TheQueen

The Challenge

As our boys grew up, we spent a fair amount of time enjoying outdoor activities. Once we dragged our Webelos to the top of Telescope Peak.  Another time we coerced our boys and some others of the younger generation into hiking the North Kaibab trail down as far as Roaring Springs ... and then back up. We’ve done many short hikes as a family, including many lovely trails around the June Lake Loop. So, you see, I am a sometime hiker.

B. is a longtime climber, hiker, and a mountain rescue veteran. He and our older son, Z., have done a number of strenuous hikes and climbs, including a 50-miler with the scouts and a climb of the Mountaineer's Route on Whitney. B. is one of a senior posse that still goes backpacking, although after this year's trek, they are beginning to think they might have to moderate their expectations.

Last year, as we began to practice for retirement, B. issued a challenge.  "How would you like," he asked me, "to hike the Milford Track?"  We were planning a trip to New Zealand for friend G.'s wedding, and were planning our after-the-wedding activities.  My response was an uninformed "Sure.  What's that?" And then when I read about the hike, I realized something very scary.  I was going to have to get into shape.

I began to regularly walk up (and down) the outside stairway of one of the tallest buildings at work: 6 flights of stairs, 12 or 13 stairs each.  Following an REI shopping frenzy, where I bought high-tech hiking clothes, a new pack, rain gear, and lightweight fleece, I began to climb those stairs with my boots on and my pack on my back. You can be I attracted a number of curious stares.

A month before our New Zealand trip, I was ready for a tryout. We joined a New Year's Day hike to Nightmare Gulch in Red Rock Canyon State Park.  This was billed as an "easy" hike.  However, true to form, the fast hikers headed straight uphill!  And, believe it or not, the rest of us followed.  It was an awful slog. I panted, sweated, and somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other. Sometime along the way, as I crested one ridge only to see another before me, I began to ask myself, “And why did I want to do this?”  This would become a pattern. 

And then, we finally we reached the top of the last ridge. The rest was easy.  A lovely jaunt along the top of the ridge, a hike past hardy souls camping in trucks parked here and there along the many old mine roads, a steep drop down a slope of loose rocks, and down into the gulch to a sheltered lunch spot.  There B. and I lunched regally on leftover sesame beef and rice from last night's dinner -- no sandwiches for us!  The walk down Nightmare Gulch was the highlight of the trip.  I'd hate to be there in the rain, but the results of rain and wind, the sculptured walls in many shades of red, are spectacular.

August 2 – Mono Pass (North), Bloody Canyon, & Hydration Systems

 

Today with friends J. & E., B. and I hiked the Mono Pass Trail.  This is the inaugural hike of my retirement! The trailhead is east of Tuolumne Meadows at Dana Point.  The trail ends at the Walker Trail Head near Walker Lake.  So this is a two-car hike. We left our truck at the Walker Trail Head, which we found after only one wrong turn.  The drive there was in itself a lovely part of our day.  We drove around the June Lake Loop, then off on dirt roads toward Walker Lake and eventually, following the Sawmill signs, reached the trail head. Then we all climbed in the Subaru and headed for Tioga Pass; and Tioga Pass never disappoints.

We started down the trail at 8:40. As usual, B. was at the front and I at the rear.  J. & E. hiked between, and were careful to keep an eye out for me.  This was especially kind, as I know they could have hiked both B. and me into the ground.  J. just finished a 50K run, and E. a 50-mile run; he’s training for a 100-miler next month!

The weather was cool and the sky overcast – perfect for hiking – and this first leg was moderate. On the way up to the pass, we saw some battered asters, but in places the trail was swathed with low, dark-blue lupines. 

I had decided for this trip to haul out my hydration system in preference to carrying water bottles, although I did have a 20-ounce Gatorade in reserve.  First there was the fussing to get the tube secured with its little Velcro strap.  That accomplished, things were going well, until we began the gradual but taxing ascent to the pass.  One can certainly insert the bite valve into one’s mouth and drink while walking, but drinking doesn’t come easy when one is panting for breath.  I may have to go back to water bottles to have an excuse to stop on the trail!We reached the pass in 2 hours or so, and there met a couple of backpackers headed for the Mono Pass trail head, on the last leg of a trip that began in Lyell Canyon.  These would be the only people we saw on the trail.  After chatting a bit, the backpackers continued on their way, and the four of us detoured across the meadow to an old mine site. 

There are three buildings and at least two pits, one of them quite large.  The site is on a knoll above the meadows and a couple of small lakes.  You might think the miners chose the site for its views, although I doubt it.  We poked around the site, and sat on a flat rock in the sun to eat and drink, and to enjoy the views of Mono Lake far below, the meadows, and Mt. Gibbs.

From Mono Pass, the trail begins to descend rapidly, and in places, precipitously.  The footing is broken rock – hard on the feet – but oh! The views! And oh! The flowers!  Clearly there is more water on this side of the pass. 

 So, down we went, past the Sardine Lakes. At times the aroma of damp, bruised sage is almost overpowering. At the lower Sardine, we saw another sign of life: a tent perched precariously aslant on an outcrop overhanging the lake.  We heard music, but saw no one. Fireweed bloomed on the banks of the lake.

  Thunder muttered and mumbled distantly, and once or twice we were spattered by brief showers.  On we went, around rocks and over tree roots, toward and then away from the stream flowing down from lower Sardine Lake, and finally across a soggy meadow to Walker Lake.

The hike ends with a steep (!) slog up the side of the moraine to the Walker Trail Head.  Damp with rain and sweat, we celebrated the crest with a drink of water, and descended to the truck.  Add to the ledger five hours and nine miles of happiness, and one more trip to Tioga Pass to pick up the Subaru. Home to hot showers and Thai Chicken Satés a lá Steve Raichlen.

Retired Miles (beginning today, 2 August 2007): 9

 

August 4, 2007 – An Adventure on Unmarked Roads

B. and I started out for the trailhead to Gibbs Lake.  We didn’t make it.  We drove up and down U.S. 395 between the Tioga Pass cutoff and the north end of the June Lake Loop twice, looking for a sign for Horse Meadows – no sign.  So we (figuratively) tossed a coin and set off west on Oil Plant Road.

The pavement ends quickly.  A fairly good dirt road runs first by an encampment of several old trailer houses and numerous abandoned cars.  It then climbs the hillside, and forks left and right.  We took the right fork first and eventually arrived at a spot our small pickup just couldn’t negotiate. We assessed the terrain and decided this was a road to nowhere, so back down the hill, and then south toward a small campground we could see in the distance. Just before the campground, we turned west again, and drove up the hill until, once again, we just couldn’t go any farther.

The road was actually in fairly good shape, rocky in places and washed out in places, but all in all a fair 4-wheel drive road.  We began by paralleling the watercourse, birch leaves rattling in the breeze and adding their chime to the chuckle of water on rock.  We hiked on, ever slightly uphill, through pines soughing in the wind. Forty minutes later, we reached an open meadow, with a convenient barrier (don’t drive into the meadow!) that provided a great perch for lunch. After lunch, we continued uphill, skirting the meadow and crossing the stream a couple of times.  Finally we crossed a high meadow and again headed up hill toward what we believe to be Mt. Gibbs. The road ends, and there is no obvious use trail.  Hmmm – why the road?

As hikes go, this was an easy workout. It would be a great spring snowshoe trip. We were on the trail, including stops, about 3-1/2 hours, so we figure, conservatively, about 4 miles.

As we neared the campground on your journey highway-ward, we took a wrong turn and ended up stuck in soft sand.  A little digging, some pine cones behind the wheels, a good driver (B. knows his clutch!), and a push from me backed us onto the long grasses, where we were able to recover and head toward the forest service information center at the Mono Lake Visitor’s Center.  There we scored  an Inyo National Forest map, a Yosemite and surrounds map, and a Mono Lake brochure at the bookstore. Tomorrow we will find Gibbs Lake!

 But … who built this road, and why???

(Examining our new Inyo National Forest Map, we think we were in Bohler Canyon.)

Retired Miles (cumulative since 1 August 2007): 13

 

 

August 5, Gibbs Lake

Hurrah!  We found Gibbs Lake!  Turning on the first westward road south of Tioga Pass Road, we soon passed a sign reading “Horse Meadow”.  We drove past the large lower meadow, and on as far as we could go on a well-maintained dirt road.  What stopped us was a very long, steep hill – really did need the 4-wheel.  We parked, donned boots and packs, and stumped up the hill, along beside Upper Horse Meadow , and on to the trailhead, about a mile. 

The sign at the trailhead says 3 miles to Gibbs Lake, not 2 like our guidebook.  And the trail is rated “most difficult”, with 1600 ft. elevation gain.  We soon found out why.  Most of the elevation is gained in the first 1- ½ miles, and there is one long, really steep hill.  The footing is good, however – dry, silty soil as a firm base, overlaid with tufts of dried pine needles and, in places, the crunchy detritus of pine cones of years gone by. 

As is our habit, B. forged on ahead.  I hiked through sun and dappled shade, listening to the occasional bird and the constant wind.  A particularly strong gust snatched a cone from a Ponderosa pine and threw it to the ground just beside my right hiking pole; it landed with a meaty “thud”. I squeaked, went briefly vertical, and quickly stutter-stepped on down the trail, riding a brief but exhilarating adrenalin rush.  Soon thereafter, a thirty-something fast hiker with his yellow Lab passed me, headed for Gibbs as well.

  The last ¾ mile of trail runs beside the lake outlet.  It rushes purposefully down its rocky bed, as if impatient to keep an appointment at its outlet into Lee Vining Creek, far below.  For a brief period, I lost the trail.  I took time to rest and think, and cast around, and finally discovered my error. By that time B. had hiked back down the trail looking for me, and past the place where I had stopped. Next time I’ll leave my pack right in the middle of the trail – he didn’t see it off to the side.  We did find each other, and proceeded up the last ¼ mile of trail to Gibbs Lake.  This is one trail that doesn’t open up.  You don’t see the lake until the very end. 

We indulged in lunch, a brief rest on a warm granite rock in the sun, and back down the trail.  On the way down, past 2 p.m., we met three parties hiking up to fish.  They were probably just a bit late in the day to be starting, but we wished them good fishing.  Add eight miles and 4 ½ hours of good hiking to the ledger.

Retired Miles (cumulative since 1 August 2007): 21

August 7, Pfeiffer Big Sur

We arrived in Carmel around mid-afternoon on Monday, after an uneventful, and faster-than-anticipated transit from June Lake via Tioga Pass, Merced, Pacheco Pass, and Prunedale. 

Tuesday, then, we ventured down the highway to Big Sur, stopping first at Pfieffer Big Sur State Park.  Here we chose to do the Buzzard’s Roost Trail, some nominal 5 miles round trip.  We started at the lodge, crossed under the highway, and worked our way up the moderately steep path toward the ridge on the west side of the highway.   The way was nicely packed underfoot, and shaded by redwoods in some places, and by a variety of deciduous trees in others.  The trail comes to a loop junction, and, wouldn’t you know it, the first appearance of my nemesis, stairs!  There must have been a Kiwi trail builder here.

We took the steeper fork, to the right, and after some steep sections and a few switchbacks, reached the summit, where the views were, indeed, panoramic, although there were no buzzards in evidence.

We descended to the lodge, stopping along the way to admire Sycamore Creek. 

As we approached the final fork in the trail, I found the proof that Kiwi’s had indeed been here!

Retired Miles (cumulative since 1 August 2007): 26

August 7, Waterfall House

Come with me on a journey in time.  It is the late 30’s, early 40’s, wartime.  You are taking some time out to recover from the fatigue of a very important wartime job. You've come to visit your friends, the Browns – former Congressman Brown from New York – on the Big Sur Coast, at Waterfall House. 

You have spent the morning riding the Saddle Rock Ranch with your hosts and their friend, Julia Pfeiffer Burns.  After an exhilarating morning in the pastures and a long, lazy lunch at the farmhouse, you return to Waterfall House, bathe, and attire yourself properly for tea.  Tea is to be served on the stone terrace below the house. You wander to the terrace to enjoy the views.

It is a warm afternoon. The ever-present coastal breeze rattles the palms and eucalyptus trees, and wafts the scents of exotic flowering plants and bushes from the terraced gardens below.

 To the north is a majestic, unspoiled stretch of rugged coastline, bordered by the cold, blue Pacific, shoaling around the rocky outcroppings littering the shoreline. 

To the south is a sheer, rocky cliff; and pouring forth from the cliff, below where you sit, is McVay Falls. The upstream water from the falls powers the Pelton wheel that provides electric power for Waterfall House.

From the house above you, an operatic aria drifts on the wind, sometimes clearly heard, other times obscured by the sounds of nature.

The ice clinks in your glass. A lizard scurries across the stones of the patio floor. The sun is warm. What could be more sublime?

 

Julia Pfieffer Burns, for whom the state park including Waterfall House is named, did with her husband work the Saddle Rock Ranch.  Congressman Brown began buying up Big Sur property in 1924, but I do not know when Waterfall House was built.  McVay did build a Pelton wheel that provided power to the region until electric transmission lines were brought into the region.  The rest of this account is pure fantasy. The photo of McVay falls is as it appears today.  In recent years a slide brought down a significant portion of the cliff face, eventually forming the beach.  There was no beach in the real view from Waterfall House.

August 7, Andrew Molera

We finished off our day with a hike to the headlands at Andrew Molera State Park. The trail leads past the campground.  The campground, tents only and no vehicles, is a wide pasture, obviously mowed for the summer. Each of the 20-odd campsites has a fire barrel and a wooden picnic table with a tall box on one end.  The box is storage for perishable items and is intended to discourage those night marauders, raccoons.  The camp sites are large, and most of the tents are tucked into sheltered areas under trees as protection from the ever-present coastal wind.  As we approach, three deer and a covey of quail emerge from the brush.  As we pass through, the campground appears deserted.

 The trail meanders on to a stretch of beach, and then up and around the headland.  There are hundreds of gulls on the rocks below the headland.  As we walk down toward the rocks, they scatter, only to reassemble on the opposite side of the headlands.

From the time (35 minutes each way) we’re estimating 3 miles round trip.  There are other trails in this park we’d like to do – next time.

Retired Miles (cumulative since 1 August 2007): 29

August 11, Pt. Reyes National Seashore

We spent the weekend with B.’s sister and her spouse, D. & Z., in their treetop villa in the hills of El Cerrito.  Ah, the joys of civilization – espresso, ethnic food, and good consignment shops. (Not that the same couldn’t be had in Carmel, but we had been much too busy hiking and sightseeing to partake.)

We left Sunday mid-morning for Crescent City, a long haul on the coast highway.  But we couldn’t resist the call of Pt. Reyes.  We managed a picnic at Drakes Beach , on the sunny side, and then took a quick walk out to the lighthouse stairs.  More visits definitely in order here – we could spend quite a few days hiking the trails and exploring the seashore. 

 

  And we could perhaps plumb the mystery of why the lighthouse is down 300 stairs rather than up?

August 15-17, Crescent City

The trip to Crescent City featured spectacular views from the winding Highway 1, through Sonoma County and on northward.  Crescent City itself doesn't appear to be much of a tourist destination, but its proximity to the Redwood National Park was a draw for us.

 The first afternoon we quartered the city, starting with a visit to the park information center, then to the lighthouse, a walk up Pebble Beach Drive (predictably the upscale shore-side residences) and then across town and back to our low budget motel.  The shore was beautiful, and the barking of seals at the harbor seal rookery on Castle Rock was the background music to a beautiful, sunny day.

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    Next morning we tackled the Damnation Creek trail, up over the ridge through the coastal redwoods, and then down, down 1000 ft. to Hidden Cove, a 2.5 mile round trip.  The vegetation changed completely once we crested the ridge.  Gone were the redwoods, replaced by spruce forest and sprangly undergrowth.  On the way down, we encountered an adult Pacific giant salamander of between 6 and 7 inches.  He was just sitting on the trail, and did not stir when we examined him or when we passed. 

 

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At the hidden cove, the creek seeps out of the rock and runs beneath the limestone rubble to the sea.  This is surely not your sandy beach!

For the afternoon, we took our picnic lunch to the trailhead at the Boy Scout Trail; whole grain bread, canned salmon with pesto, apples, cheese, and a tomato with salt and pepper -- a veritable feast.

Fortified by lunch, we set out on the 3.7 (or 3.8, depending on whether you believe the trail map or the trail sign) trip to Fern Falls, with a side trip to the Boy Scout Tree.  Fern Falls, as you might expect given the dry year, was less than spectacular.  .  The Boy Scout Tree was indeed big, as you can see from the photograph.

So, total for the day, 9.9 miles -- call it ten with side trips to the Boy Scout Tree.

Retired Miles (cumulative since 1 August 2007): 39

August 17-19, Southern Oregon Coast

Our trip up the southern Oregon coast to visit our friend D in Waldport was a leisurely one, stretched over a two days.  We investigated the Oregon Dunes, poked around old town Florence, and enjoyed the Cape Perpetua lookout on our way to Waldport.

The Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area stretches over many miles, and there are beach accesses and campgrounds all along. We stopped at the Dunes Day Use area north of Reedsport, and did a short two-mile hike out to the beach and back.  This walk shows an excellent sample of the dunes habitat, slouching down the oblique dune bordering the access point, across the deflation plane with its mix of scrawny trees, scrubby growth and beach grass, and then over the foredune to the beach.

The foredunes are breeding habitat for the snowy plover, and the birds were there in abundance, running back and forth as if their dance were choreographed, up and down the beach as the surf advances and retreats.

And here was a first clue that the weather this summer on this coast is definitely not according to pattern.  The description for the dunes hike tells us that during the summer the winds blow from the north.  But not this year – both winds and swell definitely from the southwest.  This was confirmed by the rangers at Cape Perpetua when we stopped at the visitor’s center there.

Traveling ever northward, we made a brief stop at Darlingtonia Wayside to see the Darlingtonia, a striking plant. Insects are attracted into the opening under the hood of the plant, and then confused by light shining through transparent spots in the hood, making them think the escape route is upward.  They eventually slide down the plant’s slick throat, and are trapped there by downward growing hairs. 

Cape Perpetua was our next stop.  We drove up to the overlook, where we enjoyed the views and read a bit about how the road was built – another example of the extreme measures required to build the roads of the Pacific Coast.

Our friend D suggested a hike at Cape Perpetua that begins at the visitor’s center.  The wide trail climbs up and inland through the second-growth forest for 2.4 miles, and then loops back across several creeks and along the shore for an additional 4 miles. The trail is thickly carpeted with the dried pine needles, so our boots make only muffled thumps.  Along the paths we saw many fungi, including this “lobster mushroom.”   We later learned at the local famer’s market that this very good to eat!  D says that there are many chanterelles in the area as well.  Too bad he doesn’t like mushrooms.

We managed a good scour through the tidepools at Yachats and a visit to the farmers market on Sunday morning. We wound up our stay at D’s that afternoon with a drive along the shore in Yachats, where we saw several whales, and a nice dinner at the River House.

So, total for this leg of the trip – 2 miles in the dunes and 6.4 at Cape Perpetua – round it to 8.

Retired Miles (cumulative since 1 August 2007): 47