See me after class for the actual best way into the interior of Henry Coe. Climbing is a given, but there are ways and there are ways. Behind turning a lot of corners, and pedaling, Pacheco Camp is only a afternoon away, after all.
I crumbled Sunday after work, and did not make it happen. Soft. Looked out the window at that upcoming Full whicheveritis Moon, knew in the moment I was blowing a great and rare opportunity, and went right on crumbling. I completely turned it around on Monday, though- left super early in the afternoon. Right at the crack. I kicked myself about it then (it don't bother me now, though) because it is delightful to ride open trails beneath the silvery moon, and the chances are at best 13 in a year's worth.
It's only riding bikes.
My personal bikepacking configuration is ever adapting. I don't use some calcified "system" that locks me in to a "right" way of doing things. With the Revelate frame bag, if I'm thoughtful, I can fill all the nooks and crannies and fit a surprising amount of kit in there. If I ever meet that guy, I'm shaking his hand- he has changed the way I use bicycles to the good. Having the weight in the frame, rather than wiggling away outside the center of gravity, allows for way more ripping. Way more. I felt like I really nailed it this time, but I could have brought more beers and some whiskey if I'd a been willing to suffer a pack (temps in the 90s?! No thanks). As it was, I strapped the sleeping bag to the barends I have mounted aero style. It's an old Slumberjack tube style stuff sack that I'd never used before, and it is pretty OK for that use. Makes me want a tubular dry bag. I strapped the tarp swaddled sleeping pad to the underneath of that, and then of course things began acumulating...
After all the hot and sweaty, Pacheco Camp has a shower!
Post shower, the hardships began. I had plenty of light left to walk around and hassle the local turtles (the Pacific Pond Turtle Actinemys marmorata- which could be my totem for Henry Coe, because "though slow and plodding, pond turtles are capable of impressive movements", I reckon they travel from swimming hole to swimming hole, and they have some impressive claws. There was time to eat a burrito packed in from El Frijolito, in keeping with Coe tradition. Still time to set up for the campfire, etc. And it was after my campfire tallboy that I really felt the lack of a shot and another beer. No one can have everthing. I consoled myself by sleeping out of doors between 2 oaks (to keep the very bright moon at bay) in the specially comfortable vortex that is Pacheco Camp. I really like it there.
When I first began sleeping outside alone it was scary, even with a tent. I'd wake up a lot, with all the little noises potentially scareful. No way past it except through it. These days, while I remain vigilant, it's pretty alright. I'm comfortable sleeping out under the stars solo. You hear a lot more when you aren't talking. It's worth doing.
I crumbled Sunday after work, and did not make it happen. Soft. Looked out the window at that upcoming Full whicheveritis Moon, knew in the moment I was blowing a great and rare opportunity, and went right on crumbling. I completely turned it around on Monday, though- left super early in the afternoon. Right at the crack. I kicked myself about it then (it don't bother me now, though) because it is delightful to ride open trails beneath the silvery moon, and the chances are at best 13 in a year's worth.
It's only riding bikes.
My personal bikepacking configuration is ever adapting. I don't use some calcified "system" that locks me in to a "right" way of doing things. With the Revelate frame bag, if I'm thoughtful, I can fill all the nooks and crannies and fit a surprising amount of kit in there. If I ever meet that guy, I'm shaking his hand- he has changed the way I use bicycles to the good. Having the weight in the frame, rather than wiggling away outside the center of gravity, allows for way more ripping. Way more. I felt like I really nailed it this time, but I could have brought more beers and some whiskey if I'd a been willing to suffer a pack (temps in the 90s?! No thanks). As it was, I strapped the sleeping bag to the barends I have mounted aero style. It's an old Slumberjack tube style stuff sack that I'd never used before, and it is pretty OK for that use. Makes me want a tubular dry bag. I strapped the tarp swaddled sleeping pad to the underneath of that, and then of course things began acumulating...
After all the hot and sweaty, Pacheco Camp has a shower!
Post shower, the hardships began. I had plenty of light left to walk around and hassle the local turtles (the Pacific Pond Turtle Actinemys marmorata- which could be my totem for Henry Coe, because "though slow and plodding, pond turtles are capable of impressive movements", I reckon they travel from swimming hole to swimming hole, and they have some impressive claws. There was time to eat a burrito packed in from El Frijolito, in keeping with Coe tradition. Still time to set up for the campfire, etc. And it was after my campfire tallboy that I really felt the lack of a shot and another beer. No one can have everthing. I consoled myself by sleeping out of doors between 2 oaks (to keep the very bright moon at bay) in the specially comfortable vortex that is Pacheco Camp. I really like it there.
When I first began sleeping outside alone it was scary, even with a tent. I'd wake up a lot, with all the little noises potentially scareful. No way past it except through it. These days, while I remain vigilant, it's pretty alright. I'm comfortable sleeping out under the stars solo. You hear a lot more when you aren't talking. It's worth doing.
1 comment:
Inspiration received. Time to dust off my Revelate gear so I can go get them all dusty on an overnighter from home. Thanks man
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