Point Reyes Backpacking - A River Runs Through It, or Preppish Reflections

By Levi C. '26

The river post-breakdown of blockade.

After a relaxing night spent in Limantour Lodge, Point Reyes, an hour-and-a-half long drive outside of the College Preparatory School, our group of fifteen determined hikers headed to the first campsite of the trip, Coast Camp. Although each trekker was strapped with a 40-pound pack, the hike breezed by, the 2.2 mile trip along the beautiful coastline enthralling. After arriving at the site, we set down our gear and settled into the campsite shaped like a horseshoe. I took out the food that my cooking group, Devin LeBlanc, Oliver Beamer, and I, had handpicked from Trader Joe’s and Berkeley Bowl, and I put it into the bear lockers. I helped set up our tent, filled up my water bottle from an inconveniently placed spigot far away from the camp, and sat down on one of the benches, reveling in my simplistic, worry-free lifestyle for the next few days. 

Set-up complete, we headed down to the beach. On the walk, I noticed that to the right of the path, a gray, muddled river flowed all the way down into the ocean. 

Although I’m not a surfer, occasionally when I’m mindlessly droning through YouTube videos while procrastinating, clips of beachgoers manipulating a river's flow by digging a downhill trench from the inlet to the ocean, creating a “river wave” for surfers to ride, pop up on my feed. With this vision in mind, I immediately set to work. However, lacking both a shovel and a strong current, I realized that to complete my task, I needed to divert the water into a more concentrated spot, enhancing the speed and power of the river. To do this, I needed some sort of blockade, and as I scanned around, my eyes landed on a large log situated a few hundred feet away. I didn’t hesitate to call over Forest, Quinn, and Devin to help me move the trunk to the river. After a brief struggle, we successfully put the log in place. 

Yet, even with it in position, water easily crept around and under it, shattering my vision. 

We had a problem, and while Quinn’s solution was to add sticks, Devin’s was to use rocks. I believed dumping sand all over the log was the solution. We tried each method individually, but nothing worked. Only with our combined efforts did we finally succeed, blocking and diverting the water flow, if only for a moment. Our River 2.0 wasn’t strong enough to make a wave, but even then, we proudly stood in the dried-up stream, elated. 

If someone ever asks you what a good ice breaker activity is, you should answer: building a faulty dam on the fly, because it truly is. I’d love to say I knew each one of my group members well before the trip, but that really isn’t true. After an hour of struggling to stop the flow of a river, though, I can say we all felt a bit closer, appreciating each other's presence not only in the sand-to-log system we had created, but our collective groundedness in the space that the absence of iPhones had allowed us to inhabit. 

This trip pushed everyone outside of their comfort zones in some way. Whether it came from not showering for three nights, setting up a tent in windy conditions, or hiking early to a waterfall, these experiences brought an unsuspecting group of College Prep students closer, and I’m very grateful to have been a part of it.