Working in the casino industry for many years, I was familiar with the Feather Falls Casino, but until I browsed through a California hiking guide, gifted to me by a co-worker, I had never considered visiting Feather Falls itself. As I'm trying to find nearby hikes of 10-20 miles as I train for some trips later this summer, this seemed like an ideal destination on a warm March Saturday.
The drive to Feather Falls (at least the route I found) passes through some very rural California farmland and some well-hidden back roads. All in all, it took just shy of three hours to get there from my home in Reno. Arriving at the large trail head parking lot, I slung on my purposely heavy pack (again for training purposes) and started to make my way to the renowned falls. Just after leaving the trail head, the trail splits into the Upper and Lower paths. As I wanted to experience the whole trail, I opted to take the upper to the falls and the shorter (but steeper) lower on the way back.
This deciduous forest reminds me of those near St. Louis in Spring. Here in the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada, the entire palate is green and lush, even at this late winter date. This forest bristles with life. Moss and lichens cover almost every exposed surface, from the giant granite boulders to rotting logs to living trees. With all of the granite, I am reminded of Yosemite, a couple of hundred miles to the south, but Yosemite sits at a higher elevation and doesn't have this amazingly vibrant green carpet on everything.
At about a mile in, I encounter a small, but beautiful water fall. It is only about 30 feet tall
as it cascades over the rocks, but still a great preview of what is to come. The trail in this
area is pretty level and easy to navigate. I'm still impressed by the vibrancy of this forest. As
I get caught up in taking pictures, a small garter snake slithers from warming himself on the
sunny trail to some nearby grass for cover. I snap a couple of pictures and move on.
The point where the upper and lower trails rejoin is a bit difficult to recognize, as the trial
to the falls beyond starts at a switch back hidden behind a large boulder. I eventually figure
out and return to the uphill path toward the falls. This path has had concrete poured at some
point in time. Though cracked and broken now, it still ensure a nice clear walk up the steep last section to Feather Falls, which I can now hear in the distance as the falling water pounds the rocks below.
The trail curls around the top of this giant granite monolith until it begins to descend to an
observation deck. I catch my first site of the falls after making the turn to start going
downhill to the deck. Amazing!!!
Feather Falls was long touted to be the 3rd, 4th, or 5th tallest water fall in the US with a
reported height of 640 feet. Recently however, this has been revised to 410 feet, and while that removes it from contention even for the top 10 list, it does nothing to diminish the grandeur of this might plummet. The cliff over which the water falls is almost sheer and quite magnificent. The water continuously pours over the edge to 'feather' out as it makes its way to the bottom. Most impressive.
Once I reach the observation deck, I take a few minutes to take it all in, take some photos, eat a snack, and then I'm on my way back. However, as I reach the point where I had started down toward the deck, I notice a broken trail leading beyond. A couple a few yards ahead of me welcome me and ask if I know where it goes. I respond that I don't, but that I intend to find out. After a quarter mile or so, I have skirted the edge of this sharp crevasse and made my way to the top of the falls. I scramble down some granite to the very top of the falls. It's always amazing to see the power of the water as it takes its last breath before diving off. It truly is beautiful up here.
Making my way back, I start along the lower trail. So far, so good. In this section, the trail is
fairly easy. I come to a spot overlooking Bald Rock Dome, a monstrous piece of granite,
protruding from the forested mountainside on the far side of the valley.
About half way in, the trail begins to get steeper and I am forced to stop for a water break
every so often. As I cross Frey Creek's broken bridge, I look for signs of ladybugs, which I had read winter along this creek. I find a few stragglers, but not the millions I had read about. I'm sure they have moved back into the valley already, given the overly warm winter we have had. Nearing the end of the trail, I come across a mighty oak tree, covered in moss and splitting through a a number of granite boulders. A sign indicates and I find some ancient Native American mortars drilled into the stone. These were used to grind acorns into a sort of bread dough by the local tribes. The bread made from this dough was a staple of their diet. It's always interesting to see little pieces of history like this out in the forest.
Returning to jeep, I pack up and prepare to head home. What a great hike and what a great life I have. The falls were everything I had been lead to believe and I'm grateful for the freedom to experience this natural wonder for myself. In total, I hiked just short of 10 miles. My phone app stopped tracking at some point at the top and so didn't calculate my trip around to the top of the falls, but no matter.
While I have done some minor hikes over the last few weeks at places like Huffaker Hills, I've been aching to actually get to something a little more substantial. I decided to try one of the hikes that starts at the Galena Creek Regional Park. I purposely got a later start, as I wanted to let the sun warm up the day a little bit. I arrived at the visitor center right about noon and asked the gentlemen at the reception desk about the trail conditions at the higher elevations of the Jones Whites Creek Loop. He said that no one had reported back on the conditions recently, but that the Church's Pond trail, which forks off of the Loop at the high point had been reported as being passable three weeks ago.
I decided to risk it and just decide which way to go once I got to that area. I parked the jeep
at the trail head, threw on my pack (which I have additional weight in for training purposes), and headed out. The trail is well maintained as it follows the small Jones Creek. The incline is pretty steady in this early section, with occasional steep piece. After a mile or so of this
steady incline, I was getting a little winded, but I wanted to keep pushing myself, as part of my purpose today is training for more difficult adventures later this year.
In it's steady climb up towards 8k feet, this trail reminds me of a trail that my friend, Brent,
and I hiked last year in Lassen Volcanic National Park. As I proceed up the trail, the incline
goes from steady to fairly relentless. There really is no loss of elevation at all, as I make my
way past a series of three switchbacks. As I near the top, I get a great view of the snow-covered Slide Mountain to my south and the slightly taller and equally snow-covered Mount Rose to my southwest.
Arriving at the high point of the trail, I hit a fork. Left goes another 0.7 miles to Church's
Pond and right continues on the Jones Whites Creek Loop. As I really want to get the miles in, I decided to try the Loop. However after just a few yards, the muddy/snowy step slope encourages me to turn back. I decide to be content with Church's Pond, which will hopefully be less treacherous.
There is snow up here, the facing direction of this slope or that has a great impact on how much sun a patch of ground gets and therefore how much snow remains, but there are several sections, which have two or more feet up here. I slip and slide through the mud and snow, and eventually make my way to a frozen swimming pool size pond at the center of a much larger indention. I suspect the snow melt will vastly increase the volume of this pond in a couple of months. For now though, I'm content to sit on an exposed boulder and eat a granola bar before heading back.
On my way back, I encounter a fellow adventurer and his young puppy. I ask if had been doing the loop, but the snow-shoes attached to his pack make me think that he had loftier goals in mind. He tells me that he is on his way back from the peak of Mt. Rose . . . Impressive! Perhaps, I will try that next week or the week after. Anyway, it's time to put the pedal to the metal and hoof it back to the trail head. The return trip is uneventful and far, far easier as it is as steady downhill as it was relentlessly uphill just an hour or two ago. In total, I knocked out about 7.7 miles today with an elevation gain/loss of 2k. Not a bad workout, but I need to get to doing these every weekend for the next several weeks in order to be able to thru-hike the TRT, which is my final goal for the year.
As I have mentioned in other posts in the past, winter closes off most of the great hikes around Reno. However, I recently learned of one near Colfax, CA (about 75 miles West of Reno) and had to go check it out. I didn't quite as early of start as I had originally wanted to, but I was on the road by 8:30. This probably worked out better, as the temperatures crossing the Sierra Nevada on I-80 were very mild. After get confused and taking a minor wrong turn, I arrived at the trailhead to find a packed house.
A large group of hikers were preparing to disembark on the trail, but one of them was nice enough to flag me into an open spot that I could not see from where I was currently stopped. I would later catch up to the group and find out that they were a group of neighbors from the San Juan Valley who all enjoyed hiking together. This particular trip was a birthday hike for one of the members, Kathleen. In total, there were 17 members of the group and each and every one of them were extremely courteous and friendly. As I made my way through the group, another member told me about an overlook coming up, which I stopped at to gaze at the river valley below.
This valley was cut by the North Fork of the American River, and the trail we are on leads slowly down the northern side of the valley, eventually reaching the river. As I understand it, the trail was originally blazed for gold miners making their way to Colfax, but was lost for many decades after the gold rush. A boy scout found the overgrown trail in the 1960's and it has since become a very popular year-round destination for adventurers. There really are some breathtaking views here.
After catch back up with Kathleen's group, I'm informed of another point of interest in the form of a small abandoned gold mine on the mountainside directly along the trail. Another of the group invites me to join them as they explore the interior of the man-made cave. Luckily he has a kerosene lantern with him and I take advantage of a small LED light my wife gave me for Christmas. The mine only has two passable branches, each of which only go a couple of dozen yards into the mountainside. It is a pretty cool distraction though, as the miners simply followed a gold vein with their dynamite. There are still some charge holes drilled out and unused, and some rotten support timbers littering the floor. The group uses this point as a rest stop, but I want to get some good exercise today and decide to push on. I wish them well and thank them for their company before getting back to my normal pace.
The contrast in temperatures between shadow and being in full sunlight is quite startling. I would guess that it is approaching 70 in the sun, while at the river level and in the shade of the mountain, snow and frost still linger.
As I continue down the valley, the trail hugs the mountainside very snugly and offers terrific views of the river below. I'm surprised to see people panning for gold in the bluish-green water of the river below. With a number of 5-gallon buckets and other gear I can see, I suspect these folks are a bit more than hobbyists. Reaching the river itself, I climb around on the slippery granite boulders looking for the perfect view. These rocks are exceptionally slick from a combination of moss and frost. Eventually, I decide that breaking a bone on this obstacle course would probably put a damper on some of my plans for later this spring and decide to turn and head back.
Checking my Walkmeter app when I get back to the jeep, I see that I hiked a total of about 8.5 miles. It was a pretty easy hike with some really nice scenery and the mine provided a great distraction. I will plan on coming back here later this year to see the wildflowers. I suspect they will carpet the sides of these valleys and make for a magnificent display.
Two of the other stops I made in Death Valley were all about spectacular views. The first, Zabriskie Point is also on the west side of the park a few miles past Furnace Creek on highway 190. A large parking lot sits below a well worn climb up to the vista point. Judging from the crowd here, this is obviously a very popular point and as I begin to climb up the short trail to the top, I can see why.
Below Zabriskie Point expands a landscape of multiple shapes, colors, and textures. As I understand it, this is the eroded remains of the ancient Furnace Creek Lake. The dry landscape and plethora of minerals in the soil here makes for some magnificent contrasts. The view from this point is ideal to see this amazing sprawl. And while my current trip won't allow me the time to explore it, there is a trail leading through these badlands. I will definitely have to hike this on my next trip.
Further down highway 190 is the turn off leading toward Dante's View. A posted signs warns against trying to pull a trailer up to this amazing view, which supposedly allows one to see the lowest point in North America, Badwater Basin (at 282 feet below seal level) and the highest point in the contiguous United States, Mt. Whitney (at 14,505 feet) all in one breathtaking scene.
After reaching the parking lot at the top of Dante's View, I can understand why no trailers should be pulled up here. Most of the drive is pretty easy, but the last half-mile or so is full of sharp, steep bends as the road winds around a small peak to get to the top. The view from up here is truly amazing, and possibly offers the best panoramic possible of the whole of Death Valley. Badwater Basin is fairly obvious in the foreground a few thousand feet below, but Mt. Whitney requires a bit more work to find. The range directly to the west of Death Valley is the Panamint Range, and while very scenic and even snow-covered does not reach the heights of the Sierra Nevada Range further to the west. However, if you follow the ridgeline with your eyes on a clear day (like today), you will eventually see distant snow-covered peaks above the Panamint range. I'm told this is Mt. Whitney, which lies about 85 miles to the northwest (though at this distance and from this angle, I can't confirm that myself). Amazing!
I take a quick hike out to another connected peak where enthusiasts are taking pictures of the length of the massive valley below, and then return to my jeep for the drive down.
Winter in Reno, where I have lived for several years, is normally a time of few hikes and outdoor adventures due to most of the mountain passes being closed off. One destination that is an exception to this thinking is Death Valley. In fact, visiting this park in winter is the ideal season due to the incredibly high summer temperatures (exceeding 125 degrees at times). A gentlemen that I work with at my new job has spent a great deal of time in Death Valley over the years and suggested a couple of points of interest that I have not visited on my previous trips to the park.
The first of these was Titus Canyon, which I had always been curious about. The exit of the canyon is well signed driving from Scotty's Castle to Furnace Creek, but prior to planning this trip, I had not looked into where the canyon drive started. In fact, it begins outside of the park near the town of Beatty, NV. From Beatty, head east on hightway 374. After about five miles you will pass a right turn that leads to the ghost town of Rhyolite, and another three or so miles past this turn, you will encounter another turn of listed as Titus Canyon. The sign recommends a high clearance 4x4 for this road and I would agree with the assessment, as it is rocky, windy, and steep in some areas. It is also one way, heading west, into the park. The first several miles are relatively tame (though there are some sharp and steep turns) as you cross a small mountain range before entering Titus Canyon itself.
Once inside the canyon, you will drive down a wash, which presumably carved the canyon over the millenia, that has been somewhat leveled to serve as a loose gravel road. Passing through the narrow canyon, you will be in awe of the shear cliffs on either side. I wish it had been a bit warmer so I could have taken the top down on my jeep, but the sunlight in this narrow winding pass keeps the temperature pretty cool. No worries though, I only saw one other vehicle during the entire 27 mile drive and so, was able to take ample opportunities to get out of the vehicle and get some pictures. As the drive itself was pretty breathtaking, I decided to attempt to film some of it as well using the video feature on my camera.
I was also suprised to see a small petroglyph site about midway through the canyon. A sign on the right side of the road asks visitors to preserve the site. A bit further, and nearing the end of the canyon, it gets more narrow as it winds to and fro through the cliffsides. Finally, it releases the traveler to a gated parking lot where hikers can begin the trail through the canyon on foot.
This was a specacular drive and while not overly rough for my jeep, I'm reminded of how much I love rubicon. I would strongly recommend this drive to anyone with the appropriate vehicle. It's definitely worth it.
With winter quickly approaching and most of the high passes already closed due to snow, I've been searching for more and more local hikes that remain at low enough elevations as to allow me to do them through the winter. I have hiked a number of them around town, but doing the same trail multiple times a week can get boring quickly. All that said, I came across a write up online about the Ophir Creek Trail, which seemed to fit the bill, at least a portion of the trail.
The trail starts at the Davis Creek Regional Park, which is just a few miles south of Reno on old US 395. A quick trek through some lush forest terrain leads across the first of several creek crossings. This one offers a small bridge, but that will be the last of those facilities along the way. I've not done a great deal of hiking in the area at this time of year, but the orange pine needle carpet and the occasional pine cone makes a nice contrast against the green of trees and the white granite boulders scattered around the landscape.
The next creek crossing (I believe this one is actually Ophir Creek) is a matter of rock hopping while crossing a series of stream fingers. It makes for a beautiful site. The trail is pretty well maintained and marked, though there are a few branching trails that require me to pay some attention to where I'm going. At point along the way, I'm offered a terrific view of the washed out canyon cut by yet another creek. This trail winds it's way up the hillsides adjacent to Slide Mountain, the home of the Reno's premier ski resort. Slide Mountain was presumably named due to it's proneness for periodic and often devestating landslides on it's southeast face. It appears to me that some of the devestation visible in this canyon was probably caused by the last landslide, which occured in 1983.
Up until this point, this trail has been a pretty relentless ascent up this mountainside, but this next section flattens out a bit. Here the ground below my feet is composed mostly of pulverized granite and a few oddly shaped granite tours sprout out of the eary. One formation, made of two large monoliths, reminds me of Laurel and Hardy.
Another much larger one on the opposite side of the trail has a large irregularly shaped boulder balanced atop a granite pyramid. This area reminds me of my beloved Yosemite. My time in this area is shortlive though as I continue on. Just after this section, the trail shares it's path with a off-road trail, which I later discover leads to a small lake within the canyon below. Luckily, I come upon a sign indicating that my trail continues abruptly uphill, while the road continues on to the lake. I opt to take the more difficult uphill path.
This section of the trail, steep as it is, seems to be less trafficed than what I have traveled on thus far. It winds through some dense shrubs and cross more trickling streams, including a moss-covered waterfall that must be crossed. This one reminds me of my time in Scotland.
I wonder how much further it is before I reach my destination at Tahoe Meadows. The steepness continues as I pass through another lush meadow, but this time ripe with fall colors and a young aspen grove stripped of it's fall leaves by the strong winds at this altitude. There is also some snow up here, though it has melted and refrozen into small patches of ice. At one point, though I'm being cautious, I slip and fall on my arse. Only my pride was injured, luckily.
A little further and I finally reach my declared turning point, the intersection with the Tahoe Rim Trail in the forest around Tahoe Meadows. I do an about face and begin the return trip. I'm hoping this will be a little easier, as it should be as much downhill now as there was unshaking uphill on the way up. It turns out to be fairly easy traversing the return route, but I didn't remember it being quite so steep. About halfway back, the impact of each step starts killing my knees. I try to slow down a bit, which seems to help.
Eventually, I reach the parking lot where I left my jeep this morning. In total, this was a nearly 16 mile trek with nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain. That's very steep for an out and back hike, but it was great exercise. I hope I feel the same way tomorrow.
On a windswept hill overlooking Virgina City, timeless reminders of this areas prominent days can be found. In 1859, the first major silver deposit in the United States, the Comstock Lode, was found here. As many a man came here to make seek his fortune in the silver mines, Virginia City quickly exploded into the queen of the boom towns, swelling to a population around 15,000 in the late nineteenth century.
As I wander amounst the terraced graves of those laid to rest here, I'm intrigued by many of the burial practices of the time. The majority of the graves are surrounded by ornate fencing of wood or wrought iron. This was apparently a common practice during the Victorian Age. Also, a number of the tombstones are carved from wood. As you can imagine, 120+ years has made much of the text unreadable.
It's also interesting to me that the cemetery is sectioned off by relgious sect with the Mason's claiming the largest area. There are sections for the Hebrews, Roman Catholics, and many others strewn about these hillsides. And also of note, few those laid to rest here were native Nevadans. In fact, I'm fascinated by the number of markers indicating natives of Ireland.
All in all, there are a probably a couple of thousand graves here, and nearly all of the markers, fencing, and other ornatmentation are in disrepair. It is humbling though to think of these pioneers and the fortunes they claimed from the earth below us. Now though, they are simply dust in the wind, as we are all destined to become.
