Crapping on a yak.....overland to the other side of the world and the rest: Day 337

I went to the 4^th of July BBQ last night, but had a few too many beers while chatting to Lauren and Douglas. By the time I hear the camp band, which I later learned consisted of Douglas on guitar, his Native Indian BBQ sous chef on bass and the sous chef’s ten year old son on drums, I am in my tent and ready to sleep. The incessant primitive quality of the boy’s playing, the beat never changing no matter what the song, gives the music a psychedelic quality. Given the setting, I can’t help but think of the film Deliverance, but this time with magic mushrooms. Apparently a bear staged an impromptu stage invasion during the gig too.

I wake up to the sound of woodpeckers on the tree next to my tent, like a woodland alarm clock.

On the jet boat, the pilot takes us first to the mouth of the Klamath, which is lagoon like as it is cut off from the sea by the lower tides. He tells us that Great White Sharks are sometime found here, though at this time of year, they have been chased away by the warrior kings of the ocean, the Orca.

The boat is large for a jet boat, fitting about twenty people, so this isn’t going to be quite so hair raising as those in New Zealand, which are swung and jumped around within inches of rocks. However, the Klamath is like a vast wilderness sanctuary, the real wild, not a parkland set aside for tourism. There are even wild cows and bulls here. However, the highlight must have been seeing Golden Eagles and Bald Eagles. These were both nearly extinct when I was a child, so I never expected to see any in my life, but one swoops down right past the boat, mistaking a floating log for a possible catch.

The other boats on the river are small fishing boats, taking eager anglers to some of the wildest fishing spots in the country. We have to be considerate when passing the fishing boats as they reel in the magnificent river salmon. However, this doesn’t stop the pilot from spinning us around a few times and giving us a good drenching. The best trick though is the ‘turbo brake’. This is when he suddenly puts the jet flow in reverse throwing up the rear of the boat, threatening to fling the passengers out of their seats.

After the boat ride I visit ‘The Trees of Mystery’, one of the commercialised attractions in Redwood. The car park of the large gift shop features a giant talking carving of Paul Bunyan, the mythological lumber jack created by an ad agency about a hundred years ago. The trail through the woods features a number of timber oddities. Redwoods have the ability to grow out of eachother, like the Candlabra tree, which spawned a series of new trees after it fell. The trunk of the fallen tree lies overhead across the path, with younger trees taking root within it and shooting straight up. Other Redwoods twist into odd shapes, but the centre piece of the trail is the ‘Cathedral Tree’, nine trees in one like towers ascending from one base forming a cove. I descend from the top of the trail via the bubble car lift to get a good overhead view of the forest, but the air in northern California can be cool and moist from the sea, even in July, and the windows of the bubble car are fogged up.

I spend the evening chatting to camp commander Douglas and with Lauren too, the latter of whom tells me that his experience in the army has turned him into a communist. I think that is just what people here like to call themselves when they have a strong rebellious streak.