Paradise Springs: 17 September 2011

It was a very low production summer, Trail-Time-wise. Part of that is due to a general state of busy-ness that has characterized the past few months, leaving precious little opportunity to get out amongst ‘em. Another part of it is due to the complete loss of photos from fabulous trips to Weaver Lake in Sequoia and Upper Sardine Lake in Yosemite. See, my laptop computer was stolen from my truck while I was in a restaurant, and I had been a little lazy about backing things up for a couple of weeks prior. Poof … photos gone. If you are a Chevy truck owner, you should do a little internet research into the security vulnerabilities thereof. You may also wish to reassess your assessment of the character of some of the people you are sharing air with on our little planet. But, I digress…

Even though the summer didn’t include much time on the trail, there was this one wonderful hike I really want to tell you about, or maybe more appropriately, show you about. It happened in the middle of September at Paradise Springs, which is right about here in the Sierra Nevada foothills, north of Bass Lake. Kristen Kienow was my trailmate of the day, and we had a heck of a lot of fun. But we will never really be able to do that hike again.

Neither of us had never been on this particular trail before, but it still seemed like there were memories, old and new, around every corner. And although it wasn’t a particularly long or difficult hike, there may or may not have been a few tears shed along the way. Here are some photos from our hike, and the people and things we saw along the way. They will do a better job of telling the story than I, anyway. Click on a photo for a closer look, if you’re so inclined.





























‘Nuff said.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Cameron Goes to Table Mountain: 16 April 2011

Hi.



I’m Cameron, and I’m three. I have something I want to tell you about. I took some friends and family with me on a hike to a place called Table Mountain. That’s Table Mountain way up there.



If you click here, you can see about where we went. Yeah, I’m only three, but I know how to use the Internet a little.

A nice lady who seemed like she was the boss of the hike said that I was the youngest person she knew of to go the top of Table Mountain. It was like she thought it was kind of a big deal. I don’t know if it was that big a deal, but it sure was a fun day.



I think most of the grownups who went with me wanted to see some flowers, but there weren’t really that many that I noticed. I mostly wanted to find rocks and sticks and stuff, and some water to throw them in.





I took my Auntie with me, and she did a super good job hiking.



But sometimes I had to help her along, and encourage her that she could make it.



Nana and Bumpa came with me, too.



I was proud of them all when they were strong and brave enough to go ahead on the trail without me helping them.



Up on top of Table Mountain there were these big grassy puddles they called vernal pools, and lots of tall grass.



I like to walk in the tall grass and run my hands through the top of it, because it makes me think of my favorite movie, “Gladiator”. Russel Crowe is awesome in that movie.

We had lunch and snacks on Table Mountain, and climbed around on some rocks. I helped Bumpa and Mrs. B keep their balance. Man, if they’d have fallen and got hurt, I would never have gotten them off that mountain.





When we were hiking back to the trailhead, Bumpa and Mr. B had trouble sometimes finding the way. But I showed them where to go.



We stopped quite a bit to throw rocks and sticks in the water, and one time I peed in a ground squirrel burrow. That was a lot of fun.



Bumpa put more pictures from my hike here. It’s OK if you want to look at them.

Like Bumpa always says: Until next Trail Time…

Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

San Joaquin River Gorge: 9 April 2011

Brother Karl’s usual springtime “must-dos” include several trips to the San Joaquin River Gorge Management Area (SJRGMA) to hike and watch the wildflowers come and go from March through April. You can find a few prior Trail Time entries for SJRGMA from the last couple of years here, for April 2009, March 2010, and May 2010. There was big personal excitement and anticipation when I made this spring’s first trip there.

But, it is my sad duty to report that this year’s SJRGMA wildflower exhibit was a little lackluster compared to recent years, in spite of our soggy spring. Poppies were in short supply, and the usually dependable lupine were comparatively scarce and anemic. Even the grass was not as lush and thick as I had hoped. Plus, I might have been a little crabby, because nobody loved me enough on that day to hike with me, so there is a chance I was mildly hard to please anyway.

Here is a link to a Google map that shows the loop route for this hike. And you can use this KML file with Google Earth, your favorite GPS gizmo, or your GPS-enabled smartphone.

Now, I don’t know if they were necessarily to blame for the poor wildflower showing, but the area had been hit hard by the ranchers this year, so I choose to blame them. Their cattle, and all the things that accompany cattle, were everywhere. The trail and the land around it had been pummeled and littered by the beasts in many places. And not that I necessarily object to the aroma, but the smell of wet feed lot was ever present.





Mr. Poopy or no, and even while getting my hate on for the cattle, I have to admit there were at least a few spring sights that caught my attention. The California buckeyes were healthy and green, and were just getting ready to color up their bloom.



The Redbud trees had passed their prime, but had a little leftover brilliance to share.



Owl’s Clover, like most everything else, was not as plentiful as in past years. No hot pink carpets of the stuff, but a few nice accent pieces showed up here and there.



In the lily family of the wildflower world, the Blue Dicks were actually putting on a good show. They were plentiful and healthy looking …





… and they had a supporting lily cast of a few Grass Nut and Pretty Face flowers.





In the lupine world, the perennial bush lupine were trying their best, but were kind of scraggly and weary looking. They had been at it for awhile, and were on the waning side of their bloom.



On the annual side of things, there were at least a few reasonably photo-worthy lupine plants…



… and there was this one, and only one, very pale annual lupine. I don’t know if it is a different kind of annual lupine, or just a freak pale specimen.



This was my only SJRGMA hike so far this spring, and I don’t expect there will be another for awhile. I just couldn’t get fired up about facing the livestock and the wildflower disappointment again, and there were so many bike miles that needed to be ridden. But hope springs eternal, and I’m sure next spring’s wildflowers will be FABULOUS!

If you think you want to see any more photos from this trip, you can find them here.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Tucson, Arizona: 26 February – 5 March 2011

It was time once again for our late winter anniversary vacation, and this year Jill was in charge. She arranged for us to visit the “Old Country”, which for us is Tucson, Arizona. We both lived there from 1976 to 1992, see, and I guess that’s where we really grew up. At least it is if you count college, courtship, marriage, career development, child bearing, and the general sinking down of roots as growing up.

We left Clovis on the heels of a winter storm that brought a fair bit of rain, and dusted the Tehachapi Mountains with a coating of fresh snow, something we don’t get to see that often. Pretty…

We caught up to the storm around Barstow, where we watched it snow while we sat in the Jack in the Box drive-thru. Yeah, snow in Barstow. Then we drove in the rain to Yuma, Arizona, where we visited and stayed the night with dear friends from the Old Country days. The next day we drove on, once again following the storm and arriving to a dusting of snow on the mountains around Tucson. That marked the end of the wintery weather for the next week, though. From then on it was clear blue desert days, maybe even a bit warmish for early March.

We made camp for the week in a house Jill had rented for us in the Starr Pass area of the Tucson Mountains, just west of the city.

Seems it had been a little dry in southern Arizona last winter, and then they had a really hard freeze several weeks before we arrived. Between those two meteorological circumstances, the desert looked pretty beat up in most areas, even for late winter. Much of the prickly pear cactus was wrinkled and withered, flopping over in big stickery heaps. Some of the ocotillos had the singed remnants of the season’s first fresh leaves that had been burned back in the brutal cold. There was not much to see in the way of fresh spring greenery.

While we were there, we tinkered around in the desert mountains a little bit, and took in several fun day hikes not too far from camp. Here’s a little bit of the skinny on those hikes.

Wren – Yetman – Bowen Loop

We were right next door to Tucson Mountain Park, so we chose that area for our warm-up day hike. We called our route the Wren-Yetman-Bowen Loop, based on the names of the trails that make up different parts of the loop. These links will show it to you using Google Maps and Google Earth.

The trailhead was not far from camp, but we were lazy and drove there anyway.

Not far from the trailhead, we enjoyed our first good panoramic view of the valley, here looking out across Tucson toward the Santa Catalina Mountains. Pima Canyon is near the west end of the visible part of the Catalinas here… we’ll talk more about Pima Canyon later.

Looking west through a Tucson Mountain saddle, we could see the still-snowy Baboquivari Mountains and Kitt Peak.

Hello, cactus. It’s been a long time… nice to see you.

Along the trail there is an interesting place they call the Old Stone House, which as you might expect, is an old stone house. Or at least the remnants thereof. It’s the old Bowen homestead, and you can find some of its story here. Its latter day history includes hippies, they say, who weren’t very careful with their matches. The coolest thing about the Old Stone House is its rock rimmed sitting pool not far from the house. It would have been a grand place to soak and gaze at the desert night sky.

The rest of our hike took us through more of the Tucson Mountain saguaro (suh-wahrʹ-oh) cactus forest, to a finish that had us walking on sidewalks back to the trailhead. The Tucson Mountain Park trails are easy to get to, and are popular with hikers, mountain bikers and trail runners. But on this day, it was just us and a couple of other hikers here and there.

Pima Canyon, Santa Catalina Mountains

One of my favorite things to do back in the Old Country days was to hang out in Pima Canyon, in the west end of the Santa Catalina Mountains, in the Pusch Ridge Wilderness, in Coronado National Forest. For me, things to do there included plain old garden variety hiking, as well as hiking for the express purpose of hunting Coues Whitetail deer and Javelina. Even back then, suburban desert development had pushed right up to the base of the mountains, and it has only gotten more so. Those who feel the need to carve their residential monument to themselves into the mountainside up against the wilderness boundary continue to do so, it seems. Ooops… almost wound up on the soapbox for a minute there.

We hiked out and back in Pima Canyon, and had the place pretty much to ourselves. See it here via Google Maps and Google Earth. There was precious little water in the creek, only a trickle here and there, the driest I had ever seen it. We saw very little in the way of living creatures or signs of them, other than a few instances of old javelina rootings. This global warming stuff is driving me crazy, man… crazy.

This is about how it looked in Pima Canyon that day.

We went as far as “the dam”, a little Pima Canyon landmark. The tiny waterhole behind the dam is mostly filled with sediment, but there was enough wetness that an animal could get a drink there, as long it wasn’t too particular about what it drinks. Here are a few more photos from the neighborhood of the dam.

Patagonia Lake State Park

No, we didn’t hike at Patagonia Lake State Park, but we had to visit for the sake of old times when we found ourselves in the neighborhood. This is a significant feature from a frightening moment in our past.

I’ll spare you the details, but you can do the math. Three-year-old girl at the top of the bridge, filled with the joy of life and wanting to run just because it’s fun… a steep bridge with a gnarly mesquite tree at the bottom of it… horrified parents and older siblings watching as she accelerates uncontrollably out of reach beyond the arc of the bridge… tears… blood… stitches. Hmmm… I guess I didn’t really spare the details that much, did I?

Romero Pools, Santa Catalina Mountains

Our last day hike took us to Romero Pools, in Catalina State Park. We did NOT have this trail to ourselves. It is a very popular hike, with lots of… shall we say… “senior” people hiking on it. That’s code for “old”, even by my standards, and I’m getting pretty senior. And it is not an easy hike, with often rough, rocky trails and steep climbs. But we didn’t see anybody getting airlifted out, so I guess it turned out OK for everyone. Here are Google Maps and Google Earth links showing where we and the retired people were hiking that day.

The lower part of the Romero Canyon trail is wide and well used. I think it used to be a ranch road back before the area became a state park.

Finally, in some of the higher desert elevations, we began to see some signs of fresh spring life, like these leafing ocotillos. The effects of the freeze did not seem to be so pronounced at the higher desert elevations.

Here is some scenery along and from the trail. All that sprawling urbania in the distance is Oro Valley, now about a billion times more expansive than in the sleepy old days.

Romero Pools is a great place for a lunch break if you’re pushing on into the mountains from there, or a great place to relax and cool off before the return trip, if you’re out-and-backing it. We chose option 2.

But as always, I have to see what’s over the next rise, or maybe the one after that. This is a view upcanyon, a short walk beyond the pools.

So that was it for us, as far as our southern Arizona day hiking. Other recreational activities included hanging with beloved Old Country friends, a few fabulous meals, motorcar touring, hot-tubbing, and of course shopping. “Well yes, dear, I think that would be perfectly fabulous in the living room. I’ll be over near the cigar shop.” Oh, and standing around in slack-jawed amazement at the massive Border Patrol presence near the border… we did some of that, too.

I thought I knew the Tucson-area mountains pretty well, but that was back in the paper map days. Now, 5 minutes spent online quickly shows how much there is that I was completely ignorant of. Looks like I’m going to have to go back… I’m thinking Rincon Mountains in late fall or winter.

Now, the Trail Time legal department says we have to say this: If you’re ever thinking about desert hiking in southern Arizona or anywhere else, carefully figure out how much water you’re going to need, and then triple it. Don’t count on desert streams to provide for you, unless you know that you know that you know they will have useable water. And let someone reliable know where you are going, and when you’ll be back. You know your mother would agree with this, so pretend you’re hearing it from her.

When we broke camp, the local mourning dove association sent this farewell committee to see us off. Other than that, it was an uneventful departure.

If you think you want to see any more photos from this trip, you can find them here.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Kaiser Peak: 15 October 2010

Kaiser Peak sits at about 10,310 feet in the Kaiser Wilderness, just north of and 3,400 feet above well-used Huntington Lake. It’s sometimes confused with Kaiser Pass, the destination of the famous “Climb to Kaiser” bicycle race that starts in Fresno, but they are different places.

I wonder about these things, so I looked into the naming history of the various Kaiser geographical features. Turns out there was an argonaut [argonaut: n 1. (Myth & Legend) one of the heroes who sailed with Jason in quest of the Golden Fleece 2. (Historical Terms) a person who took part in the Californian gold rush of 1849] named Elijah Keyser who made it big in gold mining back in 1849. Although he apparently kept the location of his success a secret (smart man), the names Keyser and Kaiser began showing up in about 1862 in reference to Kaiser Gulch, which later became Kaiser Creek. There was another miner of note named Keyes in 1853, and some think the name could also be connected to him. In any case, the USGS picked it up in 1904 and went crazy with it, hanging the Kaiser name here, there and everywhere. Today, USGS maps show the Kaiser Diggings Forest Service Station along Kaiser Creek. I’ll bet some of those Forest Service guys have done a little panning back there, eh?

Brother Karl, Sister Jill and the black dog made the hike to Kaiser Peak last fall. Here is a map that shows where they went, and this link will take you to a Google Earth-able KML file, if you swing that way. The trailhead is at D & F Pack Station, where parking is provided for non-customer hikers at a small dirt parking area just outside the entrance to the pack station grounds. The GPS Gizmo said it was a 9.6 mile round trip (green on the map), with a total elevation gain of about 3,300 feet. It is a bit of a relentless climb to the peak, and as one might expect, a bit of a relentless descent on the return trip. Rather than out-and-backing, an overnight trip or a fast and long day hike might include the entire Kaiser Loop (red on the map), which would make it about a 16.0 mile trip.

This was the black dog’s first attempt at carrying his own food and water. He is a bit of a moron anyway, and the addition of the unfamiliar gear made him a little confused and, well, moronic at first, but he got over it.

Here are a few images of trailside scenery, including a look back at Huntington Lake from the College Rock area.

The last leg of the trail skirts along Kaiser Ridge…

… and offers the first views of some of the Kaiser Wilderness lakes, namely George Lake (with Edison Lake in the distant background), …

… then Jewel and Campfire Lakes.

And this shows the trail along the ridge, looking back from near Kaiser Peak.

As might be expected, Kaiser Peak offers incredible views, ranging from as-far-as-you-can-see Sierra vistas like these…

… to more of the Kaiser Wilderness lakes, like Bonnie Lake and Bobby Lake, …

… and Highboy Lake. OK, I admit it, I named Highboy Lake myself. It is otherwise nameless, and according to my careful studies of the lakes of Kaiser Wilderness, it is the highest of them all at about 9,950 feet. Seems like it deserves a name for that, if nothing else.

As usual, time to go always comes, and here Brother Karl makes his way off the peak.

You can find the rest of our photos from this Kaiser Peak hike here, if you think you’d like to see more.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Mono Pass: 4 September 2010

Some people say it’s too much driving for a day hike. I have to admit, the ride home can feel a little bit long, especially since the trailhead is at least an hour and a half from the nearest respectable cheesebeerger. But if you’ve only got a day to invest and you need a 10,000-foot-plus Sierra fix bad, man, real bad, Yosemite’s Mono Pass is a great place to feed that monkey on your back. No tour buses here… and precious few rented PT Cruisers (not that there’s anything wrong with either of those things).

The Mono Pass hike could also be called “A Trail of Two Forests”. Most of the trail lies within Yosemite National Park, but once you pass Mono Pass at about 3.9 miles in, you are hiking in the Ansel Adams Wilderness of Inyo National Forest. On the Yosemite side of things, the setting is typical Yosemite beauty… lush with trees, streams, meadows, lakes, granite peaks above tree line. Beyond Mono Pass, the Ansel Adams surroundings are stark high country desert, where much sparser vegetation appears to struggle for survival. Even the rock changes, from the usual Yosemite granite gray to colors ranging from yellow to red, and white to black. I’m a little bit of a desert rat, and I like this.

But pass Mono Pass you must, because another 0.3 mile or so will take you to an overlook of Upper Sardine Lake and distant Mono Lake in the Owens Valley. You cannot miss this. If you do, your Yosemite tie-tack and “Speeding Kills Bears” coffee mug will be summarily confiscated as you exit the park.

Brother Karl took another crack at Mono Pass in early September 2010, along with six hearty Loved Ones, and the cyan (yes, that light bluish color is called “cyan”) line on this Google map shows where we went. If Google Earth is more your style, this link will get you a KML file that will open in Google Earth. The trail is really just an out-and-back, but our route looks a little loopy because the guy with the GPS gizmo took a detour on the way back, just to see some new sights… the lure of something shiny. You’ll also notice a green route to Spillway Lake, and a red route to Parker Pass. We didn’t take those side trips, so those route graphics are courtesy of the fine people at YosemiteHikes.com. Next trip to the area will be a multi-day effort to include those destinations.

This was about a 9.2 mile round trip for us. The total elevation gain is a relatively mild 1,000 feet or so, and it’s not a difficult hike. However, if you’re a flatlander who is sensitive to altitude effects, that dull ache in your head might make it feel a bit strenuous.

Some dominant features of the geography surrounding the trail are Mammoth Peak and the Kuna Crest, …

… Mount Gibbs, …

… and the more distant peaks to the northwest, along the divide.

There is a handy sign to confirm that one has indeed arrived at Mono Pass…

… with Summit Lake lying just beyond.

The trail beyond the pass pushes into the alpine desert…

… to the colorful rockiness where we stopped to eat lunch and enjoy the aforementioned views of Mono Lake and Upper Sardine Lake on the other side.

Perhaps you are acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Bergman. If so, then you may know that they cannot visit a high country lake without fishing (Marty at Upper Sardine Lake) …

… and swimming (Barb at Summit Lake) …

… and so it was. The fishing was good, and Marty caught a bunch of smallish brook trout. And Barb reported that the swimming was a little brisk… just the way she likes it.

On the trip back to the trailhead, we stopped to poke around at the old miners’ cabins near the pass.

Then we beat feet back to the trailhead like a bunch of old rental ponies headed back to the corral …

… with one last exposure for one last something shiny at the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River.

If you’d like to see the rest of our photos from this Mono Pass hike, you can find them here.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Courtright Reservoir: 8 August 2010

It was hot, one of the hotter spells in an otherwise cool summer. Way too hot to be rummaging around in a 130-degree attic and dragging down little used camping gear on a Friday afternoon. Sweat covered every bit of him, and he was on the brink of deciding that it just wasn’t worth it. It was too much work in too much heat to prepare for a lousy boat camping trip to Courtright Reservoir.

Still, he knew there was a reasonably good chance that, once they had settled in at the lake, he might feel differently about it as they enjoyed the clear, cool lakeside surroundings at 8,200 feet in the Sierra Nevada. So he pressed on, but he was not at all happy about it. In fact, there’s a good chance he might have seemed a little cranky to his beloved as they packed. She was probably not happy about it either, but was not being as cranky about it.

The planned destination at the lake was a runty little island with no name, as least as far as he knew. But when they and the black dog arrived by boat, they found it already occupied by another small group of campers. He briefly considered throwing some elbows and joining them on that little spot of land. But then he figured that the accursed interlopers had probably hoped to have it to themselves just as much as he had. So they passed on by and found a place to camp on the nearby shore.





It was getting on toward dusk, so they beached the boat and hurried to set up camp in time to cook dinner. He unpacked the tent, as big as a railcar, and dejectedly discovered that the last person to borrow it had returned it without the shock corded tent poles. Poo. *He decided at that point that he would keep the tent without poles, strictly as a loaner. All was not lost, and together they enjoyed a steak dinner, a glass of wine and the waking starry sky as the last remnants of daylight fled.

That night they used the pole-less tent much like a big piece of pita bread, and slid inside it to sleep. It was a cold, wet and fitful night, as the lakeside dew on the floppy tent penetrated through the fabric to reach them inside their pita pocket bed. The black dog slept better than they did, even though the cur shivered nonstop through the night.

A beautiful morning dawned crisp, clear and quiet, and life-giving hot coffee was the first order of business. Bacon and eggs soon followed in large quantities, a cardiologist’s dream for a morning meal. As they cooked and ate, the black dog fulfilled his calling to pee on everything that could possibly be peed on. To him, urine is not simply a waste product to be dispensed with, but a precious resource to be carefully rationed and thoughtfully applied for the greatest possible benefit.





Later that morning, they were joined by their campmate, his blue boat and the brown dog. Thankfully, their friend came with a tent that had plenty of room for the five of them to sleep comfortably warm and dry that night. Their gratitude knew no bounds.



The day’s activities included hiking along the lakeshore, fishing and napping in the warm sun. Sadly, the lake gave the impression of being completely fishless, and piscatorial pursuits were entirely unproductive. That being the case, the evening meal consisted of another round of delicious red meat, with all the appropriate trimmings and beverages.

Sunday morning breakfast included *eggs benedict, smoked salmon, bagels, a variety of tasty cheeses and bottomless lattes. After a lazy morning of more unproductive fishing and lounging around, they and the black dog packed up and made a lazy trip home. The brown dog and their campmate stayed a little longer at the lake, fishing without result, before making their own way home.







*This may or may not be true.

A few more photos from the weekend trip can be found here.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Kings River Whitewater Rafting: 17 July 2010

I know, it really doesn’t qualify as “Trail Time”, inasmuch as there was no actual trail time involved. And it doesn’t qualify as a genuine man vs. the elements outdoor escapade, since other people are paid to act like they like you, gear you up, drive you around, escort you down the river, wipe your nose and feed you lunch. Maybe it qualifies as more of a natural amusement park ride. Whatever… it turned out to be a real kick in the pants when a motley group of Loved Ones Groupon-ed up a bunch of tickets to spend a morning whitewater rafting with the people at Kings River Expeditions. Like I always say, if you can’t be one of the beautiful people, it’s still good to hang out with them whenever you can.



After a wet spring, they say, the summer whitewater rafting season was one of the best and longest ever. There was more water than usual, and even at the time of our mid-July trip, which is around the end of the normal rafting season, river conditions were still great.

So, we got up a little early (won’t bore you with a description of the wee-hour attitudes encountered) and gathered at Casa de Mundy for the winding drive around Pine Flat Reservoir to the Kings River Expeditions compound. There, the paid-to-be-friendly KRE people briefed us on how we were to conduct ourselves in the rafts, and how not to bonk one’s head on a rock upon falling in the river. Then they put you on an old white school bus for a long and dusty ride up the river to the waiting rafts. They do this twice a day, and here is a piece of advice: be sure to go with the early group. At the end of our trip, we watched them hosing down the next group before they got on the bus for the ride upstream. It was hot by then, see, and the bus is not air conditioned. So they hosed them down.

So we got in the raft, did some paddling exercises, and got revved up by our energetic and paid-to-be-friendly raft-master whose name I don’t remember, along with his lovely pony-tailed girlfriend assistant. Then it was out into the river, with our stretched out procession of 10 or 12 rafts. At some point along the river, the KRE people take photographs as you pass. Then they race back to the compound to burn CDs and sell them to you at lunch. Here are a few of them.











Back at the compound after the ride, they cook up burgers and hot dogs for lunch, peddle photos and souvenoirs, and then pat you on the head and send you home. The trip was a lot of fun, and we’ll probably do it again some time. And paid-to-be or not, the KRE people really are friendly and good at what they do. If you’d like to see any more photos from our maiden whitewater rafting voyage, you can find them here.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Twin Lakes: 25-27 June 2010

In the Kaiser Wilderness, at the headwaters of Kaiser Creek, in the afternoon shadow of Kaiser Peak, lie Upper and Lower Twin Lakes. Trails to the lakes begin at two different trailheads along State Route 168 (Kaiser Pass Road), and converge at Potter Pass. There they merge into a single trail that continues to the Twin Lakes, and beyond to their wayward cousin, George Lake. This Google Earth KML file and this Google Map show about where the lakes and trails are. It sure is getting to be a Google-y world, isn’t it?

Back at the end of June, trailmates Hank, Kelly, Christy, Peter, Marty, Barb and Brother Karl decided to take a long weekend backpacking trip to the Twin Lakes, along with Lil, the wonder dog. We arrived at the trailhead at about 4:00 on Friday afternoon, thinking that would give us plenty of time to cover the 3.1 mile hike to Lower Twin, set up camp, and have supper before dark fully settled in. Well, that didn’t turn out to be the case, owing largely to snow still blanketing much of the trail beyond Potter Pass.









The trouble with the snow was that it was very wet, highly variable in depth from zero to six feet or so, and completely covered the trail in many places. The hike in was often more of a wet scramble than a hike, and there may or may not have been more than one instance where somebody went down. The snow was also melting so fast that one day’s evidence of foot passage did not survive until the next, to give a solid clue as to trail location. In fact, we relied heavily on Mr. GPS Gizmo to keep us on the trail in places.

We made camp and ate dinner in the dark after a difficult and soggy hike, and enjoyed an obscene camp meal of steak and potatoes with all the fixins. Not to mention a lovely bottle of wine packed in by Peter. And of course, after-dinner cocktails around the fire, a fine scotch that rode in Hank’s backpack. Yeah… I like the way we do “minimalist”.



Saturday morning dawned early, bright and beautiful for Brothers Karl and Peter. The others, however, had a little difficulty dragging them-grumpy-selves out of their sleep sacks, it seemed. For awhile, there was no company other than Lower Twin, glassy slick.



Upon morning inspection by Marty, who had gotten our wilderness permits and rightly felt obligated to see that we behaved ourselves, it was determined that our initial camp site was illegal due to proximity to the nearby creek. So we gathered up our junk, and moved a couple hundred yards to an acceptable and spacious location, higher and with a good view of Lower Twin. Its large kitchen rocks and snow banks came in handy for the chefs. We settled in, had breakfast, and cleaned up before walking over to Upper Twin.







It’s a short trip to Upper Twin, which is much, much fishier than Lower Twin (which is apparently completely devoid of fish). We spent a large part of the day at Upper Twin, fishing, hiking and just hanging out. In fact, we did pretty much that same thing on Sunday, too. The only difference was that we didn’t keep as many fish the second day. Hank and Kelly did pack some fish out, though, and reported that they were nearly as tasty in the valley as in the mountains. We never did push on to George Lake, since that part of the trail was expected to be even snowier than what we had already hiked.













Rainbow and brook trout with shallots and onions, along with campmade tortillas, made for another fabulous evening camp meal. Although our wine cellar was empty, we happily discovered that Hank’s scotch still existed in sufficient quantities for another late fireside cocktail hour.



Our second morning was as beautiful as the first …



… and after another visit to Upper Twin for a second ration of fish, scenery and good company, we returned to camp and packed up for the hike home.





If you’d like to see more photos from the Twin Lakes trip, you can find them here.

Until next Trail Time…
Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.

Chilnualna Falls: 8 May 2010

No, I really don’t know you pronounce it, and so far I haven’t seen or heard anybody give a reasonably convincing pronunciation for it. One guy I know says it should be “she-WAH-nah”, like “Every time I wanna go hiking she wanna go shopping”. I like that one.

However you pronounce it, Chilnualna Falls is a good early season trail in southern Yosemite, that can be accessible before many of the higher elevation trails. Even so, many touristas charge right by it in their rented PT Cruisers and tour buses on the way to the more famous Yosemite destinations. Part of the reason for that may be that the Park Service people describe the hike as strenuous. While it does offer the challenge of an extended climb, I think “strenuous” is a wee bit harsh. Nevertheless, whatever factors combine to keep trail crowds below Yosemite par are welcome. More of Mr. Rangersir’s thoughts on this and other Wawona area hikes.

Sometimes (“they” say) I get a little antsy about hike start times. See, in my perfect world, I’d like to be leaving the trailhead at the crack of the crack of dawn. Like a double cheeseburger, fries and a beer or two, sleep is for after the hike, not before. Of course, the needs and desires of beloved trail mates may differ from time to time (strangely, not so much with the burger and beer thing) so start times often vary. But for this trip, it was just me… el toro solitario… el caminante sin acompañante… so I got an early start and left the trailhead about dawn.

OK, that might not be exactly how it happened. Loved ones Christy and Peter were also hiking that day, but they didn’t want to leave as early as I did. Plus, their relationship was relatively new at the time, and I thought it might be better if they could enjoy the driving and hiking time without some old trail goat between the two of them. Happily, I still got to visit with them briefly when we passed on the trail, I on my way out, and they on their way in. But I digress…

One of the nice things about the Chilnualna Falls trail is that you are treated to an early preview of the cascades ahead. A wet winter and spring meant that the creek was well charged and the falls were in top form. This lowest of the lower falls (let’s call it lower lower CF) is only a short distance from the trailhead.



And, one of the nice things about an early start and a quiet hike is that the wildlife hasn’t all been shooed away from the trail by a parade of boisterous hikers. A herd of deer let me look at them for quite a while as long as I was still, but they didn’t like it when I started walking again.



The billowing mist from the lowest cascade of the upper Chilnualna Falls (let’s call it “lower upper CF”) gives the falls away quite some time before you actually reach it. I’m not sure if the name Chilnualna Falls applies to a single cascade, or collectively to all of the cascades. But if it applies to any one of them in particular, I would think lower upper CF is it.



There is not really a perfect place along the trail to see lower upper CF in its entirety, top to bottom, unless I just missed it. But you can see parts of it from a distance from many points along the trail, and you can see it from the top once you get there. Stay away from the edge! (NOTE: This warning is sponsored by your Mother.





Above lower upper CF, approaching the upper cascades of the upper Chilnualna Falls (let’s call them upper upper CF) the remaining snow made its first appearance.



Above upper upper CF, the trail disappeared into deep snow. I pushed on into the snow for awhile, but it was unpleasant without snowshoes (not that snowshoes would make it pleasant, I suppose, but perhaps doable). So I ceased forward motion, ate lunch, and enjoyed the streamside scenery for awhile.



The trip out was quick and uneventful, other than my delightful visit with Christy and Peter.

Here are some Chilnualna Falls links you might find interesting.

Google Earth KML File

Google Maps

Some of the best Chilnualna Falls information around, from the lovely people at Yosemitehikes.com.

If she wanna see more photos from the Chilnualna Falls hike, you can find them here.

Until next Trail Time… Grace, Peace and Happy Trails.