Crapping on a yak.....overland to the other side of the world and the rest: Day 336

This morning I rent a kayak to go across the Big Lagoon, 9.5 miles in circumference and 3.5 miles in length along the shore. The woman who runs the kayak hire warns me that the wind is due to pick up in the afternoon to 35 mph inshore and probably higher here, and advises me not to do the whole circumference. She emphasises later that the kayaks are designed to be paddled into the wind, if I should get caught out.

I hadn’t necessarily planned to go all the way to the other end, but as I paddle along the western shore and go around each bend, I feel the urge to at least reach the next one. After an hour and a half paddling into the wind, after some cigarette stops, I reach the north end of the lagoon. The ocean only climbs into the lagoon at the very highest of tides. I climb up onto the beach and there is no man or beast in site. The water here is too cold to swim in, but even if it weren’t, the rip tides that cause waves to crash onto the beach could batter a body. It’s a brown foamy tide here, so is the prettiest sea view either.

On the way back with the wind pushing me east, I try to keep along the west bank as far as I can, surfing the current now rippling with small waves, before trying to attack across the lagoon back to the south end of the lagoon. For the first half hour, I make good progress, paddling only on my left side to keep the wind from turning me around. I’m having fun now and for a while I think I will get back to the south end in just an hour.

However, the wind picks up violently and my attempts to paddle across the wind back towards the west bank are a waste of energy. I wind up in the sand marsh shallows of a creek flowing into the lagoon from the east. I get out to walk, dragging the kayak behind me. I take off my crocs as they are dragging water and sand with me, but then I cut my foot on a rock hidden by the shiny surface of the floor.

Fed up, I decide to get back into the kayak for one last heaving attack into the wind. I can’t take a break from paddling as I will just get blown backwards into the shallows. This saunter across the lagoon turns into a lot more exercise than I had planned for. Eventually, the wind dies down and as I enter the cove of the boat launch area, I am finally sheltered. I mention my little adventure to the kayak rental woman, who repeats that I should always paddle into the wind, which would be fine if I only wanted to go in one direction.

I have come to a point in my trip where my money is running out and I don’t know exactly where to go next. My rental car has to be back in a few days, which means that I will probably not have enough time to visit Oregon, which Stewart in LA had highly recommended I visit. My original plan when I landed in LA was to end up on the east coast about a month later. Five weeks later I am still on the west coast of California.

To rent a car and leave it on the opposite side of the US works out to be too expensive for me. I consider catching trains, but Amtrak seems to have a ‘can’t get there from here’ network. I even think about getting a Greyhound bus across to Miami, but I have heard too many horror stories about who might be my fellow passengers. Apparently I’ll be lucky to get off the bus still wearing all my clothes, nevermind my guitar or luggage. Hmm, perhaps I am ready to go back to normal life.

Tomorrow I will be taking a jet boat ride down the Klamath River. The Klamath originates in Oregon and its mouth lies at the centre of west coast of Redwood National Park.

I head north to find a campsite nearer the river and the first one I see signs for is called ‘Kamp Klamath’. It is only a few dollars more than the woodland campsite by Dry Lagoon Beach I stayed at last night and has hot showers and a café restaurant overlooking a field by the bank of the river. I spend the rest of the day sat in the patio seating of the café pretending to look at emails while I listen to other people chatter. Most of the people on the patio work at the campsite and are preparing a fourth of July BBQ feast for tonight.

The man chopping carrots for the salad turns out to be a competent German and Russian speaker, chatting amiably with a Swiss man. He eventually volunteers the information, in English, that he served with the US Army as a tank gunner and also as an intelligence analyst, which seems an odd combination. Like Charlie, my Green Tortoise bus driver, he is somewhat embittered by his experience in the Army, feeling that the American people have been fooled by the US media about the country’s role in the world and its supposed enemies.

Lauren, as I eventually learn he is called, also speaks Korean, having served there at one time in his military career. Asked by the Swiss man if he had been an officer, he responds ostentatiously in Korean, before translating, that he doesn’t care for officers.

Meanwhile, Commander Douglas, the camp’s boss, happily guts a huge sea bass, pointing it toward me in mock attack.