Calaveras Big Trees State Park

The day after Thanksgiving is commonly thought of as a stress-filled, hustle-bustle full of discounts, deals and fights over this year's biggest, shiniest new toy.  The kickoff to the holiday season is often filled with anything but cheer and goodwill towards fellow man.  Not my ideal way to spend any day, let alone that one.



We decided to escape the hordes of shoppers and take a hike.  We drove up to Calaveras Big Trees State Park, only to find that not only we unable to find solitude (and honestly, we didn't expect to, not at Big Trees), but they were having a sale, too, at the gift shop.  But like the insightful ranger who welcomed us to the park so perfectly put it, we hadn't come up there for the shopping.  Not hardly.  I started getting a little nervous.  My peaceful day was appearing to evaporate before me. 

That's plenty of people for me...

However, we were already there so we took off for the trail, mixing up a little hot chocolate from a thermos we had packed before setting out.  It was pretty well-populated in the parking lot - in fact, we were hard pressed to find a parking space - but soon after we started down the trail, the crowds began to thin out.  

Our first stop was at the Discovery Tree, which is a big dance floor - er, tree stump.  This gigantic tree was felled in the late eighteen hundreds and the remaining stump had been used as a dance floor.  The park maintains a stairway to allow visitors to climb to the top and walk along the dance floor.  Of course, we had to climb up as well, and stop someone and ask them to take our picture.  

The park offers an accompanying guide in the form of a pamphlet that they sell for fifty cents at a kiosk along the trail.  The guide is numbered and matches up with numbered signs that dot the path from beginning to end.  

Reading the guide and walking slowly along the trail made for a relaxing afternoon away - for the most part - from mobs of people.  True, we were in no way the only folks on the path, but we felt neither rushed nor crowded at any time.  Generally every group minded their own business, politely crossing paths as we all marveled in a collective silence at the impressive feats of nature that stood before us. 

Branches of the yew tree - The park is
the only place these trees and
the giant sequoias grow together.

The pamphlet offered loads of interesting information, including the general age of the trees (in the thousands of years), their relative size (they have the largest mass of any living thing on earth) and some surprising oddities (the trees' bark can be three feet thick and is nearly fireproof).  Sure, a simple online search will tell you the same thing, but there's something different about hearing it while standing face to face with something so impressive.  It felt like staring into the past, knowing these trees had grown during so many human events.  They have stood in the same place through crusades, world explorations, industrial revolutions and, possibly most dangerous of all, tourism.  To say I felt small is an understatement. 

Perspective

We wound our way through about three miles of trail while dodging mud puddles, snow and ice in some places.  The trail is maintained, with wooden "curbs" on either side, but with so many people traipsing through the park that day, it was bound to be a little squishy in some spots.  For the most part, however, the park is pretty accessible and therefore a good fit for just about anyone who would like to venture out and get some great outdoors experience, no matter their level of expertise.  

The park holds many surprises and "novelty" trees, such as the fallen tree that is now hollow and part of the trail runs its length.  There is also a tree, barely hanging on to life, that has a hole cut in its base large enough to drive a small car through.  The biggest victim of exhibitionism, however, is the Mother of the Forest, a tree that at one time dwarfed other trees in the grove and was over three hundred feet tall.  The bark was stripped from the trunk and shown as a tourist attraction along th east coast for those curious about the trees.  However, when a fire swept through the forest, the Mother of the Forest, without her protective bark, was lost.  It still stands as an austere, blackened trunk alongside the trail, now only rising to a height of about one hundred feet. 

Many of the trees were so impressive to early pioneer settlers that they were given names. 

Meet Abe Lincoln

It was a pretty nice day - we traded in the long lines for the occasional passersby and the fluorescent glow of shopping malls for bright sunlight.  I think we may have stumbled on to a new tradition.  

Even the drive home was beautiful.

Housekeeping

  

Due to newfound work and time restrictions I have found myself faced with lately, hikes have been few and far between - meaning I haven't hiked at all. 

   
However, I've come to the realization that just because I can't hike doesn't mean I can't write. Until I find myself with more time and opportunity to get out and about, I will be doing a little bookshelf maintenance. I've been working on a few other pages where you can find all sorts of goodies like books and hiking odds and ends (that I actually use), and some workouts to help get in shape, both to get started hiking and to prep for big ol' hikes, like half-dome or the John Muir trail (both on my hiking bucket list - ok, that may become another page unto itself)

These installations will be permanent editions that you will always be able to find with a quick click, and not blog posts sorted by date and becoming increasingly buried by more and more entries.  In addition, they will be "living pages," in that I will keep adding to and tinkering with them as new ideas or information surfaces.

So keep a lookout the next few days, because new goodies are coming...and maybe another excursion to add some icing onto that cake...hmmm?

Bull Run Peak (Attempt)





Early morning hikes are always a treat.  Being the first folks on the trail means you have the opportunity to see things you wouldn't otherwise.  Dew still sitting on the grass, sunshine taking its first peek over the mountains and, in our case, deer tracks still fresh on the sandy trail.  It's even better when the hike is in one of your favorite places in the world.  



Oh deer.



Our hike started when we woke up to campfire cooked coffee and biscuits.  We wondered aloud where our hike would take us, because unlike most other hikes I take, we didn't have a specific destination.  Instead we were going to let Pacific Valley trail take our feet away and we would simply follow.  

While the mist hovered over the meadow in Pacific Valley campground, we set out down the trail.  It begins as a wide dirt road meandering through the campground and then heads uphill to become a jeep trail after the campsites peter out.  The slope at this point is gentle enough to allow easy conversation, or in our case, good natured jokes at one anothers' expense.  It is so familiar to me these days I barely registered my surroundings, being able to recall almost every tree and turn by memory.  Except that.  That wasn't there last time.  (And that used to be a gate)



And that.  That used to be a gate.


 

We arrived at the second meadow in less than a half hour, a good time for that distance (and our lingering sleepiness).  There were still traces of mistiness lingering over the meadow here as well. The trail lost its slope and became a flat walk.  On warmer days (and dryer years, to be sure), we would surely have spent time wandering around the meadow, enjoying the sunshine and resting on the stumps left behind by logging trucks years ago.  Instead, we forged on, curious to see where we would end up.  

As we reached the end of the meadow, the trail narrowed to become a rocky foot path, and quickly became much steeper.  Large rocks that bore evidence of being blasted out of the way became time-consuming obstacles, and we soon made it to the gargantuan scar torn into the landscape by an avalanche years ago.  It has healed quite a bit in the many years since, but has not quite returned to normal.  There are still many good sized trees lying in piles like toothpicks, and one tree with a gaping hole torn into its trunk by a smaller tree as it hurtled downhill.  (For many years, the tree was lodged in the trunk)

 

The avalanche tree now...



And the avalanche tree years ago, posing with my parents. 
Note the extremely stylish "extra tree" look it pulled off to perfection. 



An hour after we arrived in the second meadow, we made it to the third.  The third meadow is a smaller one, and is hidden from view until you round a turn in the trail.  Then you are treated to a beautiful view of a lush green meadow framed above and to the side by pines and below by a wide spot in the creek.  Which we then had to cross.  Fortunately there was a clump of fallen trees and branches making a bridge across and we had an easy time of it.  Due to the wet late year we've had, the meadow was full of wildflowers and again, we refrained from taking a stroll.  We liked our shoes not ruined, thankyouverymuch.  

 



Pretty. Soggy.



This was where our tentative plan ran out.  We decided to turn to the left and head up the trail toward Bull Run, the bald volcanic peak seen easily from the campsite.  While we were reasonably certain that it was covered with too much snow to make it all the way to the top, we set out to see just how far we could make it.  

 

We soon came out from the cover of the trees and into the sunlight to be greeted by a hillside filled with wildflowers.  It was dry enough to walk through.  Mostly.  Parts of our trail were submerged, as they had become a creek for snow melt farther up the hill.  Or maybe we just lost the trail and began stumbling up the creek bed, who knows.  The trail got steeper and just before we reached the saddle between Henry peak and Bull Run we took a rest before crossing over a snow bank and around a rock.  I still fell, despite my rested legs.  Surprise!  

Our trail. Not a creek. Easy mistake to make.

 

Upon making it to the saddle we met our first fellow hikers.  Our familiarity with the area proved fortuitous or our new friends, who were looking for Henry peak but were headed in the wrong direction.  They thanked us for our help by takingour picture and headed off.  After saving them from a long climb back uphill, we turned to our right and climbed up the rocks that stood in between us and Bull Run Peak.  After needing another rest about halfway through the rocks, we decided it was time to call it a day and head back to camp.

 



Back on the saddle again...



As close as we got.  Next time, Bull Run.  Next time.



As we climbed back down, slipping and sliding in our creek-bed-trail. Through scattered snowbanks, under old pine trees and through two meadows, we watched the world slowly waking up.  The trail was hopping now, people all heading in the opposite direction, soon to see what we had seen first.  

 

 

We arrived back in camp just in time for lunch, and a well-deserved rest.  

Not lunch, but still tasty.

Saw this first.

And this.



This too.



Yep, we saw it first.  We win.



WITM: Pleasants Ridge Trail

 

If I had to use one word to describe this hike, that word would be "up."  If I got to choose another, it would be "rocks."  I don't, however, believe I would choose the word pleasant.  However, this being a blog requires that I use more than one or even two words, so I'll expand on things a bit.  It is still sure to be short and sweet.  

 

Like this little guy!

 

For starters, the trail was without a doubt the steepest I have ever been on.  In one mile the trail climbs 1500 feet over dirt and large rocks.  It finally ends up at the top of a mountain.  That is where most of the photos were taken due to the simple fact that it was impossible to manipulate a camera while struggling to pull myself up the trail.  Yes, pull - we had to scramble on our hands and knees at some parts (okay, mostly me because I'm the one with short legs).  

This hike, although tough, did have a reward.  The view from the top was amazing.  We could see several peaks, Monticello Dam and Lake Berryessa, and a few valleys scattered in between.  As we sat on our mountain (I said our - for that bit of time it was ours - we'd earned it) we saw three military planes circling the area a few times, and a handful of vultures.  Had they not been flying lower down the mountain, we may have thought they were considering us, the way that we felt.  

The dam and the lake

A mountain we were happy not to climb

Another one we were content to just look at



And then the descent.  It was tricky heading down such a steep slope.  For the most part it wasn't too bad, so long as we went slow.  The dirt was loose and rocks the size of my fist would dislodge themselves on occasion and hurtle downhill, inspiring a feeling of foreboding within me.  I slowed down a bit more.  Someone as clumsy as I am shouldn't take chances.  

 

At one point I needed a breather so I stopped just as I hit some shade from an oak tree.  As I peered down the trail and glanced at the trees roots, one stood out and seemed different from the others.  When I realized that the difference was that one root was shiny, it dawned on me that it wasn't a root at all.  It was a snake.  A pretty good sized one at that.  And he was stretched out across our path.  Crap.    

Do you SEE that thing!?

Luckily I had decided to bring my walking stick for the first time and gently nudged the snake to move it out of our way.  Apparently he didn't take too kindly to that and doubled back toward his tail and hissed loudly and shook his tail.  It was our good fortune that he was not a rattlesnake but just a gopher snake pretending to be one.  After he gave us what-for, he decided we weren't worth the trouble and took off down a nearby hole and that was the end of him.   

No fish.  At least it was pretty.



Soon enough, we were back at the gate and hot-footing it to the car.  We did a little fishing before coming up empty and heading for home (along with some mac n' cheese and a nap).  

 

Not too worse for wear

 

 

 

WITM: Pinecrest National Recreation Trail

This weekend was my first hike since my birthday that was not done by the book.  Instead of staying near the Sacramento area, we headed somewhat southeast on Highway 108 to Pinecrest, near Dodge Ridge Ski Resort.  

Our hike was part of a day trip we took to get away for a few hours.  Pinecrest is a popular man-made lake, with a campground, cabins, and even motel accommodations for the less wilderness-loving folks.  On the lake is a marina that offers rentals for the day to those who want to enjoy the lake by being in it.    

After a short spin around the lake on a rented pontoon boat (where we enjoyed beers and snacks), we set out on the trail.  Beginning at the beach area near the marina, we followed a short sidewalk which soon turned into a dirt path.  There were quite a few people walking along the trail along with us, though the farther we went the thinner the crowds became.  

We crossed the dam and ascended a stone staircase.  We then followed the trail as it wound around above the lake's shoreline.  Looking down we saw swimmers in small coves and their lonely kayaks sitting on the rocks nearby.  Farther out we saw fishing boats, and the occasional pontoon boats full of people.  We even saw a handful of sailboats drifting along.  

As we came around a turn in the trail, we saw something I'd never seen on any hike: a lemonade stand.  Two or three boys had set it up and we all lamented not bringing any cash with us.  When we asked how much they had earned so far, they replied with "about fifteen dollars."  Their profits were undoubtedly lower than they ought to have been simply because most people were surely like us, and didn't think to carry cash.  I hope that with their next stand, they think to put up a sign at the beginning of the trail.  In fact, we saw a few interesting sights on the way.



Some of the things...



...we saw along the way.



Hey, anybody got a quarter?

We made our way toward the far side of the lake, alternately in the sunshine or under the shade of pine trees.  Once there, we climbed up and over the hills of granite and a wooden bridge spanning the creek that feeds into the lake.  The creek was moving at a pretty good pace, sending water splashing down the rocks at breakneck speeds only to end up in a calm cove full of more swimmers and boaters. 

The last leg of our hike was an easy walk with little up or down.  The only real difficult part was that much of the trail was soggy with small trickles flowing across here and there.  More than once I found myself struggling for balance after the ground shifted under my feet.  Shockingly I never did fall down completely - maybe I'm becoming more graceful, who knows?  

Soon we returned to the beach where we had started and settled in to enjoy some barbecue before heading back home.  



That, folks, is how you finish a hike.



To see a map of this hike, click here.