My final stop of the day is another petroglyph area, but his one is actually far below the tablelands. It resides along a dry creek bed along highway 6. I park the jeep and head down the creek bed looking for signs of the ancient artist(s). I find several, but I also find many more recent marks. Initials, dates, more modern figures - apparently, the locals have taken to decorating this area as well. Of the ancient glyphs I find, far too many have been damaged. It seems so local marksman have decided that symbols resembling shields are actually bulls-eyes and have taken to trying to hit them. Something inside me wants to find these vandals and think of them as bulls-eyes, but I digress.
As the rock art starts to disappear along the cliff heading in this direction, I decide to turn and head the opposite direction. As I make my way around a bend, I find another barricade and some amazing panels. One large symbol appears near the top in three different, but nearby locations. It is a circle with an odd image (resembling a squid) inside it. Given the scale and repetition of the symbol, it must have some significance, but the meaning is lost to the centuries.
I turn back towards the jeep and decide to head home. It's been a long day, but I've been able to visit a number of amazing sites. Perhaps when the snows melt, I will visit the area area again, as there are many more treasures to find.
The final petroglyph area along Fish Slough Road is another few miles beyond the Chidago site and is by far the most extensive. This area is large enough that past visitors have worn several trails in and around the decorated boulders.
Walking around the area, I note humanoid figures and even something that resembles an ancient Greek hydra. Boulders have panels carved into them along most of the flat surfaces and in some cases, the artist must have squeezed himself between two of them in order to scratch his marks in the stone.
I continue walking around the area and find a figure that appears to represent the mythological thunderbird. I've only seen this figure a couple of other times, but it always stirs my imagination. I've often wondered if these birds ever truly existed (or still do). Some theories suggest they ride the cold air currents preceding storms and scoop up the swarms of insects caught in the updrafts. Much like bigfoot, the thunderbird will live in our legends for now.
As for me, I finish the mile or so of trails in and around the boulders before returning to the jeep. It's been a busy morning and I decide to take a few minutes to eat some lunch. I brought along a cooler with some homemade orzo-spinach salad and decide to enjoy it from the front bumper of my jeep while I watch other visitors explore the rock art.
A few miles north of the Fish Slough area, a second concentration of petroglyphs was scratched into the stacked boulders by our ancient artists. These panels are mostly barricaded off to help protect them.
Once again, I park and get out to explore. Several of the panels in this section are very densely decorated, which differs somewhat from most of the panels at Fish Slough. Unfortunately though, a few of the rock art figures have been damaged by vandals. I wander around the area admiring the spirals, shields, and other symbols for a bit longer before heading onto the next area.
The volcanic tableland north of Bishop, CA are known to have been populated by ancient Native Americans for thousands of years. Many left their marks in the form of rock art on the boulders littering the landscape and usually in concentrated areas. This area is known as Fish Slough.
I park the jeep and get out to explore the area. There are a number of panels here, mostly scattered on short boulders. The first one I notice seems to represent an exceptionally tall and lean human figure. Perhaps the 'Robert Wadlow' of his time. Other mysterious figures and symbols adorn many of the boulders in the area.
As I head back to the jeep, I notice the jewel of the site. A RV-sized boulder eroded at the ground level so as to appear similar to a high table. The entire edge facing away from the parking area is covered with petroglyphs. Various patterns, spirals, and other figures decorate the edge - quite impressive.
Not far from Sky Rock is the second and equally famous rock art panel, 13 Moons. This panel is vertical unlike it's famous neighbor, but tells an amazing story, I only wish I knew what that story was. I actually found 13 Moons relatively easily after locating Sky Rock. Since It's near ground level and visible from the ground, it wasn't nearly as difficult.
The panel includes thirteen filled circles, presumably representing the thirteen moons of the year. Additional figures interact with the 'moons', perhaps as a sort of calendar. Maybe the figures around the 'moons' represent gods or heroes and their epic feats. Again, we'll likely never know, but it's fun to wonder.
The area known as Chalk Bluff above the Owens River is well-visited by rock climbers looking for interesting boulders to apply their skills to, but in addition to these modern visitors, some ancient Native American artists also made use of these boulders to record their stories for the millennia.
The first panel is one of the most magnificent and unique in all of my explorations. I've spent a few months trying to learn the location of these cultural treasures. Those in the know go to exceptional lengths to keep the exact locations secret. It's an unfortunate truth, but there are far to many vandals out there that care nothing for the value these panels add to the human story. That said, it made finding these rock art panels was a combination of internet research and reaching out to several friends. Eventually, I did get a pretty good idea of the locations, but I will keep those to myself (please don't ask).
My first step to looking for the petroglyph panels was to climb up the bluff itself. The numerous boulders in the field below give testament to how crumbly the rocks making up the bluff are, but I carefully made my way up the steep 200-ish foot incline to reach the top. From there, I had to do a significant amount of scrambling, but I eventually found Sky Rock.
This panel is approximately ten feet wide and six feet tall, but the most unusual thing about it is that it faces upward towards the skies above. If not completely unique among rock art, it is certainly a very rare thing. I'm forced to wonder intent of the ancient artist. Was he telling a story or making a request of his gods? Was he telling a story of the skies? I doubt we'll ever know the true intent, but it's of little matter. The legacy of his great work remains long after he has joined his ancestors in the great beyond. It is truly awe-inspiring. I scramble around looking for a better shot, but the treacherousness of the boulders and my lack of climbing skill limit my options. I settle for the shots I've taken and head back down to look for my next panel.
The area just north of Bishop, CA, known as the volcanic tablelands, is full of geologic and cultural treasures and oddities. I've visited some of them in the past, but I decided to make extensive visit this weekend and check out a number of them. Driving down Friday evening, I was expecting to get a good night's sleep and an early start, but I got stopped at Bridgeport. From what I understand there as a head-on collision a few miles south that resulted in at least five fatalities and would require the highway to be closed until morning while the scene was being investigated. Rather than give up, I decided to take the long way around. I reached Bishop just after midnight, but at least I got there in once piece.
My first destination was 20-ish miles north of Bishop, on the shores of Crowley Lake. The lake is actually a reservoir completed in 1941. Shortly after completion, strange columns started becoming visible on the eastern shore. They were describes as section columns evenly spaced and connected by earthen archways supporting the land above. They looked almost man-made, but given the circumstances and location this seemed not only unlikely, but highly improbable.
Just a couple of years ago, geologists finally solved the mystery. Apparently, the columns were the result of frigid water from melting snow seeping into hot ash from a recent volcanic eruption. After heating, the water rose as steam back through the same hole and as the ash cooled, the columns were formed.
Getting to the feature was a bit of a challenge, but thanks to preparing pretty solid directions and maps, and my trusty jeep, I was able to reach a clearing above the columns by means of some pretty rugged trails.
From the clearing, I could see one set of the columns in the distance. I hiked my way down to the shoreline and was then able to examine the columns up close. They truly are an amazing site. Most of the stones littering the shoreline look to be the remains of broken columns, as they are disks of the same size and shape as though making up the columns. I explore the area a bit more including hiking over the hill to the next "beach" and set of columns, but eventually decided to turn back. I have a number of other sites to visit today, but this was definitely worth it.
Finding new places to hike between the time I get off work and sundown is always challenging, but recently on my way back from the bay area, I noticed that a trail runs a long distance beside the Truckee River far below I80 and just west of the Nevada-California Border and Reno. After a little online research, I discovered that this is actually a bikeway connecting Lake Tahoe to Pyramid Lake, essentially following the route of the river as it carries melting snow from the mountains to the desert.
My friend Brent decided to join me on this little exploratory hike. I picked him up at his house and we drove the twenty or so miles to the Farad exit off of I80. There we found a parking lot and the trail. The route actually covers the entire distance I described, but as I was looking for some good views of the raging river, the canyon that the Farad power station sits in seemed like a good starting point.
We quickly hit the trail and followed it along the river. We passed the old power-station and continued on the trail along it's path. After a short distance, we came across a pipe directing water off the mountainside and into a ditch lined with a brown plastic canvas and a perimeter made of piled rocks. Someone has fashioned a hot tub from a flowing waters of a hot spring above us on the hill, or with the distance the water must travel, more of a 'warm tub'.
Bent and I hiked another mile or so before finally reaching a locked gate, we could have gone around or under it, but with the sun setting, it seemed a good time to turn back and return to the jeep. We put in right at 4.5 miles this evening. It was a decent hike and close to home.
The weather on the west coast and in the Sierras the last couple of weeks has been full of rain and snow, putting a damper on many of my hiking plans. However, I had planned to attend the California Artisan Cheese Festival in Santa Rosa this Sunday, and get some hikes in while I was at it. The prime target was a long hike along the coast to reach one of only two waterfalls in all of California that spills directly into the Pacific Ocean, Alamere Falls. I visited the other one, McWay Falls a few weeks ago and figured I would go for the double-double.
The drive from my hotel to the trailhead was about an hour through the foggy and winding roads of Point Reyes National Seashore. Though it is officially spring, it's still dark until a bit after 7:00 AM and knowing that I had a long hike today, I wanted to arrive at the trailhead early. I arrived and hit the dirt trail at about 7:30 AM. The large parking lot was relatively empty, with only about six or seven cars. Most of those folks were probably over-nighting somewhere in these beautiful coastal forests.
Knowing there was a good chance for rain today, I packed appropriately, and while the trail and surrounding forests were wet with the morning dew rolling off the ocean below, it wasn't actually raining. Perhaps, I will get lucky.
The lush grasses and moist earth below my feet is a playground for some smaller wildlife. Along the trail, I see two red-bellied newts (one of which topples onto his back as he tries to climb into the tall grass, but he quickly rights himself and continues on) and three banana slugs (one was feasting on some rodent droppings along the trail). I'm careful to not disturb my little friends any more than necessary to get past them.
The first section of the trail follows the coastline high above the ocean on tall cliffs. In the distance, I can see the Farallon Islands, some thirty miles off the coast. After a short distance the trail turns inland and weaves through a number of small lakes. It seems odd to have what I assume are fresh water lakes so close and yet so far above the ocean, but here there are nonetheless.
As the skies are starting to clear, I'm wondering if this may turn into a beautiful day after all. I arrive at a fork in the trail. The sign indicates that either path leads to Wildcat Campground, which is my way down to the shore, but not knowing which one to take, I decide to take the 'right' trail. As it turns out, it really makes no difference. The two trails rejoin after going around opposites sides of another small lake, this one filled with reeds and cat tails.
From here the grasses and trees get more lush as the trail leads to a small bridge over a fast moving brook. It's really great to see all of this green, highlighted with the occasional patch of yellow or orange wildflowers. After crossing the bridge the tree line starts to break and I can see the campground a short distance below me. It looks as though I was right about the cars at the trailhead, as I see a number of tents.
After passing through the campground, I make my way down to the shore. A sign warns that beyond this point the ocean can reach all the way to the cliffs at high-tide. Following LNT principles, I prepared for this and reviewed the tide schedule. I'm going to be hiking down the beach as the waters are approaching low-tide.
The brook I crossed a short time ago now flows through the sands with a pretty good flow. A number of logs and planks have been tossed across the stream to allow access to to the other side. I find what appears to be the most sturdy one and balance my way across.
From here, there is no trail; it's simply a mile or so down the beach to arrive at Alamere Falls. As I walk through the drying sands, I keep looking at the cliffs to my left. While I'm confident in my review of the tide schedule, I can't help but look for places to escape the ocean if high tide were to trap me here . . . there really is no escape. These cliffs are quite steep and even if I could find some small perch to wait out the tides, I would be there for several hours waiting for the tide to roll back out, as there is really no way to get back up to the highlands above.
In the distance, I can see the waterfall. It appears to flow off a a perfectly flat cliff just a few yards from the ocean. The white falling water is hard to miss against the brown and black rocks of the cliffs.
Just about a mile or so along the beach and I arrive at the base of the waterfall. It is a magnificent site. The waters of Alamere Creek plummet forty or so feet before hitting the sand and carving a channel to the salty ocean water. The water flows like a sheet over the cliff, spanning an area about thirty feet wide. I take a number of pictures from different angles. I have visited a lot of waterfalls in my life, but this is a very special one. Known as a "tidefall" because of flowing directly into the ocean, it is a rarity. I can't help but think of how lucky I am that the weather and tides cooperated and allowed me access to the amazing place.
After taking in the falls for a while, I turn and head back up the beach the way I came. Making my way back through the campground and across the bridge, I reach the fork between the two trails I mentioned earlier. This time, I decide to take the opposite one, the Ocean Lake Trail. As I suspected, it simply goes around the western side of the lake. It does however, offer some very cool views of the shoreline, including one of the falls far below and to the south.
As I finish out the remaining miles of the hike, I note how many other hikers, I'm passing now. I knew this was a popular trail, but I guess bay-area folks like to sleep in. All the better for me. When I arrive back at the large parking lot, it is completely full, including the entrance road. There are probably over a hundred cars here. Ah well, I completed the 14-mile hike in just at five-hours. That's not bad time at all considering the number of pictures I stopped for. I have to say that it was well worth it. Alamere Falls is quite a wonder and if are ever in the area, check it out - just review the tide forecast before hand :)
Living so close to Lake Tahoe, I've been aware and at times been a member of the Tahoe Rim Trail Association. I've even done a few events with them over the years. Each winter, they offer a guided snowshoe trek to the Martis Peak Fire Lookout overseeing most of the Tahoe basin. I had intended to do this with the group last year, but for one reason or another wasn't able to. This year, however, the dates lined up and I was able to register and do the hike.
Meeting at the intersection of Martis Peak Road and Highway 267, the seven of us (4 guides and 3 guests) made our introductions and geared up for the trail. Originally, more people had signed up, but the forecast called for rain and snow, which triggered a number of cancellations. That said though, the seven of us were happy to get some miles in on the powder. Also, the use of the word "trail" here is a bit of an embellishment. We were actually snowshoeing up a forest service road, but with approximately a foot of snow on the surface all the way up, you wouldn't know that.
Sinking the teeth of our snowshoes into the crunchy powder, we were off. The skies above were gray, but not dumping on us just yet. One of the guides mentioned that she didn't know that we'd make it all the way to the tower before the storm came, but we'd get as far as we could. Myself and one of the other guests were pretty determined and pushed the pace a fair amount.
The road itself was crisscrossed with snow-mobile tracks and had a gentle uphill incline that carried us up the 1,700' of elevation gain necessary to reach the lookout. We occasionally waited on the other members of the group, but still made pretty good time. About a mile before reaching the lookout, it started to snow very lightly, but by the time the lookout was in sight, it had started coming down a bit heavier.
We discovered a welcome sign and an unlocked door at the lookout and decided to get out of the weather to get a quick lunch in. The lookout building itself is nothing fancy. It's mostly a windowed plywood box with a balcony sitting on a base. While I think this particular lookout has been retired by the Forest Service, these buildings are generally staffed with rangers watching the horizon from the high perch and getting a jump on locating any wild fires that might start in the region. Around the interior ceiling, the rangers have drawn the mountain-scape in all directions and labeled the peaks. This is no doubt to help then identify the location of any fires they may see.
As we finish off our lunch, another group of snowshoers join us in the building. They too were brave enough to come out in the snow-storm. We pack up and bid them well, before heading back down the mountain. The snow on the way back comes down quite a bit heavier at times and some of us push pretty hard coming down. We do take time though to take in the beauty of this snow. My new friend mentions how much it reminds her of a the falling white powder in a snow globe, and she's absolutely right. It's remarkably similar.
Reaching the cars, we remove our snowshoes and thank our guide. It was a great trek and we got in just over 8.5 miles. This was my first snowshoe of the winter, but it was an excellent one!
