Trinity Alps - Caribou Lakes to Stuart Fork (Trinity County, California)

Labor Day weekend traditionally marks the end of most summer activities and seemed a great choice to visit the Trinity Alps Wilderness for a few days. While I have no intention of this trek being my final hike of the year, it may very well be my last backpacking trip of the year. My friends Brent and Bill decided to accompany me and we departed Reno in two vehicles, my Jeep and Brent's car, early Friday afternoon for our adventure. As this would be a shuttle style trip, we needed two vehicles, one to be left at each end of intended trail and collected when we completed our journey.

The Trinity Alps Wilderness is a lush alpine in and around the Trinity Alps Range, which is about about an hour northwest of Redding, CA. I had read about some hiking in this area a year or so ago, and with the help of a the Falcon Guidebook for the area, planned out a three day and two night expedition covering about 29 miles and through what was billed as the most beautiful sections of the area. Arriving in the general area of the southern terminus, we found a secluded campground on Forest Service Land. As it was late Friday evening, our plan was to camp the night, head to the southern trail head first thing in the morning, leave Brent's car, drive my jeep to the northern trail head in my jeep, and start hoofing it through the backcountry. We pitched our individual tents and then cracked open some good craft beer, which I had picked up at a friend's growler fill station (SixFour Growlers in Reno) before we left town. A cold beer around a campfire with friends is a spectacular way to spend an evening. 

Day 1:

We awoke early, broke camp, and headed for Stuart Fork Trailhead, which was only minutes away. After dropping the car and loading the gear into my jeep, we headed back out through a mount resort area and were stopped by some resort visitors with car problems. We gave them a jump and felt good about having done a good deed along the way. The drive from the southern trail head to the northern takes between one and two hours depending on the clearance of the vehicle you are in. Coffee Creek Road, which departs CA 3, traverses some very rough road as it snakes many miles back into the mountains. The jeep, of course, had no issue with this terrain.

Finally arriving at the drop spot for the jeep, we put on our packs, did a final check of everything and started down the trail. The trail almost immediately cross a small mountain stream before heading up a number of switchbacks leading around the shoulder of Caribou Mountain. Bill and I were enjoying ourselves with the incline, as we are both in pretty good hiking shape, but Brent was having less fun. He showed great determination though as he pushed himself up the hill. Luckily, he had done this first section of the trail a few years ago and had full knowledge of what he was getting himself into before starting, at least for this part of the trip. As we continued on, we were rewarded with magnificent views of Caribou Mountain and the wilderness as a whole. Unfortunately, there were a number of scars from recent forest fires, but as all life is cyclical, the brush sprouting from beneath the charred tree trunks was a clear sign of renewal.

The trail seemed to be a pretty popular destination, which was to be expected for a holiday weekend. We saw quite a few other groups heading up the mountain. Eventually, we reached the fork of the Old and New Caribou Lakes Trail. I had read about this. The old trail apparently climbs over the 8600' Caribou Mountain, while new trail cheats the climb by going around the side of the mountain. With each of us toting 30-35 pounds of gear on our back, the decision between the two was pretty easy, though I would like to bag the peak some day.

As we continued around the peak, we were in awe of some of the breathtaking views of the entire wilderness that lay before us. Mountain ranges like waves on the ocean undulating before us for as far as the eye could see (though that was somewhat limited by a large amount of smoke in the area thanks to some unknown wildfire). 

As we began making our way around the far side of the mountain, our first view of the Caribou Lakes came into our field of vision. Snowslide Lake lay before us, with Lower Caribou Lake sightly above and behind the closer lake. A narrow isthmus would provide our walking path between the two and up to the largest of the lakes in this area, Caribou Lake, our intended campsite for the night. All the while, we were in awe of the expansive views we were able to take in here. 

Above us and to our left, rises Sawtooth Ridge, a high and extremely jagged collection of granite and quartz leading from the top of Caribou Mountain on around the basin of the lakes. Tomorrow, we would have to cross over this ridge, but for now, it was time to make camp and relax. We ended up camping near a couple of very nice ladies, Dusty and Michelle (and Dusty's super friendly dog, Sam), who were on their annual 'girl's weekend'. Over the next few hours, we would share a campfire, roasted marshmallows, good stories, helpful information, and just good company with our new friends. 

Having trekked nearly 10 miles, mostly uphill, to get to this amazing campsite and with an even longer day ahead of us tomorrow, we bedded down about 8 pm and prepared for a cold night at about 6800'.

Day 2:

The night was pretty cold, dipping down just below freezing, and I tossed and turned a bit as I always do when in a trip, but overall I slept pretty well. Rising just before sunrise, I bundled up and headed out of my tent to find a tree in need of refreshment. It was cold, but it was nice to be breathing in the mountain air. Not wanting to crawl back into my tent, which was covered in a thin sheet of frozen condensation, I changed clothes on the hill above our campsite. It was still mostly dark and I'm not an overly shy person anyway. Just as I pulled my shirt off, I heard Bill ask from inside his tent, how cold it was. I gave him a vivid description, given my the current state of my undergarments (or lack thereof). He laughed and I quickly put my fresh clothes on. 

Preparing my morning cup of Earl Grey Tea, I took it out to the rocky shoreline of the lake (just a few yards away from my tent) and watched the rising sun cook the fog off of the mirror-like surface of the lake. I stayed out there for 15 or 20 minutes, just taking in all that this gorgeous place had to offer. It was an amazing way to spend the morning. Finally, heading back to our collective tents, I started fixing breakfast and tearing down my tent, as my comrades began to stir. Unfortunately, our departure would be a little later than we had hoped, as we had to allow some extra time for the morning sun to dry all of the condensation from our tent's rain covers. Eventually, we finished packing and started on our way. Dusty, Michelle, and Sam had left a short time before and wished us luck with today's adventure, up and over Sawtooth Ridge and down the other side along the dreaded Caribou Scramble.

The trail around the lake took us through several other camps. As we suspected, there were quite a few people camping here this weekend, including a group of about a dozen 20-something guys complete with a 5-gallon keg (ah, to be young again). We were unsure of where the trail actually started up the ridge and ended up leaving it for what looked like a reasonable climb. It was tough, but manageable. I was leading the way up the vertical cliff and scouting our next move as I went. Finding a marmot (or some kind of ground rodent) hole, my right foot shifted quickly and sent my left knee crashing into a granite boulder. It wasn't a bad injury, but with blood dripping down my leg from it, I took a few minutes to sanitize and bandage the wound. Meanwhile, Bill continued scouting a route for us. 

The climb was dangerous, especially with our packs moving our centers of gravity a few inches behind where it should have been. The hand holds and foot holds were few and far between, and some of them were nothing more than a softball sized granite stone in the dirt, but finally, we reached the top of the ridge. Looking down the 700 feet we had just climbed out of the basin, we had a terrific view of Caribou Lake below us. On the other side of the ridge was an even more stunning view of the Stuart Creek Canyon, which seemed broad and endless. To our left, was our final destination somewhere in the distance. However, our next challenge lay between us and that destination - The Caribou Scramble.

The area we were standing on, being a ridge, had drop offs on both sides. We had just climbed one of them, but before us like a much taller one. With a 2300' vertical loss, no shade, loose shale, and only the barest sign of a trail, the dreaded Caribou Scramble is certainly one to remember. We head to take the first several yards on our asses as we slid down the loose gravel to finally reach the footpath. Even from that point though, the danger was still very real and we took our time, trying to be as careful as possible. 

At one point, the path comes to a vista, which offered a great view of Emerald and Sapphire Lakes to our right and at the top of the canyon. These lakes are a popular destination for many hikers, but would be out of our way on this trip - next time, perhaps. More than 100 switchbacks cover a distance I would estimate at three horizontal miles as we make our way to the canyon below. It's a killer on the knees to be sure, but eventually, we made it. Arriving at the bottom, we find the sign indicating the Caribou Scramble, which had just descended and are met by some hikers on their way to the Emerald Lake, who proclaim us 'brave souls' for our trip down from the ridge.


Taking a few minutes to rest and snack, we started along the Stuart Fork Trail, which follows Stuart Creek 14-ish miles from the lakes above all the way to the trail head where we had left Brent's car. The Caribou Scramble meets the Stuart Fork Trail about 12 miles from the trail head, which is the distance now separating us from the end of our journey. All along, our plan was to come down from Sawtooth Ridge today, hike a few miles down the creek and spend our last night somewhere along the trail. Holding to this plan, we made our way down the lush forest trail, all the while looking for a suitable water refill and campsite. 

We found a great little hole in the creek, where we broke for lunch and refilled our water bottles. The water is crystal clear here and we could see a few small fish darting in and around the rounded granite creek gravel. It was a beautiful place and reminded me of many trips, as boy, down Hurricane Creek in Kentucky with my late father. I think in some ways those boyhood adventures inspired me to the lifestyle I now lead. I wish he could have survived to have seen some of what I have been able to see.

After about 45 minutes of rest, we pack up and continue on down the trail looking for a suitable campsite, which we find a short time later just beyond Morris Meadows. A large clearing of pulverized granite makes for a comfortable spot to crash for the night. As I poke around in and amongst the trees, I happen upon a friendly doe, who is no more than ten feet from me when we first notice each other, after which she slowly and cautiously wanders off.
Pitching our tents and fixing dinner, we bed down for the our final night in this paradise. 

Day 3:

I awake a bit after 5 am and start stirring the guys. As we have a lot of driving to do today to collect the cars and get home, we had agreed to get an early start. In the pre-dawn illumination, we make a quick breakfast and break camp. With only 7-8 miles to go before we reach the car, we're hoping to arrive before 11 am. 

We're packed and on the trail at just about 7 am. It's warmer this morning than last, mostly due to the lower elevation. The trail meanders through the greenery leading slowly down the creek. There is the occasional uphill section as we cross a wash, but the hiking is generally pretty easy along this section. 

We find a sturdy bridge that crosses one of the flowing washes above a powerful, but small waterfall, and are obligated to stop for some pictures. The rest of the trail is beautiful as it opens up occasionally to the creek, the canyon, meadows along the way, and the mountains beyond, but is generally uneventful. 

As we get closer to the trail head, we encounter a number of other hikers and backpackers heading the way we came out. As with most people that do this for a hobby, they are friendly and warm, and offer encouragement as they know we are nearing the finish line.

Finally, a group of young men respond to our inquiry about how much further it is with a 'just a couple of hundred yards', to which smiles take over our faces. Backpacking is an amazing experience, but when you are just about done with a trip, the idea of sitting in the padded seat of a car is heaven to one's ears.

As promised, we reach the car at about 10:15. We take advantage of the Forest Service provided outhouse and wash the dust from our faces before loading into Brent's car. We still have to drive back up to get my jeep, but the trip is essentially on the books now. In total, we backpacked right about 29 miles through some of the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen (and I've seen a lot of mountains). It was truly a great trip and I'm glad to have had the opportunity to do it with such good friends.