Out to Caines Head: By Paddle and By Foot

Poised at South Beach on Lowell Point, ready to begin our paddle out to Caines Head

 Last week, we had the chance to paddle and hike out to Caines Head State Recreation Area. Our friend, Rachel, from Tallahassee, Florida was visiting for the week and we were able to include two other visitors from the south into the adventure. We used our 18 foot tandem kayak for two of us, and the other three walked out. This allowed us to bring more supplies than we could have / would have carried on our backs, to enjoy the view from the water and gave me a respite from walking the whole way, as I continue to rehabilitate my foot after breaking my fifth metatarsal back in July of this year. We started from South Beach on Lowell Point, three walking the Tonsina Trail, and two of us paddling out to the same beach just south of Tonsina Point. We switched around paddlers at that point and continued out into Resurrection Bay. The day was gloriously precipitation-free and we enjoyed the grandeur that surrounded us. The crucial part about going out to Caines Head is to time the tides right. The last 3 miles out to the cabin is located on the beach, and thus requires a 2.0 or lower foot tide to be above the water line. The low tide was to be at 6:11pm, so we wanted to be walking about an hour before and after that time, to allow us the maximum safety. We did have a back up plan of using the kayak to ferry us around the "pinch points" if necessary, but that would have been annoying and time consuming. Fortunately, that was not necessary.

The Derby Cove cabin, set amidst a rain forest

Upon arrival at Derby Cove, we were amazed at the beauty of the rain forest. The cabin was built on pilings because the ground beneath it was a sopping mess of constant run off. The inside was dry and cozy and smelled faintly of past wood smoke. Lovely! We enjoyed our evening by paddling around the area, going around the rocks to get to the old dock pilings from Fort McGilvry, which was built and staffed during World War 2, to protect Alaska from Japanese attack. We cooked food on our Svea Stove, outside on the metal plate that's part of the counter surface on the front deck. Such a lovely and easy to use set up. We played a board game, read the cabin log book and drifted into deep sleep amidst the darkness.

Evening sunlight with view across Resurrection Bay, while sitting on the beach at Derby Cove

Remains of the WW2 Fort

The next mid day, after consuming a couple of rounds of various foods that we considered breakfast / lunch, we packed up our belongings and set off to hike to the old fort ruins. It was up and down on quite good trail, particularly because we were wearing our xtra tuffs, which protected our feet from the sloppy mud and roots. After half a mile, we found a trail sign that indicated we had made no progress in the day's mileage. 2.5 miles to the fort, still. The scenery was gorgeous, even in the constant trickling rain. On we continued until we got to the super creepy remains of the fort, with an assortment of buildings tucked into the rocky soils. Reed and Rachel loved walking inside of these old structures.We were fortunate to enjoy a break in the rain while eating our snacks at the tip top of the fort area. Porcupine Glacier, across the bay was resplendent in the low light. We wanted to press on, or at least I did, but chose to begin our trek back, because there were many miles to go to get back to Seward, about 7, I think.

All a normal part of our ecosystem: chum salmon spawned out at Caines Head

Later that evening, back in Seward, we turned the Toyo stove on, fired up our propane home stove and delighted in eating hot soup with cheese toast. Yum! A lovely way to finish up a fantastic outing, and one that's located only a few miles from our home. How fortunate we are!

Autumn Rainforest Hiking on the Kenai Peninsula with a mostly healed foot

Walking in hard soled shoes

I've spent most of this summer on my couch, healing from a broken fifth metatarsal, a very minor injury that caused a tremendous amount of suffering and waiting for my whole body and mind. Finally, on September 1st, I got the pins removed and permission from the surgeon to begin putting weight on my right foot again. My immediate reaction was one of liberation, but in the days that followed, rather than jubilation, I felt myself sinking back into discouragement. My summer mood, which is generally optimistic and joyful, had suffered from lack of physical activity, purpose and employment. Even the removal of the pins couldn't take away the fact that summer was now over, and my muscles were shadows of their former selves. I needed to get out on the trails as soon as possible, to rebuild my muscles, tendons and, most importantly, my mental health.

Kelley with Grayling Lake

Last week, on dreary Thursday afternoon, I forced myself out of the house and on a drive to a trailhead, despite my mental distaste for driving anywhere for the purposes of walking. We live in downtown Seward, just one block from the base of the Jeep Trail, which ascends Mount Marathon, which makes it difficult to justify driving to a different trailhead. In any case, I wanted to see Grayling Lake, and I set off driving out of town on the only highway we have, the Seward Highway. My destination was just 13 miles from home, a small parking lot for the trailhead to Grayling Lake. I parked the old junker Rodeo that we drive, leaving the doors unlocked, and throwing on my small running backpack. I was wearing my grey dress clogs, per my doctor's instruction that I wear hard soled shoes to protect my foot against rocks and roots. 

The forest floor

The trail was lovely gravel for the first 200 meters, but soon after crossing the railroad tracks, it turned to slop. It's been raining in and around Seward for nearly a month, and the soils are saturated. Early on, I tried to avoid the slop, but quickly decided it was useless and instead plunged right through deep puddles and mud. The liquid felt icy cold, likely 50 degrees, same as the air temperature. I plodded along slowly and carefully, fully aware of how easily I could reinsure myself. The trail took me through a lush coastal rainforest, moss coating and dripping from nearly every tree. The ground away from the trail was coated in mosses and lichens, mushrooms blossoming through the soft carpet. Blueberry bushes, with the tail end of this year's crop accompanied me along much of the route. Steadily up I climbed, gentle elevation gain that was good for regrowing my calf muscles. And suddenly I was there, at the lake, and feeling accomplished for being able to walk the 1.4 miles to get myself to my destination. The trail continued, and I wanted to follow it. But I reminded myself that I still had to get out, and that I needed to be cautious about how much I push myself. So I thanked my body for taking me safely thus far, and I walked back out, admiring the variety of mushrooms and the greenness of the other vegetation. 

The trail in autumn 

Back at my car, it was still raining, the size of the drops increasing. I felt different, a bit better, and grateful that such a trail, with its accompanying forest and habitat is so easily reachable for me. Later that evening I would go to work at my new job, my legs and whole body sore and weary from the day's walk. I found the sensations of discomfort reassuring, proof that I am regrowing my body, and with it, my spirit will hopefully rebound as well.

Back from the Arizona Trail: An Ode to Long Distance Hiking

At the Utah border, upon completion of the trail's 800 miles

Here I sit in a hotel room in Anchorage, Alaska, the night before beginning training for my summer job. Reed and I are back from Arizona, where we spent the months of March and April. It was a fantastic time of walking nearly every day, as we only took one full day of rest during the trek. South to north, we walked the state, starting at Coronado National Monument and finishing at the Utah border. In between, we walked at elevations ranging from 3,000 to 9,000 feet. The variety of topography was astounding. We did find the desert that we anticipated, but it still wasn't what we expected it to be. We carried up to 6 liters of water each during the hot and dry areas. Other times, we slept amidst snow and bundled deep in our bags to stay warm. So here we are back to our adopted home state, and my overriding feeling is that of longing to get back to Arizona to explore further in the future. I send out gratitude for the people who made and maintain the trail and for those who helped us walk its miles.

AZ Trail Marker as we walk the Kaibab Plateau

The Long Journey to the Trailhead: Arizona Trail Here We Come

Ready and excited to board Amtrak & get to sleep! 

Our Chariot between San Diego & LA

We're on our way to Arizona now & happy to be steadily making progress towards the American southwest. It's been a long journey already, with a 2.5 hour drive from Seward to Anchorage, two flights that ended up costing me a night of sleep & a 3 hour Express Greyhound bus ride between San Diego & Los Angeles. We've spent the afternoon here in LA, walking across the Arts District, eating Mexican food & waiting here at Union Station for our all night 'Sunset Limited' train to Tucson, Arizona.


Yesterday was a blur of packing up our house, cleaning & trying to remember to pack all the things that will be crucial to our survival & relative comfort over the coming two months. We are grateful for our dear friend, Margaret, in Anchorage, who has made this journey so much more possible, by driving us to the airport & keeping our car for us this spring. There are so many crucial details that go into being able to depart ones normal life for an extended period. We are fortunate that we have generous people in our lives who help us achieve our goals & hopes. Thank you, friends & family!

The colors and design remind me of the Arizona State Flag

Indeed! We were grateful to arrive!

LA's Arts District

Ready for Arizona, while wintering in Seward, Alaska

One of our colder days provided good conditions for run group

Seward, Alaska has been gorgeous this winter, as we move towards spring, we've been getting longer days and even some clear sky days, a real treat. This was our first winter in Alaska, and it's been delightful. We love living in this small town, getting to know the people and places around town. I've been working for Seward City News, an online hybrid newspaper, which has allowed me to get out and about and meet lots of new people. It's been a great part-time job that's given me legitimate reason to be around town, asking questions and reading history whenever possible. Reed was fortunate to get a part-time job working for the City of Seward Parks and Recreation department, mostly in the teen recreation room. He's getting to know many of the teenagers who live here. We have been fortunate to get to connect with the community in these ways. 

Pushing through the snow after we got 2 feet in a day

Today is Monday, President's Day and it's' just 5 days until we depart for the American southwest, Arizona in particular. We're hoping to thru-hike the Arizona National Scenic Trail. This trail's ideal dates and the snow fall this year will hopefully work together to allow us to hike its 800 mile length with the two months that we have available before our summer jobs start. We had struggled to figure a trail that would allow us to hike and still be back in time to earn income this summer. That's the challenge of living in Alaska. The economy has a huge upswing in the summer season, due to tourism. This is great for finding work, and fun work, at that. What it's not ideal for is people who like to hike in the summertime. It's becoming apparent that if we want to live here, we're going to need to find spring, fall and winter trails to hike. 

Seward has been gifted with an extra snowy winter this year

Our plan involves quite a bit of transportation to get to the trailhead at Coronado National Monument in southern Arizona, and a great deal of trust in the goodness of humanity. We will drive from Seward to Anchorage, visit with our generous friend Margaret and then leave our car at her house for two months. From there, we'll board a plane bound for Seattle. Fly half the night, layover in Seattle for 4 hours in the middle of the night. Next morning, board a plane bound for San Diego. After that, we don't have our plan worked out yet. Most likely, we'll get to include Amtrak in our trek to get to the trailhead. I've long wanted to take that drive or train ride across the lower left corner of the USA. Now's our chance. We've been getting kind offers via Couchsurfing and the Arizona Trail Community, to help us with all variety of needs - water caching, rides, a place to sleep. The world is full of generosity. 

Seward's Waterfront Park walkway

The next few days here in Seward will be focused on winding down our lives here, finishing up projects. Reed will continue working on transitioning our shed into an extra bedroom. I will keep working on writing, cooking and making plans for getting to the trailhead and how to resupply once we are on route. It's not yet spring, and already life is speeding up. As the daylight hours lengthen, the fullness of our days also grow. Lengthening of days, thawing of winter, I give thanks! 

San Diego Trans County Trail 2017: A Trip Across the County

Kelley with the Salton Sea in background

We've been living in Seward, Alaska since October, where we've been settling into the rhythms of small town Alaska life in the winter. We have delighted in the slower pace of life and the walkabilty of our town. We bought a tiny home here in Seward last year, and finally this past fall, we got to move in and stay in the house. It's 400 square feet of luxurious comfort and shelter from the elements. We love it. At the same time, we love long distance hiking and sleeping outside, which is tough to find in an Alaskan winter, without gaining major new skills and buying super winter gear. The search for a place to hike and sleep outside with more than five hours of daylight led us back to southern California, a place we fell in love with last winter. 

Remnants of greenhouses near the Salton Sea

The desert in winter is a wonderland for backpackers! The only major drawback is finding enough water, and that is much simpler to deal with than rain and snow in 20-40 degree temperatures. The group that we hiked the San Diego Trans County Trail with last year had been planning its dates and details for a while, and 10 days beforehand, we found Alaska airline miles that allowed us to jump on board. One of the joys of being minimally-employed is the flexibility to jump on opportunities. Reed booked us a flight for Palm Springs and we began our preparations. The excitement in our little house was huge, as we packed foods and clothing, trying to remember what would be useful in the desert climate. Our crate of summer clothes was dug out of the corner and rummaged through, to find sun shirts and hats. 

Walking in the Arroyo Salada

The drive from Seattle to Seward took us 11 days last February. At that time, we were hauling a trailer full of our belongings, and the day time temperatures were well below freezing for most of the trip. This time, we would be traveling the opposite direction and even farther south. But, we would be flying on planes for most of the distance, and it really is amazing how airplanes have changed our perceptions of distances. Our first step was to get to Anchorage and leave our car with friends. Our flight out of Anchorage was scheduled for the middle of the night, as many flights to the "lower 48" are. We parked our car and decided to walk the 4.5 miles to the airport, because we had plenty of time, it was a reasonable 15 degrees outside and our luggage was our backpacks, and thus portable. We laughingly talked of the walk to the airport as our "approach" to the San Diego Trail. 

Sunrise over the Anza Borrego Desert

Upon arrival in Palm Springs, we began undressing from our layers. We were surprised to find ourselves in a tropical, open air building. The next few days were spent acclimating and eating enormous amounts of fresh produce, something we miss in Seward. I remember particularly well a luscious cantaloupe that we bought and devoured. It was perfect! Additionally, we bought a bag of grapefruit that I tore through. All of this is representative of a couple of changes in our lives these days. First, what I already mentioned, that we don't get as much luscious fresh produce in our lives these days. And second, the balance between time and money has shifted dramatically. We needed to use airline miles in order to get to southern California, and doing so meant that we could arrive 5 days early. Since we're both only minimally working, there wasn't a problem with missing extra days of work. Lodging once we arrived in California could have presented a problem, but we figured that worst case scenario, we would walk and sleep in the desert. As it turned out, we were offered a place to stay with a lovely couple at their home in Indio, California. Reed and they connected via Couchsurfing. They were hikers and we delighted in spending those days with Rod and Fran, going on hikes and, as I said earlier, eating produce. They were amazingly kind and generous with us, taking us into the slot canyons of the Mecca Hills and feeding us well. 

The hike itself began on January 5th, in the warm hours of the afternoon. Our group gathered over a number of hours, coming in various vehicles, including a Uhaul truck. Oh, hikers! It was a fantastic group of kind athletes who use the hike as a kind of hiker "family reunion," as the core group has been hiking the route together for four years now. For Reed and I, it was our second year in a row, and a delight to see familiar faces, especially our friend Girl Scout, with whom we hiked last year. These's lots to say about the hike, but I grow weary here in Seward. As Girl Scout would say, "it's hiker midnight." I'll let the photos speak for themselves and write more in the coming weeks about our upcoming trip, which will be along the Arizona Trail.

Squinting into the sun of the Anza Borrego Desert, east of Borrego Springs

Sunset near Borrego Springs

Early morning light on downtown Borrego Springs

A female Borrego, or Big Horn Sheep

The lure of the high desert trail

High desert burnt cactus

Heading towards the Mason Valley Truck Trail

Rain! and Wind! near Lake Cuyamaca

Walking the connector roads towards El Cajon Mountain

Salt Marsh as we approach Torrey Pines and the Pacific Ocean

Reed and Kelley with one of the Route's Mapping Geniuses, Brett Richey

The Torrey Pines cliffs as we walk our personal finish, to La Jolla