The Los Padres National Forest is one of the most well operated public lands I've ever seen. Dogs? Sure. Leash? Not necessary. Can I camp anywhere I want? Pretty much. Can I make a fire? Yep. Can it be from wood I gathered out in the forest? You bet.
Last weekend, my girlfriend Sarah and I spent two days out in the mountains behind Ojai, backpacking, hiking and relaxing; escaping from the respective, collective stresses in our lives.
Setting out on a Friday, we drove up as soon as I got off work and got out onto the trail in the early afternoon. Less than two miles in, we stumbled upon a pristine, beautiful, couldn't-make-it-up campsite, on a raised bank, along a deep, quiet stretch of the river that runs along the trail heading south from the parking area. We were quick to put our stuff down and throw up a tent, basically claiming the site as fast as possible. Once that was taken care of, were off exploring upstream, walking along the leaf covered river sand and climbing the boulders that made up the bank. With only a little light left when we returned to our nearby camp, we had a brief and necessary dinner of re-hydrated beans, before blowing up our sleeping pads and unrolling our bags so we would be able to get to sleep easily when it got dark. After gathering and burning some conveniently proximal sticks in a small rock-pile campfire, we did just that.
The night was cold.
The next morning, feet numb, I got up at first light, determined to warm up with another fire. I happened upon a large group of dead ...something... a tall bush-like plant, with plenty of thin sticks to get started with. Once I had a good bunch of them going, I went back and grabbed some larger ones, which cracked and popped with to my delight. Around this time, Sarah arose, and joined me, just as I was putting my shoes back on after warming two feet near the flames. We had a breakfast of oatmeal and tea and let the fire die out as the sun rose higher in the mid-morning sky.
With this warmth, came comfort and courage. Courage? Yes, courage to jump into the river. It seemed like a good time to do it. The day was warm and getting warmer, and we were about to go on a hike, so, one at a time (for there was only one towel between us) we took turns, plunging into what I imagine was sub-50 degree (F) water. We both, in turn, dove in head first, held a short streamline, then sprinted back to the bank, to dry off and shiver ourselves warm. Half an hour later, we were both ready to get moving on that hike.
We took the trail further down stream, away from the direction we came in, where it opened up into a wide valley. It went forever, all the way to the sea, where the Santa Clara meets the Pacific near the Ventura Harbor. We didn't have the time to take it that far, so, about an hour after we set out, we headed back, to enjoy some time laying out on rocks and staring at the leaves that were still on the trees, listening to the faint burlabble of the river coming from a narrower portion up stream. After another meal of re-hydrated beans and rice, we talked for a long time about the philosophy of personal experience, perception, reality, and purpose.
We packed up around 3:30, and began our walk out, getting back to the parking area just after the sun had set. We headed back down and were home within an hour, and having only taken two days to complete such an unexpectedly rejuvenating adventure, you can be sure it won't be the last time these bones will lay down on that river bank.
Last weekend, my girlfriend Sarah and I spent two days out in the mountains behind Ojai, backpacking, hiking and relaxing; escaping from the respective, collective stresses in our lives.
Setting out on a Friday, we drove up as soon as I got off work and got out onto the trail in the early afternoon. Less than two miles in, we stumbled upon a pristine, beautiful, couldn't-make-it-up campsite, on a raised bank, along a deep, quiet stretch of the river that runs along the trail heading south from the parking area. We were quick to put our stuff down and throw up a tent, basically claiming the site as fast as possible. Once that was taken care of, were off exploring upstream, walking along the leaf covered river sand and climbing the boulders that made up the bank. With only a little light left when we returned to our nearby camp, we had a brief and necessary dinner of re-hydrated beans, before blowing up our sleeping pads and unrolling our bags so we would be able to get to sleep easily when it got dark. After gathering and burning some conveniently proximal sticks in a small rock-pile campfire, we did just that.
The night was cold.
The next morning, feet numb, I got up at first light, determined to warm up with another fire. I happened upon a large group of dead ...something... a tall bush-like plant, with plenty of thin sticks to get started with. Once I had a good bunch of them going, I went back and grabbed some larger ones, which cracked and popped with to my delight. Around this time, Sarah arose, and joined me, just as I was putting my shoes back on after warming two feet near the flames. We had a breakfast of oatmeal and tea and let the fire die out as the sun rose higher in the mid-morning sky.
With this warmth, came comfort and courage. Courage? Yes, courage to jump into the river. It seemed like a good time to do it. The day was warm and getting warmer, and we were about to go on a hike, so, one at a time (for there was only one towel between us) we took turns, plunging into what I imagine was sub-50 degree (F) water. We both, in turn, dove in head first, held a short streamline, then sprinted back to the bank, to dry off and shiver ourselves warm. Half an hour later, we were both ready to get moving on that hike.
We took the trail further down stream, away from the direction we came in, where it opened up into a wide valley. It went forever, all the way to the sea, where the Santa Clara meets the Pacific near the Ventura Harbor. We didn't have the time to take it that far, so, about an hour after we set out, we headed back, to enjoy some time laying out on rocks and staring at the leaves that were still on the trees, listening to the faint burlabble of the river coming from a narrower portion up stream. After another meal of re-hydrated beans and rice, we talked for a long time about the philosophy of personal experience, perception, reality, and purpose.
We packed up around 3:30, and began our walk out, getting back to the parking area just after the sun had set. We headed back down and were home within an hour, and having only taken two days to complete such an unexpectedly rejuvenating adventure, you can be sure it won't be the last time these bones will lay down on that river bank.
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