To no surprise, it took all day to walk the 25+ miles from Brookings to Crescent City, walking near the coast, between farmlands, and into the redwoods. If the previous night’s eye-opening experience at the Outreach Gospel Mission hadn’t already been enough to hammer home how important it had been to listen to intuition and come out to the coast, then dropping into the redwoods would immediately confirm my coastal calling and wipe away any wonderings to the contrary. I can’t even describe what it’s like to breathe the spiritually intoxicating clean air that these massive trees pump out. They stand as caretakers, as guardians, as comforting providers of the important message of how sacred our precious planet is.
I arrived to Crescent City just before sunset. I hadn’t heard back from any of the contacts I’d tried to make in Crescent City: Couchsurfing.org and phone calls to a few (not all) local churches had resulted in nothing. I figured I’d have to find somewhere to camp, but as I saw the California Highway Patrol (CHP) kindly chatting with some people across the street, in front of a Subway, I figured I’d go ask them for advice. My signs “WALKING ACROSS AMERICA,” along with the backpack and reflective vest, make me very obvious, but nonetheless I presented myself to the officers, gave them my business card, and asked them if there were places to camp locally or a shelter I could stay in.
“There’s no shelter here– but there’s a campground about fifteen miles up the road,” one tells me.
“I’m sorry, I’ve just walked 25 miles already today. I won’t make it another 15.”
The officers were interested in my story as I told it to them; so were the couple whom they’d been speaking with just before I walked up: Carol and George Layton. Carol Layton is the pastor of the Crescent City United Methodist Church, and after hearing the conversation with the CHP, she jumped in and mentioned that she would find a place for me to stay for the evening. “We have a fund at the church for just this sort of situation (people in need of shelter). Let me stop by the church and get a voucher, and we’ll give you a night at the Gardenia Motel, where you can rest up and shower.” (SCORE!!!)
Carol had actually heard my story from someone else already. “I think it might have been from Facebook,” she tells me, “I know a lot of people up in Oregon. I remember hearing something about walking 20 minutes per day.” Carol and George proceeded to buy me a sub sandwich as well, and George gave me his California state map. I’d met the guardian angels of Crescent City, and every last part of me was smiling big as I pondered such “coincidences.” Carol and George had saved me from an uncertain night of searching the sands for some hopeful, discreet location to pitch my tent. They hosted me to an ultra-comfortable experience at the simple motel, and I couldn’t describe how blessed I was feeling to have been so privileged to meet them.
The Gardenia gave me a great and relaxing rest before climbing through the pass toward Klamath the next day…