Category Archives: California

Eureka Dunes

March 28, 2013.


The Eureka Dunes are the second largest sand dunes in North America. We arrived under a full moon around midnight. Getting out of the car was a shock; the air temperature was about 50 degrees. Time for the puffy coat.

Full moon

We set up camp at the first campground we saw. Three other sites were occupied. This was the most remote campground we’d found at the park. After quietly setting up our camp, we packed our bags and started walking towards the dunes.

Hiking under a full moon was an eerie yet beautiful experience. Here we were, in a place we’d never been, exploring it for the first time with no map and a vague impression of hills and shadows. We knew the highest dune was 700 feet tall, and that’s where we were headed. As we walked along the base of the dunes, we tried our best to sidestep the small desert plants growing there. Keeping our eyes on the highest visible point, we turned around occasionally to track our progress and relative direction from camp.

Walking up the gentle ridges and slopes made of sand was arduous work. The sand slid beneath our feet, making every step feel like three. It was difficult to judge steepness and distance with the dim light. I quickly warmed up and shed layers as we proceeded up the hills. Although my core was warm, the sand was ice cold so I had to keep moving to heat up my feet.

eureka dunes.JPG

Atop the grandest sand dune, we stopped to look all around us. There was a ridge leading out towards the opposite side of the dunes that looked like it might be a little taller, so we ventured out there. Several bumps later we arrived at the end of the ridge, which dropped down to the dry lake basin several hundred feet below. Here we determined our turnaround point, where we sat for a long time. The adjectives needed to describe how I felt in those long moments have yet to be invented. It was at once surreal, mysterious, serene and blissful. We snacked on gummy dinosaurs as we tried to express to each other just how awesome it was to be there, in the moonlight, together. I’d say this was one of the most unusual and memorable hikes I’d ever had.

Eventually we figured we had to get back to camp, so we walked back, trying to avoid any unnecessary hill climbs as we did so. We investigated several clumps of plants and noticed the funny illusions the moon shadows made as we walked. Back in camp, I fell quickly into a deep and satisfying sleep.

Seeing the Dunes for the First Time

The next morning we woke up to bright sun reflecting off the mounds of sand outside camp. We reluctantly got up after only a couple hours of shut-eye, and I promptly made a huge breakfast. We dallied a bit around camp before going for a short daytime hike in the dunes.


The highest point? Been there, done that. Instead we took time inspecting the vegetation, looking carefully for endemic plants and unique flowers. We noticed lots of animal tracks from birds, mammals and reptiles. Instead of heading for the large dune like everyone else, we explored some of the smaller sand piles–arguably more tiring during the morning heat. It was a pleasant way to kill time in the morning. I was astounded by the views in all directions. I could see the single dirt road leading into Eureka Valley, as well as the rippling striations in the surrounding mountains. Footprints led in several different tracks up the sand dunes, with many people walking along the tracks we made last night.

Take a look at the wide open spaces at the Eureka Dunes:

Hiking around Eureka Dunes was the exclamation point that punctuated our trip to Death Valley. We headed out before noon and mentally prepared for the long stretch of driving ahead. We made a quick stop at Scotty’s Castle, which turned out to be a great place to sit and eat a picnic lunch.

Beyond that, we drove almost nonstop through stunning Central Nevada, where we stopped at Mill Creek Recreation Area to camp. This free, tent-only camp was one of the loveliest I’d ever seen. A thin stream babbled along behind our campsite. There were clean pit toilets available, nice fire rings and picnic tables. Plus there were mountain views in every direction. We were the only ones there that night.

I was utterly inspired by Death Valley. This beautiful and desolate place should be on everyone’s bucket list. If you do go, make an effort to get at least a little off the beaten path. Just be sure to bring a gas can with a few spare gallons.

See photos from the Death Valley trip on Google Plus.

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Titus Canyon and Darwin Falls

March 27, 2013.


I know, if you look at a map it’s pretty random which things we connected in a day. But we headed to Death Valley with just a rough plan and plenty of wiggle-room to make last minute decisions. This way we were able to get a feel for the place without feeling stuck to a rigid to-do-list. Today felt like the most random of them all.

Titus Canyon

We began on a hunt for Fall Canyon, which failed miserably due to a poor guidebook description and associated map. So, we settled instead on Titus Canyon since it began from the same parking lot. A one-way dirt road runs through Titus Canyon, which is open to car traffic–although we didn’t know it at the time.


We began walking past the gate, which led into a wide canyon with steep walls on either side. The guidebook we had described this as a “slot canyon,” but I’d say that was a very loose application of the definition. While the walls were sheer and dramatic, the canyon floor was broad and gaping. A well-graded, nicely manicured gravel road led us along the way.

The canyon was pretty, with imposing walls made of interesting rock types. Parts of the wall looked like it had been sprayed liberally with clay. There were wildflowers, birds, and the occasional vehicle blazing down the road. That was the worst part of all. Cars, trucks, and SUV’s came ripping around corners, forcing us to get off the road/trail to let them pass. How obnoxious. What surprised me the most was how fast most people were traveling. Considering the number of hikers on the road–including several older people with walking sticks, children, etc., the drivers were not proceeding with much caution.

Once the canyon opened up a bit and we got sick of cars, we turned around and headed back. This is a canyon to be skipped if you are traveling on foot. There are much better options for hiking. The park should close this down to hikers if they are going to permit vehicles to travel the road.

Darwin Falls: An Oasis in the Desert

Darwin Creek is one of only a few permanent water sources in Death Valley National Park. We drove to the other side of the park to check out this highly recommended destination. The hike is only 2 miles round trip, which gave us ample time to poke around and take a look at the diverse array of plants and animals.


And poke around we did! As soon as we left the parking lot, we noticed something was different. There were lush green shrubs and flowers aplenty. A trickle of algae-packed water ran down the canyon. Birds sang joyously, as if to say, “look what we found!” We walked ahead slowly as I stopped to photograph every unique wildflower that was there. Frogs sat lazily in a small pool formed by the ever enlarging stream. As we continued up the canyon we occasionally got our feet wet as we hopped across the narrowest parts of the water. What a drastic change from the past few days!

There were a bunch of people milling about near the base of the falls, including one large group who were downclimbing some slabby, exposed rock just above the pool. I knew there was a way to get to an upper viewpoint, but surely that was not the way. For the first time, the book had a reasonably good description of where to look so we backtracked a bit and began scrambling up some rock and gravel, getting away from the crowds. This was the first time I had to swap trail shoes for Crocs, since I didn’t quite trust them on the steep rock.

upper viewpoint.JPG

The upper viewpoint was killer. We ended up on a rocky platform with an excellent view of the main falls, a thin stream of water dropping eighty feet down to the water-carved rock below. No one was here. We savored this moment for as long as we could, taking pictures, noticing all the cactus growing straight out of the rock on the opposite side of the canyon, and watching the sun drop lower in the sky. Upon leaving, we noticed some huge raptor nests in the cliffs just over our heads. This was a very special place.

The walk out was probably no faster than the walk in. This time, I was distracted by cactus. See, in wet, Western Oregon, cactus is like a thing that only exists in cartoons. I never get to see real, live cactus–the potted plants from the grocery store don’t count. Here, cactus grew wildly. The more I looked, the more I found. It was like a spiny Easter egg hunt, and it was really fun.

Panamint Springs

We decided to treat ourself to dinner tonight since we had a long drive ahead to Eureka Dunes. So we took another one of Joel’s recommendations and went to the restaurant at Panamint Springs Resort. The place was packed, and there were only two people working the entire bar and restaurant. Once we ordered beverages and food, however, the service was very friendly, prompt and accommodating. They had an incredible beer selection and I was happy to drink down a local, private label Hefeweisen that was distinctive and delicious. The BBQ burger that followed was also very satisfying. We left with full bellies and some tips on getting out to the dunes.

Long story short, we didn’t arrive at Eureka Dunes until nearly midnight so I’ll leave that part of the story for the next blog post.

See photos from the Death Valley trip on Google Plus.

Continue the story…

Badwater, Sidewinder Canyon, and More

March 26, 2013.


 Don’t Drink the Water, It’s Bad

Today we’d planned to visit the lowest place in North America–Badwater. Here, temperatures can soar well over 100 degrees in the middle of the day, so we chose to arrive bright and early.

It was cool enough to wear long sleeves, and there was only one other car in the parking lot when we arrived. The small, saline pool at Badwater housed tiny, endangered snails and other aquatic life. Beyond the pool, salt flats stretched out across the valley floor to the base of the tallest peaks in the park, including Telescope Peak. We looked with admiration towards the summit of the mountain we’d stood atop just yesterday. How different life was down here.

Here’s a panoramic look at the area:

We walked out past the smooth bit of the salt flat that had been packed down by hundreds of thousands of visitors, and continued onto less frequently traveled territory. The salt here was heaved up in places, sculpted into unusual shapes, and punctuated by large holes. Some of the salt formed fragile, threadlike structures that looked like hairs. Looking back towards the parking lot we noticed more people had started to arrive, so we headed back to drive to our next destination.

Sidewinder Canyon

Just up the road, there are several canyons to explore. Taking Joel’s advice, we headed for Sidewinder Canyon. The hike was described in the Desert Hiking book I’d brought along, but we proceeded to head at once for the wrong canyon. None of these things are signed, of course. Aaron astutely noted a giant “X” made out of rocks and an arrow pointing right (also made out of rocks) at the mouth of the canyon we were about to enter. Heeding these subtle warnings, we headed right into the mouth of the next canyon.

looking back to badwater.JPG

It all began as a wide, gravelly expanse, with steep but short cliffs marking either edge of the canyon. I had sustained an impressively large and painful blister from the Telescope Peak hike and found it very challenging to walk with pressure against my heel, coming from my trail shoes. I decided to try out wearing my ugly purple Crocs instead, since the heel strap could be folded up and away from my pulsing blister.

I can now barely express my joy at having Crocs with me, as they saved the rest of my trip to Death Valley. Even with a large, painful blister on my foot, I was able to walk comfortably over sharp rock, gravel, dirt, sand, and everything else this park had to throw at me. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming…

We walked through the wide canyon, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was pretty, but there was nothing all too special about it. Soon, we noticed a small passageway on our right that seemed to venture out of the main canyon. The hike we planned was only about 4 miles, so we had time to explore, right?


We entered the side canyon and instantly our experience changed. The walls were tall and narrow. They appeared to be held loosely together by mud. Rocks of all shapes, colors, sizes and textures were glued together in an amalgam of debris. While Aaron was busy taking pictures and looking for living things, I stumbled across my prize–a dead chuckwalla. I was really excited to see chuckwallas in the wild at the start of this trip, but I was hoping for a more animated version than this.

With that behind us, we continued in a labyrinthine passageway that twisted and turned so much I completely lost my sense of direction. The walls varied from narrow to more narrow, and chockstones sat wedged in the smallest parts rising up above our heads. Take a walk with us by watching this video:

We scrambled up and over boulders as far as we could go until the canyon died out, then turned around.

canyon and view beyond.JPG

Back in the main canyon, we were newly invigorated. Maybe this was a Transformers hike–more than meets the eye. We walked through the main canyon until it broadened substantially, stopping to investigate each slot that came in on the right. At the turnaround point, we scrambled up a steep game trail that led us to a gorgeous view atop the canyon walls. Temperatures up there flirted with 100 degrees, so we soaked in the views and then dashed back down into the shade.

We pretty much had this hike to ourselves, minus the one couple we saw heading out just as we were heading in. Considering this trailhead was right off the main road in a National Park, we felt pretty pleased with ourselves that we were able to find solitude in this cool little place.

Natural Bridge

Ugh, Natural Bridge. This stood in stark contrast to our last hike. We parked at the end of the short gravel road leading to the trail and began walking up towards the aforementioned bridge. On our way, we passed hordes of tourists heading to and fro. Many were dressed as if they were heading to the club later, and several were making weird kissy faces posing for Facebook pictures or something. Why do people do that?

natural bridge.JPG

Anyways, at the bridge, a bunch of lazy tourists were milling around taking pictures that marked their grand 1/4 mile adventure from the car. Most people obviously turn around here. That was our cue to keep going.

The canyon continues only another quarter mile longer, but the second half is much more impressive and beautiful than the first. At the end, we scrambled up a short little dryfall that had one steep, smooth section in the middle. Then the canyon dead-ends at a much taller dryfall that can’t be climbed by casual dayhikers. The rock here was streaked with green. We turned to look behind us and saw no one. This was awesome.

On the way down, Aaron descended the dryfall first with his long legs reaching all the nice little footholds. I ended up taking the more adventurous route down by pressing my Crocs firmly into the smooth rock and sliding down quickly on my feet and hands. Apparently I gave some passing tourists a bit of a scare. Ha!

Devil’s Golf Course

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On to another salt flat: Devil’s Golf Course. A short drive brought us here. The terrain is rugged immediately after stepping out of the car. This ground sees far less foot traffic than Badwater. In fact, of the several cars that pulled up while we were there, only a handful of people even opened their doors to get out of the car. It’s no wonder there’s an obesity epidemic in America.

We carefully negotiated the sharp spines and bumps, checking out the new and unique structures made by salt and other minerals. The contrast between the tall, dark mountains and the low, white valley was made even more beautiful by the afternoon light.

We topped off our day with a scenic jaunt down Artist’s Drive, where we stopped at several pullouts to take photos in the setting sun. The rock walls streaked with lots of colors looked amazing in the soft, warm glow of the evening. From there we drove north towards tomorrow’s destination and again found a gravelly spot far enough from the road to make our camp. We enjoyed another night of quiet solitude under the stars.

See photos from the Death Valley trip on Google Plus.

Continue the story…

Telescope Peak Summit

March 25, 2013.

view ahead to summit.JPG

We woke up with the sun on this cool, Monday morning, with mixed thoughts about what to pack for our summit hike. According to the NPS website, winter ascents of Telescope Peak may require ice axes and crampons. Looking at pictures of the mountain from the week prior, it hardly seemed there was much snow left. Our camp neighbor reported, however, that he noticed “a lot” of snow on the north side of the mountain on his Rogers Peak hike the previous day. He also mentioned cold and windy conditions on Rogers, which was a full 2000' lower than our hike today. Therefore, I packed lots of warm layers, including my big down jacket, to prepare for the wind on the exposed ridge. Doubting very much this would be a winter climb, I decided to leave crampons and axe behind.

Climbing Telescope Peak

Aaron and I started our hike from the far end of the campground and signed in at the summit register. There was one other hiker ahead of us in the log book. Almost immediately I could feel the effects of being at elevation. We walked slowly and methodically, and I warmed up quickly. Based on the predicted cold temperatures I had long underwear on beneath my pants, which I regretted badly. I quickly shed upper layers as we ascended but stubbornly refused to hassle with the bottoms yet. The air was cool but still; perfect hiking weather.

bits of snow.JPG

We immediately found expansive views of the entire valley as well as a preview of the rolling ridge walk ahead. It looked like it was going to be a great day. It was totally quiet out here, far from any large towns and well out of sight of roads and buildings in the valley.

The trail up Telescope was well graded. Although it was a full 7 miles to the summit, the miles drifted away with each step. Once I finally broke down and removed the long underwear, I was much more comfortable and moved along more easily. As we ascended, we began seeing scattered patches of snow. I guess “a lot” of snow to someone in Southern California is much different than to someone who regularly plays in the Oregon Cascades. I was really glad we left the snow gear behind.

jess and aaron summit.JPG

In about 3.5 hours, we stepped on to the summit. We shared our victory with a solo hiker from Nevada, who had tons of great advice to share about what sights to see in Death Valley. We ended up taking many of his suggestions later in the trip and not one of them let us down. If you’re reading this, thanks Joel!

He took off and we stuck around for a bit, eating some lunch, reading the summit register entries and savoring the quiet solitude on this high peak. The weather was comfortably warm and practically windless. There was no sound, no distraction, just peaceful calm. Here’s a panoramic video shot from the summit:

After our extended break we packed back up and headed down the mountain. The rolling ridge was also pleasant in reverse. We passed a handful of people on their way up at various points along the trail. I don’t think we saw more than 10 people all day.

We were back in camp at 2:30. Now what? There was still half a day left! We changed into camp clothes and napped the afternoon away before deciding to head out.

Mesquite Dunes Night Hike

How about another hike? I thought. The moon would be close to full, and the sky was reasonably clear. We’d spotted some sand dunes right near the main road on our way to Mahogany Flat last night. So we drove back to the dunes, where there was a conveniently located large parking area with access to the sand. People were milling about in the lot. A few were actually out for a walk, and one group had set up camp not 10 yards from the parking lot. Nice work, guys.

I packed a small backpack with snacks, water and a long-sleeved shirt and we both set out under headlamp towards the dunes. I remembered spotting one dune in the distance as being the tallest of them all, and had set on hiking to that point. Aaron, not yet able to read my thoughts, had figured we were heading out for a short, aimless stroll. Once we were well out amidst the dunes I let him in on my plan. He reluctantly agreed, but was sure happy once we made it to our destination.

We walked under moonlit skies along ridges and dips in the sand, always keeping an eye on that ever distant high point. There were interesting salt formations and random plants along the way that offered up a distraction from the grueling act of walking through shifting sands. Once we got away from the road, the air was quiet. It was much warmer here than it was at our high camp, so it took some time to adjust to this new temperature.

The last stretch included cresting over two false summits before reaching the apex of the highest dune. It dropped off in nearly a vertical sand cliff on the other side; it was really cool!

I was dying to take my shoes off and run down the giant sand dune. My excitement was met by more reluctance from Aaron, who questioned the safety of my plan. Fortunately, he couldn’t stop me, and ultimately gave in. We both ran gleefully down the side of the sand dune, shoes strapped to our backs. It was oh so much fun.

After returning to the car, we decided to camp on a gravel road for the night. Most of the campgrounds in the park look like unpaved Walmart parking lots. People camp right on top of each other and often there are far more RVs than tents, so it really feels like a parking lot. I’d never want to camp again if that was my introduction to camping. Lucky for us, dispersed camping is allowed in the park as long as you are 2 miles from pavement or a developed area. So we ticked off the necessary 2 miles of gravel road driving, pulled off into a flat, rocky pullout and set up camp. It was quiet and peaceful, just like our summit of Telescope earlier in the day.

See photos from the Death Valley trip on Google Plus.

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Rhyolite, Nevada and Ash Meadows NWR

March 24, 2013.


Yesterday we embarked on a major Spring Break adventure: a road trip from Oregon to Death Valley. Most of the previous day was spent driving, but today we’d stop to see a couple of sites along the way to our destination.

Goldwell Open Air Museum

last supper2.JPG

Eight hundred miles of driving brought us to our first stop: Rhyolite. This was a quick diversion from our main route, and I was dying to get out of the car. Just before we reached the town proper, we were distracted by the Goldwell Open Air Museum: a bunch of outdoor sculptures and random pieces of art outside a little information building. We parked here and wandered around, looking at the eclectic collection of artwork. We examined a giant pink lady seemingly built out of lego blocks, a ghostly representation of The Last Supper, and other oddities. The desert air felt warm and inviting. Plus, it felt amazing just to stretch out my legs.

Rhyolite, Nevada: a Ghost Town


From there, we ambled along the dirt road towards a bunch of dilapidated wood and stone buildings. This was the partly preserved town of Rhyolite. Rhyolite went through a fast boom-and-bust cycle in the early twentieth century after prospectors identified some promising mine sites. Shells of crumbling old buildings remain, including the bank, the schoolhouse, several shops and the jail. We stopped to admire each of these on foot, giggling at the stream of cars driving up the road and back, hardly ever stopping to let a passenger out to explore.

Although stern signs warned of the dangers of rattlesnakes, we didn’t see any. There were some cactus plants and rusty, metal cans, but nothing particularly dangerous around. After touring the town we sat in the shade to eat lunch and relax.

Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge

Just outside Death Valley National Park lays Ash Meadows. This refuge, on the Nevada/California border, is a unique desert oasis. Its spring-fed pools, streams and wetlands provide an environment for many plants and animals to thrive. Almost 30 species here live nowhere else in the world. There are birds, reptiles, mammals, fish, plants and shrubs all adapted for life in the desert. In addition, the refuge provides food and shelter for migratory birds in the spring and fall.

green water.JPG

The refuge is well developed for people to visit without endangering this precious natural resource. Well-marked trails and boardwalks guided us throughout the diverse landscape. We admired mesquite trees, vast salt flats, meandering streams, grassy outcrops and marshy flats on our walks in the park. We stopped at Crystal Spring, Point of Rocks, and Devil’s Hole.

Devil’s Hole was what initially drew my attention to this place; and it was the most disappointing stop on the trip. I’d advise looking at the picture online, but skip driving out there. It’s so heavily guarded by fences and gates, you can’t really get a good look at it. Just imagine it’s a bottomless hole filled with pristine spring water and teeming with endangered pupfish. The actual hole is not much to look at.

The other stops were amazing. Interpretive signs dotted the trail, explaining the forces of nature that built this place. Descriptions and pictures of native wildlife were there to help us identify the critters we were seeing. Although I didn’t see any roadrunners or chuckwallas, as I’d hoped, we saw a bird totally new to me: the Phainopepla. Sadly, we had to leave–there was still another 2 1/2 hours of driving to get to our campground in Death Valley.

Entering Death Valley

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The drive into Death Valley was predictably spectacular. The scenery was grand and vast. We stopped briefly at Zabriskie Point to take the required photo of the badlands, then cruised over to the visitor center at Furnace Creek just before closing time. From there, we drove on paved and gravel roads, past the charcoal kilns and up to the highest campground in the park: Mahogany Flat. At 8133′ high, the campground was markedly cooler than the desert floor. We layered up, got a fire going, and watched the sun go down over Badwater, nearly 10,000 vertical feet below us. Tomorrow we’d wake up early to hike to the top of Telescope Peak.

View all the photos for this trip on Google Plus. More pictures will be added over the week.

Continue the story…


July 29, 2010.

After a quick foot soak in the very cold river, I packed up and made the non-interesting drive into Northern California. I stopped at the Madrona Day Use Area on Rt. 199 where I accessed yet another river, this one lined with blackberry bushes. About a handful were ripe enough to eat, which was good enough for me.

But my goal for the day was a visit to the Redwood Forest. I arrived at the Stout Grove trailhead a little before noon. The parking area at this popular hike, in the Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, was already full. I sneaked my little car into a small space on the side of the pavement and walked to the trail. During this 0.5 mile loop I saw lots of people, enormous trees, ferns, and tiny flowers. The redwood bark formed unusual patterns, making every tree a unique discovery. The tree cuts on the sides of the trail and fallen trees helped me grasp the scale a little bit easier. The last time I visited the redwoods I thought, “Big trees. Wow. I get it…who cares?” But for some reason, now the trees seemed much more impressive. Small sprouts branching low on the tree gave a clue as to what the redwood leaves look like. Most of them are so far up the tree that I bet the average person would not be able to ID a redwood’s leaves (myself included)!

The ground was fabulously soft, making the walk rather pleasant. Also, it was cold here; I had a thermal shirt on and others were in heavy coats. I was loving it.

When I returned to my car, I found the lot was overrun with cars parked in every imaginable configuration, plus the entire road back to the South Fork Road had cars parked on either side of it. Nasty. I was glad that I arrived when I did, otherwise I would have missed out on this amazing little hike.

Wanting to give my knee a rest, I made only two more stops: lunch and campsite. I had a cold bowl of so-so chili at the Hiouchi Cafe, then continued to Winchuck Road to look for a tent spot. I drove towards Ludlum House until I noticed fire rings and cleared spots on the right side of the road. An RV occupied one and I claimed the next one. I had a picnic table, lots of flat ground, and river access. The cool, beautiful river lay past a short, steep, and barely-accessible trail. I had to drop my crutches at one point and slide down on my good foot to get past the worst spot. But it was worth it to enjoy another bath and foot soak in the water.

My friends, the mosquitoes, were back in moderate quantity. I decided to make a fire so I could stay and enjoy the outdoors all evening. I dived back into my book, cooked dinner, and rested my legs.

The photo set from the entire trip is on Picasa.

Mt. Shasta via Avalanche Gulch

July 6-7, 2007.

With two big days of climbing ahead and my first 14K mountain attempt in sight, I was up and ready to get moving on this beautiful, warm July morning. Elliott, Jenn and I had driven from Portland to the Bunny Flats Trailhead on the southwest flank of Mt. Shasta the previous day. Our chosen route: Avalanche Gulch, also known as the Traditional John Muir route. In two days, we would climb 7300′ over the course of 7 miles. Due to an unusually low snow year, much of the route had already melted out, so we were in for a late-season style, rocky ascent.

Day 1: With fully loaded packs, we started up the gradually sloping trail through forest and dust until the trees disappeared. The sun bore down heavily, bringing temperatures up to the 90’s. As there was no place to take cover from the solar fire, I struggled to maintain a reasonable body temperature. Failing miserably, I ascended sluggishly as the morning wore on. In less than 2 miles, thankfully, we reached the Sierra Horse Camp. Here we refilled empty water bottles with cool spring water and sat in the shade. Here, my friend Keith joined us with his tiny daypack as he was planning a quick jaunt up to Helen Lake and back.

The walk from Horse Camp to Helen Lake was hot, hot, hot. The surrounding landscape consisted of piles of gray rocks, interrupted by the occasional melting snow patch. A cricket or bird would break the monotony every now and again. As Jenn and Elliott proceeded effortlessly up ahead, I stumbled up the trail lucky to have Keith for company for at least some portion of this stretch. I took frequent breaks to catch my breath, cool down, and hydrate. We encountered one other pair of climbers along the way. About 5 hours after we started our journey, we arrived at Helen Lake.

We each located a crescent shaped stone shelter in which to pitch our tents. The enthusiastic and serious climbing ranger warned us of Shasta’s notorious winds, suggesting we tie down our tents securely. I did this, unpacked my gear, and settled in with my two companions. It was warm, but somewhat breezy. We sat comfortably in our base layers, shoeless, devouring tasty treats and drinking water like it was going out of style. Hours passed as we told stories, laughed heartily, and took in the scenery. At about 6pm, I decided I’d had enough sun and retired to my tent where I dozed in and out of sleep for quite some time. I was entertained by the raucous voice of a climber far too excited about preparing some blueberry cheesecake dessert in camp.

Day 2: The blasted alarm woke me up at 3 am, seemingly minutes after I’d closed my eyes. I poked my head out of the tent into the warm, nighttime air. Headlamps and stars shone in the darkness like pegs on a Lite-Brite. I was discouraged to notice that some foul beast had nibbled into my food cache, eating the homemade granola bar I’d planned on eating for breakfast. It also got into my trail mix so I was down to a bag of M&M’s, beef jerky and some Clif products for the remainder of the trip. Damn.

By 4 am, we were off. Again, I plodded along slowly as we ascended a scree slope to the base of the Heart. We got on the snow as soon as we realized that climbing on the rocks was overly frustrating and energy-sucking. The crampons gripped the snow nicely and our pace improved. At the base of the Heart, we decided to go left. Although the ranger told us that most climbers go right, we thought this route looked more fun and it would avoid the gnarly ascent through Red Banks. The sun had carved out lovely shapes in the snow, that not only made the route more beautiful, but also gave us nice platforms to stand on and step into. The sun rose as we climbed the increasingly steep snow. Eventually, we topped out on the ridge, traversed right, and again changed footwear for the scree scramble up Misery Hill.I soon discovered this aptly named rockpile was just about all I could take today. My body craved more oxygen than my blood could deliver. I moved ahead at a snail’s pace as Jenn and Elliott disappeared out of sight. Silently, I cursed the heat and the elevation. I’ve never felt this weak on a climb. I thought I was stronger. Gotta be the heat…

We took a couple of extended breaks on the Hill and on the snowy, flat terrain above. I couldn’t stop anymore. Each break seemed to set me back; slow but steady climbing is more my style. So as the couple took another rest stop at the base of the summit, I carried on.

More rocks. But these are bigger, more solidly stacked up, like the boulder fields in the Presidential Range in NH. YES! I joyfully clambered over the rocks like an agile mountain goat. If I could just have 10 minutes of contentment, I would take it. As the summit quickly came closer, I veered back on to the sandy trail and poked my head on top of the final pitch. Upon seeing a group of three climbers snacking and relaxing up there, I smiled knowing that at last, the climb was finished. I chatted with them for a bit and checked out the photos they took of us ascending the last snowfield.

20 minutes later, the rest of my team arrived. We sat on the summit for about an hour, stretching, napping, writing, eating. It was great. During that time, a few other groups made it to the top, including 2 guys with teeny packs, and a group of 20-somethings in jeans and t-shirts. Yeah. Is it really much of an accomplishment to say I got to the top too?The descent, as always, was far easier for me. My lungs got a break as my legs took over the work. We passed lots of people now, all on their way up. Close to Red Banks, we donned crampons again and followed a thin band of snow through the pumice cliffs. There was a glissade chute there for hardy (or stupid?) souls, but the snow conditions were really poor for glissading. After getting off the snow, it was back to a fight with scree. Helen Lake’s welcoming appearance couldn’t come fast enough. There, we spent quite a while eating, airing out, and sitting down.

Burdened with heavy packs yet again, we followed the orange flagging back down the desolate, gray trail. Elliott rushed ahead to get to the composting toilet and I soon followed behind. Poo bags are provided to pack out solid waste, but I just couldn’t do it. Let me just say the toilet was a very welcome sight. We met some other climbers preparing for their summit bid and again relaxed in the shade while refueling on snacks. The last 1.something miles back to the car were a breeze. Smiles and words of congrats came from most of the aspiring climbers on the way up the trail.

What a trip. Thanks to Jenn and Elliott for making it happen. If I do return to Shasta, it will most definitely be covered by much more snow. Two climbers we met mentioned a 45 minute ski descent from summit to trailhead. That almost makes me want to take up skiing…


Summit Post page on Shasta
Shasta-Trinity NF Document: So you want to climb Mt. Shasta? (.pdf)


December 19, 2006.

The California redwoods are contained within a web of National and State parks, each with their own regulations, styles and accommodations. The only one that appeared to have any buildings open was the Prairie Creek State Park.

I awoke early for another cold breakfast of Muesli and milk, accompanied with some minor stretching to alleviate the soreness from sleeping crumpled in the car. I drove several miles to the park’s visitor center for a map and hiking suggestions, only to find it closed. This wasn’t a complete disappointment, however. I always enjoy funny signs, and so I was highly amused to see a brown sign indicating what station I should tune my car radio to for “Elk Information.” How ridiculous. Not a minute later, I notice an elk chilling in someone’s front yard just behind the sign. Cool! My first elk sighting.

The route: John Irvine Trail to Fern Canyon to the beach, then returning via John Irvine, Clintonia and Miner’s Ridge.

The temperatures were cold, especially under the thick tree cover. I began the hike in a hat, gloves, and jacket, but the layers quickly came off once I started picking up the pace. The terrain was gently rolling, very minor ups and downs here and there as the path wove through the towering trees. It was next to impossible to exactly capture the essence of the place because everything was so gigantic. Picture Jurassic Park: large, cascading ferns, thick trees stretching their bare trunks up to the sky, faint beams of light passing through the canopy overhead. Just no dinosaurs that I could find.

Along the way I had to cross some particularly sketchy wooden bridges and platforms which had broken beams everywhere. I tried to stick to the edges where the boards were nailed together, hoping for more stability there. I imagined myself plunging through a rotten board, hanging by my fingertips above a 200 foot gorge, Indiana Jones-style, my legs flailing about and crocodiles snapping their jaws ferociously at the bottom. Lucky for me, most of the bridges were about 3 inches above shallow streams, so my chances of survival were pretty good. No chance of a handsome, wild explorer coming to my rescue however :). Aah, the mind does wander after days of traveling alone.

Near the end of the journey to the beach I came to the Fern Canyon junction, which would cover the last 0.5 miles. Canyons are always inviting to me so I gladly left the well-trodden John Irvine trail behind. Almost immediately I had to climb over significant blowdown and re-find the trail. I was loving it. I followed the trail down a short, steep slope that deposited me in the base of this narrow canyon. For awhile, I could follow the tread along the stream, but eventually it disappeared. I assumed that continuing along the canyon bottom would lead me to the ocean so I picked my way over the smooth rocks as I gawked at the fern-draped walls of basalt on either side of me. I could hear the booming sounds of waves getting louder, which reassured me that I was headed the right way.

In many places I happily splashed through ankle-deep water, confident that my footwear was watertight after my experiences yesterday. There were many twists and turns that ultimately brought me to a wide canyon and a link to the beach trailhead. Several cars were parked here but I didn’t run into any people.

I followed a herd path across the yellow grass towards the ocean. This brought me to an impassible channel of water that dumped into a large pond to my left. These bodies of water lay in between me and the beach. Damn. What now?

Not about to be thwarted by mere water, I trekked through the grass, following well worn deer and elk trails slong the water’s edge and around a few stands of trees. After a short while, I found my opening and crossed over from trees and grass to beach sand. Picking up the trail of a large wading bird I plopped my gear by some driftwood and yet again enjoyed the sights and sounds of the majestic Pacific Ocean. The warm sun felt especially nice after spending all that time in the dark, damp forest.

But all good things must come to an end, so I headed back through the grass where I unknowingly took a shortcut out to a road which led me back to the woods. Soon I encountered a few groups of hikers, including two guys who gave me nasty looks when I said hello. Wow. I so much prefer having the woods to myself. I took a slightly different route back to my car, hoping for some more interesting walking and less creepy people. This route had somewhat more blowdown to negotiate, which, oddly enough, makes me happy. And I didn’t come across any other humans which was a big bonus.

I was back at the car by early afternoon, so I drove to a nearby wayside to make a sandwich and gulp down some V8. The rest of my driving today would take place along scenic route 199, which was simply spectacular. This road follows the Smith River for quite a ways, which is the greenest river I’ve ever seen. The woman at the Info Center (who was surprised anyone was coming in to see her today!) said it is because of the serpentine present in the riverbed.

The Info lady also directed me to a 0.2 mile nature trail just up the road where one can view the Darlingtonia californicus,a carnivorous plant. This unusual species is found in a bog that is easily accessible from the road. I couldn’t believe how big these guys were! It was certainly an amazing place, but it was cold, and I had lodging to find.

I’d counted on staying at a state campground near Oregon Caves, but I found that (shockingly) both of the nearby places were closed. Driving back the way I came, I came across a motel/campground that was open and asked for a tent site. The woman in the office looked at me like I was nuts but with some pleading I managed to secure a site, for free, paying only $5 for a huge portion of firewood. I was psyched to be able to have a fire to warm up this chilly night and to make some hot food. After at least 30 minutes of fighting with frozen hands and frozen wood I got a roaring blaze going at my campsite.