I had a sort of free weekend (not by choice) and I decided to go over to Catalina Island and do some ground work for a co-ed trip that I was planning with Laurel. I hit the pier in Avalon around 10:40 on Saturday morning and spent an hour walking the streets getting familiar with their layout and searching out B&Bs that had a little character. I refuse to go to a semi-remote place, do and see new things and then go back to a Motel 6ish room with 1980s décor. That’s just not in keeping with my spirit of traveling. I settled on the Zane Grey Pueblo, partially because of availability, partially because of the affable manager and mostly because of the history associated with the Inn. Zane Grey was an author of Cowboy and Western genre novels in the early 20th century and the Pueblo was once his home. The rooms there are named for his various books. I booked “The Vanishing American ” room for us. I made some other arrangements as well: a horseback tour of the hills above Avalon, museum and theatre tour tickets, I scoped out the restaurants, found a used book shop (there is only one on the island), checked out the retail and tourism shops and found a quasi-French boulangerie where we could sit outside, eat croissants and people-watch one morning.

After taking care of things in town, I walked to Hermit Gulch Campground and paid for that night’s campsite. Once there, I set up my one-man tent and took a couple of water bottles out of my pack. I normally would have unloaded my pack completely and set up camp before wandering off for a hike, but my site was too close to the road, too close to town and I just wasn’t going to risk losing all my food for the weekend and a sleeping bag. So, with my pack down to about 25 pounds I headed up the Hermit Gulch Trail to the backbone ridge of the island. 2.4 miles and 1600’ later, I was on top and at a fork in the road. I decided to take a trail/road to Lone Tree, which was listed as another .5 miles away on the trail map of the island given to me when I paid for my camp site.

Matt solo-hiking the first weekend

I got up early the next morning looking forward to the dehydrated egg and bacon omelet breakfast that I had packed. I set everything up and dug into my pack only to come up empty. Apparently, I had accidentally left my breakfast out and all I had to eat was a Powerbar. I wolfed it down, packed camp, policed my area for trash and headed into Avalon for breakfast. I walked to a restaurant next to the boat dock, sat down inside and had a big, hot, fresh bacon and egg breakfast with toast, jelly and OJ. I waddled away as full as a tick and wondered toward the casino. I got the tour and movie times, took some pictures, looked at the gift shop, bought a good map, a souvenir for Laurel and checked out the Avalon Dive Park. I would like to take another one-day dive trip to Catalina again this summer and I don’t really want to mess with a dive boat next time. The underwater park has walk–in access, friendly & plentiful fish, wrecks and underwater structure. I think that I’m going to try it for the next dive trip. I ran a few more errands and took a few more pictures before leaving on the 4:30 Newport Ferry and I was sitting in my living room by 6:00 that night. Ten miles of hills in two days plus organizing a “mini-break” trip, not bad for a spur of the moment weekend trip.

The details for the trip were supposed to be a surprise for Laurel, but I kept teasing her about how “Bed and Breakfast” really meant, “tent, hard ground and a camp stove.” She got worried and made me give her a full itinerary on Tuesday. She seemed happy enough with my plans and we were both looking forward to the trip. On Thursday night, Laurel sounded a bit sniffly, but I didn’t mention it to her for fear of it becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. Friday morning, she called in sick to work because she felt really bad. I just knew the trip was blown and that I was going to lose deposit money. To her credit, she was a trooper: she went to a pharmacy, got some drugs, self medicated and was ready to go when I got to her house to pick her up at 4:25.

The ferry ride over to Avalon was relatively calm and Laurel took a little nap. We docked at 8:10 and walked into town for a bite to eat before we headed to the B&B. We had healthy and wholesome fried food at El Galleon. It got pretty loud toward the end of our meal, so we headed out as soon as our server brought the check. The Zane Grey is about a ten-minute walk uphill from the restaurant. There was a note welcoming us for our stay and our room was unlocked. It was not the room that I expected: No fire place, no claw-foot tub, no cute headboard, crappy paneling, a light fixture hanging down in the bathroom and a 1975 porn-comforter on the bed. This was so not the room that I toured the week before! It was a cheap imitation of that room. Laurel was great about the screwed up room and said it was “fine.” She was feeling somewhat better after the boat ride and supper. I wanted her to get plenty of rest so that she would be well enough to ride on Saturday so, we sat our stuff down, brushed our teeth and turned in early instead of heading back out to the local bars.

Laurel and Matt on horseback

After the ride we had a light lunch in town and went back to the hotel for a nap. We wondered back into town late that afternoon to visit the used bookstore. I found a mountaineering book and Laurel found four books that piqued her interest. We then had some cookies, window shopped a bit and had dinner at a pizzeria that sits just on the water. My food was fine, but Laurel is on a special diet and somehow her's got mixed up. We were charged full price anyway. Laurel has a thing for menus and plans to one day paper her dining room in them so, I went back the next day and bargained for a menu since I had paid the full price for an incorrect meal. After our late meal, we went back to the Zane Grey and fell lazily into bed. No big night out on the town.

I feel that I need to make a declaration: I will not have anymore friends named Matt. It is entirely too confusing for us and for those around us. They will have to be Matthew or Mattie or Matison or Bob, anything but Matt.

Matt B. and I played pool until about 12:30 and drank Coca-Cola while an old guy beat us both game after game. Matt was complaining about the scenery at The Class around 11:00. About three minutes later some of the local wildlife walked in the door and he shut up and just stared longingly for the rest of the night. Note: The Class of ’47 never starts hopping until 11:30 or 12:00.

5:00am came early. Matt K. drove and when I started giving him shit about driving like a granny he said that The State of Minnesota, Matt K.’s state of residence, was going to do something bad with his license if he got another ticket. Once we hit the 405 Freeway all bets were off and he paid no attention to the posted speed limit, lines on the road, exit signs, ect… The ferry in Long Beach is near the Queen Mary and you have to take the 710 Freeway to get there. About two feet after we missed the exit Matt K. cut the wheel hard to the right and we crossed three lanes of traffic, cutting some poor Saturday morning commuter off in the process. We made the exit though and that was the most important thing, I think… Anyway, I fear that the State of Minnesota will be knocking on our door very soon to collect Matt K.’s driving privileges.

We made it to the dock with three minutes to spare. The only problem was that there was no Ferry, no people anywhere and the office was closed. We found a SMALL note on office the door giving us directions to the “new” ferry dock. We piled back in and Matt K. drove like he was running for the border with a trunk full of dope, a 15 year-old kissing his ear & rubbing his thigh and half the State of Texas on his heels. We made the 2 mile trip in record time. I jumped out and bought the last three tickets available for the boat (Matt K.’s was a standby) and we were the last ones on the boat. The ride over to the island was smooth and one of the two other Matts wedged us into some seats on the second floor, inside.

It took us about forty-five minutes to get to our first dive destination. Matt B. had conned the dive company into a three-tank dive instead of a two-tank trip, so we were looking forward to some good bottom time. As we were suiting up we noticed that the other 4 guys on the boat had drysuits. It would be OK though, because our wetsuits were 7mm thick. Right? I hit the water first and decided right away that 7mm was not nearly enough! 60 degrees Fahrenheit doesn’t sound too cold, does it? Let me testify here and now that it was lip-numbing ball shrinking cold. Our first dive was a clusterfuck: Matt B. didn’t have a clue where he was going, I fumbled with unfamiliar rental gear and Matt K.’s ears wouldn’t clear. We spent 35 minutes just bumping around the rocks and kelp.

We all grabbed a few souvenirs (I got post cards for the kids) and Matt K. flirted with a very large, very wrong, very local shopkeeper to get a break on a price. His plan worked and he got the item for ¼ of marked retail price, but I don’t want to know what promises he made or what foul act he had to commit to get the deal. Some things should remain unknown and unseen…

It was a good diving trip and any future trips with either of the other Matts will go much more smoothly. Also, I will bring my own camera!! I got the pictures from the disposable camera developed on Sunday and only ¼ of them are worth keeping and I am going to have to scan those in and edit them a bit with Adobe Photoshop to make them presentable. It could have been worse. I was finally glad to get some pictures of the island and the underwater world just off the island is amazing! We ate well, laughed and everyone came home safely. Who could ask for more?

I decided after being in California for just a little while, to do some hiking trips on the California barrier islands. After doing some half-ass research on the web, glancing at a couple of books, and asking a few question here and there, I was ready to go!

The Catalina Flyer leaves from a dock about three blocks from my house on Balboa Peninsula. I got to the dock at 8:30 yesterday morning. We left the dock at 9:15 and I took a seat on the top deck (there are three total and the boat is a twin engine steel catamaran). The trip over to Catalina was windy and cold because it was cloudy. We arrived in Avalon Harbor around 10:30 and I headed strait for The Catalina Island Conservancy office to get the free hiking permit that I had read so much about. Since I was camping instead of just day hiking, I was told to go to a local hotel and get a camping permit. The hiking permit would be included with the camping permit. I went the hotel in question to get my permit. I was greeted by a surly Frenchmen named Pierre (form southern France by his accent), who told me that he was busy and for me to take a seat. As I am giving him my information for the permit, he told me what a pain in his ass campers are. What a nice guy! My permit cost $12.50, but the hiking permit part was still free.

I bought three post cards for the kids and grabbed a $7.50 ride to Black Jack Junction from the Airport Shuttle. It dropped me off at 12:45 and I hiked the first 1.5 miles uphill before I started the 1500’ drop to the Little Harbor Campground. As I topped the uphill section, I stopped and tapped my heels with athletic tape because I was starting to get a hot spot that I didn’t want to turn into a blister. I spotted a plane banking in the mist-covered valley. I knew that I would make a great picture, so I reached for my digital. It wouldn’t turn on. I’m such a dumb ass sometimes… I left the battery at home sitting in the charger. I had such plans for some kick ass pictures… What a bummer!

I walked downhill for the next hour and a half before I hit El Rancho Escondido. Most of the vegetation along the trail is a mixture of wild grass, huge old prickly pear cactus, and short trees with wide branching limbs. At the Rancho, I crossed the main island road and walked up a 300’ hump onto a ridgeline. The top of the ridge is a little wider than a single lane road and after I made a left turn onto Cottonwood Trail, I walked right into a heard of 12 or so Buffalo. I made sure to make plenty of noise (I sang Seven Spanish Angels VERY loudly), walk strait through, and not look at any of them directly. I didn’t want them to think that I was trying to sneak up on them. The last thing I need is for some pissed off buffalo to decide that I look like something that needs goring.

I got to Little Harbor Campground about 4:00, but spent ten minutes looking for my campsite: 6 miles in three hours, I took my time getting there. My assigned site sucked! It was entirely too close to the port-o-potties, so I moved up to the top of a knoll that overlooked both sides of the harbor. After pitching camp, I ate a snack and took a nap from 4:30 to 5:15. I woke up having an allergic reaction (puffy eyes, stopped up nose, splotchy rash on legs and chest) to some plant, so I took one Benydrel tablet. I set the tent so that the opening looked out over the bay and the beach. The sky had been overcast all day and the wind blew at five or ten miles an hour most of the day, but the sun popped out for a little while around 5:30. I explored the coastline some and found some seashells that I put on a little rock cairn. Most of the island has small outcroppings of exposed sedimentary rock. A good deal of it has veins of milky quartz running through it. The white ribbons’ running through the rock is most prominent along the coast. It stands out against the gray rock. While exploring, I found a rock bench just down from my campsite that was built into a rock outcrop that overlooked the harbor beach. There was a bronze plaque on it that read:

The bench felt so comfortable and it had such a great view. I brought my stove and food down and fixed supper while watching the sunset. A couple of people came by and we talked about the bench a bit. I had a great view of four boats in the harbor that were fishing. Just as the sunset, a sea lion swam up to them wanting handouts.
I was in the tent and asleep by 8:30. I woke up at 3:30 needing to relieve myself, and saw that all of the boats were anchored in the harbor with their lights on, but they were gone when I got up at 7:30. I ate cereal and drank hot chocolate for breakfast and had camp packed up by 8:00. I couldn’t get my water faucet to work at my “assigned” campsite, so I asked a couple of other campers if theirs was working. They informed me that the campsite tap water was not potable, but I could have some of the bottled water that they had brought in: a nice little fact that the friendly Frenchmen forgot to pass on.

I hiked strait uphill on Cottonwood Trail for an hour and a half or so and topped out on the road that runs along the backbone ridge of the island. I felt every foot of the 1500’ descent from the day before. I met my shuttle bus about thirty minutes early. I had to flag the driver down: I was sitting in the shade on the other side of the road and he didn’t see me. I had some time to kill in Avalon, so I went to the Conservancy Office again and asked about free sites to see… there are none. I hiked around the bay front and stopped at the American Legion Monument to sit in the shade and have lunch. The monument is an inverted black granite keystone about 9 feet high. On red bricks leading up to the obelisk, there is a list of Avalon’s war dead (WWI: 1, WWII: 10, Korea: 2, Vietnam: 2). I dropped my pack, whipped out my dehydrated food, and set up my stove to boil water. I was back behind the monument, off the beaten path, but people could still see me. They looked at me like I was a homeless trespasser. I was boiling water on a $100 stove, sitting next to a $300 pack with about $450 of gear inside it, and I was dirt. Fuck ‘em. It was their problem. After lunch, I catnapped a bit and people-watched a little on a shady knoll of grass until 3:50pm when I lined up to get back on the ferry. While in line, I saw some Garibaldi, the California state fish, in the crystal clear water of the harbor.