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.
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| 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)
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| 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)
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| The avalanche tree now... |
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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.
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| 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!
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| 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.
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| Back on the saddle again... |
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| 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.
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| Not lunch, but still tasty. |
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| Saw this first. |
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| And this. |
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| This too. |
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| Yep, we saw it first. We win. |
