The buildup to doing this was almost unsettling. As the date approached, I forced my mind to focus on the exact moment that I would turn loose of the plane. This seemed to work, as I was calm through the entire affair. Training was given, preparations were made, and then we were off. Of my two companion adventure-seekers, only one gathered enough courage to follow through with the jump
As I leaned out over the plane’s exit hatch with my instructor tied to my back and the parachute to his, I thought, “If there is a moment when my courage might falter, this will be it.” I have always told myself I am not afraid of anything; not death, not pain. In this, my moment of truth, I held my ground and did not hesitate to look danger and death straight in the eye. When the instructor gave the signal, I allowed myself to fall out of the plane, which was 13,000 feet above the surface of the Earth.
The experience of plummeting to Earth from over two miles straight up and at over 120 mph is enlightening. Never in my life have I felt so at peace with myself and the universe. As I assumed that my thoughts would be of death and remembering the greatest times of my life, I was totally wrong. My thoughts were of nothing at all. For perhaps the first time in my life, my mind was at rest; not a whisper, not an image. The reality that I have always been a part of and I were finally one.
The falling itself is not falling at all, nor is it like flying. It is just floating. I did not get the feeling from the bottom of my gut that is normally associated with falling. I did not perceive the rapidly approaching ground as a danger. It all just seemed like normal motion, with the exception that the horizon was now circular at a glance as opposed to being a horizontal line.
When we reached 6500 feet, the instructor signaled me to prepare to pull the ripcord. I began watching the altimeter fastened to my wrist and at 5200 feet I reached back and triggered the life preserver that would allow us to safely touch down to Earth once again. In total, the freefall was about 60 seconds, but time had no meaning for me, as I was outside of time. After the chute successfully opened, we glided to the surface at a comfortable rate for the next five minutes or so. It seemed as though we were just hanging from the heavens. Shortly thereafter, we made a perfect landing, which is to say we slid along the drop zone landing area on our rumps.
After a day’s worth of soreness, it was gone and the memory of the ordeal was safely tucked away in my memory banks and in this journal. One more checkmark has been placed on my “Life’s to-do list.”
I was a little unsure of this hike, at least with regards to what I should expect. The well cut, but stony trail descends to an area along a peaceful creek. At the base of the trail is a water carved cave of magnificent proportions. There is a shallow pool underneath a stalactite-covered roof. In total it is the size of an average swimming pool. At the far end, is a water carved tunnel about ten feet in diameter.
I watch as some adventurers use flotation rafts to explore further into the tunnel. I am very envious that I didn’t bring such an object, as this appears to be quite exhilarating. I will return here someday with the proper gear.
That wonderful, wet cave smell fills the air and the water is as clean and cold as any other spring water that I have ever touched.
Just a few yards downstream is an area that has a floor of what I believe to be marble. It is smooth to the touch and contains the beautiful dark strand patterns that we are all familiar with. This quiet stream has fashioned a canal through the marble over time. It appears now, so perfect as to make one think that it was designed this way. Small minnow have found a place in this canal to call home and dart off as I dip my hand in the cool, refreshing water.
While, as I said, I didn’t know what to expect of this trail, it turned out to be an extremely enjoyable experience.
I think that I shall never see anything so lovely as a tree, or so LARGE! As I write this, I am setting on a log under the shadow of the Agassiz Tree, the tenth largest living thing on Earth. This tree measures 250 feet tall and 25 feet in diameter. It is burnt out from its trunk to about 75 feet up, but this doesn’t keep this granddad of the forest from living on. This one is only an example of how these behemoths can survive forest fires century after century, millennia after millennia.
The feeling of being watched by very ancient things filled me as I followed a well-cut trail to this place. This place feels old; much older than anyplace I have ever seen.
The Sequoias themselves are relatively sparse in this grove, but they are unmistakable. A few adolescent examples make the observer take note, but thirty or so giants demand one’s attention. They make a soul feel diminutive in comparison. The things these grand old keepers of time must have seen!
It is good to note that the U.S. Forest Service has a sense of humor. One burnt out trunk near here is labeled the “Palace Hotel” and rightfully so. This titan of a tree has an area the size of a single-car garage hallowed out by fire. This would make reasonably comfortable living quarters for a man and even comes complete with windows.
I somehow feel that I have become a part of something, which is frozen in time by visiting this place. This experience will not soon be forgotten.
The trail to reach Point Defiance demonstrates well the difference between uphill on good terrain and uphill on bad terrain. As I made my way up a very well cut, but narrow and quite zigzagged path through yellow grass and burs, I was joined by a pair of wild turkeys. They were apparently headed in the same general direction as me, but kept a safe distance anyway.
After about a mile-and-a-half of this serene countryside trail, I reached the summit of Point Defiance. The elevation gained on the way up was amazing in both its magnitude and ease. The summit is crowned by an arrangement of stones with a picnic table in the center. All of which, is tucked away under some small shade trees.
A bit further and I had to cross a small wooden bridge over a dry ditch. Beyond that, the narrow trail merges with a dirt road, which becomes washed out and impassable by vehicle even further ahead. The dirt road curls around the backside of Defiance Point. Far below, the blue-green waters of the serene Yuba River flow by.
Ahead of me, two deer-like animals dart off into the thick brush. I say deer-like because they hopped away instead of running. Perhaps they were antelope. Unfortunately, there is no way to tell, as they are long gone.
Once again, then narrow trail separates from the dirt road and begins to curl around the starting point, but uphill again. This path is covered by stones, which must be traversed carefully. Between the trail and the river, which has once again entered view is quite possibly the largest patch of poison ivy that I have ever seen. I am careful to not step on or break any stems. Hopefully, this attention to my step placement will prevent me from having a reaction to the plant.
Further ahead, a steep dirt path leads down to the gravel-laden riverbank. This river was once a serious destination for gold-panners. Still today, hobbyists try their luck, but it is obvious; this is a perfect choice. The water is shallow here and the bottom is covered with tiny gravel bits.
There are many footprints in the sand here, but none so distinct as the mountain lions; a serious reminder to be cautious. I lean down to wash my face and find myself suddenly refreshed by the cool, clean mountain-water runoff. Wow, I needed that!
I make a thwarted attempt to circle on around via the riverbank. After walking about three hundred yards in the sand and gravel, I am met with a stack of stones and boulders. It appears to be climbable, so I make my attempt. To my surprise, I reach an upper boulder about forty feet above the river and find that there is nowhere to go. I decide to turn back and rejoin the trail.
The sun has set and as darkness approaches, I double-time it back to the trail. I am concerned that I may have taken a wrong turn and may need to return the way that I came, which is quite a ways back. I decide to gamble on my sense of direction. Luckily, I am correct. The trail now begins to circle back to the starting point.
Over the river below, a long, wooden covered bridge provides shade to some swimmers. Rumor has it that this is the longest spanning covered bridge still in existence. Off in the distance, I see my truck in the parking lot and just in the nick of time as it is nearly dark now. Time to head home.
The drive to Big Bald Rock in central California traverses some of the most heavily forested areas that I have ever seen. It lends support to the existence of the Bigfoot Legend. It seems very believable that an unknown species or sub-species of man could be lost in this vast region without a trace.
The area known as Big Bald Rock is truly an amazing sight. It reminds the observer of a playground for the Ancient Greek Titans. Boulders the size of houses set atop a three-fingered summit. Each summit finger itself a gigantic boulder set down in the earth.
I was able and obligated to do some minor rock climbing here. It seems a necessity if one is to see the entire area. Besides, this place reminds me of the now destroyed King’s Chair, back home. The only difference is the size and scope. As with everything in the west, Big Bald Rock dwarfs King’s Chair thousands of times over.
Under one of the largest boulders on the western-most finger, someone has fashioned a primitive dwelling by piling small flat stones up to make walls around an exposed area under the giant boulder. This is probably a party hangout for local teens. It’s a great place for such a thing.
This place for all of its splendor and majesty seems desolate and lonely. I can just envision Sisyphus endlessly struggling to roll a boulder up the cliff side of one of the fingers.
After a delicious lunch at the entrance to Tioga Pass, I drove to the north side of Mono Lake and decided to try a very challenging hike.
A series of long, rough gravel roads lead to an abandoned trail head parking lot. To the south the north shore of the lake was visible, as well as Negit, the Black Island; to the north, the roughest terrain that I had ever tackled. I was about to head uphill to the visible summit through very hot, sun heated black volcanic ash and sagebrush as tall as myself in every direction. There is no trail here, only a destination – uphill!
This hike definitely reminds me of how out-of-shape I really am. Upon climbing to the first summit, a second and taller one becomes visible. Upon the second, a third. Upon the third, a forth, stony one appears. Willpower took hold as I was beginning to fatigue under the burning sun. I pushed forward.
Just below the stone summit was an area flat with stone flooring. Several large, black, ash-like rocks sat here. I decided to rest for a couple of minutes and then it was more uphill.
After about forty-five minutes, I finally reached the peak. I climbed to the very top to find a marker cemented down, which noted this as Black Point. From atop this small mountain, I could take in a full three-hundred sixty degree view of the lake and surrounding mountains. The line “I’m the king of the world” came to mind as the wind whipped in and out of this stony fortress with a vengeance.
Further to the north, I could see what must be the fissures. I climbed down from the stony peak and traveled through more sagebrush with jackrabbits leaping out at every tenth step or so. These were unlike the rabbits from my home. These were much larger and have more erect ears. A couple of hundred yards and I was at the first fissure.
This one was about twenty feet deep and eight feet wide. It went on for about twenty yards. I found a path that could be navigated and down I went. Being down in this type of geologic feature is a bit intimidating. I could not see the surface, only the rolling, shear, rock walls on either side of me.
After climbing back out, I discovered that there is actually an entire network of fissures. Some are only a couple of feet deep, while the largest that I saw was approximately fifty feet deep and only two or three feet wide. Truly amazing!
I decided to head back. From here, I only had Negit Island as a marker to guide me. I fought my way through more dense sagebrush towards it. I suspected that I was a ways west of the parking lot and my arrival on the broad, black north shore of the lake confirmed it.
This shoreline was probably one hundred yards from ridge to water. It was nearly flat and covered in a black, sandy ash. Teams of gulls flew low to the ground against me, but dove left or right at the last moment to avoid me. Finally, my truck came into sight and I reached the end of my Mono Lake adventures for this day. This final hike really pushed my physical limits. I was tired and sun burnt, as I emptied the sand from my shoes.
This one was a very strenuous, but rewarding three hour hike.
This area is
just northeast of Panum Crater and along the current shoreline of Mono Lake.
The National Park Service charges a three-dollar entry fee for this popular and
very easy 1.2-mile hike.
Tufa is a limestone formation formed
under the surface of the lake when fresh water springs flowed upwards into the
incredibly saline and alkali rich waters of Mono Lake. This area was underwater
until 1941, when four of the five mountain streams that supplied water to this
lake were diverted for the Los Angeles aqueduct system. Since then, the
shoreline has steadily receded revealing these pure white limestone towers,
which seem more at home on some lunar landscape than here in the desert.
Some of the towers approach
twenty-five feet tall on land, while others jutting up from the surface of the
lake may be even taller. They are everywhere and remind the observer of great
termite or ant burrows, but are as solid and hard as any other piece of
limestone.
Without
having to get to close to the lake, it is obvious that the shoreline is teeming
with life. Alkali flies and their larvae paint the shoreline at least five feet
out. Like the gulls that lower their heads and sprint along the shore inhaling
as many flies as possible, the Native Americans that once lived here used the
fly larvae as a staple in their diet. According to a sign near the entrance,
Mark Twain once said of these flies, “If only all flies could be so courteous
as these.” The flies are not attracted to humans in the lease. Amazing!
I couldn’t resist, at the urging of
a sign, to touch and taste the water. I dipped my finger in, watching the flies
scatter. The water feels somewhat slimy and tastes very salty and bitter to the
tongue. The sign was absolutely right. This was a very easy, flat trail
through a somewhat alien landscape.
From what I have read Panum Crater
is a young volcano, which is about 600 years old and located on the southern
side of Mono Lake, which is an ancient lake just east of Yosemite National Park in California.
I got
an early start in hopes of hiking three trails in this area today. After about
a mile’s drive down a gravel road with miles of sagebrush on either side, I
reached the empty trailhead parking lot at the base of this volcanic cone. The
trail leads around the outer rim of the external cone. By comparison, this
volcano is a midget, but the unmistakable features remind one of the chaotic
geological phenomena, which created this place. The trail starts out easy
enough but soon takes a dip and then rises steeply uphill through a sort of ash
and sand soil. It is hard to walk on.
After
circling the outer rim, I climbed down to the moat area between the outer and
inner cones. Black volcanic glass is visible everywhere. A zigzagged trail
leads up the inner cone and into the obsidian plug.
This
area is the most interesting, as there are volcanic glass boulders here, which
are the size of cars. There are also great flows of obsidian, which presumable
flowed out of the earth, cooled, and then cracked, as there almost appears to
be a grain to the stone similar to that found in a cedar log. There is a
magnificent view of Mono Lake from up here. Overall, this was a moderately easy
hike with fascinating scenery.
