A little farther south, several routes access the final plunge to Hidden Beach. It’s easier to reach, and thus more likely to have other visitors, despite its name.
Laura and I had been hankering for another forest-to-ocean experience, and two Saturdays ago we decided to check out what Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park had to offer. As I’ve written a few times before, while this hiker’s paradise is in Humboldt County, it’s close enough to be claimed as part of Del Norte’s redwood empire.
Our timing could have been better, but hey, you can learn from our mistakes as well as from our triumphs along the trails.
We reached the beginning of the Ossagon Trail after driving about 21⁄2 miles south on the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway. The trailhead is on the west side, just across the road from an entrance to the Hope Creek Trail’s old-growth extravaganza.
At first there were plenty of redwoods going our way as well, spiced with a dash of skunk cabbage. For 12 minutes we walked gradually uphill — I made a mental note that we’d appreciate that stretch on our way back, allowing us to glide toward the finish line after a 700-foot climb.
We were at the ridgeline soon enough and pointed downward on a dirt trail. After two-tenths of a mile of descent, we veered left at a bench and the path subtly transformed into an abandoned roadbed.
Now we were following the old Ossagon Road, where “cars were actually allowed on this steep, narrow route until the 1960s,” according to the redwoods hiking book by Jerry and Gisela Rhode that I carried in my slightly overloaded backpack.
We knew the descent was nearly over when we had to start dodging elk scat. Fifteen minutes after crossing the bridge, we were confronted with the first consequence of choosing this particular hike after a prolonged period of heavy rain.
This close to sea level, the second crossing of the creek was supposed to be easy — no bridge required. But the trail literally dissolved into fast-flowing water. We might have turned around then if we hadn’t seen the lush green flatlands beyond. Instead we picked our way along the creekside until we found a jumping-across point.
That excitement delivered us to the aforementioned greenery, complete with primitive campgrounds and picnic tables. We’d found an idyllic lunch spot, but we were surrounded by impromptu wetlands that blocked every effort to find a path to the beach.
Someday, after drier weather, we’ll do this hike again and make it all the way to a junction with the Coastal Trail and then the Ossagon Rocks to the north. This time, without that final gratification, we still faced the task of re-jumping the creek and regaining 700 feet of altitude.
Perhaps that’s why we tarried at the table, reveling in one of our favorite experiences: breaking bread in the middle of nowhere.