I forgot to mention the somewhat Seinfeldian situation I put myself in during our last evening up in the Redwoods. I tell most of the story along with the photographs, but to sum-up...
Marie and I were wander around a lagoon just south of the National Park. We were trying (and failing) to get a good photo of a group of sea lions swimming in the surf when an oldish and crazy-looking man approached us and asked if we had a cell phone. We told him that we didn't and he went off down the beach to the next group of people about a hundred yards away. Living in Berkeley, we've become quite adept at ignorning strangers asking for things, so we thought little of it.
It surprised us, then, that once the old man reached the family down the beach, the whole group took off running towards the nearby parking area. Turns out, the old man was fishing and enjoying some oat sodas with a buddy in the lagoon when a strong gust of wind blew over their sailboat. The friend was trapped underneath, so the old man, (did I mention it was his 67th birthday?) swam to shore in the freezing-cold water to find help. I suppose we should have inquired as to *why* this man needed a cellphone in the middle of nowhere... it's not as though crazy people are just wandering the beaches of Northern California.
Anyhow, the father succeeds in driving to a nearby house and makes a call to the Coast Guard, who admirably have a helicopter on the scene in about five minutes. We then sit and watch - the old man who refuses to get in a warm car and change out of his soaking clothes, the family (a nice threesome from Fresno), and Marie and I, feeling awful sheepish and scared that the five-minute delay we provoked could cost some poor man his life. Compelled mostly by guilt, we lent the old man my knit hat to warm his turning-blue ears. It was the right thing to do, but I grew immediately concerned. It was, you see, the "Cornell Hockey" hat that Elizabeth gave me back in the day, and its sentimental value cannot be understated. So as the various emergency personnel arrived on the scene - first the park rangers, then the paramedics, then the police - we're standing around ostensibly wanting to make sure the man's sailing partner is alright, but really just hoping to get the hat back.
The story ends happily, with the Coast Guard flying the friend to a nearby hospital and the paramedics loading the old man into the ambulance. It was an exciting hour-or-so. And the mother of the family from Fresno - bless her heart - made sure I got my hat. And that was probably the highlight of our trip.
Also, did I mention that the Klamath River is the ancient home of the Yurok indian tribe?
"Thanks, Billy. Yurok."
