May 15, 2021
Very rarely do I have $8 in cash in my wallet.
I took that $8 as a sign that I finally needed to visit the Forest of Nisene Marks State Park. I had gone to the park before before but was left dejected without any cash and the entrance gate with a human wasn’t open until I had already decided to leave.
I deposited my $8 into the fee envelope after filling it out, sealed it, and sent it into the tiny slot in the tough exterior of the iron ranger. Now I could go into the park on good conscious.
The thick trees made the early morning seem darker and sleepier as I drove up the gravel road. I still wasn’t sure where I was going to park, but decided to continue up the road as far as I could. I had a loop planned out and I wasn’t sure how far it was. Avoiding adding extra road miles seemed like a good plan of attack.
The winding and narrow road took me further into the damp forest. Everything was so much greener than at home in Salinas. Eventually I found the end of the road and a parking lot. I put on my shoes and walked passed a running group to use the bathroom before heading out on foot back down the road I came up.
Gentle downhill grade on the gravel road served as a good warm up for the long climb that lay before me. It was still early and quiet in the park. Dripping and bird sounds made the sleepy forest seem alive and the moisture made me miss home.
I found the West Ridge Trail to my right and turned off the road onto singletrack dirt and redwood duff covered trails. As the canyon I had turned into came into view I stopped in awe. A runner on his way out said hi as he passed. I took a picture of the well-crafted bridge over the creek before making my way across to the other side for a while.
I felt so small among these young redwood trees. The smell of the forest and sound of running water left me feeling fresh and inspired. The trail started pushing upward at a moderate and runnable grade.
Slowly I climbed up areas of thick green brush which alternated with areas with more trees and the ground littered with duff. I felt strong climbing along the ridge, the beautiful singletrack lay before me. My line of sight was short keeping the surprise alive. I made sure to dodge the banana slugs when their yellow brown bodies appeared in my line of site.
I wondered how far I would end up running today, but didn’t let it worry me. I would go as long as I felt good, and so far I was feeling great. This forest has different trees then Washington, but it felt so familiar and safe. It made me long for rainy days under maple tree umbrellas and the peace that only familiar trails can bring.
The West Ridge Trail continued upwards at a relentless but easy grade. I soaked in my surroundings and followed the trail along the ridge and its edge. The trail was rocky in places, but mostly was made up of a soft, smooth dirt surface. My feet relished in the comfort, but it was only going to get better.
My turn had to be coming up soon. I had planned to turn off the ridge to head down to see a waterfall before looping back to my car. An open redwood tree and duff filled drainage opened up as the trail skirted around the contour line around to the other side.
There the Ridge Connection Trail was marked and I turned right again to head downhill. The less used trail was covered in duff deposited from the redwoods that towered above. The squishy ground felt like a bouncy castle as I smiled, giggling downhill all alone.
Before I knew it I was down to the Loma Prieta Grade. I took a sharp left to follow the trail further into the forest. I ate a waffle as I soaked in the quiet sounds of the forest. I hadn’t seen anyone in a while, but hoped my planning had me headed in the right direction.
The trail was cut out the side of some steep grades. I went over another gorgeous bridge as I made my way mostly along the contour line. The short oscillations kept the trail fun, playful, and interesting.
Eventually the trail went down moderately steeply so that I could finally cross Bridge Creek and get on the Bridge Creek Trail. One more left to head up to Maple Falls.
Moisture dripped from all sides down the canyon into Bridge Creek. Greenery took every opportunity to take root here and I felt more at home than I had the entire run. The trail was technical following and crossing the creek many times. Narrow sections up and over on rocks and on slippery logs made the going slow, but incredibly fun.
I was careful to watch my step since I was alone and some sections were muddy, slick, or steep. Finally, the rushing sound of the waterfall entered my ears as I turned the last corner.
The beautiful, lonely waterfall fell into a small pool below. The rocks beside the falls were lined with dripping moss. I stopped to soak it all in and splash some cool water in my face. The two woman sitting nearby asked me about my hike and we chatted enjoying having the waterfall to ourselves.
I splashed the cool water from the pool below the falls on my face enjoying the white noise that filled the area. The water felt cold on my hot and sweaty face. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in Washington in the rain.
The dry weather in California has me missing rain like I never thought it would. I even miss the thunderstorms from Florida and Texas. There is something so comforting about being out in the rain or safely inside away from the rain of a thunderstorm.
I opened my eyes again to the lush green of the forest and knew I would have to leave soon. I put my vest back on and turned to go saying goodbye to the two women still sitting on the edge of the pool.
I followed the canyon slowly back out, enjoying the excitement and technicality of the trail. I could only hike this part. I didn’t have the confidence or footing to run and was felt safer walking since I was alone. I enjoyed the intense green of the canyon one last time before getting back on the main trail where I had started.
It was all downhill from here. I followed the soft dirt trail as it took me away from the falls and the creek below. The gentle grade brought me a little ways back up into the forest as the creek dropped away in the canyon below. The dirt trail became an old road opening up my sightline where I would find myself back to the safety of my car at long last.
Finding Wildness 
Leave a comment