To get to this trail head I had to drive down a road, which runs alongside the south fork of the Yuba River. There are houses built all along the granite slabs, which provide the terrain for a series of amazing waterfalls and rapids.
Once parked, I made my way up a trail cutting through the granite. It was very open here, with visual expanses carrying for miles into the mountains. The hike had been challenging so far because of the elevation gained, but not too bad. The trail is a bit difficult to discern, as there were large gravel areas that can be easily mistaken for the trail. Some helpful adventurers help me find the current path, as we pass each other.
In the distance, I begin to see a clearing. This clearing is, in fact, a small, solitary pond. The shore alongside the pond would make an ideal place for a summer picnic. The air begins to smell of pine; a fresh scent, which is fairly unfamiliar to urbanites.
As I make my way around the peaceful drop of water, the sound of nearby waterfalls approach the limits of my earshot. The anxiety of seeing the falls up close fills me. At this time of year, the snowcap of the mountain above is making steady progress towards melting away, which means the mountain streams and rivers are at full force.
The trail leads through a small grove of pine trees using cut timbers to line both sides of the trail and then just ahead a granite cliff slowly takes form. From the cliff top, I am looking down over an absolutely incredible set of falls. One after the next, they exit the fast moving river water as it is joined by countless small and medium trickle-down streams. I explore the cliff side and find an area close enough to catch some water. A handful of this crystal clear and near-freezing water and I am suddenly refreshed. Nonetheless, I decide to stop for a snack. This is a marvelous view; simply majestic is pureness and freedom of the river.
Time to continue on. I suddenly find myself on a snow-covered clearing, after crossing a small wooden bridge. Once again, the trail is difficult to find, but eventually shows itself. Ducking under and climbing over fallen pines, I make my way to the dual set of railroad tracks. As I understand it, these very tracks were part of the first trans-continental railroad. This is a rustic look into the history of this harsh land.
The path continues on the other side of the track and the air becomes noticeably chillier. What during the late summer months is probably a well-worn trail is actually a small creek at this time of year. For the melting snow it provides the path of least resistance. Negotiating this creek is very challenging as many areas are still covered by several feet of snow. On more than once instance my step causes the snow below to give way, resulting in my plunging waist-deep into the doomed snow. As this becomes more common, as the grade sharpens, and as my body begins to fatigue, I have thoughts of turning back. No! I will continue and see the alpine lake ahead!
It seems as though, I may never make it to the lake as I travel up switchback after switchback. Looking back at where, I started, I see, that for all essential purposes, climbed a mountain.
Must push on! The lake can’t be much farther now. Just about the time that thought enters my mind, the trail begins to steeply descend. Perhaps, I am almost here. I take a detour to a small hilltop and from there look out over Lower Loch Leven Lake, a truly amazing site. No visible piece of shore is cleared. One trees huddle around the football field-sized lake as if protecting it from all transgressors. Set here in the snow, as it is, I cannot help but think of the solitude and of the peace of mind that can come from occasionally solitude.
As I look to the sky, the late afternoon sun indicates that it is time to return to the trailhead. In total the trail was 5.1 miles long, but the exhaustion that overwhelms me, makes me think it may have been farther. This trail is probably much less challengin
