As my fiancée had never been to Yosemite, I thought it appropriate that we should take a weekend to camp and see the amazing sites the park has to offer. I made all of the arrangements and we headed down to the park. As is tradition, we had to stop at Whoa Nellie Deli for a meal . . . best gas station food anywhere!!
We camped at Wawona and had a terrific site. throughout the trip, we visited many of the famous areas: Tuolumne Meadows, Mariposa Grove, Glacier Point, and of course Yosemite Valley itself.
On our final day though, we visited an area of the park I had not been to either, Hetch Hetchy. John Muir thought of this valley as a near twin to Yosemite and fought his most passionate battle to preserve it's majesty. In the end though, he lost and the O'Shaughnessy Dam was eventually built to create a reservoir out of the valley. Such a shame and something that I doubt would happen in today's world, a world he inspired to preserve such things.
After a couple of days of camping we broke camp and headed home. I think Cass enjoyed the trip though, and as close as Yosemite is, we will of course return.
While visiting Bishop for my birthday, I decided to drive a bit north of town to visit a petroglyph area known as Red Rock Canyon (not to be confused with Red Rocks Canyon near Las Vegas).
The drive out the lonely desert road leads many miles north until finally, I notice the a sign indicating the panels. I hop out of the jeep and walk the short trail visiting all of the panels along the way. I know there are many petrolgyphs and other artifacts in this area, but those will have to wait for another day. For now, these amazing examples will have to suffice.
For my birthday weekend this year, I decided to spend some time in the Bishop, CA area. Bishop has a lot of great things to see and do. From petroglyphs, to the famous Schat's Bakery, to forests of the ancient bristlecone pines high above the city in the nutrient-poor soil of the White Mountains, the area boasts some great destinations. The last one in that list is the focus of this write-up.
I have visited a couple of bristlecone pine groves in the past, including the Methuselah Grove. Leaving the same trailhead as that trail, a shorter interpretive trail bobs and weaves through more of the ancient sentinels of this mountaintop forest. The Discovery Trail is much shorter, but just as awe-inspiring.
The like chess pieces rising from the checkered game board, the bristlecone pines poke through the white dolomite soil at regular intervals. Their trunks are gnarled and twisted, and can only hint at the millennia these elder statesmen have witnessed from up on high.
After a short stroll through the grove, I return to the jeep and make my way back to town. Visiting this plays always leaves me feeling minuscule to the vastness of time.
In this land of mist and fog overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the giant coastal redwoods stand as monarchs over all they survey, and at 350+ feet tall, they survey pretty much everything. The eight hour drive that my fiancee Cass and I made to reach Crescent City, the northern end of the Redwoods Park area, seemed to fly by fairly uneventfully. While Lassen Volcanic National Park, which we drove past on the way, was still closed due to the snow, we at last got some amazing views of the mighty Mt. Shasta on our way North.
As we get closer and closer to our destination, we begin seeing hints of the beautiful Blue Smith River in the ravines below us. So stirring was it that I wished I had brought my Kayak along. Alas, that will have to be another trip, for the tall trees are our goal this time through.
The hour was fairly late when we arrived in Crescent City and so we decided to simply visit the ranger station for maps and then go to our hotel. The ranger we spoke with was very enthusiastic and helpful as he advised us. A bite of dinner and we were off to bed.
We started Saturday off with a drive down the famous highway 101, headed to a semi-rough jeep trail, Coastal Road North, which offers some breathtaking views of the coast. The trail also passes above a set of farmhouses, long abandoned. A brief walk down the well-worn path revealed a historical marker. These “farmhouses” were actually part of a disguised radar station during WWII, watching the coast for potential mainland attacks by the Japanese – interesting stuff.
A bit further south and we took our first hiking trail of the weekend. This short 1-mile loop attaches to part of the more extensive Coastal Trail and offers a nice view of the ecology of the coast. By making my way through an area off the beaten path and thanks to the low tide, I was able to explore some exposed tidal pools. Unfortunately after scrambling over slippery seaweed-covered rocks for twenty or so minutes, my only reward was the saline-laced air. I had hoped to see a crab or clam or something in the shallow pools, but no such luck.
Continuing on, we drove through a scenic alternative to 101, through the heart of the redwoods forest. These trees are magnificent, as they reach for the sky like perfectly straight pillars supporting the very heavens.
We stopped to take a couple of the numerous side trails. The dampness in this forest only hints at the life swelling from the very earth. Ferns like sand on the beach cover the floor, while the trunks of giant trees a scattered about; their size is amazing. Some trunks are greater than twenty feet in diameter. While not as massive as the Giant Sequoias, their height and majesty are noble in their own right.
Driving further down 101, we encounter a shack with the most amazing smoked salmon (freshly caught in the nearby Klamath River, no doubt), a black sandy beach with some pacific seals lounging about and other wonders for our eyes.
In the late afternoon, we head back north. Holland Hill Road, headed east out of Crescent City, is a little rough, but gives access to the Stout Grove, which was marked as a premier trail for seeing the true giants of this forest. It did not disappoint. The true titans are thick in this small loop hike, but frequency does not diminish their spectacle . . . amazing.
As the sun, what little of it we can see, begins to set, we arrive back at our hotel. We've seen some awe-inspiring sites today. Tomorrow, we head home.
Though mid-October is a little late in the season for an overnight backpacking trip, with the warm weather we’ve had, my friend Brent and I decided to take one final trip into the wilds this year. After getting a fire permit from the Truckee, CA ranger station, we headed for the trail head just a couple of miles west of Donner Lake. The trail starts off easy enough, sharing a path with the Pacific Crest Trail for the first mile or so. Though the trail is easy at this point, a 35 lbs. pack on my back adds some difficulty. Perhaps I over packed?
After passing through a pair of long, narrow tunnels to go under I-80, the two trails split and the sign indicates 7 more miles to our destination, Warren Lake. At first, we travel through a fairly heavily forested area, but soon reach some warm sunny hillsides overlooking the lush Paradise Valley. We begin to see Castle Peak in the distance. Its well defined towers and walls leave no doubt as to how it got its name.
As we continue over the small valleys and ridges, we circle about 270 degrees around Castle Peak. The trail is tough, but manageable.
Another sign: “Warren Lake 1 mile”. And so, we reach the rough part of the hike. The lake itself sits in a tiny valley about a quarter of a mile down steep cliffs from where we are. Steep descents like this kill the knees, but we eventually make it down.
All along the way, we had intended to get a campfire going once we made camp. Just at the point we reached the lake, we find a beautifully crafted stone fireplace with loungers scattered around it formed from local stones. Ah – what luck! Getting a fire going, though, proves far more challenging. Heavy rains early this week make finding decent firewood near impossible. We singe a bunch of pine needles intended as kindling, but can’t seem to get the wood to catch. After about 45 minutes of effort we submit. We abandon hope of a fire and cook dinner over our portable stoves. While relaxing after a good meal, the abandoned fire seems to come to life again without our assistance. It smolders through the night, but never reaches what one could call a true campfire.
After a good night’s sleep in the open air, we rise to find an enchanting mist over the small lake at our doorstep. It makes for a spectacular sunrise. We break camp and begin the agonizing climb out of this little valley. After about six hours and a few blisters, we return to Brent’s truck ready for a big mac and a soda.
Late every September, the land-locked kokanee salmon living in Lake Tahoe begin to feel the primal urge to mate. As their bodies change shape and color, they make their way upstream against the current and over small waterfalls to the place they themselves were spawned.
Seeing the droves of them in the thousands paddling in the shallow, clear water of Taylor Creek is a pungent reminder of one of those undeniable drives that pushes all of us – to mate.
Setting out in San Francisco Bay, the Rock or Alcatraz Island is an impressive remainder of our system of law and justice. For it was here that some of the most horrible criminals in our nation’s history were incarcerated.
The ferry ride across the bay to the Rock is a short 12 minutes, but the cold, sharp wind gives one some minor sense of what awaited prisoners even if they managed to reach the shoreline of the island during an escape attempt. Once we dock, we begin making our way up the crumbling walkways past the collapsing ruins of this once renowned maximum security prison to the cell house at the top of the island.
Once inside, each visitor is given a digital recorder and headphones to being the self-guided tour of the prison. Former guards and inmates narrate tales of escape attempts, daily life, and sieges as they direct you through the cell blocks.
Having one of the most beautiful cities on Earth a mere couple of miles distant, but well within site must have been true torture for these inmates.
