Lifestyle v. Real Life – Backcountry Edition
Updated to add.....the dog wound up with something in his eye which is requiring sedation and a c. $300 vet bill. So there's that.
-------------
I’m going to steal a page from the inimitable
Ganching (guess she’s not inimitable, since I am imitating her), and do a
lifestyle-v.-real-life piece on our most recent attempt to explore the Santa
Barbara backcountry.
Read on….
* * *
Did you know about the amazing backcountry hiking and
camping in northern Santa Barbara County a mere 25 miles (as the crow flies) from
our own back yard?
Sure, we all love the
coast, but some times it’s worth it to get away to the solitude of the oak
forest.
SGH, the Pupster, and I set off
Friday evening for a quick getaway to Colson Campground east of Santa
Maria.
We were well prepared in our high
clearance vehicle and reached the secluded campground shortly before
sunset.
We ate the sandwiches we had
prepared in advance, and after shutting everything up tight in the back of the
truck, were able to drift off to sleep enjoying the rustling trees and the
gentle night noises of forest critters.
We were awakened the next morning by the sounds of mourning
doves and woodpeckers. My husband loves
that I’m an early riser, so I can start the fire, heat the water and bring him
his tea before he even needs to step outside the tent! After a hearty breakfast it was time to
explore the little-traveled Buckhorn Ridge Trail, which sets off a ¼ mile or so
below the campground. Experienced hikers
that we are, we brought sunscreen, plenty of water, bug repellent and our first
aid kit, so that we were able to thoroughly enjoy the backcountry
landscape. A little bit of cross country
scrambling provided a delightful challenge and gave us the chance to hone our
backcountry skills. Sure we could have
gone further, but after enjoying the delightful flowers in a remote valley, we
decided to take it easy and make the return trip along a verdant creek bed. Back at camp in the early afternoon, we
rested and read books, far away from the noise of the crowds.
In real life it wasn’t so balmy.
This campground is at the extreme western edge of the
northern Santa Barbara county backcountry, but even so, it is about a 45-mile
drive from our house. The last 11 miles
are on a very rough dirt road with numerous creek crossings. Amazingly the dog and I both managed to do
the whole stretch without puking, although the dog dug his claws into my thighs
for dear life as he tried to keep his balance.
Once we got to camp we scarfed down our Subway sandwiches purchased for
the occasion and went to bed early. The
dog spent the whole night pacing back and forth on top of us, but fortunately
alerted us to the sound of what turned out to be a rat making the truck engine his
own personal crossfit gym.
Next morning both the dog and I needed to lift a leg, so we
were the first out of the tent and eager to get breakfast started. My first accomplishment was to break the key
to the truck cover. Our hike started
promisingly enough, working our way up over a hilly meadow with the path marked
by strategically placed Styrofoam cups.
Within 500 yards of the car, though, we had lost the trail, and we spent
the next hour scrambling our way up and down hillsides. Each stop gave the flies a chance to converge
on my bleeding legs. The choice was
between hillsides of bramble, or creek gullies with verdant luscious poison
oak. I repeatedly grabbed onto both for
dear life in order to avoid sliding back down the hilly slopes.
We finally (it seemed like ages but in fact we were less than a mile from the truck) reached a slightly more open valley and found
some plastic strips tied to branches that apparently represented trail
markers. We took in the quiet scene for
a few minutes while deciding what to do next.
I came to the sorry conclusion that I was at a high risk of extreme
meltdown if we had to do much more bushwhacking, so we cut our losses and
headed back, this time along the “trail”, loosely defined. On the return trip we stayed low, in the creek
beds, which meant fewer scratchy bushes but more thistles and nettles. Back at camp, we spent a relaxing half hour
removing a carpet of burrs and foxtails from the dog. Then we all crashed for a well-deserved nap
in the tent, our rest interrupted only by gunfire from the target practice going on a mile or
two down the road.
Follow up: it really wasn’t a bad trip.
Later in the afternoon we walked up a fire
road to the ridge behind our camp and had a beautiful view back down the
canyon.
Very few people go deep into
this backcountry, though, and we are beginning to learn why.
Not
sure how we will approach it the next time ‘round.
