Buckeye Trail 2008
Just north of Ragged Point on Highway 1 sits an abandoned set of buildings, Salmon Creek Ranger Station. A sign next to the corral lists Buckeye Camp at a distance of 3 ½ miles.
Dexter and I headed north from the ranger station paralleling the Pacific Coast Highway but well above it. The first half-mile rose rapidly, steep and badly eroded in spots. We encountered two fences with passageways constructed so as to prevent anything longer or wider than a backpacker from passing through. At the turn of each switchback, we could look back and down at Salmon Creek falls.
The trail leveled out onto a grassy plateau and revealed one of those views unique to the Santa Lucia mountains–the Pacific Ocean filling the horizon.
A bit later, we arrived at a trail fork. Soda Springs Trail descended to the left to Highway One. Buckeye Trail went right.
Following an ever-ascending contour, we wound in and out of canyons. We crossed below a high rock wall in one of the canyons, that had a pencil-thin waterfall running down its face between banks of moss.
As we continued to climb, we entered a grove of oak trees that shaded the trail and covered it with a muffling layer of leaves. The highway was out of sight and out of hearing.
We crossed live water in Soda Spring Creek, with a small pool suitable for a warm dog to cool himself.
The trail became steeper, dank and damp underneath the trees and in some places crossing unstable ground and showing signs of slipping away.
Ninety minutes from the trailhead we left the forest and topped a ridge and looked back to the south. We could see all the way to Point Buchon. Highway One wound like a serpent along the coast. A large grove of redwoods thrust out of the mountainside directly below us. Distinct in the foreground was Point Piedras Blancas and the lighthouse.
We hiked another quarter mile, through an open grove of pine trees, and rounded a headland overlooking the northern coastline. From there we could see all the way to Cape San MartÃn on the other side of Gorda.
At this point, the trail turned inland. As we crossed another dry creek, we met Phil.
Phil came from San Francisco and sat on a log beside the Buckeye trail playing a guitar. He had hiked in the day before and when it got too dark to continue, he pitched camp. He was getting ready to hit the trail again when we met him. We chatted, wished him good day and pressed on.
Twenty minutes later Dexter and I arrived at Buckeye Camp.
A large, open meadow perched at the head of a long valley. A picnic table sat beneath a buckeye tree that was so large that several limbs curved downward and rested on the ground. A spring-fed hose ran into a bathtub and the overflow fed a green-edged stream that meandered northward.
A solitary grove of eucalyptus trees shaded the campsite. We found a warm place in the sunshine to eat our lunch.
As we finished eating, Phil strolled into camp. He looked around. He said he liked the looks of the place. He thought he’d hiked about enough for today and this looked like a good place to pitch camp.
Dexter and I bade him good-bye and hit the trail for home.
Just north of Ragged Point on Highway 1 sits an abandoned set of buildings, Salmon Creek Ranger Station. A sign next to the corral lists Buckeye Camp at a distance of 3 ½ miles.
Dexter and I headed north from the ranger station paralleling the Pacific Coast Highway but well above it. The first half-mile rose rapidly, steep and badly eroded in spots. We encountered two fences with passageways constructed so as to prevent anything longer or wider than a backpacker from passing through. At the turn of each switchback, we could look back and down at Salmon Creek falls.
The trail leveled out onto a grassy plateau and revealed one of those views unique to the Santa Lucia mountains–the Pacific Ocean filling the horizon.
A bit later, we arrived at a trail fork. Soda Springs Trail descended to the left to Highway One. Buckeye Trail went right.
Following an ever-ascending contour, we wound in and out of canyons. We crossed below a high rock wall in one of the canyons, that had a pencil-thin waterfall running down its face between banks of moss.
As we continued to climb, we entered a grove of oak trees that shaded the trail and covered it with a muffling layer of leaves. The highway was out of sight and out of hearing.
We crossed live water in Soda Spring Creek, with a small pool suitable for a warm dog to cool himself.The trail became steeper, dank and damp underneath the trees and in some places crossing unstable ground and showing signs of slipping away.
Ninety minutes from the trailhead we left the forest and topped a ridge and looked back to the south. We could see all the way to Point Buchon. Highway One wound like a serpent along the coast. A large grove of redwoods thrust out of the mountainside directly below us. Distinct in the foreground was Point Piedras Blancas and the lighthouse.
We hiked another quarter mile, through an open grove of pine trees, and rounded a headland overlooking the northern coastline. From there we could see all the way to Cape San MartÃn on the other side of Gorda.
At this point, the trail turned inland. As we crossed another dry creek, we met Phil.
Phil came from San Francisco and sat on a log beside the Buckeye trail playing a guitar. He had hiked in the day before and when it got too dark to continue, he pitched camp. He was getting ready to hit the trail again when we met him. We chatted, wished him good day and pressed on.
Twenty minutes later Dexter and I arrived at Buckeye Camp.
A large, open meadow perched at the head of a long valley. A picnic table sat beneath a buckeye tree that was so large that several limbs curved downward and rested on the ground. A spring-fed hose ran into a bathtub and the overflow fed a green-edged stream that meandered northward.A solitary grove of eucalyptus trees shaded the campsite. We found a warm place in the sunshine to eat our lunch.
As we finished eating, Phil strolled into camp. He looked around. He said he liked the looks of the place. He thought he’d hiked about enough for today and this looked like a good place to pitch camp.Dexter and I bade him good-bye and hit the trail for home.
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