Mysto Soup - Day Two

Recovery and Reassessment

Sometime around noon I arouse from my slumber and declare myself to be in a lot of pain. Being better suited to physical exertion in the water than on land -- in my undergraduate days people like me were referred to as "squids" by better cross-trained fellow students -- I quickly avail myself of some ibuprofen, water, vitamins, menthol muscle rub and aloe vera for my sunburn before getting some breakfast.

Surfer Bob is already up and about, having left behind an enthused note about how he feels "pretty good." He's no squid. Even brought some nice Italian hiking boots along, a gift from his wife, while I'm hurting from wearing just a pair of old sneakers.

I polish off a few bowls of cereal and several pieces of fruit and head down to the beach near the campsite, which again is relentlessly flat.

Some folks local to the campground are there along with Robert, and they raise a few eyebrows when we give some details about our hike. One even goes so far as to write our names down in a small notebook; I presume this is to keep track of the idiots in the area or perhaps to aid in the identification of our bodies if we try something else half as stupid as what we did yesterday and get ourselves killed in the process.

A local worker relatively new to the location but already familiar with its surroundings suggests that we may have been better off in following a livestock 'chute' that runs from Nanawani to our current campsite, a closely-spaced pair of fences through which animals can be easily herded from one location to the other. We learn that the "road" which maps indicated as leading directly to Canada de Aguaje from Nanawani in reality disappears after only a short portion of the descent; all our efforts to find it were doomed to failure from the start.

We spend a few hours hanging on the local beach, swimming, and doing some short recuperative hikes. Surfer Bob has a promising conversation with a recently arrived surfer from who has access to Canada de Aguaje more wired than we do. Robert wisely offers "all of our beer" in exchange for transportation that morning and the fellow looks enthused at the prospect. I note with amusement when he relates this to me that we've only got five beers left -- hardly a worthy bribe!

We polish off the pasta for dinner that evening along with some bread and a few more beers. Our bribe has dwindled to three bottles and doesn't seem likely to succeed. Tomorrow is supposed to be the best day of the southern hemi and now we know that the road over is pure hell followed by a descent of 500 feet back down the trailless slopes that we climbed two nights ago.

Then it dawns on me. We could do the hike to Nanawani easily, then drop our gear there, suit up, and paddle around the point rather than endure 1000 feet of climb-and-drop over a two mile stretch of trailless terrain. Definitely do-able, and we decide to wake up early enough to miss the midday sun on our hike if our bribe should fail.

Things are looking up. The mysto soup remains untasted but still holds potential.

Santa Barbara Surfing -- Last updated 8/29/97.