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Portola Redwood State Park, January 14, 2017. Post rain.

I’m staying in San Jose, California and was going to go to nearby San Francisco today. But I just didn’t feel like it. San Francisco has been “on the list” since I moved to California 3.25 years ago but it just hasn’t happened. I did go with the family once in my early teens but that’s different.

Anyway, I didn’t go to San Fran today. And last night I had started to think I might not go or at least wanted to do something outside first. So I raised up my arms, still aching from my travel shots (melodrama but they did hurt), and I typed into Google “hikes near San Jose.”   A few quick clicks later, I saw one photo of a place called “Portola Redwoods State Park” and was sold. It looked beautiful, it had Redwoods, I was going. I didn’t exactly read the reviews, still haven’t.

After grabbing coffee and a quick chat with my sister, I set off for Portola. “Strange, it’s only 35 miles but it’s going to take 1 hour, 1 minute to get there,” I thought. LIFE HACK: If you’re going somewhere with this mileage to time ratio, you are going to be facing traffic or windy roads, maybe both. Today, it was the latter.

The road to Portola was windy! And hilly! And narrow! With drop-offs! And bikers! Needless to say, I was on high alert, bordering stressed for a good segment of the ride. I learned to drive in Florida and I am not good with windy, hilly roads. Hell, even in New Jersey, driving with my parents they made me nervous. There was a hill on the way to gymnastics that we creatively called “the big hill” and I’ve had actual nightmares about it well into adulthood.

So I apologize to everyone behind me who had to go 20 miles per hour I hit the turn-outs when they were available. (Turn-outs, is that the right word) I hope that my Florida plates at least made you mad at the whole state, “Damn, Floridians!” and not just me.

One of many bikers on the way to Portola.

The ride was also beautiful! Tree lined roads with sun shining through in a way that looked magical and made me wish I had a Go Pro attached to my head even though it would have looked crazy as fuuuuudge.

Along the way, I came across two small parking lots for designated “open spaces,” Los Trancos and Skyline Ridge. I stopped, obviously, and explored a bit. Saw two deer, one rabbit, a handful of birds, and a geocaching group, which was pretty amusing.

  I did gymnastics as a kid, never outgrew it.

I could have stayed longer but I didn’t want to get so caught up that I missed my destination so I continued on towards Portola.  Then I stopped AGAIN at a wonderful little overlook, Russian Ridge.  It was worth it.

 

         My Feet at Russian Ridge Overlook.

Russian Ridge Again, Told You it Was Pretty

Despite the GPS guidance and largely straight route, I took a wrong turn near what looked to me like a vineyard. That turn placed me on a single lane road, like one car at a time road, sweating about what I would do if another car came. In retrospect, it was probably a private road to someone’s house. About ¼ of a mile in, my GPS went bonkers, I realized my mistake and found a small place to oh so carefully turn around without driving down a hill.

                      Where I took the wrong turn. Grapes?

Finally, finally I reached Portola around Noon and almost immediately lost cell service. As I drove towards the Ranger Station to pay my fee I kept expecting to see an increasing number of cars and people. I didn’t. I didn’t actually see any cars or people until after I parked at the station to check-in.   I saw about 10-12 people there the whole time, about half of whom were in the same group.

The woods were lovely…dark…and deep. (Click here if you don’t get it.) But as a female, solo traveler they were also a little creepy. Not creepy with bad vibes like Arcosanti, but I just wasn’t sure if I should be hiking there solo. It felt secluded, and a sign literally said that it was. It’d be a disappointment to leave but was that the better decision?

I walked around on the road for a bit, before I came up with an incredible LIFE HACK for female hikers that turns you into the creep: I followed a group on their hike!   I tried to keep a reasonable distance but stay close enough that they knew I was there. Knowing that there were people who seemed relatively normal nearby who also knew that I existed was comforting.

After a bit, I decided that I didn’t want to get stuck on their hike for hours sooooo I did something. I put all my stuff in my Camelbak, tightened those straps, and ran back down the trail. I tried to play it cool, like “I’m so fit, I just train with this weighted backpack” but I am sure I looked like a maniac! I passed three other people on the way down, two together and one girl (braver than me) hiking solo. I kind-of wanted to ask the solo girl if she wanted company and in retrospect should have. Oh well.

I walked around a bit more on the road and a small trail segment, really wanting to explore more and wishing that I had friends nearby to hike with. The seclusion and scenery would have been amah-zing if I was with other people. It was definitely one of the crappier points of traveling solo but I’m glad I played it safe and still got a few miles in. It also made me more committed to finding some friends, old or new, to hike with more in San Diego.  I really do love the woods.

My car next to Redwoods at Portola. Not a performance vehicle

And I closed out the day with an Alpine Duet because I was on Alpine Road a lot today, I think, who really knows?  And in a nod to my friends in San Diego who I miss and because, well, beer makes for a happy ending.

I still HIGHLY recommend the “open spaces,” Portola, and the drive, just with a friend.  In Case You Want to Be More Prepared:

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