Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Jack London State Park - Vineyard Trail (Sonoma County, California)

 

I'm in San Francisco for a couple of days this week for some training, but since I have the whole day to get there from Reno, I thought I would take some extra time to get a couple of hikes in. Driving through Napa and Sonoma this time of year, it's impossible to not smell the grapes having been recently harvested. That wonderful aroma occupies and the thoughts that it inspires occupy me until I reach the small village of Glen Ellen. I've stayed here before and find this little hamlet intriguing. It has a wonderful feel to it. 

For many years, Glen Ellen was home to the famous turn of the century author, Jack London, and where he finally met his ultimate end. He attempted to popularize the idea of sustainable farming here, but his thinking was unfortunately far ahead of his time. He essentially drank himself to death on the land he so loved. In the years since his wife's passing, the lands have been acquired by the state and turned into the Jack London Historical Park. This will be the source of my first adventure today.


Originally, I had planned to hike a collection of trails forming the Sonoma Ridge Loop here, but as time is passing faster than I had anticipated, I have to settle for a few less miles. As I explore the grounds of the ranch, I quickly get lost in what London was trying to do. The trail departs the parking lot and quickly enters the main structures of the ranch. A large (no roofless) hall opens up to the vineyard, rich with the colors of fall. We're only a couple of months after the harvest and most of the grape leaves are still clinging to the vine.


At the prompting of a sign, I wander a short side trail up to an area known as the Pig Palace. Apparently, London built a luxurious pen for the porcine inhabitants of his ranch, with sanitation heavily on his mind. From what I've read, he believed (rightfully) that if he could maintain a clean and disease-free area for his livestock, he could produce very high quality pork, and while his hypothesis was correct, it failed to be economically viable, at least in his time.

From here, the trail wanders alongside the vineyard and into the woods behind it. A short distance further, and I reach London Lake, which these days is overgrown, but when the Ranch was a home, the author and his guests enjoyed a wonderful swimming hole, complete with a bath house and "floating" walkway to the lake. A large retaining wall on the eastern side, allowed a service road to pass by the lake. 

Continuing on into the woods along the Vineyard trail, I finally reach a dry creek bed, which signs indicate as a local water source (at least in the spring). Here a couple of things catch my attention. 

First, I'm mesmerized by the loud chirping of what I believe to be a tree squirrel in the canopy above. For several minutes, I listen to the lonely hum reverberating through the forest. While there is a sadness to the creature's voice, I can not know if it is truly in pain or just lonely. Perhaps, it is not sadness at all and my squirrel-ese is just out of practice. Regardless, I remain still and just listen for a while 


The second item that really seems odd is the way the trees grow. Tall clusters of redwoods have grown in a number of what I can only describe to as huddles. In these groupings, eight to twelve mature trees seem to have grown around a central point, all within a twenty-five or so foot circle. Seeing one group like this would be strange, but here there are numerous clusters growing like this. Were these trees the offspring of some mighty ancestor that once stood at the center of each huddle? Were the trees planted like this by London or someone connected with him? I really have no idea, but it's certainly an oddity.

Turning back, I mostly retrace my path. As I return to the jeep, I see that I've hiked about 3.3 miles. I really want to go further, but today's time is limited and this place will be here when I'm able to return in the spring. 

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