itself was a feat. Unfortunately, keeping the Teardrop level meant that the wheels were pointed straight down towards the ocean. One aggressive toss in the night and whoops, there we go. Down the hill, off a cliff, and right into the Great Pacific.

Okay, there’s a chance I’m being dramatic, but I felt so uneasy about our setup. It didn’t help that Sam, the man who isn’t fazed by anything, also felt unnerved by our situation. Thankfully, the worst that came of this precarious campsite were a few late-night gasps and less than restful sleep.

As a safety precaution we threw a couple logs behind the wheels to stop the Teardrop from getting any ideas.

The Campsite of Death was definitely worth the high blood pressure — the beaches just below us were so inviting. Surfers tore it up on the surf and thousands of birds flocked to the distant rocky islands. The sound of the ocean mixed with the laughter of our fellow beachgoers, creating a smooth summer symphony.

The hike to the beach made it feel like we found ourselves in the middle of a well kept secret.

Don't even get me started on the flowers, I could look at them all day.

The look of a man who really just wants to touch the ocean already.

Absolute peace and happiness in one photo.

The birds have claimed the offshore islands as their own, painting them white with their . . . presence.

King of Relaxation.

Finally, after nearly a year of traveling through a freezing cold winter and rainy spring, Sam and I get to have our long-awaited California beach day. Fit with all the snacks one could want, a speaker for all the best tunes, and, of course, a book in hand, we spent many, many hours relaxing on that beach.

The perfect pause to summer adventuring, if you ask me.

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From Rocky Peaks

to Rocky Shores

by Sam the Other Bean

California has some of the most iconic national parks in the country. Yosemite, Redwoods, and Joshua tree are three of the most popular in the state, but the list doesn’t end there. I’m sure you can name at least one or two other parks in the state. Just as a fun exercise I want to see how many you can name before reading on.

In total California has nine national parks - more than any other state, including Alaska! Were you able to name all nine? If not, I don’t blame you. Before the Gap Year I would’ve only been able to name seven or eight. I think even some of the most well-versed travelers would only get eight as well. Turns out California has one national park that doesn’t get nearly as much attention as the rest. An ace up its sleeve, if you will.

That ace is Pinnacles National Park.

Pinnacles National Park, California

by Sam

July 12th, 2022

I’m not exactly sure why Pinnacles is such a lowkey park, but I think I have an idea. Pinnacles is not only one of the least visited national parks in the country, it’s also one of the smallest by

area. On top of that, Pinnacles was designated a national park in 2013, making it one of the newest national parks as well. All of those factors, added to the park’s relative isolation from highways and urban areas, means that in a lot of ways Pinnacles just doesn’t compare to its more famous neighbors.

At least that’s how most people probably view the park. Lucky for Kes and I, we’re not like most people. When I hear that a destination is out-of-the-way and minimally travelled, well, that’s music to my ears. I knew that despite the numbers there was still something special about this place. And, as usual, I was not wrong (excluding all the times I usually am wrong).

So what exactly is Pinnacles National Park? As the name suggest, this park covers a mountainous range defined by the rocky pinnacles that line its ridge. However, there’s more to this area than just mountains. Pinnacles is also known for its caves, wildlife, miles of hiking trails, and world-class rock climbing. The park is located about two hours south of San Jose and is only 25 miles or so, as the crow flies, from the coast. Even so, Pinnacles is relatively dry and is much more consistent with a desert landscape, due to several mountain ranges that lie between it and the ocean.

These rocky spires are the namesake of Pinnacles.

There were a lot of reasons to be excited for Pinnacles, but there’s one part I was particularly looking forward to. After a week of scrounging for campsites, we had a reserved site at Pinnacles National Park. It’s not everyday that we actually get to camp in the park we’re visiting. And the cherry on top? This campsite came with a pool!

I have to say, there’s nothing better than going on a long hike in the hot, unrelenting sun, and coming back to a refreshing pool to soak in. That’s how we spent our time at this park and I have no regrets.

We hiked two trails during our time at Pinnacles. The park is so small that, funny enough, two hikes was enough to give us a good look at the area as a whole. This map looks large until you realize that, taking into account the scale, the main area of the park is only two or three miles tall and wide.

Our first hike was in the southern part of the park and took us to Bear Gulch Reservoir.

This reservoir was the first reality check I had regarding the size of Pinnacles. I thought we were hiking to a relatively large reservoir, at least big enough to kayak on. Instead we were welcomed by the cutest little reservoir I’ve ever seen. While not what I was originally expecting, this little puddle of water was still very picturesque.

Our second hike was much longer and actually took us to the small parking area on the western side of the park. On this hike we got a good look of the surrounding area from the High Peaks and got to go through Balconies Cave.

Even though the total area of the Pinnacles is relatively small, that doesn’t mean the mountains themselves are short. The hike to the top was a couple thousand feet up in elevation!

A trail that takes you through a cave is always special, and this was no exception. I honestly don’t know which I liked more - finding my way with a flashlight or taking a rest from the blazing hot sun.

Aside from hiking and swimming, there was a lot going on at camp itself. I remember two particularly humorous experiences while simply cooking in the back of the Teardrop. Our first night we shooed a raccoon away that was obviously making his evening rounds throughout the campground. We watched as this raccoon sauntered off like we were the nuisance animal, clearly not worried about the possibility of getting a meal from somewhere else. A few minutes later we hear someone else trying to shoo off the same raccoon. The ensuing silence made us believe he was successful, but that was quickly broken by a yell muffled by a mouthful of food. Many expletives followed, but none were enough to bring back his prized meal. This reminds me of a saying I once heard - “There’s significant overlap between the smartest animals and the dumbest campers.”

The second night was a much different experience. As we ate we could hear what sounded like a towel flapping in the wind. We didn’t think much of it and continued eating. As our meal neared completion the flapping sound only seemed to multiply and, as the sound became louder, became accompanied by the sounds of twigs and branches breaking. It didn’t take long for us to realize that the sound was coming from above a camp beside us. Looking up we saw dozens, if not hundreds, of vultures slowly moving from tree to tree. They seemed to be zeroing in the van beside us, occupied by a frail old woman and her elderly wiener dog. Had we not been there I’m sure those vultures would’ve made a meal out of those two real quick!

As per usual I really enjoyed our time at Pinnacles National Park. Of the national parks in California, this one was definitely among the most intimate. However, Pinnacles is also dwarfed in size by pretty much all the other parks in the state. If Pinnacles were in a different state I’m sure it would get much more attention, but since it isn't it’s much more of a hidden gem, which in my mind is not necessarily bad!

After Pinnacles we had a few days to prepare for our next major destination. In total there are three national parks that require you to take a ferry (or a boat of some sort) for transportation. Dry Tortugas, which we went to in February; Isle Royale, which we visited in May; and the third, which we were soon to become acquainted with - Channel Islands!

Channel Islands

National Park, California

by Sam

July 19th, 2022

Of all the national parks we’ve visited, these three island parks have been some of the most logistically challenging and stress inducing times of the entire Gap Year. When we visited Dry Tortugas, for example, preparation alone took twelve hours followed by a measly four hours of sleep before we had to catch our ferry! Isle Royale wasn’t much different, and I expected more of the same from Channel Islands. Little did I know I was right - almost.

The day before our departure Kes and I found ourselves at a small state beach in Santa Barbara. Unlike normal people, Kes and I do not have the luxury of large open and private spaces (called homes), so we often find ourselves using parks like these as our staging areas. The only downside to this is that you’re at the mercy of any chatty person that walks by.

Kes and I have found that Californians are particularly chatty, and I don’t think any situation proves this more than the one we had just found ourselves in. As Kes was setting up the table and I was grabbing stuff from the Jeep, our first customer walks up. This man is interested in the Jeep, not the Teardrop. Fifteen minutes is enough chat for this guy and he goes on his way. I go back to the Teardrop, grab the backpacks, and set them on the table just in time for our second customer.

This is actually an employee from the park. He points out that technically we’re taking up a bit more space than we should, although if we move a few feet to the left it won’t be a problem. I think that’s that, but realize this man has an ulterior motive. Twenty minutes later and with a much better understanding of the surrounding area, Kes and I go back to work packing.

It’s not long before our third customer comes walking up, intrigued by the Teardrop. This guy has a lot of stories to tell from his own travels. It’s easy to fall into another hole of exchanging laughs, not realizing how quickly time is passing.

Before we know it we’ve been at the beach for several hours and have pretty much nothing to show for it. Alas, that’s a fact that’s not going to change soon. Another customer greets us, and not even a minute has passed when he reaches into his bag and pulls out some beer. Who could say no to a free brewski? Responsible people, which was clearly not us.

All joking aside, I would gladly take a day like this over any day of packing by myself. This is just another reason why I love the Teardrop so much - it’s the perfect ice breaker! Thanks again for the beer David!

We did eventually finish packing and got a good night’s rest before our departure. Now it was just a waiting game to load our bags onto the boat!

The fog was really thick this morning. Hopefully it wouldn’t follow us to the island!

The ferry ride was only an hour or so long. The views were nonexistent with the fog, but we did get to see some seals and dolphins along the way.

Only when we got right next to Santa Cruz Island were we actually able to see it. The island acts as a sort of shield against the fog, parting it as it slowly creeps towards the mainland.

Before we step foot on Santa Cruz Island, let me give you about as much information on the park as I knew going into this trip. Channel Islands is made up of five individual islands, however there are a few more within the same chain that are not part of the park itself (Catalina Island is one such island). Each island has unique characteristics that make them interesting in their own way.

We were staying on Santa Cruz Island, the largest and most developed of the five. Even so, there are relatively few visitors to the island during the day and even fewer that end up staying the night. Lucky for us, we were going to be staying on the island for two nights and one full day. During that time I knew we would be busy having fun on the water, sunbathing, and enjoying the miles of trails that cross the island. Little did I know there was also a LOT of history on this island that was just waiting to be learned.

First things first we had to set up camp. Our tent was about a five minute walk from the beach and was surrounded by large eucalyptus trees, a shady treat on an otherwise shadeless island.

We took a hike along the rim of the island that gave us a nice look of Scorpion Ranch, a historic sheep ranch that is now the base of operations for the park service.

Scorpion Ranch is only several hundred feet from the shore and from where the ferry drops off visitors.

Unfortunately we couldn’t really see much else on our hike due to the fog. Oh well, there were still plenty of other ways for us to experience the island.

Like I’ve said, there’s nothing better than chilling by some water after a hike. I still think it’s funny that we put all this time, effort, and money into traveling to this island just to end up on the beach. But really, can you blame us?

Seeing a fox walk by on the beach was definitely not an experience I’ve had before. This is actually an island fox, a miniaturized version of a fox found only on these islands! You might think that this makes them quite rare, but after our time on the island we realized they’re as numerous as any other pest out there. That doesn’t change the fact that these guys are about as cute as they come!

That night Kes and I ate dinner and chatted, thinking our day was coming to an end. Just then a ranger came walking over, inviting us to a movie night / question and answer session. What a no-brainer, of course we were going to go!

I think just about every camper came to the movie that night. In total there were only twenty or thirty of us. How cool, to be on an island with a handful of other people and nobody else! The ranger set up a movie about the island on a projector screen mounted to one of the old ranching buildings, and I enjoyed my margarita as the film rolled.

After the movie the ranger began answering any questions we had. Thanks to the plethora of questions, mostly asked by campers under the age of twelve, this was actually when I learned the most about Santa Cruz Island and the Channel Islands as a whole.

I was blown away to learn that an indigenous group, called the Chumash, lived on the islands long before European contact. In fact, one of the oldest human skeletons found in North America was found at the Channel Islands, dated to around 13,000 years old! I couldn’t believe that I had come to these islands without a clue that this native group even existed. So what happened to them?

Well, Europeans happened. Spanish missionaries came to the islands in the 1800’s and transported the Chumash to missions on the mainland. I’m not sure they knew they would be leaving their homeland permanently.

It’s important to note that the Chumash are alive today and still consider the Channel Islands as their place of origin and true home. They even make a pilgrimage to the island every year using canoes, called tomols, made from redwood trees (in the past redwoods would drift along the coast to the Channel Islands) . The Chumash are super interesting, and I suggest looking into their story more if you are curious. There is, however, one story of theirs that I can’t pass up sharing. This is the Chumash origin story.

Hutash, the Earth Mother, created the first Chumash people on the island of Limuw, now known as Santa Cruz Island. They were made from the seeds of a Magic Plant.

Hutash was married to the Alchupo’osh, Sky Snake, the Milky Way, who could make lightning bolts with his tongue. One day he decided to make a gift to the Chumash people. He sent down a bolt of lightning that started a fire. After this, people kept fires burning so that they could keep warm and cook their food.

After Alchupo’osh gave them fire, the Chumash people lived more comfortably. More people were born each year and their villages got bigger and bigger. Limuw was getting crowded. And the noise people made was starting to annoy Hutash. It kept her awake at night. So, finally, she decided that some of the Chumash people had to move off the island. They would have to go to the mainland, where there weren’t any people living in those days.

But how were the people going to get across the water to the mainland? Finally, Hutash had the idea of making a bridge out of a wishtoyo (rainbow). She made a very long, very high rainbow that stretched from the tallest mountain on Limuw all the way to Tzchimoos, the tall mountain near Mishopshno (Carpinteria).

Hutash told the people to go across the rainbow bridge and to fill the whole world with people. So the Chumash people started to go across the bridge. Some of them got across safely, but some people made the mistake of looking down. It was a long way down to the water, and the fog was swirling around. They became so dizzy that some of them fell off the rainbow bridge, down through the fog, into the ocean. Hutash felt very badly about this because she told them to cross the bridge. She did not want them to drown. To save them, she turned them into dolphins. Now the Chumash call the dolphins their brothers and sisters.

(Source: National Park Service)

After learning of the Chumash, the ranger talk shifted towards wildlife on the island. Obviously everybody wanted to know why the foxes on the island were so small. Turns out this is a common phenomenon called island dwarfism. Due to limited resources and lack of predators, animals tend to evolve to be smaller on islands over time. This isn’t something that happened just to the foxes of the Channel Islands; there is actually evidence of pygmy mammoth on the islands dating back 10,000 to 20,000 years. It’s not certain how they met their demise, but a good guess would be that they were hunted to extinction.

I couldn’t help but to wonder how exactly all of these animals got to the islands originally. I was surprised to learn that the Channel Islands were never connected to the mainland, meaning there was no land bridge for easy access. Rather, during the last ice age the ocean was much lower than it is currently, meaning these islands were significantly closer to the mainland than they are now. There was still several miles of water to cross to reach the islands, but the barrier was apparently low enough to allow some adventurous animals to cross successfully.

I couldn’t believe these tiny islands had such a rich and varied history. From sustaining an entire human culture to being a safe haven for native Californian flora, there was a lot to learn about. Luckily we still had a few more days to experience this beautiful place!

The next day we signed up for a guided kayak sea tour. Seeing the island from the water was a totally different experience, one that I’m glad we splurged on. For half the day we paddled around with our guide, learning more about the islands and even exploring several sea caves.

In case you were like me and have no idea what a sea cave is, well, it’s pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Over time the force of waves on the rocky coast has carved out a plethora of crazy tunnels, arches, and caves along the shoreline. And lucky for us, exploring them is not nearly as difficult as I initially expected. The number one factor that determines accessibility to these caves is the tides.

If you come when the tides are too low or high, well, there’s just no way to get in. If you come when the tide is just right, however, you’re welcomed into an entirely different world. In some caves the ceiling is tall and lets in lots of natural light, illuminating the silvery walls and bird nests that hide within their crevices. Others are so deep that the only light reaching the end is that of a flashlight.

My favorite cave was called The Green Room. This cave was a passage, meaning you could enter one side and come out the other. No sun hit the walls of this cave; instead the sun illuminated the water in the cave, giving off a beautiful green glow. In a way it felt as though The Green Room was a portal. Prior to my entrance I had no idea what a sea cave even was, but on the other side my eyes had been opened to this new, wonderful aspect of our planet.

Unfortunately we don't have any pictures of this experience because, frankly, neither of us wanted to lose our phone to the water. However, we did have this wonderful lunch after the tour which I hope makes up for some of those missing photos ;)

As I’ve said many times before, our time at Channel Islands was over before it had even begun. It seemed as though we had stepped off the ferry, blinked, and then stepped back on the ferry. During that blink, though, I sure did learn a lot. In fact, I think I learned more on these islands than I have at any other national park. Above all I learned that, like many other parks, these islands were and still are the home of a vibrant and unique human culture - in this case the Chumash culture. Many times we talk as though these cultures are dead and their stories stagnant, when in fact these people are still alive and connected to their homeland just as their ancestors were.

Just like that we were back on the mainland, shoving everything into the Jeep and hitting the road again. Channel Islands marked the end of our time on the coast of California, but luckily this state is much more than just sunny surf. We were on the road to a park much different than the one we had just come from. This park was defined by high altitude and big trees - can you guess where? Better yet, we’d be exploring with a friend that we hadn’t seen since Florida.

Kudos if you get both right!

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Housekeeping

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As always, I’d love to hear about your favorite photos, moments, or any plain old thoughts you have on our travels so far. Whatever it is, Sam and I love hearing from you.

Without further ado, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.

Best,

Kes the Photobean