Showing posts with label Rocks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rocks. Show all posts

Friday, November 6, 2020

Pinnacles 2020

DATE: November 5-6, 2020
PINNACLES NATIONAL PARK
SAN BENITO COUNTY, CA

SOUNDTRACK: Chronaexus: The Breathing Pinnacle Of Existence

DAY ONE
DISTANCE:
16.3km / 10.13 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 683m / 2241’
TIME: 6:00
MAP


DAY TWO
DISTANCE:
9.65km / 6 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 519m / 1,702’
TIME TAKEN: 3:13
MAP

PHOTO ALBUM




It was the third annual visit to Pinnacles for me and Amber, a different season again, this time a very warm and dry early November. And a partial motivation to distance from society as a potentially disastrous election result was about to commence. This report will economically cover two days at Pinnacles, because there is really not much new territory covered different from the 2018 or 2019 visits. The "problem" with Pinnacles is you're either doing class one trail walking, or minimum class 4 climbing (or beyond my abilities, whatever that is,) if you want to get to most of the "peaks."

OK, actually, there really isn't too much going on here that wasn't covered in the PINNACLES 2018 report, and especially the detailed PINNACLES 2019 report, so I'll leave you to check those out, so I don't have to write about basically the same hikes all over again! I'm feeling lazy. See ya!




Thursday, June 4, 2020

Balloon Dome

DATE: Thursday, June 4, 2020
DISTANCE: 44km / 27.36 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 2467m / 8,095 ft.
TIME TAKEN: A few days
SUMMIT: Balloon Dome 2099m / 6879 ft.
SIERRA NATIONAL FOREST
ANSEL ADAMS WILDERNESS

FRESNO COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK: 99 Luftballoons

PHOTO ALBUM
MAP










 

Balloon Dome is a granite monolith that towers nearly 3,000 feet over the Middle Fork San Joaquin River canyon in the Ansel Adams Wilderness. I have many reasons for climbing mountains, some are historic or famous, or just close by, some have a cool name, some have an interesting shape that I admired from a distance. I first saw Balloon Dome from an airplane window on a flight back to California from Spain in May of 2018. I had the window seat (actually I had all three seats on a surprisingly empty flight), and I was peering out as we passed over the Sierra Nevada, eagerly anticipating a glimpse of Yosemite Valley or something else interesting. I saw Yosemite indeed, but farther south, something caught my eye: a majestic Yosemite style granite dome, off all by it’s self, towering over the edge of a dramatic canyon. What was that? I was intrigued, and I knew I would have to find out what it was, and attempt to climb it one day. Over the next few months, I did my research on the internet and found out that the rock in question was called Balloon Dome. I thought it a rather silly name for such a distinctive feature, but my interest was not diminished, the image of the lone granite tooth rising at the edge of the gorge was already burned into my brain. My casual research continued, and to my delight, I found that there was actually a class three route to the top of the dome. I wouldn’t have to wait years to develop my technical climbing skills to surmount my holy mountain. All available data pointed out that reaching Balloon Dome was one hell of a hike, about twenty three miles round trip, with formidable elevation loss and gain. But that could be dealt with.

For about a year and half, Balloon Dome kicked around in my brain, and I waited for the right time and situation to make the trip happen. Welcome to June of 2020. My two little brothers are about the only people I know who are brave enough or dumb enough to accompany on just about any hike I suggest, so it seemed natural that they would end up accompanying me on this epic, which was to be an backpacking trip with one night spent out in the bush. Alex has extensive wilderness and  trail, so it’s good to have him around as a voice of reason, and Axell used to run cross country, and therefore isn’t intimidated by distance, so the team was assembled. Wait, why you ask, do I have two little brothers with almost exactly the same name? How about you read through this hike report, and I will tell you why at the very end. Anyway, Alex was about to move away to southwestern Oregon to go back to work in the Forest Service, and we wanted to all squeeze in a hike together before he left. The boys knew pretty well by now that Balloon Dome was at the top of my list, so we all agreed that this would be our destination, our final hike all together for awhile.

TUESDAY, JUNE 2: The team was assembled at our parents’ house in Jackson, California, and after putting some of Alex’s possessions from his former home in Oakland in storage, we left for the wilderness around noon, driving all the way down Highway 49 to Oakhurst, where we got our wilderness permit at the ranger station there. After obtaining last minute fuel and supplies from the gas station, we were off into the trees, past Bass Lake, and up Beasore Road into the extensive realm of the Sierra National Forest. Beasore Road took us north, with glimpses of the Shuteye Range, then east, around the north end of the range. As I recall, the road was mostly paved at the beginning, and less paved later on. We stopped to have a look at a peculiar feature known as Globe Rock, a ball of dark granite perched precariously upon a pedestal. In it’s shadow was coiled the first and only rattlesnake of the whole expedition. We couldn’t help but stop again at the Portuguese Creek Overlook, where there was a fine view of the Shuteye Range, now to the south, and up at some excellent rock formations which I later determined are called “The Balls.”

We followed Beasore Road to it’s conclusion, where we turned south on Minarets Road, and shortly were at the end of our driving: The McCreary Trailhead. It was already about 6PM by the time we arrived, and although there was still some daylight left, any plans of getting a head start on the hike were cast aside when we saw the perfect campsite waiting for us right there. So we decided to set up camp for the night, and continue on to Balloon Dome the next morning. After establishing camp, a visit to nearby Piyau Dome was considered, but we decided instead to to do a preliminary scout hike to check out the trail, so we would know where we were going in the morning. And it was nice to walk after sitting in the van all day. Zuma the dog was especially thrilled. We immediately went the wrong way, missing the McCreary Trail completely, and going down an overgrown road that curved to the north. We had already been savaged by mosquitoes and I had slashed open my knee while climbing over a log before we realized out error, and turned back. This was not starting out well. Back at the campsite, we found McCreary Trail, which was rather faint and hard to follow, and made it down to Miller Creek, where an especially robust concentration of mosquitoes attacked us from all angles. Having lost the remaining light now, we retreated to camp, cooked dinner and relaxed by the firelight.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 3: I was up at about 6am, maybe before the others, and for some reason it took us a REALLY long time to eat breakfast and strike camp, and we weren’t on the trail until about nine. But we were finally off! I was full of energy and enthusiastic, and my 25 pound pack was barely noticeable at this point. The trail was evident enough in the full daylight, and there were new views of Piyau Dome as we continued along, followed by the first sighting of Balloon Dome, to the east. McCreary Trail joins hits a 4WD road after about a two miles, and we continued east on this. We got to the sign for the Cassidy Trail, where we should have turned left, but we thought we were already on it, as we continued to follow the 4WD road, which ended at a bluff overlooking Granite Creek and “Trailhead Dome.” So we circled through some mild brush, caught the actual Cassidy Trail, and followed it down to the very well constructed bridge over Granite Creek, where we took our first break. Everyone but me drank water right out the clear, cold creek. After crossing the bridge, we continued on the Cassidy Trail, which we would follow all the way down to the Cassidy Bridge on the San Joaquin River. Just after 11am, we passed into Ansel Adams Wilderness.

The trail after this was mostly downhill as we hiked down into the San Joaquin River Gorge. Sitting Hen Rock rose prominently on our left as we continued, and excellent views opened up to the southwest at the Piyau Dome complex. Before long, windows through the trees gave us better and better glimpses of Balloon Dome, appearing completely unclimbable by mere mortals from this vantage point. The Cassidy Trail continued it’s downard trajectory. The air got warmer and the vegetation changed from pine to oak forest as we descended from a start elevation of about 6800 feet to an eventual 4400 feet at the San Joaquin River. The trail was in pretty good shape, aside from a few fallen pine trees in the higher elevations, and a dusting of oak leaves at the lower elevations. It doesn’t seem to get much traffic. The very end of the trail before the river was the hardest to follow, as it goes through a narrow rock gap, and through a stagnant slimy red pond. I thought maybe we had lost the actual trail, but there didn’t seem to be any other way. Finally, we arrived at Cassidy Bridge and the San Joaquin River at about 2:30 PM, where we took an extended break. It was pretty warm out, so we dropped our gear and cooled our feet in the cold, swift river. It was only my second time ever hiking with backpacking stuff, and the other trip had been much more gradual in elevation gain. I could feel the toll being taken on my body now.

Original hopes of ascending the dome on this same day were dissolving as we spent more and more time hanging out at the river, and then scoped out another excellent campsite just south of the bridge, on the west side of the river. We decided to set up camp here, which would mean one HELL of day tomorrow, but it was getting later, and it looked like there was a possibility of rain. After establishing camp, we did another exploratory hike up the other side of the canyon, to see what was in store for us the next day. It was clear that this section of the trail gets VERY LITTLE traffic. Sections were overgrown with brush and poison oak, and there were more fallen trees. There was a little sign that said ”trail,” but beyond the introductory part it was tough to follow, when we reached the switchbacks above, the way was more obvious. The rainclouds threatened as we hiked up, hovering over the Mammoth area peaks to the north, but only followed through with a few droplets. After we had scouted the trail up to what we thought was almost the top of the canyon wall, we returned to camp for the evening, spotting a small snake on the way back. We spent the rest of the evening at camp, enjoying the river and dinner, and even a bite of the old Wild Turkey!

THURSDAY, JUNE 4: We arose at six or maybe even 5:30am, and were on the trail rather quickly today compared with yesterday! We left the backpacking gear at the river and went as light as we could. On the trail going up the canyon wall by 6:30am. We knew what to expect for the trail conditions from our scouting the previous afternoon. The trail was mostly visible, but covered in a carpet of oak leaves, which suggests minimal foot traffic. There were downed trees over the trail which caused some climbing and occasional confusion. Shortly after reaching the top of the gorge, we struck off trail into the woods, looking for a way to Balloon Dome. There were wide open granite slabs and dirt meadows that were incredibly easy to cross, as well as a few areas that had voluminous downed trees, where you would find one that was pointed in the way you wanted to go, and walk across it, like a bridge. All in all, it was easy cross country travel with no bushwhacking or nasty surprises. We pretty much went due southwest up Balloon Dome’s shoulder, and with some elevation gain, we got views out to the east, where there was a cool looking formation I nicknamed “Rattlesnake Butte.” We were now looking up at Balloon Dome, instead of across a gorge at it, which was definitely progress! Views opened up to the north of Junction Butte and the peaks of Mammoth beyond. It was after 9am by the time we reached the granite wall of Balloon Dome. We were on the south side of the thing by now, where the class three ascent was reputed to be. Of course, looking at the shape of this rock, there wasn’t any place OTHER than the south side where there could possibly be a class three ascent!

We established a base camp of sorts, and Axell and Zuma temporarily relaxed as Alex and I dropped our things and began the climb. Zuma just isn’t suited for class three climbing. Just as described by others, there was a convenient ledge that ran to the south side of the dome, and then we turned north for a steep ascent over the granite. I wish I could better describe the route we took, but what I can say is there is probably only one good way to do it. If you get to a part that looks harder than class three, keep looking, and you will eventually find the proper way. Generally, keep to the right (east) side as you ascend. You pass below this “creature” type rock, on your left, and then up this steep slab / chute thing. Then along a rock overhang thing, with more steepness, and big rocks to hang onto. The “key” to the summit, is in this case an actual “keyhole,” you unlock the path by crawling through the cave. After this you arrive at a little alcove, from which you exit to the right, which then puts you on a small ledge just on the edge of the east side cliff, then a small climb up, and you are on the comparatively flat top of the dome! A few hundred feet across the open granite at the top get you to the high point. We took a break here, and I took pictures in all directions (NE, N, NW, W [Piyau Dome], SW, S), and got a fantastic sight of the Granite Creek Waterfall where it plunges down into the San Joaquin Gorge. The view was stunning in all directions, as it was a clear day, and even though Balloon Dome doesn’t have a high elevation, it’s isolated and has nothing close by to obstruct the panorama.

Alex and I descended quickly, and were back to the boy and his dog by 10:45am. Alex volunteered to say down with Zuma, and I went back up the dome with Axell. I showed him the beginning of the route, and then let him go to try to find the rest of the way on his own, because I was feeling pretty worn out, and it was getting warm, and I didn’t feel I had it in me to make it to the top again, trying to conserve my energy. Axell said he didn't really care about making it to the top, but he wanted to give it a try. I waited in the shade of an overhanging rock for about a half hour, and then Axell came back. He said he hadn’t been able to find the route, and I felt guilty for not leading him to the top. But it was time to go, we had a very long day ahead of us still. Perhaps we’ll come back someday. Back down again, to Alex and Zuma, and we began the downhill crosscountry back to the trail. It was getting quite hot out now, and I personally was running pretty low on water. I hadn’t brought enough. But we trudged on, back over the granite and through the pines and down the overgrown trail. When we got to the river, I went straight to it and drank up as mouthfuls of the cold water!  The others did similarly. We were in kind of a bad position now, it being about 3pm or something, the hottest part of the day, and we had to hike all the way up the west side of the canyon, with our backpacking gear now. We all rested at the river for a bit, catching our breath, cooling off in the river. None of us were looking forward to the next step. But we shouldered the packs, took a picture together on the Cassidy Bridge, and headed up.

The hike that afternoon from Cassidy Bridge back to the McCreary Trailhead was one of the single most miserable outdoor experiences of my life thus far. Being as it was June and the canyon is only just over 4,000 feet in elevation, the temperature was not mild (I wish I could tell you what it was, it felt like the 80s). Also, I never hike with a 25 pound pack, and it added much more difficulty to my progress than I could have imagined. I had never before in my life considered lying down in the middle of the trail to pass out (or possibly die), so it was a new sensation! The beginning was the worst, the steepest, the hottest. We took frequent breaks. I’m pretty sure the others were having just as rough a time of it as me. They didn’t look happy. Even the indefatigable Zuma was dragging. Things got better toward the top of the canyon where the terrain leveled out, and the air began to cool off with the elevation and the approach of sunset. It looked like not only were we going to live, but even make it back to the van that night. At 7pm, I took one last look back at the granite claw of my dreams, Balloon Dome. The hike to reach it had kicked my ass left and right, but I regretted nothing. Even the most demanding of adventures seem fun in retrospect! Headlamps came out soon after, but were not badly needed, with a bright moon out. 8:30pm-ish we reached the Granite Creek Bridge, where we took an extended break. I was hungry, and I knew I needed nutrition, but I had been drinking so much water that food upset my stomach. Even though the rest of the hike was gentle topographically, the going was slow from the bridge, because we were all simply WRECKED from the day’s adventure. We continued silently now in the moonlight, too tired to talk. Up the dirt road, off onto McCreary Trail, utterly assaulted by the flying vampires at Miller Creek again, staggering through the woods in the final stretch to back to the trailhead. I think we got sight of the van at about 10:30 or 11pm, and it never looked so sweet. Unfortunately, a cloud of mosquitoes followed us into the van after we left the doors open for too long, and we were thrashing about wildly trying to kill them all as we drove down the dirt road on our way out. Down in Oakhurst, we raided the still open 7-11 store, for high calorie snacks and drinks. I personally was CRAVING sugar for some reason, and a giant Redbull did the trick, for sucrose and alterness for the driving. When I took out my wallet to pay, a cascade of granite pebbles spilled out onto the counter.

And that was it! Back to Jackson, Balloon dome had been accomplished, and I had never been so tired. Maybe I’ll try it as a day hike next time!

ALEX AND AXELL?
OK, so my younger brother is named Alexander, and when the youngest brother was born, we were tasked with giving him a middle name. We picked Axell, so he could have a cool rock ’n’ roll name if needed. The young one doesn’t use his first name anymore ever, because he doesn’t like it, and always goes by Axell. If we’d had any idea that we’d end up playing in a band together with him, and he would use his rock ’n’ roll middle name, we probably would have given him a middle name that was not so close to Alex’s first name.

ON PEAK NAMES
Balloon Dome: "Named by a professor who though it looked like a 'gigantic balloon struggling to get up through the rock.'" Okay. Fair enough. Whatever. As I said above, I think Balloon Dome is a pretty silly name for such a majestic monolith. I would have picked something like “Bear’s Tooth” maybe.
Sitting Hen Rock: Supposedly an official name, one trip report said there was a sign by the trail which identifies it, but I did not see this sign.
“Rattlesnake Butte” I nicknamed it due to it’s proximity to Rattlesnake Lake on the map.
”Owl Head Dome” The smaller dome just south of Balloon Dome. I saw a cartoonish owl face in the granite, and picked the nickname based on that. 

FURTHER READING
•Bob Burd: This is where I got most of my information about the hike and the climb. This is the only account I could find online or anywhere that describes the non technical climbing route.
•Splendor Source: A description of the hike down to the river, and lots of advice for beginner backpackers.
•Alpha Wanderlust: Description of part of the hike, and camping atop Sitting Hen Rock
•101 Hikes In Northern California: Matt Heid: Wilderness Press, 2000: pp 226-228: Description of the hike down to the river



Tuesday, May 5, 2020

Bald Rock Dome

 

DATE: Tuesday, May 5, 2020
DISTANCE: 8.93km / 5.55 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 215m / 707ft.
ELEVATION LOSS: 341m / 1118ft.
TIME: 3:10
PLUMAS NATIONAL FOREST
BUTTE COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK:
Exmortus: Night On Bald Mountain

SUMMITS:
Bald Rock Dome 1036m / 3400ft.
Little Bald Rock 1042m / 3420ft.
Bald Rock Area High Point: 1076m / 3530ft.


PHOTO ALBUM
MAP





 

...continued.

Bald Rock Dome is a striking granite batholith that towers over the Middle Fork Feather River canyon. It is a rather obscure dome, and most people that have seen it, probably did from the trail to Feather Falls. Fewer, from the "Bald Rock Dome Trail," which does not actually lead to Bald Rock Dome, but to a spot on the canyon floor (Curtain Falls) which presumably has a good view of it. Few people at all, it seems, make it to the top of the dome, or to the top of cliffs, as I did. I would soon find out why.

Still camping out in Berry Creek on some private property (most campgrounds in the state being closed at this point due to Covid-19), the day began with a visit to Milsap Bar, a recommendation from a local. At the bottom of a harrowing dirt road (45 mins.) lies Milsap Bar, where a bridge crosses the Feather River at the bottom of the canyon. Turns out the road down to it was considered a 4WD, but Amber's Chevy Van, with high clearance, made it with no problems. Milsap, officially closed as a campground, was deserted (one vehicle in parked, no humans seen) so we had a picnic and explored the area a bit. Two major tributaries of the Feather River join here, and it's quiet the wonderland of rushing mountain water.

This seems like a fine time to go off on my displeasure at lazy river naming in California, so here it comes: The two tributaries that that converge here on the Middle Fork Feather River are called "Little North Fork Feather River" and "South Branch Middle Fork Feather River." Come on! Was that the best you could do? I understand that the white man colonizers arrived in California and there were countless hundreds of rivers and streams to apply their white man names to, so they only named the big ones. But how can you even tell one from the other, with such a jumble of forks, branches, etc., all with basically the SAME NAME?

Food was eaten in haste, because when you sit still, the mosquitoes come. But then we were freed up to walk around, and we discovered the South Branch Middle Fork Feather River on the east side of the campground, which has excellent swimming holes. The water was so cold that it hurt, so I didn't stay in long. After I got home, some more research led me to learn that this side creek comes down from the legendary "Seven Falls," a destination I hope to check out soon, now that I know about it. After grinding the van back up the dirt road and out of the canyon, Amber wanted to go back to Oroville for supplies, and I had an unquenched thirst for hiking and exploring the area. So I had her drop me off at what I thought was a trail to the top of Bald Rock Dome. Cell phone service was adequate in the area, so a pickup could be arranged later.

There was a sign that said "to Bald Rock Dome Trail," at the intersection of Bald Rock Road and Bean Creek Road, but it turns out this was in reference to the aforementioned canyon trail to Curtain Falls. The path I followed, off of Bean Creek Road was not the "Bald Rock Trail" at all, it turns out, but according to my GPS, it looked like it would lead to the dome. I waved goodbye, and followed the dirt track around a bend, straight into a gate marked "private property." The road beyond was covered in undisturbed pine needles, I could tell it hadn't been used recently, and I carried on. Then road came to a T-intersection, and I turned right, following my GPS towards the dome. This road started out going south, then turned back east again. I was getting pretty close to the high point of the dome formation, but still deep in the trees, and suddenly I noticed a house. Even though the area seems ghostly abandoned, I was still a little paranoid, so I went off the south side of the road, into the bush, where there was a sign clearly stating "National Forest Boundary." At least here I couldn't be busted for trespassing. The "top" of Bald Rock Dome was due east of me, but that was not my destination, so I did mild bushwhacking to the south-east, towards the top of the exposed granite cliffs. As I got closer to them, a faint trail began to emerge, which I lost and found a few times.

Eventually I emerged from the manzanita thicket, and was staring over the edge of the granite precipice, overlooking the Middle Fork Feather River Canyon. I sat and absorbed the grandeur of it for several minutes. It was clear that this was a seldom visited place, with no official trail leading to it. I read somewhere that it was a meditation spot for the indigenous Maidu people. I could see about 180 degrees up and down the canyon, and there were some impressive cliffs across the river as well. I didn't stay for too long, because there was more on the menu for the afternoon's hike. I followed the faint trail that had finally gotten me to the cliffs, to see where it comes from, and luckily it became a real trail, but not heavily used. It led southwest, through the woods, all the way to Bean Creek Road. It was unmarked at the "trailhead," but this would be the trail to use to get to the dome if that's your goal. I couldn't tell if this area was on private land or not, but I think it's not. From here, I walked northwest, up the road, back to where I had been dropped off. Realizing by now that the area was a patchwork of private property easements, within or right at the edge of Plumas National Forest, I just said "fuck it" and started walking towards where I wanted to go.

Through the woods, to Bald Rock Area high point, which is 3,530 feet, but just a dirt patch surrounded by manzanita. Continuing west, I soon escaped the brush and got to easy cross country over open granite, to "Little Bald Rock," the final feature of the area that was on my agenda today. Similar to Big Bald Rock in nature, but apparently on private land. No trails or people visible. But not far in the distance, I heard the sound of heavy machinery working, and a plume of smoke rising from the trees. Some kind of "operation" on the land. I avoided whatever this was, and followed dirt tracks that led me back to Bald Rock Road. I was able to contact Amber via cell phone, and arranged to be picked on the road. To keep my self amused, I continued walking alongside the rural highway, Thankfully not too many cars whizzing by. I passed by the Big Bald Rock parking lot from two days ago, and kept going. It wasn't long after this that a familiar Chevy van came around the band, scooped me up, and took me back to camp for another night of drinking by the fire.

FURTHER READING
I couldn't find any report of anyone going to the area of Bald Rock Dome that I went to. All information on the internet leads to Official Bald Rock Dome Trail, which as I said above, leads down into the canyon, to Curtain Falls, and for a look up at Bald Rock Dome from below.



Sunday, May 3, 2020

Big Bald Rock

DATE: Sunday, May 3, 2020
DISTANCE: 2.4 km / 1.5 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 109m / 358 ft.
TIME: 1:06
SUMMIT: Big Bald Rock: 998m / 3274 ft.
PLUMAS NATIONAL FOREST
BUTTE COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK:
Rush: I Think I'm Going Bald


PHOTO ALBUM
MAP

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Big Bald Rock is part of a granitic pluton that, in a few places near Berry Creek, breaks through the dirt and pines, the most notable of these being Bald Rock Dome towering over the Feather River canyon. More on that HERE, if you can't wait.  Big Bald Rock is a pretty minor granite outcropping compared to other places in the Sierra Nevada, but a fun place to visit if you're in the area.

A Covid-19 pandemic, my job job dissolved, collecting unemployment, all the time in the world to go hiking and camping. The hiking has been flowing freely and generously, as you've seen in recent posts, but camping is a little harder to come by, as almost every campground in the state is closed. The solution? Know someone who owns a piece of land, and camp on that. And it was with this in mind that Amber picked me up in Oakland on Sunday morning, and hauled us to the unlikely location of Berry Creek, California, just up the hill from Oroville, where an old friend of hers not only owns lands with a house on it, but has also built, to my delight, an epic treehouse there, which I climbed later, of course. Having sussed out the area around Berry Creek beforehand, in anticipation of the trip, I knew that Big Bald Rock was just up the road from there, and would make a good, short, afternoon hike. 

So, after camp had been established in the field across from the house in Berry Creek, we were off to spend the late afternoon on Big Bald Rock, just a short distance up Bald Rock Road. The trail from the parking lot, through the trees, to the exposed granite area was just a few minutes walk, and though there were people around, they were dispersed, and social distancing was no problem. It had actually been awhile since I had feasted my senses on such a display of open granite, and I was mentally teleported back to my childhood days at Shealor Lake. I walked around the area, giving in the the compulsion to scramble. I got up to the high point of the dome with some gratuitous class three. I climbed a crack, saw a cool broken tablet looking thing, then up at the top, I found the benchmark, and frolicked amongst the boulders improbably stacked on top. Real high point is not the benchmark. There were fine views out into the Sacramento Valley, of the Sutter Buttes, and as far as (what I later determined to be) Bald Eagle Mountain in the east, and Pike County Peak in the south. My hopes of seeing Mount Lassen were not met. I could have stayed and played around for hours, but the end of the day was coming soon, stomachs were growling, and there was a longing for the enjoyments of camp. I bid farewell to the grand granite playground, and transitioned to the next adventure, the tree house. Then the next adventure, drinking lots of whiskey by the fire pit and somehow losing my favorite hat.

...to be continued. 

FURTHER READING
•Only In Your State: Description and good photographs
•Alltrails: Big Bald Rock Extended Loop
•Forest Service Page


 

Monday, January 27, 2020

Santa Teresa Hills

DATE: Monday, January 27, 2020
DISTANCE: 3.66 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 579 feet
TIME TAKEN: 1:33 hours
SANTA TERESA COUNTY PARK
SANTA CLARA COUNTY, CA


PHOTO ALBUM
MAP


The Santa Teresa Hills are an east-west oriented ridge on the south side of San Jose. They were inhabited in succession by Native Americans, the Spanish, cattle ranchers, quicksilver miners, and later, suburban homeowners, golfers, and IBM. And on this day, they were temporarily inhabited by me.

After a day of painting a bedroom in San Jose as a favor, I was eager to go outside and get some fresh air. Amber and I ran for the hills, to a trailhead suggested by her intrepid cousin Allen (remember him from Big Sur?). This led us to the southwestern entrance of Santa Teresa Hills County Park, which Amber had actually grown up on the other side of. We started up a rocky (better than muddy!) trail that was signed "closed," but looked very open and very well used. We switchbacked uphill, got some cool views of the Santa Cruz Mountains, and came into an interior valley which is rather hidden from the outside world. Atop the ridge, there were cool rocks, old oaks, and scattered people out for a late afternoon hike, as we were. With not too much time on our hands, we made a tidy loop and went back to the car. Better a short hike than NO HIKE.

FURTHER READING
•Bay Area Hiker: Big photos and good information

Valley in the park

Map from Santa Clara County Parks

Monday, November 25, 2019

Garrett's Arch

DATE: Monday, November 25, 2019

GARRETT’S ARCH
DISTANCE: 5.28 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 291’
TIME TAKEN: 3hr

BARKER DAM
DISTANCE:
1.4 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 84’
TIME TAKEN:1 hr

JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK
RIVERSIDE COUNTY, CA
SAN BERNARDINO COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK:
Autopsy: Arch Cadaver

PHOTO ALBUM
MAP







FULL HIKE DESCRIPTION COMING SOON!


Sunday, October 13, 2019

Mount Tallac

DATE: Sunday, October 13, 2019
DISTANCE:
12.16 miles
ELEVATION GAIN:
3807 ft.
TIME TAKEN:
7:01 hours
SUMMIT:
9735 feet SPS OGUL
DESOLATION WILDERNESS
ELDORADO COUNTY, CA


















Mount Tallac is one of the most visible and well known mountains that rings the Lake Tahoe basin. Also, one of the most well climbed, as it sees something close to 10,000 visitors per year! I had some vague intentions on going up Tallac as my first Tahoe summit back in late June, during a muti-day camping / hiking road trip around Northern California. You can read here what happened instead that day. Even though I did not climb Tallac on that trip, I did catch an inspiring glimpse of it from across the lake, and was so captivated that I added it to my top ten "to climb" list. It took me until October to return and finally make a bid for Lake Tahoe's most popular peak. I know it's a "basic" summit, but I believe that beginning with the basics and and then moving on to the harder and more obscure mountains is the path that I should follow.

My brother Alex is one my favorite people to go hiking with, not only because I've known him for most of my life, and we get along pretty well, but I also know what to expect from him as far as his hiking appetite and endurance, and we seem to be pretty evenly matched. In addition, Alex has worked over the years doing trail maintenance for the Forest Service in the backcountries of Nevada, Montana, Idaho and New Mexico, so he knows his way around a damn trail! He even took me on my first ever backpacking trip when I went to visit him in Montana in the summer of 2016! His experience in the outdoors in vastly greater than mine, and it's nice to have him around should any questions or problems arise; I have a lot to learn from him still.

OK, at that point I started writing about what happened on Saturday afternoon as we were driving to Lake Tahoe, and what happened when we got to the campground. I realized you may not want to read that bullshit, because it has nothing to do with the hike at all! So I'm going to include that part at the very end as "bonus material."
 
Early sunlight 'pon th'mount
We awoke at 6am, it was still dark in Fallen Leaf Campground, and about 31 degrees. By the time we had our site cleaned up, the sunlight was beginning poke out from behind the trees. When we started off on the Mount Tallac trail, it was 7:09AM, and there we already six cars in the parking lot before us. In less than ten minutes out, we were already overtaken by two trail runners, their masculine whoops and hollers had warned us of their approach. Mount Tallac quickly came into view on the right, illuminated, pink and snowless in the dawn's first rays. We gained elevation and witnessed the sun rising over Fallen Leaf Lake to the East. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, but atmosphere was clearer that I'd expected. The morning was crisp and wholly autumnal, the sight of turning yellow leafed aspens clinching the deal. We don't have too many trees that change colors down on the coast! We crossed the Desolation Wilderness boundary, and soon after, Floating Island Lake, which was a source of amusement to us, because we have a song called Floating Island with our band Owl. The trail climbed gently upward through forest lands, with some occasional steeper rocky parts.

Cathedral Lake
Shortly, Cathedral Lake was attained, and we emerged from the forest into rocky, brushy hillsides. Elevation gain began in earnest now, and we could look out and see a generous haze of smoke filling the basin. There was an impressive formation of stone above Cathedral Lake, which for this purpose I will call "Cathedral Turret." I thought, "damn, maybe we should climb that too." As we got up higher, and the trail began zigzagging through a talus field, I could look down and see that "Cathedral Turret" was actually just a nub on the large Southeastern shoulder of Tallac. Coming up through the scree fields, we passed a really beautiful western white pine. Sight of the summit had been lost at this point, and to look uphill revealed only a view of an increasingly hostile series of rocks.

At the summit
Past the scree fields, we got to mountain's Southern shoulder, and began ascending through an area of sparse pine trees and light brush. The trail now finally brought us near the edge of the East face that we had been looking up at for most of the trip. We were playing cat and mouse with a few other groups of hikers by this point, all of us reaching the top a roughly the same time. We sat atop on the summit block by 10AM, less than three hours to the top, and one of the kindly fellow summiteers took our picture for us! We hung around the top for a little bit, taking in the (smoky) panoramas, and eating some gouda and sliced turkey tortillas for "breakfast." Some bonus scrambling was to be had on Tallac's Northwestern Flank, and we hopped and skipped over there, and had a look down into the cirque of Tallac Lake, and over at the magical white cliffs of Peak 9110'.

Cutting downhill, cross country from Tallac's Northwestern rocks, we hit a trail, and it looked the same as the one we had come up on. Then we met three backpacking young women, who were on their way up from Gilmore Lake. When I told them we were taking this way to get back to Fallen Leaf, they looked confused. Alex said "We're on the wrong trail dude." We did a light bushwhack back to the correct trail, and were then on our way down. One of the ascenders at the peak had warned us that he was barely ahead of two busloads of Chinese tourists who were on their way up the mountain. He wasn't joking! As we went down, they were coming!  In droves! Chinese grandmas with their trekking poles and sun visors! (Maybe we can meet them all at the casino in Stateline later) Damn, this is a popular peak!  I can only imagine what it's like on a Sunday in July instead of October! Back down to Cathedral Lake, I could see that the wind must have shifted, because Tahoe basin was getting more obscured by a veil of smoke. I felt bad for anyone who was coming up the mountain now, because their view of the lake would be even more tainted than ours.

Descending to Fallen Leaf
Near Cathedral creek, Alex suggested we take an alternate trail down to Fallen Leaf Lake, which would add some mileage to the trip, but hopefully get us away from some of the massive crowds we were encountering. Not only did we get to see some other scenery, and an excellent view of FLL, we only saw one other human being on that stretch. The trail cut steeply down the hillside in a Southerly direction, and then cut almost 180 degrees back to the North when we got near the lake. We never quite got TO the lake, because the shore was lined with quaint summer cabins on private property, most looking lonely and quiet as the vacation season drew it's final breaths of the year. The trail ended at a paved road, which which we continued North on, through the cabins and breezy aspen groves, rustling in the afternoon light. A slight left turn through the bush got us from that paved road back to the trail head parking lot, and we were back at the van at 2:10 PM.





































Sunday, June 30, 2019

Castle Rock / Round Mound

DATE: Sunday, June 30, 2019

CASTLE ROCK
DISTANCE: 2.7 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 600 feet
TIME TAKEN: 1 hour

SUMMIT (FAILED): 7870 feet

ROUND MOUND
DISTANCE: 1 mile 
ELEVATION GAIN: 200 FEET
TIME TAKEN: 1 hour
SUMMIT: 6717


LAKE TAHOE
TOIYABE NATIONAL FOREST

DOUGLAS COUNTY, NV




A plan to have a linear, clockwise, summer van trip through some of the most spectacular and scenic areas in California was thrown for a convoluted loop, when Amber declared she wished to begin the trip in Lake Tahoe, instead of cruising North on Highway 101 to the Redwood Coast as originally planned. The reason? Some of her girlfriends were renting a cabin in Tahoe that day and she wanted to go hang out with them. Reasonable! I figured this would be a trip where everyone could be happy and get what they wanted out of it, so I happily agreed, even though it would turn our Northern loop into a zigzag.

We left The Bay well after midnight, and were crashed out in the van in the parking lot of the Lake Tahoe Flea Market before sunrise. I can't remember exactly why we did it this way, maybe just the excitement of getting on the road and away from home as soon as possible. But driving all night and crashing out in the van threw off the schedule, and probably eliminated my chances of getting up early to climb any notable mountain. After we got up, perused the flea market, got brunch at Red Hut, and bought supplies at the local grocery store, the day was already well under way. I was by now dying to drop Amber off to party with her girlfriends at the beach cabin at Zephyr Cove, Nevada, so I could go CLIMB something. By the time this was achieved, it was getting rather late in the day to start a big adventure, and I had to narrow my scope. My original first choice was to go up Mount Tallac, always ambitious you see, but I figured it was WAY too late in the day to begin that now. My second choice was Maggie's Peaks, a much more reasonable goal, but even that secondary dream was fading away, because I really wasn't feeling driving back to the Southwest side of the lake from Zephyr Cove. It was a splendid Sunday at the height of the season, and traffic was thick. I downsized my ambitions, and settled on a nearby craggy outcropping called Castle Rock. It looked cool, and it was nearby. I said goodbye to the girls, who were inflating a giant raft to take out on the lake, and already pouring their second or third round of cocktails. I got in the van and was OFF, heading down the highway and then up Kingsbury Grade road in pursuit of my goal.

The Castle Rock trail was achieved by taking Kingsbury Grade road up to Dagget Pass, and turning left into a series of residential streets which led me to Genoa Peak Road and an entrance to the Tahoe Rim Trail. It was already 2PM when began my first hike of the day. I can't remember whether it was intentional or a mistake; I set off on the Tahoe Rim Trail, instead of the Castle Rock Trail, which both lead out of the same parking lot. I"m gonna pretend it was intentional, and it made a nice loop through the dusty dry pine forests. I always prefer to make a loop instead of an out and back anyway. I was at a pretty decent elevation and could see out to the South.  I met a befuddled couple who were looking for Castle Rock also, and a mountain biker who was doing a circuit of some part of the rim. In good order I made my navigation around the loop to where the Castle Rock trail branched off, and plodded on towards the crag. There were several groups of young people hanging out on the increasingly prominent rock outcroppings, and I utterly ignored them as I made my way towards Castle Rock, now looming right in front of me. Light scrambling amongst the ancient stone.  My pent up climbing energy fit to burst out by this point, I got the base of the rock and saw a sign which read: FALCONS NESTING - DO NOT PROCEED TO TOP OF ROCK

My ambition, crushed
AGGHHHH. Foiled! I walked around the base of the thing, It was a pretty impressive heap of stone, and there was a good view even from the bottom. But oh how l longed to jam my hands into those cracks! Though I would never disobey a polite request to respect the nests of an elegant bird species, I turned back with feelings of dejection. Oh, you damn beautiful, rapid, nesting birds! I did a little scrambling on a nearby boulder, just for the hell of it, but I think that rock was maybe ALSO a nesting site too, because my maneuvering almost IMMEDIATELY summoned a dive bombing peregrine falcon to swoop over my head (too fast to catch on camera)! It was was my first sighting of one of the elegant raptors in the wild, which was a bonus, but little consolation for the heavy heart of the vanquished climber in retreat. Back in the van, and with plenty of daylight left, I began to look for something, ANYTHING else to summit. I drove around, burning fuel, like a junkie cruising dark alleys in search of a dealer. I thought maybe a could get up Monument Peak by going through Heavenly Ski Resort (I COULD have, If I'd have known what I was doing), but I was looking for a continuation of the Tahoe Rim trail, and I couldn't find it. I almost pulled over by the side of the road to scurry up a rocky outcropping behind the Fox and Hound Smokehouse Grill, but thought better of it. Tail squarely between my legs, I went back down the hill to drown my sorrows in the tepid waters of Zephyr Cove and the slightly less tepid concoction of a Bulleit Rye and ginger ale, perhaps.

My saviour, Round Mound
I was almost back, fielding "where are you?" texts by this point, when I passed by an interesting hill looming over Highway 50 to my left. Across the street from the Safeway, a sumptuous, rounded mass. There was a sign for Round Hill Resort! An access point! That must be Round Hill! I did a U-turn and parked by the side of the highway next to the entrance to the vacation village. I walked into the private resort, and saw some sort of scraggly youth standing there, a ticket taker or fee collector of some kind. I asked him if there was a trail to the top of that hill (gesturing up). "Uh, I don't know." I walked 20 more feet down the road and saw a trail curving south.

Round Mound (as it turned out to be called) was an easy summit (about 200 feet up?). Dry, dusty summer pines and brush abounded, along with some nice boulders which I frolicked across, relishing in my late period victory to not leave Lake Tahoe "empty handed." The views were fine in all directions. I had a good look back at my tormentor, Castle Rock. The lake sparkled like a turquoise mirror. Round Mound was no Mount Tallac, it wasn't a mountain at all, it was a mound, it was a perch above one of the finest mountain lakes in all the world. A "peak" in my clutches, I was finally able to return to the dionysian delights of Zephyr Cove, sharing a a bevy of alcoholic drinks and fried foods with three (now) very intoxicated women. 


To be continued...

ON PEAK NAMES:
Castle Rock: OK, come on, yeah it's a rock and it looks somewhat like a castle, but there are already at least 50 Castle Rocks in the world, 46 of them are in the United States, not to mention Castle Crags, Castle Peaks and Castle Mountains. How about we call this one something else? My suggestion: Falcon Rock. That one's not taken.  (Information Source: peakbagger.com)
Round Mound: I approve. The name is very appropriate, and there are only two others in the United States, both outside of Nevada. 



 










Monday, June 10, 2019

Black Butte 6334'

DATE:  Monday, June 10, 2019 

DISTANCE: 5.2 MILES 
ELEVATION GAIN: 1,991 ft. 
TIME TAKEN: 3:15
SUMMIT: 6,344 ft.
SHASTA NATIONAL FOREST  
SISKYOU COUNTY, CA

PHOTO GALLERY










So, as this is the first post of the "Constant Ascension" hiking and climbing journal, we're gonna just jump straight into the deep end with all the themes that will continue to be seen in the future, as well as many that will be seen from the past, once I post all the "heavy metal hikes" from the archives. Hiking, trails, mountain climbing (not the jock kind) and victory beers...

My band Owl was up in Dunsmuir, hanging out at our bass player's house, practicing for the next gig. I had sworn I would not return to Dunsmuir without going up into Castle Crags, but with our time extremely limited, there was only a small window for a hike of some kind on Monday morning, before continued band rehearsals and the frantic drive back to Oakland. I didn't want to rush the Castle Crags... I figured Black Butte might be an easy up and down accomplishment, so I wouldn't leave the Shasta area that day "empty handed."

Above, I used a stock image at the top to illustrate Black Butte's position next the interstate. This is the view that most people have probably seen of it. I was not able to capture a photograph of it that day from a distant perspective. All the rest of the photography is my own. 

Black Butte is "a cluster of overlapping dacite lava domes," visible to thousands of motorists on I-5 each day as they pass by from the North and South. If Shastina is the daughter of mighty Mount Shasta, then Black Butte is the illegitimate niece. Here's a much more eloquent description:

"... the nearly perfectly conical peak is visible from almost everywhere in the Mount Shasta area. When driving north on I-5 from Mount Shasta City, Black Butte rises directly over the interstate and it seems that the freeway is destined to run right into the peak’s rocky base." -Hike Mt. Shasta

I had probably passed by Black Butte twenty times or more since I began touring the West Coast as a rock musician in the early 2000s, but it was only within the past year or so that the idea crept into my mind to seek a trail to the top. So after a late night in Dunsmuir of Owl rehearsals and a vast tasting contest of Magic's special and potent home brews, it was decided that the Owl boys would make a quick summit of notorious Black Butte in the morning. We decided that five hours sleep would be enough, and set alarms for 5:30AM. As a backup plan, we set secondary alarms for 7:00AM, which turned out be the more palatable option.

Vowing to "just grab whatever on the way" to eat, we got some freshly made scones in downtown Mount Shasta City and continued to the trailhead, probably taking one of the more questionable dirt roads on the approach. Alex and I hit the trailhead at 8:25AM, leaving Axell slumbering in the van (he sleepily mumbled that he would catch up later, surprisingly he did). We started going up, and never looked back. OK, of course we looked back, because almost immediately, views of the surrounding majesty came into view.

Looking at East Mount Shasta
The massive grandeur of Shasta to the East, Mount Eddy to the West, all the way to Mount McLoughlin in the North, Lassen visible in the South. Up and around the cone in semi circular motions, cascades of talus, the shallow hidden rocky canyons of the heights, weaving up the giant boulder pile.

At the top, there lay the foundation of an old fire watch tower. Annoyingly, at the summit, the place I really wanted to hang out, was the only place from the entire hike that had bugs. Indeed it was a plethora of flying, buzzing, biting insects, that almost instantly forced me down from the top to the peripheral heights, where we saw a survey marker and some kind of memorial (tombstone?). Did they haul the body all the way up there and bury it under the rocks? Maybe that's what was attracting the flies. Alex and I ran around at the top for awhile, and in better-late-than-never fashion, Axell showed up soon after.

Alex at the top. Not visible: swarms of flies

Hanging out in high places is simply a delight for me, and it was amplified by the beautiful day and spectacular views of surrounding terrain, which,  looking south now, also included future goal of Castle Crags, the Sacramento River Canyon, and a landing pad for extraterrestrial visitors.

OK, how about one more picture of Mount Shasta, towering 7,835 feet higher than the point we were on? Then down, DOWN back on the rocky trail, for there were many hours of band rehearsals left to complete that day! Back at the trailhead, I noticed these (and these, and these) cryptic markings on the back of the sign. We found a much better dirt road to get out of there, and I tried to take a picture the mountain from the bottom, with almost complete failure.  Hit Mount Shasta City again on the way back, this time to devour some rather uh, "different" style burritos from Poncho and Lefkowitz (mine had black beans, white rice, zucchini AND yellow squash in it! Imagine what a challenge it was as a Bay Area dweller to accept this!)

FURTHER READING
•Mount Shasta Trail Association 

Here's the trail map from the Mount Shasta Trail Association website. I didn't draw my own map, because we followed this trail exactly as it appears here.