Covid-19: A day away from it all

Last week, my friend Lynn and I headed down the coast to Kirk Creek Trail, which leads up to a popular wilderness camp, Vicente Flat. Our intention was to cut a big dead oak out of the trail. But at the trailhead, Lynn discovered that—aaarrrgh!—she'd forgotten her "saw kit": lubricant, wedges, and all-important handles. Can't do much without handles. So we reoriented our outing to a different trailhead and did different chores. It ended up being a fine day, with a lot getting done.

Today was the reschedule. Lynn emailed me and said, "When I pick you up at 7, ask about the saw kit." Which of course I forgot to do, until we were a couple of miles down the road. But yes, she had everything: saw kit, helmet, gloves, water, food, even saw. We were set.

It's a five-mile hike, mostly uphill, to where our work awaited us. Uphill, but with glorious views, which make the hike so much easier. As does the constant conversation I enjoy with Lynn. We make good partners.

The oak ended up being a bit of a bear, binding the saw no matter what we tried. We had to cut from the top, then from the bottom, then a parallel cut on top, as close to the first cut as we could get, then just bullying our way up and out from underneath—which, fortunately, we managed to do. All this in some poison oak. With not a few ticks needing to be flicked off every so often. The wilderness. It's a thing.

That was one cut. Then there was another, which went somewhat similarly. All of which took two hours. Then, lunch.

After lunch, we started a couple more cuts, but the saw was quickly bound, and this time there was no way to underbuck. The end of the tree had a staub of sorts—an old root branch. We decided to cut some of that off and then—hoping against hope—just try to push the tree off the trail.

And damn if that didn't work!

Here are three photos showing the log in question—and the revealed trail.

It took us almost three hours, with the lunch break. Not bad. (It would have taken us a lot longer if we'd been unable to push the tree off the trail with our feet. We might still be there now.)

As we were considering, in the second picture, what to do next, a young man rode up on his mountain bike and offered to help! Now, this caused us consternation on two or three counts, and I'm not sure which was worst: (1) bicycles—any form of "machinery"—are not allowed in Wilderness (we were working today in the Ventana Wilderness); and (2) the trail is closed due to Covid-19. When Lynn pointed the latter fact out, the young man responded that "thousands of illegal immigrants come into this country, and..." blah blah. I didn't actually hear what he said, beyond the "thousands," because I didn't care for this young man—he immediately offered to help! Like, what, us two old ladies needed help? Did he even know how to use a crosscut saw? What problem did he see in front of him? No, I just got to work shoveling dirt while Lynn had a conversation with him, which ended up with him continuing on down the trail.

When she told me what he'd said, I really bristled.That's relevant how?, I might have asked him—unprofessionally, given that I was at that moment representing the US Forest Service. Just as well I didn't hear him.

The fellow rubbed us both the wrong way, though we couldn't say exactly why. His patronizing air? The fact that he was yet another mountain biker going wherever the hell he felt like going? In any case, after we'd pushed the tree off the trail, packed up, and started our hike back to the car, we came up with various (not serious! not serious!) scenarios for his comeuppance—like, hitting a rock as he rode too fast, and plunging down the steep hillside; like, getting a rattlesnake tangled in his spokes, and it biting him; like, simply getting a flat tire and having to walk the damn contraption down to the highway. But apparently, he made it out okay. We saw only the occasional tread mark as we made our own way out.

Here are some last photos from the day. It was so nice to get into nature!

An unusual little stretch of the Kirk Creek Trail.

A little succulent and a little fern, growing
on limestone.

Lynn wanted to record a message to her
dive team mates at the Monterey Bay
Aquarium, which has been closed for these
last few weeks—it's a video they're
all putting together. We shot it on our way out.
Here she is reviewing it.

That's the trail, looking inland (as we are hiking out).

CA-1

Today's count for Monterey County, 371 confirmed cases, up 22 since last I posted; deaths remains steady at 8.

Stay safe. Enjoy life. It's the only one you have. (That we can be sure of, anyway.)