On the road to adventure

o7”Children can easily open the drawer that lets spirit rise up and

wear its favorite costume of mirth and laughter.”

f7 -- Hafiz

Elvis has left the room. Or rather, Catharine and Emma-Cherril

have left town on a wild and raucous, quiet and contemplative,

playful and exploratory road trip.

We had endured a couple of challenging years, and once the idea

was hatched, the only impediment was the completion of the Sawdust

Festival. Like a good Willie Nelson song, the two of us just couldn’t

wait to “get on the road again.”

Day one led straight to Prunedale and the home of ex-Lagunan Sue

Klassen Jones. Her husband, Curt, patiently bore three hours of girl

talk, chatter about Laguna living now and then, and, of course, more

girl talk. Sue’s cats decided that the visitors were OK, received

appropriate pets and fell into a wearied sleep.

Morning. Hot coffee, a brief stop at Starbucks for chai tea --

extra hot, no water -- and then on to the Elkhorn Slough. Fellow

paddler and Lagunan Lynn Brown had insisted that we not miss paddling

in this inlet from Moss Landing.

A group of local school kids were packing up their kayaks when we

arrived. A strong wind had whipped up white caps, and wind waves

rolled across the surface.

Dark clouds added to the scenario, and we could easily have turned

back, but no -- intrepid travelers that we are, we unloaded the

kayaks from the roof, popped together paddles, tied on life vests and

slid into the cool, dark shallows of the slough.

Tall trees -- pine and cypress mixed with oak and eucalyptus --

lined the water’s edge. Reed-laden marshes sheltered migratory

shorebirds. Whimbrels and willets pecked for savory treats among the

slender grasses. Arctic terns hovered in the windy sky while sighting

prey, wings flapping mightily in the stiff breeze, only to shift to a

vertical dive headfirst into the water. On most returns, they had

beaks filled with fish as reward for their efforts. Great blue heron

and white egret stood as sentinels along the edges of the mudflats,

their lanky silhouettes in stark juxtaposition to the caramel-colored

hills behind them.

We paddled from Kirby Park to the end of the slough, laughing as

we discovered a golf course in the distance. A bevy of carts and

golfers -- not to be mistaken for the bevy of quail rushing through

the dry grass -- mingled with what had been our regenerating

wilderness experience.

An Amtrak Starliner rounded the bend, and suddenly we were part of

the scenery. We waved to the diners and turned our minds back toward

paddling.

The sky had shifted from cloud-filled to bright sun, and the wind

settled so that the return paddle was serene. We reflected on the

quiet, the stillness, the lack of traffic and the solitude that both

of us had been seeking and had discovered on day two of our journey.

After the boats were reloaded, we made a quick stop at the visitor

center for a wash-down, a change of clothes and the purchase of some

postcards. An Audubon bird collection caught Emma’s eye, and just as

quickly a stuffed robin and redtail hawk, complete with

internally-generated recordings of their vocalizations, adorned our

backpacks. These birds would become the center of a series of

giggling episodes.

We appeared to drive in circles after leaving the slough. All

efforts to head east and avoid San Jose-Oakland-San Francisco traffic

seemed thwarted by an onboard navigation system bent on sending us

directly north. After many false starts, we found ourselves back at

the Starbucks in the Prune Tree shopping center where we had begun

the morning.

What the heck? Two more chai teas -- extra hot, no water -- and we

were back on the road heading east toward Interstate 5. A vicious

wind would force us to stop no less than six times to tighten the

boat straps. By the time we reached San Luis Reservoir and the

aqueduct, white caps and waves crashed along the shores.

We had hoped to make Ashland, Ore., for the night, then

recalibrated with Redding as a destination. As the wind persisted,

however, we settled happily for a Best Western in Corning, Calif.

Tired eyes, happy spirits, hot showers and a good night’s sleep.

Day three lay before us, filled with the promise of more magic to be

found on the road ... and the open drawer of child-spirited delights.

* Catharine Cooper loves wild places. She can be reached at

[email protected].