I’ll never look at ravens the same way again.
My face streak with sweat and dust , breathing heavily and move slowly under the weight of a loaded pack , I emerged from the furrowed midland ofCatalina Islandand slowly walked through the sprinkling of buildings that is Two Harbors toward the selective information kiosk , knowing I had to verbalise a train of word of honor that was totally farcical but absolutely true . I come near the kindly lady working the window and as she looked up I spit it out : “ Hello . The crowing eat my map . Do you have another one ? ”
It was only the forenoon of Day Two , an inauspicious start to be sure , but turns out I was far from the first backpacker to fall dupe to corvid - related criminal offense on the island , and it was probably Corvus corax not crow that tore my mathematical function up and attempted to liberate my snack from my backpack when I put it down for a single moment . But with a invigorated mathematical function in hand , my snacks firmly packed aside , and a healthy distrust of all ravens everywhere , I head back into the mountainous , cold landscape painting to do what I had correct out to do : solo packsack all 38.5 miles of the Trans - Catalina Trail .
lay just off the coast of Southern California , Santa Catalina Island is mostly known for being a laid - backweekend getaway from LA ; it ’s a spot to snorkel , drive around in a golf cart , and sip an umbrella drink — but it ’s also a sprawl backcountry playground for the adventurous .
Photo by Karl Hess for Thrillist
I get to it how most citizenry do : by ferry . As dolphins frolicked in the gravy boat ’s giant viewing , and the unclouded mid - December sun effervesce and trip the light fantastic off the ocean - froth , I was feel good about my first solo backpacking trip since I was a kidskin at wilderness cantonment in the woods of Maine . What awaited me ? Four solar day , three nights , about 8,000 pes of total elevation , and approximately 150 “ buffalo . ”
remnant from the Western film geological era , the jumbo beast ( actually bison ) , wander the interior of the island doing what they please , and do n’t seem to put out anyone much . Although I call up reading that in 2018 a man camping at Little Harbor , where I would be expend the night , was gore by a bison . A new destination for the trip come out in my mind as the ferry pulled into Avalon Bay : do not get gore by a bison .
Most people start the trail in Avalon , the island ’s only real township , and conclude at the far end of the island , but I had decided to hike it the other way , so I hop a 2d ferry to Two Harbors . Day One would see me ascending and span usurious ridge with commanding prospect , then sharply dropping down into the jumpy coastal summit of the island to encampment at Parson ’s Landing , one of the most striking and secluded campsites on all of Catalina . Eight website stretch along a gorgeous beach strew with rock-and-roll , as the twinkle of Los Angeles intimation far off on the visible horizon , underneath the winking stars and above the roaring breakers .
Photo by Karl Hess for Thrillist
Over the next three days I would see very few people , look up to far more bison and island foxes , and would also have the unparalleled experience of walk into an operational , but tiny and secluded mountaintop airport , The Airport In The Sky , sling off my inner circle , and govern a bison beefburger and beer at the tie restaurant while taking in the sweeping scene of stack and sea . After day of dehydrated backpacking intellectual nourishment the bison burger try resplendent , and I make up one’s mind that if I hike by any of its immediate relation later I would simply avoid eye contact .
The going on the Trans - Catalina Trail was certainly knotty at time , but challenging in a action way . And there were more than enough jaw - dropping thought to solace the bother of the lung - busting , calf - crushing climbs . When I re - emerged from the interior and slowly made my way back into Avalon , four days and 38.5 miles after I ’d left , my feet were a little painful , I ’d get a lot of sun , and I was smutty and exhausted , but a smiling was plastered on my face that would stay there for a farsighted while . metre for that umbrella drink .
Know Before You Go:
Photo by Karl Hess for Thrillist
Photo by Karl Hess for Thrillist
