Design by Committee: Outdoors

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 13

Wed, 11 Oct 2006 13:55:53 GMT

[Written Oct 6, 7PM. Picture here.]

This is it! I've embarked on the final section of the Tahoe Rim Trail at last. Interruptions from weather, shifting jobs, and various scheduling conflicts have made getting back on the final section of trail difficult. Maybe I'm being selfish reserving a couple of days against a multitude of competing activities. Maybe my ego is stroked by being able to say I've done the TRT. But maybe I still have a little to learn about the trail, and about myself. Maybe I won't really know why I need to finish it, or whether it was unimportant, until the trail is complete. In any case, I reserved a block of time, a minimal two days, and held it inviolable against all worthy demands.

Besides holding firm on a block of time, I also had to make sure that nothing, and no-one, could prevent me from moving forward. I needed a support crew, especially for a car shuttle, one as motivated as I was to make this happen. A few interested parties considered, but ultimately rejected, the prospect.

Fortunately, a support crew found me. Art Clark, a fellow TRT aspirant with, like me, only this final longest section remaining, found my TRT photos on Flickr and contacted me about coordinating our attempts, allowing us the mutual support of car shuttling, company, and safety in numbers. He was fortunately flexible enough on the dates to match mine, and as motivated to finish as I.

That persistence was good because the weather was unsettled enough to scare off the undermotivated. Forecasts called for scattered show showers and thunderstorms, sub-freezing nights (~25°), and daytime highs not much above freezing. A couple of inches of snow at higher elevations the day before made these forecasts credible. Friday night, and possibly a good chunk of the day, looked decidedly unpleasant.

Art, however, was as undeterred (desperate?) as I was, and we agreed to attempt the section, meeting at 7AM at Echo Lake to drop off a car and make our way to the Barker Pass trailhead.

By the time we got to Barker Pass, and on the trail, it was about 8:30 and the sun was shining brightly from a spotless sky over the Tahoe Basin. As we began our hike, steam rose into the chilly air from the frost-covered brown shreds of the mule ears, quite different from the profuse bloom when I was here last - now almost two months ago.

The sun warmed us quickly and we didn't need more than a single layer to keep warm as we descended gradually through forest scattered with cold grey granite boulders and yellowing ferns, arriving at Richardson Lake at about 11. Richardson Lake was surrounded by stands of aspen just forgoing their late summer green for yellow, and the shores are choked with meadows of willow and alder also well into their fall costumes. By now dramatic clouds were appearing. Sunbreaks tracked across the meadows and hills around the lake, and I became so engaged in trying to capture this uncapturable moment, that as we circumnavigated the lake we missed the turn-off to the trail. We continued on a worn and tortured logging road, following the GPS back towards the trail. Eventually we did a brief cross-country stint and got back on track.

Pleasant chatter carried us along, at times swiftly and at times (uphills) painstakingly slow and gulping the thin air. By about 12:30 we had passed the boundary of Desolation Wilderness and the granite expanse of the Rubicon Valley stretched out below us to the west. We ate lunch looking down the glacial-polished slope scattered with boulders and a few hardy trees growing in cracks towards Rockbound Lake.

The cloud cover increased, providing some dramatic views of the nearing peaks of Desolation, and the temperature began to drop. At about 3PM we passed through a rather dense fir grove just as little plates of ice began to fall. Thunder rolled down the granite valleys and soon a shower of pea-sized snowballs began. We took shelter under some trees, thinking the shower would be over shortly, but after about 10 minutes a layer of white covered the unexposed ground with no sign of an early letup.

Strangely, I had a sense that this shower had gone on long enough for our amusement - any more would have led to concern rather than wonderment - and I stated "That's enough of that." It wasn't a demand or even an observation, but within seconds the shower ceased. I knew intuitively that it wasn't a false break, and hoisted pack and moved on, under dry skies.

Even though the shower was brief it turned out to be widespread, and for the next five or more miles the ground was dusted with fallen snow. We were both pretty cold and exhausted as we picked our way down the trail to Middle Velma Lake, and when we gladly found a number of test spots slightly damp but otherwise untouched by the snow, we gratefully lowered our packs to the ground.

Velma was stunning. From the shore we watched sunbreaks trace along the still water and small islands of Middle Velma and dance in the surrounding hills for a while, but soon darkness began to fall and we turned to pitching camp and cooking dinner.

Art and I are now gratefully tucked into our tents and muffled in down, and expecting a long, quiet, and quite chilly, night. I threw a novel in my pack as I left this morning, and it will keep me company after signing off here. If all goes well, I'll stay warm, sleep deeply, and be refreshed by dawn for the exciting culmination of my TRT quest.

[Mileage: 157.0 | 15.0]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 10

Sun, 13 Aug 2006 05:38:53 GMT

[Written Aug 6, 1PM. Pictures here.]

A couple of miles out of Star Lake, we came across a trail leading to Freel Peak. We'd debated whether to attempt to summit it all morning and having a marked trail made our minds up - we'd climb it! At 10,880 feet, Freel is the highest peak around the Tahoe Basin, and promised views of the whole of Lake Tahoe, the Carson Valley, and valleys and ranges southward. We cached our packs and set off.

The trail was varied and fascinating. We switchbacked through a lodgepole forest with maximum height of about five feet. We tiptoed along the top of chutes with snowfields and scree sweeping down into a rocky bowl. We inched across a gravelly saddle with tiny alpine flowers and mosses clinging to the lee side of lichen-blotched rocks. At last we scrambled up the rock pile that constitutes the official summit to be pestered by a well-trained chipmunk. The view was not disappointing! Perhaps the next challenge is to identify each 10,000 foot plus peak surrounding Tahoe and climb them - both Freel and Relay peaks were spectacular.

Around 11AM, the breeze suddenly freshened, and Freel began once again to spin off clouds. We began the long descent to Armstrong Pass. The descent was characteristic of this section - a trail cut high into the side of a steep bowl. Numerous creeks gurgle down the steep slope, surrounded by oases of delphinium, columbine, lupine, fireweed, horse parsley, and small alder trees. Between streams, as we descended below 9000 feet, the profusion of wildflowers common to other sections resumes.

We've stopped for lunch at the base of Fountain Face, a cracked and rounded protursion of granite that rises a couple of hundred feed above the trail, reminidng me of the contours of Uluru. Coy makes some abortive attempts to climb some of it, while I try to photographically enhance his progress.

[5PM]

Ahhh. I'm stretched out on my sleeping pad, back against a half-submerged boulder, at the edge of Freel Meadowa. The weather alternates every five minutes between warm sun, cool shade, and a few chill sprinkles. The meadow is broad and boggy, and filled of course with copious wildflowers and with short stands of willow at the edges.

From the Face to here involved completing the descent to Armstrong Pass, several miles of steady uphill to gain back 600 feet we'd already shed, and then a couple more miles winding along a ridgetop, with classic views south into a valley surrounded by it's own clutch of rock peaks still sporting snowfields, and views northward from the rim of a rocky bowl called Hell Hole (not the Hell Hole Reservoir 20 miles away on the west side of Desolation Valley). Beyond Hell Hole is another view of the Upper Truckee basin and the Lake.

The moisture of the meadow is bringing out mosquitoes for the first time in this stretch, but a few squirts of spray has abated their annoyance. I'm grateful mosquitoes have been a non-issue for most of the trail so far!

We're resting in the sun for a half-hour to decide whether to push past our comfot level (which we had actually already passed somewhere in the previous 11 miles, or 2500 ft elevation gain) and to do the remaining five miles or camp here despite the mozzies, scrounge the dregs of our food supplies, and hike out in the morning.

[8:45PM]

Pulled my headlamp out for the last half mile, as we reached the car just as darkness was falling in earnest. Changed shoes. Ate pizza. Home...

[Mileage: 16.4 | 122.2]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 9

Fri, 11 Aug 2006 20:54:23 GMT

[Written Aug 5th, 8PM. Pictures here.]

Today was full of wonders, maybe the perfect backpacking day yet!

This section, Kingsbury Grade to Big Meadow, encircles the southeast corner of the Lake. My new friend Coy and I are doing it as "guy's day out". We met at Big Meadow and did the car shuttle for an 11AM start at the Kingsbury end. I am a bit embarrassed to say, but I made Coy walk with me the mile-plus of pavement up to the trailhead so I can keep my claim intact of walking all the way around Tahoe.

From the trailhead up under the Heavenly Valley ski lifts, we chatted amiably and the first five passed quickly, bringing me past the 100-mile mark! Suddenly we were traversing a steep slope that dropped off 3000 feet to the Carson Valley floor. Minden, Gardnerville, Carson City to the north, set among streams and hayfields colored purple in blotches as clouds rolled overhead, spawned by Freel Peak.

The dramatic Carson Valley views persisted up to a broad sandy saddle called Monument Pass. As we emerged from the pass Freel Peak appeared, framed by whimsical boulder formations below and by emerging thunderclouds above. Job's Sister, slightly lower than Freel but with a more dramatic face of cliffs and snowfields, also became visible.

As we approached these thunderheads, traversing the ridge on the Upper Truckee side, they began to throw a few large, sharply-cold drops our way. The sky to the west was still clear blue and we surmised the sun-shiny shower wouldn't last the proverbial half-hour. But it did, and turned into a gradual intermittent sprinkle through most of the afternoon.

Soon we entered a high saddle of old-growth juniper trees - not dramatically tall but with impressive girths. They reminded me of baobab trees, or something from Myst. We took shelter under one as we heard a rushing sound approaching and sat for a few minutes as the sprinkling intensified into a downpour - even a few hailstones. Thunder rolled in slow crescendoes from the east.

We finished the last bit of trail to Star Lake, chose a tent spot not already occupied by a tent, and enjoyed a warm nap in the sun. We could still see a few drops making rings in the water's otherwise still surface, but not really feel anything.

Cooling our feet in the chilly lake water felt good, and we established our kitchen on flat lake-side rocks with views both of the peaks to the southeast, and the setting sun to the west. We dined elegantly on avocado stuffed with cherry tomatoes and imitation Crab, Morrocan Couscous with sun-dried cherry tomatoes, pine nuts and curry, and with an envelope of Palak Paneer over rice - leaving us both stuffed and mellow.

I write this under the last color of the setting sun - not overly dramatic as the clouds have by now almost all wandered off eastward, but with still waters disturbed only by jumping fish, and by the reflection of the almost-full moon rising large between the dual peaks of Job's Sister.

How else could such a perfect day end?

[Mileage: 10.5 | 105.8]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 8

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 16:05:07 GMT

[Written Aug 3rd, 12:30PM. Photos of this section here.]

"No pain, no gain," was my mantra this morning as I set off alone on the second, southern, half of my journey along the Tahoe Rim Trail. This section is listed variously at 12.2 or 13 miles, the shortest section of the trail and a moderate day hike. It also looked rather unexciting compared with the other sections, which seem to follow a pattern - five relatively plain miles in, mostly uphill, followed by several miles of gorgeous panoramas, and ending with five miles of relatively plain down hill. On a 20 mile hike that means 10 miles of more or less constant astonishment at the view, but on this section, perhaps that means only a mile or two of dramatic scenery. The more effort (not really pain) a section promises, the more rewarding it's likely to be.

This section began predictably, and while parts were interesting in terms of the ecological effect on forests of drought, bark beetle, salvage logging, and burning, I wouldn't call it beautiful. Fragments of the Lake were visible between snags and survivors.

By the last couple of hundred vertical feet of the 1600 foot climb, I was indeed feeling like I'd invested a significant effort, when I emerged suddenly on the reward.

An angular jumble of gray rocks, patched with lichen topped the ridge, surrounded by an open space of high country chapparal. The view stretches between the two high points surrounding the Lake, Freel Peak to the southeast corner, and Mount Rose at the north east. The lake appears long and narrow, stretching from South Shore to Incline Village. Desolation Wilderness is directly across, and I can see right up the mouth of Emerald Bay into the Rubicon Valley.

As I munch on jerky and crackers, I'm buzzed by large reddish-brown flies. A larger female is chase aggessively by a coturie of three males. While these flies are harmless, when four frenetically buzz your head it sounds like you've stuck your head in a hornet's nest.

I guess it's the time of year to think about new generations in the high country. Two chipmunks (I have a theory there is a chipmunk up here for every 10 trees) have chased each other acrobatically through the rock jumble for most of the time I've stopped.

[5:00 PM]

Mid-day, clouds started forming over Freel Peak and drifting northwards. I watched the peak scrape moisture from the sky and began to wonder whether a thunderstorm was in my immediate future - but the clouds began to slowly disperse as I eased along the long traverse down to Spooner Summit.

Contemplation of the hydrological cycle around Freel Peak turned into contemplation of my own micro-hydrological cycle. Water starts in a bottle in the backpack. Then I drink it. Then I sweat it out. The backpack absorbs the moisture until the fabric is drenched. So I haven't actually lightened my pack that much ;-).

Anyway, now I've finished this section and I changed my mind again - other than the half mile at the summit, this section was definitely more pain than gain. Tha last five miles were pretty tough going with lots of boulder "steps." Are the miles are starting to take their toll on me? Near the end my big toes were getting tender so I switched to Tivas - ahhh! I walked the paved neighborhood road out to Kingsbury Grade for a 14.1 mile total on the day. I think this section suffered from my solitude - good company would have been a distraction from the tedious parts. Yes, I'm blaming you, Al, for bailing out on me today :-)!

[Mileage: 14.1 | 95.3]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 7

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 22:54:08 GMT

[Written Aug 1, 6AM]

The wind ceased overnight. We can hear only the stirrings of our camp-mates.

After estimating that the next stretch of trail would take us 2-3 hours, putting us into a suitable campsite at about 7:30, we opted to stay put and selected a sheltered spot on the flatish end of the upper of the Twin lakes. A perfect secluded spot, which we settled into with another delicious freezer bag meal of Cajun Chicken and Rice. Topped off by a fresh avocado - what a luxury!

While we were eating, two trucks drove up the track (hey I thought we were in a wilderness) and stopped nearby. A couple of guys approached, apologized for intruding, and explained that their group of about eight was with the California Conservation Corps, working on this stretch of trail, and their sponsor had instructed them to camp here. We valued our spot more than solitude, so we stayed put as the group piled out and began to set up tents all around us.

After dinner we climbed a boulder pile to sit on warm rocks and watch the sun set, and we watched a couple of Japanese girls try to set up their tents, which kept blowing away in the wind. It took one of them almost an hour. Maybe this is their first night in the corps?

In any case, we certainly are grateful enough for the smooth and well-maintained trails to share "our" space.

We'll be up now and on our way quickly - we hope to finish this stretch today even though over 14 miles remain.

[11:30 AM]

Two miles of steady switchbacks bring us to a side trail labeled Sand Harbor Overlook (our map calls it Christopher’s Loop). We ditch our packs and grab a snack (it’s only 9AM but we didn’t have a real breakfast) and climb up to an area of sandy washes between huge boulder piles. To the southwest is Marlette Peak standing over Marlette Lake, and as we approach the western piles we look down (straight down it seems) to Sand Harbor State Park. We see into the water as if from an airplane, and see the warm tan sand fade into the depths in a gradient of Carribean colors. Today the air is almost perfectly still, and we can see wakeboarders and kayakers out for some early morning exercise.

Despite the futility of trying to photograph such an expansive scene I try a few shots and we speculate about how far it would be to kayak around the whole lake. 75 miles? 5 days @ 15 mpd? I’m going to have to do some planning…

The trail begins to change, becoming more Nevada-like although we’ve been in Nevada this whole section. Sagebrush becomes the dominant ground cover, replacing mule-ears and manzanitas. We pick our way cross-country through a gentle saddle with a rainbow of rocks and gravel – green, purple, orange, red – and then lichens on them from black to chartreuse. The saddle brings us to a rugged trail circling Marlette Peak on the lake side, and we again marvel a the constant panorama to our right.

We somehow blow right past Marlette Campground and stop for lunch a mile farther, as we realize we now must climb Snow Valley Peak, another 600 foot elevation gain over the next two miles. We dawdle a bit longer in the sun.

[2 PM]

Deanna performs the best Snicker’s commercial ever. She saved today’s bar for a reward after climbing Snow Valley Peak, which may not sound like a high mountain (the “Valley” kind of dilutes the “Peak”) but is over 9000 feet and the high point of this section.

Deanna began thinking about Snickers as we switchbacked (switched-back?) up through the forest and emerged into a series of high altitude glens, each one filled with a different ecosystem. One was purely lupine, another mixed sagebrush, paintbrush, and a succulent with profuse yellow blooms. Each glen is demarked by piles of rock and wind-twisted trees, framing the everpresent views of Tahoe and Marlette Lakes.

Crossing Snow Valley Peak seems like a significant milestone. From Barker pass till now, the Lake has been a presence, sometimes distant and elusive, sometimes immediate and dominating. But always to the south. Now that is chaning. The Lake is to the west and the views are as often to the north as to the south. The jagged peaks and lingering snowfields of Desolation Valley loom closer, less a distant possibility than a life-size map of our final, most difficult, section.

From here to Spooner Summit, the care, a day off, and all the Snicker’s you could dream of, is all downhill.

[Mileage: 14.8 | 81.2]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 6

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 21:56:03 GMT

[Written: July 31, 3:30 PM. Photos here.]

Deanna and I are alone on this section, and after a dawn car shuffle and a pancake breakfast, we set out from the Mt. Rose campground and work our way down through a series of small meadows to the main Tahoe Meadow, from which the Tahoe Meadows to Spooner Summit section starts. For those who are keeping score, that means I didn't skip the interval between the two trailheads ;-).

Being alone with Deanna for any extended period of time is a rare treat these days, and in an environment free from our normal concerns the miles pass quickly with rewarding conversation. They also pass quickly because this stretch of trail is essentially level - along the ridge between Lake Tahoe and Washoe Valley. The trail is used heavily by mountain bikers, but they're only allowed on even days and today we pass very few violaters, or other hikers for that matter.

The trail winds through a sparse forest scattered with huge rounded bouulders, and alternates between views of the Tahoe basin and Washoe Lake and the ranges stretching into the desert beyond. It is a windy day, and we get chill blasts from the Tahoe side, but hot sun on the sheltered Washoe side.

As we wind smoothly among the pillowy boulders, we encounter more of the snags, stumps, and logs which I've begun thinking of as "wood formations." Many of these relics show a growth pattern not just bowed and bent by snow and wind, but also twisted around their own axis. As the grain weathers, the spiral growth pattern appears in geyser-spouts and perfect wave-curls. These monumental skeletons are becoming one of the memorable features of this journey.

In mid-afternoon we reach Twin Lakes, two small grassy hollows part full of a green tea colored water, and strewn with weather-rounded boulders like partially melted marshmellows. We've nested in between boulders at lakeside soaking up the perfect combination of hot high-altitude sun and cooling cats-paws of wind. After our nap and foot check, we'll decide whether to camp here or press on up from our 7900' elevation to the high point of the trail of almost 9000', and then another five miles beyond that to the Marlette Campground. We've already logged 10+ miles today, and with a cold night looming in a couple of hours, I'm not sure I'm too enthusiastic about leaving my cozy nook between the boulders.

[Mileage: 10.5 | 66.4]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 5

Wed, 02 Aug 2006 20:54:48 GMT

[Written July 30, 8 PM]

The sun has set but the glow reflected from the clouds in the east provides a temporary second twilight. I feel fed, showered, and exhaustedly mellow - the perfect mood for planning another section tomorrow. A fitting end to another successful day.

Our day was relatively uneventful if you don't count the constant awe-inspiring panoramas. A short climb brought us from Mud Lake to a long east-west ridge, with a few slightly higher bumps someone thought worthy of independent names - Rose Knob, Rose Knob Peak, Rifle Peak, Mount Baldy. The ridge falls off precipitously to the south, dropping 3000 feet to the shores of the Lake. We traversed this on trails carefully carved ino the scree slope. The panoramic view is continuous for miles.

Occasionally a spur of volcanic aggregate thrusts out of the hillside, perfect spots for a photo-shoot, a rock-climb with ample handholds, or a lunch break. Despite these distractions, we made great time compared with yesterday's painfully slow pace. We plan to reach Martis Peak Lookout by 2PM for pickup by my sister-in-law.

During a break, we sometimes stray from the path, releasing pungent aromas from the wildflowers, a combination of mint and eucalyptus. It reminds me of the scents we've imbibed throughout the high country, from the warm, vanilla-maple of jeffery pines to the dusty smell of sagebrush and dried pine needles. I am even becoming attuned enough to the scents that I can distinguish the smells of shade and sun. The scent of the trail is a constant backdrop for the whole expedition.

The trail descends through a series of switchbacks, to Martis Peak Lookout. The girls sang and made up rhymes for the last two miles. I leave them there (with my brother) and proceed solo, and packless, the last 4.4 miles to Brockway Summit to claim this section as complete. Without pack and with another 1000 foot elevation loss, I fly along and cover this stretch in about an hour and a half.

Deanna is waiting to pick me up and we join the others at Tahoe Meadows campground for the night. Tomorrow Deanna and I venture forth again, to conquer section 3 - Tahoe Meadows to Spooner Summit. Laine will stay with Oma, and is looking forward to lots of biking. She probably did two miles around the campground tonight - I guess the hike wasn't too long after all!

[Mileage: 10.9 | 55.9]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 4

Wed, 02 Aug 2006 20:53:21 GMT

[Written July 30, 5:30AM]

[Aug 4th: photos added, see the whole set here]

The wind rushing through the treetops on the ridge sound like a distant freeway at capacity. Every now and then a gust curls down from the rocky spines into the bowl of Mud Lake and flaps the sides of the tent - now getting a bit less taut after regular shakings all night. Nevertheless, I slept solidly after yesterday's rather greuling stretch.

Section 2, Tahoe Meadows to Brockway Summit, includes the high point on the Rim Trail, and it's 18.9 mile length provides some of the most far-reaching views of the trail. But that elevated perspective doesn't come without some cost.

I'm doing this section with my daughter, my brother, and his daughter. To make this section possible for kids, we've broken it into three segments - Tahoe Meadows to Mud/Gray Lakes, then to Martis Peak Lookout, then to Brockway Summit. By leaving Auburn early (7:30) after a couple-day break from the trail, we were able to scout out the Martis Peak access road, which turns out to be narrow and windey but nicely paved, getting within a quarter-mile of the rim trail. Exiting here will allow us to skip the last 4.4 miles of the trail (except for yours truly who will solo it) and split the remaining trail into a manageable overnight.

The trail starts at the summit of the Mount Rose Highway, where there is a large, newly developed trailhead, at which we just managed to find a parking spot at 9:30 Saturday morning. The first part of the trail was quite packed with people and their dogs. By packed, I mean that you rarely were out of sight of another person. The trail winds around the side of the Galena Creek basin, and at about 2.5 miles comes to a series of large meadows, fed amply by springs and streamlets, and featuring a cascading waterfall. Despite the impossibility of having to falls to ourselves, it made a perfect spot for lunch.

Shortly after the falls, the trail forks, and many of the day hikers take the fork that leads to the top of Mt. Rose. We started a moderate climb of about a mile, meeting up with the alternate TRT route (bikes allowed) at the base of a 1000 ft ascent to Relay Peak. The remainder of the dayhikers turn back here to the trailhead, and after passing only a couple more adventurous souls, we had the trail to ourselves the rest of the day. We didn't encounter anyone until the following afternoon - even the tracks across the remaining snowfields showed little evidence of passage within recent days.

The ascent to Relay Peak is along a broad road, providing access to a telecommunications relay station on a ridge. Our progress was slow. Laine developed a rather large blister on her instep which it took multiple attempts to dress securely and comfortably. The elevation was taking its toll too, and we required frequent stops. By the time we crested the ridge, it was obvious we were travelling well under a mile an hour, not a good pace for a hike of almost 9 miles.

The view from the ridge was unbelievable though. We looked west across Truckee to Donner Lake and the mountains surrounding Donner Summit, north to see stretches of I-80 and the reservoirs of Prosser Creek, Boca, and Stampede, and southeast to the south end of Washoe Lake. Row after row of the Sierra Nevada stretched out in a mountain-top vista. Only Lake Tahoe was hidden by the end of the ridge, Relay Peak, still 200 feet above us though we were already at 10,100 ft.

At this altitude we could hear the whistles of gliders overhead (rides available from the Truckee Airport not far below us) and watch them wheel in the updrafts caused by the strong winds bouncing off the mountain tops.

Much improved from last week, the temperature is perfect in the sun, cool in the shade or when recieving a blast of wind off a precipice. The few clouds assumed the lens shape indicating strong high altitude winds, and the more altitude we gained, the more we entered this windy relam.

Traversing the spine led us to the summit of Relay Peak, and at last we were presented by a view of the whole of Lake Tahoe. A deep, almost pruple, blue, stretched out so steeply below us that perspective shifts and the Lake appears to tip upwards at it's mountain-ringed far end.

These views simply are too large to be captured by camera. Even if one could, maybe they would need to be viewed in thin air to be appreciated.

With almost four miles remaining in the day, we made an effort to increase our pace on the switchbacks through boulder fields and wildflower meadows, winding along spires and traversing high bowls dropping into boulder fields and meadows far below.

We saw a marshy pond hundreds of feet below and mistook it to be Mud Lake, giving us both hope that our destination Gray Lake was near, and despair at the elevation loss (and tomorrow's gain) that it would take to reach it. But as the junction to Gray Lake receded ever farther, and the light slanted into evening and the windy chill forced us into increasing layers of clothing, we at last spied another lake on our left not far below the trail - the real Mud Lake. Soon we reached a junction promising to lead to Gray Lake, and we compared the half mile to an unseen destination to a tenth mile to a semi-sheltered bowl with obvious potential camp spots. The decision wasn't too hard, and we skated cross-country down the rocky, sandy slope to our alternate destination for the night - Mud Lake.

Despite it's name and reputation, at this time of year Mud Lake's waters are clear, and the shoreline is muddy - but a damp DG kind of mud rather than a grassy, marshy organic kind, so approaching for water was easy. There are no granite formations from which to dive into the lake, but with termperatures still dropping rapidly nobody was tempted to stick so much as a toe in the waters. Instead we opted for a small campfire. I'm not sure this is allowed within the Mt. Rose Wilderness area, but the barren landscape doesn't seem amenable to forest fires, and there are already several fire pits around the lake.

We ravenously scarfed our Ramen by the fire, flavored variously with alfredo sauce, pesto, a foil package of baby clames, and trail magic. Ahhh! A little more time to filter more water, erect tents and hang a bear bag, have a last cup of cocoa by the fire, and the twilight began to fail. I read aloud to Laine a couple of chapters of her book, and we were both sound asleep shortly after nine.

I write this as the dawn rises, with noisy wind, postponing emerging from the warm(-ish) confines of our tent into the chill morning.

[Mileage: 8.8 | 45.0]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 3

Wed, 02 Aug 2006 03:17:33 GMT

[Written July 26, 8AM]

I sit on a rock surrounded by paintbrush, columbine, and a small five-petalled flower of pure indigo - perhaps a type of penstemon? The air is cool, the sky again a clear blue backdrop to the surrounding peaks. I'm not yet really ready for a break, but have seen enough already this morning to want to journal a bit.

Deanna dropped me off at Barker Pass an hour ago for a solo attempt at this section. Although I chose this section as one that was tractable as a day hike, and not so stunning as to require sharing, it is in fact an amazing and varied stretch of trail. Unfortunately, my camera battery gave out this morning while I tried to capture a panorama of the lake and early sunrise. I'm missing the camera desparately already!

The Barker Pass Trailhead is at the top end of Blackwood Canyon, and the trail first winds along the rim of the canyon, with steep dropoffs of hundreds of feet to the bouldery bottom. Whole fields of wildflowers spread out across the hillside - my favorite was a long stretch of yellow mule-ears in full blossom laced through with spikes of purple lupine.

The trail then descends the canyon walls in steep traverses of scree and boulder fields, with snow-fed creeks every few hundred feet. I even crossed my first snow field - though it was only about five steps wide...

The steepness of the terrain provides gorgeous views down the canyon, through trees bent downhill at the base from a childhood of annual glacial pressure, between rocky outcroppings blanketted at their base with steep scree slopes, to the Lake shining in the morning sun, and the purple mountains beyond.

A hummingbird (third sighting so far) just buzzed me, I guess I'm sitting inthe middle of his breakfast table. Time to move on, around the base of a grey volcanic postpile, past the gurgling stream I hear ahead, and to other amazing sights presently unknown.

[9:30AM]

I'm going to have to slow down a little. My GPS says I've come 3.4 miles from the trailhead, but it also reports an average speed of 2+ mph, which would mean I've come about 5 miles. And sure enough, I just passed the fork with the Pacific Crest Trail, which coincides with the Tahoe Rim Trail for 50 miles, and here continues north thorugh the Granite Chiefs Wilderneww. The map records this fork at 4.8 miles. I guess my new GPS is just not measuring total distance accurately.

The Granite Chiefs Wilderness is fascinating to me. I've stepped inside it only a couple of times, and entering it from here or from the top of Squaw Valley is an intriguing experience. You top a ridge, pass the boundary sign, and step directly into a magical realm. The flora diversifies, with new alpine wildflowers suddenly appearing. Even the trees tend towards the fairly-land, bowed-tip hemlocks, and the ancient, gnarled, wizard-like bristlecones. The ridgetop drops away into a wide bowl surrounded by cliffs that resemble, well, granite chiefs. This trail is definitely a repeater - perhaps continuing on through the wilderness instead of veering eastward around the rocky castles aptly named Twin Peaks, and descending into the forests and meadows below, as I have begun to do.

[3:30PM]

Two sections down - six to go. This section was fairly easy, thanks to my caterers. After my early morning drop off, Deanna and Laine went back to camp, enjoyed hanging out on the dock for a while, and then picked up a fine lunch to meet me with at Ward Creek, 11 miles into the section. I arrived at a bit after noon and they were sitting in lounge chairs in the shade waiting for me. How European this segment seems, between the sheer traverses reminiscent of the alps to chocolate milk served up cold half-way through!

After an ample hour cooling my feet in the stream and enjoying the repast, we arranged to meet again at 4PM at the Truckee River trailhead. This final section was rather uninspiring, except for a beautiful stretch called Page Meadows. Really a shallow lake nearly covered in reeeds, this opening in the forest has at its perimeter a host of silver snags - perfectly skeletal remains of trees who perhaps succumbed to excessive moisture. These spires stand out against the green trees lined up behind them, and made a dramatic backdrop for the array of wildflowers edging the shore. The trail is built up and skirts the edge of the meadow-swamp like a primitive boardwalk.

Despite some doctoring of emergent blisters, the last downhill segment was rather tough - more switchbacks but thankfully little loose rock to contend with. I tried to go slow since downhills are the hardest on my feet, but nevertheless didn't feel much like stopping and finished this 5.1 mile stretch in 1:45. With an hour to wait I strolled across the footbridge and up the road the final quarter-mile to the Tahoe-Brockway trailhead. I touch the kiosk to claim completion of Barker to Brockway. Strolling back to the river, I really feel how hot and hard the pavement is - time to get off my feet.

I floated in the Truckee River until some kids noticed a small yellow-striped water snake swimming nearby. But he's moved on, and the sun is still hot - I think I will float peacefully until my guardians arrive.

[Mileage: 17 | 36.2]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 2

Sat, 29 Jul 2006 13:36:49 GMT

[Written July 25, 2 PM]

We were up, breakfasted, and on the trail by 8AM, hoping to get a few miles under our belt while it remained cool. Plus, jumbo mozzies seemed to materialize at 7:30. Was the sunscreen we were applying counteracting the bug spray? Seemed like too much of a coincidence to dismiss…

The next few miles were filled with expansive views of the lake and the mountains surrounding it. We moved along well and were a the Burton Creek turnoff, near which we planned our second night, by about 10:30!

With visions of ice cream cones before us we decided to continue on, through a landscape of open Jeffrey and fir, with an understory of boulders and Manzanita. The trail winding through the shade was smoothed and banked by many trail bikes, and sure enough we encountered about a dozen throughout the day.

A gentle steady climb brought us to “Painted Rocks”, which is simply a rocky summit with views down the Truckee River Valley from Squaw Valley northward. A long break and a few chapters for “Ella Enchanted”, along with a trail-enhanced lunch of crackers, jerky, cheese and apple, prepared us for the next stretch.

The next landmark is the “Cinder Cone” which is a rocky bald spot – hardly worth a name at all. Here we stop for another significant break – long enough for a catnap in the shade. Just enough breeze to stifle sweat.

From here on out, it’s all downhill – literally. We should be tasting that ice cream, and hopefully swimming in the lake, by late afternoon.

[10 PM]

Indeed, it was downhill from there. The trail wound around the edge of the flat plateau of the Cinder Cone (or environs – there isn’t really enough ‘there’ there to be sure) with stunning view of Squaw Valley and Alpine Meadows, the meadows below them, peaks behind them marking the start of the Granite Chiefs wilderness. The trail became a morass of rocky shards, so sharp that they sounded like breaking glass as we picked our way through them. We dubbed it the “Tinkling Trail.”

By the time we’d carefully picked our paths down to the car, it was almost 6 o’clock. This section is measured at 19.2 miles (6.7 to Watson Lake, 12.5 to Tahoe City), and although my GPS measurements along the first part of the trail indicated that might be inflated by a mile or two, the last couple of miles of denser forest and boulders caused the GPS to spaz – jumping miles in one direction or other, often right down to the lakeshore (which it estimated at an elevation over 20,000 ft.) as if it too was in a hurry to get down.

First action: shoes off! First stop: grocery store for Sobe, Ice Tea, cherries and Haagen Daas. Then we found a spot in a lakeside campground and waded into the refreshing waters of the lake. Showers, tacos, bed.

I’m especially proud of Deanna and Laine for persevering on what was the longest, roughest, heaviest trail section in decades (which for Laine, sets an all-time record.)

Everyone is in good spriits tonight – as I plan to knock off another section (#8) tomorrow, and the girls will enjoy playing support crew, mixed with plenty of beach time.

All in all, a challenging, breathtaking, unforgettable, and completely successful start to the Tahoe Rim Trail 2006 adventure.

One other lesson: plan for flexibility. That includes planning for unexpected blessings like a shower and a meal out. It might not happen every time, but being ready to take full advantage of it when it does is worth a risk of wasted effort. In the future, I’ll pack an “afterward kit,” to help celebrate a completion in whatever style presents itself.

[Mileage: 11.5 | 19.2]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Day 1

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 07:13:20 GMT

[Written July 24, noon]

We opted to do the Brockway Summit to Tahoe City section counter-clockwise, giving us a 1000ft elevation loss at the end (instead of 1000ft gain off the bat!) The first few miles are through open forest, firs and pines, with sparse underbrush of manzanitas, gooseberries, and other hardy groundcovers. Most of the forest floor is a dusty carpet of old pine needles and silvered branches scribbled backwards and forwards with bark beetle paths.

There is evidence of old logging, and more recent fires (dead wood thinning?) Occasionally we pass through an open spot, filled with mule-ears and other water-hungry species. A creek (now only a swath of damp earth) running through a meadow feeds a wider variety of grasses and wildflowers, of which columbine and paintbrush are the only ones I can name.

The temperature is moderate – hot in the sun but a soft breeze blows and there’s plenty of shade. A few small clouds are growing on the northern horizon, but otherwise the sky is the definition of blue. We may have to keep watch for afternoon thunderstorms over the next couple of days.

As expected, Laine tried to revolt, even before the first mile elapsed, but patience got her moving again, and lively discussion of fire management techniques and the concept of timberline (which we won’t encounter this section) restored her buoyancy, and she joyously began tracking the approach of each waypoint on the GPS.

A word about the GPS. After searching fairly fruitlessly for a set of waypoints or downloadable tracks for the Tahoe Rim Trail, I had to mash up my own. I found a Google Earth Community layer tracing the TRT around the lake. By exporting this path as .kml, I was able to manipulate it as XML. A small XSLT converted the .kml to the .loc format emitted by geocaching.com. A utility called gpsbabel converts this format to .wpt (Mapsend waypoint) format, and finally the Magellan Conversion Manager places this on the GPS in .upt format. Surely there is an easier way to do this! The result is ~850 waypoints marking the zigs and zags of the trail. I'll post the results soon...

[Written July 24, 9PM]

A mile after lunch we reached a jumble of boulders falling away to the south from which we could look southeast out across the lake, our first panoramic view! I snapped a bunch of pictures, of course, while Laine and Deanna sought a bit of shade.

We watched the boats trace their wakes across the water, and I scouted half-heartedly for a geocache – I don’t know if one was about but it was absolutely a perfect spot for one – but with thousands of hiding places among the jumbled rocks I soon abandoned my search I will have to download geocaches located on or near the trail for future segments.

We plowed ahead and after another couple of miles approached Watson Creek. The earth became somewhat moister as evidenced by wildflowers began to proliferate. First fields of mule ears with yellow blooms, not in spaces devoid of trees but flowing between them in a solid carpet. Jeffreys had given way to lodgepole, but the remaining fir trees were in bloom, though at first I thought they were in the grip of some mistletoe-like parasite. A section of the tree, usually close to the ground, held a snarl of branchlets tipped, not in green needles, but in yellow brushes. Very strange indeed!

The trail became a little muddy, though easily navigated and outshined by the profusion of wildflowers on each side of the trail, from 18” spikes of white from a lily-like plant, to gargantuan paintbrush, columbine, and again many more that are to me unnamed. We scattered clouds of tiny blue butterflies from the edges of the mud as we passed.

One more brief uphill stint and we reached Watson Lake. Across the cool water, surrounded still by lodgepole and bristlecone forest, we spied … RVs. Though the map shows logging roads coming near the lake, apparently it omits the fact that you can drive right up and use the boat ramp. Have to say it was a disappointment for all, especially Laine. All that effort and anticipation for this “special destination” and we could have just driven?

So our enthusiasm was curbed a bit, but I have to say the lake was quite scenic. It bears no relation to the arial view I studied on Google Earth, which gave the impression the lake was a muddy depression in a barren landscape dotted with a few stubby pines. Instead, it’s a beautiful mountain lake, ringed with tall and fairly dense forest, with tall bluffs to the west.

After soaking our feet (and in Deanna’s case misjudging her footing and having a premature, and slightly muddy, swim, we circled the lake looking for a suitable camp spot. Though there are few level spots for a tent, we found one near the outflow of the lake (practically dry already) and pitched out tents. We spent the rest of the afternoon in a lazy daze – reading, listening to the “terrible two” up near the RVs, napping, listening to unmufflered ATVs and motorcycles on a nearby 4WD track, playing cards, watching the unattended Doberman exploring near our camp. But all things considered still a place worth being at. I think we’d come back (with horses perhaps?) given the chance, but take the shortcut next time ;-).

As the sun started dropping behind the western treeline a boy trudged into camp. I recognized him from this morning – when we dropped the car off he and his grandfather were preparing to depart. They marched twice as far as we did today, and gained 1000 more feet of elevation to boot. Turns out they’d been trekking for about a week, starting at Echo Lake and heading for Tahoe Meadows. His week-old report still has the north side of Dick’s Pass covered in significant snowfields. Hopefully this week of heat wave (and the next one, or maybe two before we get there) will tame that stretch.

For dinner we tried our Cranberry Chicken Rice and Neopia Couscous (named by Laine), to rave reviews from all. Only thing I’d change is less garlic powder in the rice – it all ended up at the bottom and was a bit intense when licking the bottom of the bag. The portions, which I was afraid would be stingy, were ample. I suspect now I’ve overpacked a bit in the food department.

We retired fairly early to our tents to avoid the mosquitoes, which aren’t very quick or very dense, but a few mozzies go a long way, don’t they? We read Ella Enchanted aloud for a while, but now I’m getting my second wind and staying up writing by headlamp for a bit. Another beautiful night to look up through our netting (no rain flies needed) at the stars. Last night Laine said “see the flower?” The starry sky formed petals between the dark shapes of the towering pines. I think I’ll contemplate that for a while tonight too. Sleep well!

[Mileage: 6.7 | 6.7]

[Added more photos to the Tahoe Rim Trail: Section 1 set.]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Anticipation

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 22:20:14 GMT

[Written July 23, 10PM]

We’re camping along the Truckee River tonight in a small campground called “Goose Meadows”, which actually does have a small meadow. The meadow is clearly boggy for an extended time in spring, evidenced by the last of the wildflower blooming and the wide variety of grasses are in full head. The ground underneath is now dry and cracked – a good sign that the high country is drying out rapidly.

That’s a good sign on two fronts actually. First, record snowfalls last winter have kept several sections of the trail (west and south sides) closed to non-experts much later than usual this year. Perhaps the heat wave will allow these sections to open soon – in fact there probably are some new trail condition reports being filed as I write from this weekend’s crop of warriors. And after the snow yields, drying of the alpine boggy parts should follow quickly.

Secondly, the record moisture is reported to be breeding record mosquitoes – likely one of our most annoying obstacles this trip. More moisture means more mozzies. But tonight, at Goose Meadow, there don’t seem to be any pestering me. And I haven’t even build up my natural BO defense shield! Time for that soon enough.

I’m really looking forward to beginning this adventure at last. I’m certain tomorrow will have it’s challenges, but I have a feeling that they won’t be the ones I’ve prepared against. I’m feeling strong and thoughtfully prepared.

Even this afternoon was calming - an unexpected break between tomorrow’s commencement and leaving the to-list at home in as best shape as we can manage. Deanna still seems to be suffering a bit from her exertions in the heat over the last few days, and I can’t honestly say Laine would choose this adventure for herself, but doesn’t seem adverse to having some alone-time with her parents either.

Gen, currently in Germany, also was not terribly disappointed to miss most of this adventure. I guess a child, with few responsibilities and tedious routines, has less need to learn afresh how few the physical necessities of life – food, water, shelter, really are.

For me, this adventure has taken on a certain level of importance. The task is significant but achievable through persistence and patience alone. It represents a challenge to me, against becoming a fat middle-aged couch potato, against the perpetual demands of property and job. The challenges in the rest of my life are small at this point. My job places few new demands on me at present, though I’m not yet ready, or able, to push through to a more challenging career. My creative life, on the other hand, is perhaps too challenging. To exercise creative muscles underused for years, with minimal constraints to guide me through “artist's block”, has so far proven insurmountable – the path is blocked by a schedule already too full of teleconferences and email, church meetings and child chauffeuring, animal and property care. And – let’s admit it – just plain fear of mediocrity is holding me back. I don’t like to start something when I can’t clearly see success at the end.

Well, this trail may just be another distraction, but I also feel it could boost my ability and confidence to take on the next challenge, be it creative or career (or hopefully both). It will help me become accustomed to traversing new terrain, pushing through obstacles, approaching each task in the moment.

Besides, I’ve wanted to do a serious adventure for years. If not this trail, what? If not now, when? Anyway, I’m committed at this point, and it will take something serious to keep me from celebrating the completion of this goal this year. I’m not second guessing my motivation, just trying to self-reflect and grow as much from the experience as possible.

Tomorrow: Day 1. I am really looking forward to it!

[A growing set of images for this section is here.]

Tahoe Rim Trail: Section 0 (preparation)

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 04:50:56 GMT

[Written June 23.]

I've been spending a lot of time at REI this summer, updating our equipment to enable the lighter, faster, longer hiking and backpacking style that makes significant milestones like the Tahoe Rim Trail achievable by weekend warriors. The changes to the equipment in recent years are truly amazing.

For instance, last year when preparing to visit the Crooked Lakes Basin, I tried to buy a new propane cartridge for my trusty old Bluet stove. We bought this one in Australia on our honeymoon, as a good compromise between a camp stove and a backpacking stove. I was having trouble locating cartridges though, and eventually realized that Bluet's simple puncture method of installing a cartridge was simply too dangerous and the manufacturers had pulled the stove, and the cartridges off the market. When I realized this I was more than happy to spring for the new version, similar in design but squatter and more stable. It has self-sealing cartridges that can be swapped while partially full, or removed for packing.

I'm similarly impressed with advances in the weight, durability, and even packability of today's sleeping bags. Not having a serious sleeping bap upgrade since high school, my wife chose a Big Agnes sleeping bag with extra girth so she can sleep on her side with one knee folded up - IMO one of the most comfortable positions on a hard surface. To keep the weight down the sleeping bag only has down on the top - the bottom is a pouch for a full length air mattress - another wonder of technology that folds into a sack about 4 inches by 8. Dual purpose padding and insulation! I went with a more traditional design though, to save cost and a little bit of weight (read, comfort) on the pad.

Last year I bought a REI Quarter Dome UL, a sweet little pup tent with two crossed poles, mostly mosquito netting, with a separate rain fly that keeps moisture off but also has ample room on both sides for packs and shoes away from the dew. Every detail has been considered from the symmetric curved doors (virtually impossible to snag the zipper) to the pup-up vent with Velcro adjustment flap which provides just the right amount of ventilation, to the perfectly placed ties for holding doors open. Thanks to the clever combination of ultra-light ripstop nylon, velcro, bungees, and grommets, the whole contraption weights in at about 4 pounds.

This year we added to that an MSR Hubba Hubba, again a mosquito-net shell with a rain fly. This one has a spine with three "ribs" which holds the base square and forms a ribcage onto which clips the netting. This is one of the easiest tents to raise I've ever seen. Also in the 4 pound range.

Each of these tents is slightly asymmetric lengthwise to allow more width and height at the head, giving them a pleasing shape. I love them both!

I even at last splurged on polyethylene clothing to protect against moisture retention and it's resulting over- or under-heating. Amazing how light and comfortable this clothing is! I think I'm hooked - I've started wearing it around the house...

Meals

Our meals are a selection of recipes (often modified beyond recognition) from freezerbagcooking.com. A dinner weighs in (sans water) at 1/2 pound per person. Our dinner menu for the first leg consists of:

Cranberry Chicken Rice
Moroccan Couscous
Garlic, sour cream and onion mashed potatoes
Ramen with baby clams and alfredo sauce
Creole Tuna with Rice

We'll stick with the obligatory instant oatmeal and coca for breakfast, and crackers, cheese, jerky, and fruit for lunch. Plenty of nuts, dried fruit, and power bars for snacks. I think (except for that first fresh lunch), we've pretty well on track to meet my rule-of-thumb of no more than one pound food weight per person per day.

I'd ideally like to keep my pack to 25 pounds (one-sixth of my body weight) but with Laine carrying just her own clothing, I expect to be well over that, but hopefully not over 35! I brought my bathroom scale along to get a final measurement as we leave civilization behind.

The plan

For our first leg we chose a fairly easy stretch that could be accomplished by a 9-year old (and non-acclimated parents!) in manageable chunks. It's known as Section 1: Tahoe City to Brockway. We'll start at Brockway Summit, near the backside of Northstar Ski Area, and work our way over three days along the ridgeline overlooking Tahoe (to the south), Squaw Valley and Alpine Meadows (to the west), and Mount Rose (to the east). Each day should be a modest 7 miles, with the elevations starting at around 7000 feet, climbing only to a max of about 7800, and ending with a long downhill to lake level (6300 feet).

This gentle start should allow us to acclimate, see what the trail conditions offer (this section is reportedly clear of snow), and what the weather will be like. We leave Auburn at a sweltering 111 degrees - even the pool is too hot to offer much refreshment. While it is almost 20 degrees cooler at the lake, it still might be warm enough to affect our pace.

Tonight we travel to Tahoe, and start fresh in the morning!

Point Reyes

Sun, 16 Jul 2006 20:06:56 GMT

At last my Point Reyes photos are all online (probably too many but I'm starting to use Flickr to archive them rather than just share the highlights.) See the new Point Reyes set.

I used the audio recording feature on my camera to capture the following entries, then transcribed and minor editing when I got home.

[12:30PM June 28th.]

It's about 12:30PM on Wednesday. I've just come up a series of looping switchbacks up from Wildcat camp, where we spent the night.

Early this morning there was a little bit of drizzle that woke me up and so I was out and about down the beach by about 6:30. The tide was very low, and there were lots of newly-washed up agates and polished quartz lying among the pebbles on the beach. I collected rocks and photos for a while.

I came back to camp and encouraged the rest of the family to get up and get out on the beach while the tide was low because far down the beach to the South we could see Allsmere falls, which is a cataract of maybe 30 or 40 feet height coming right off the cliff, crashing down onto the beach and immediately into the ocean. We could see that from our camp so we decided we would walk down the beach while the tide was still out and we could get by the cliffs which are sometimes reached by waves at high tide.

We had a lovely walk down there to the falls. There were harbor seals; right by the falls there were dozens of pelicans and seagulls. Lots of tidepools among shiny, striated rocks. I climbed up the crevasse next to the falls to get to the top, to find a few more stepped falls with flowers everywhere. It was beautiful!

Played on the sand for a while, then we came back to camp and it was still only noon. I was hoping the family would come out with me to hike up north to Arch Rock, about three or three and a half miles up, but they declined with the drizzle and the lure of the beach.

So I'm going to climb Fir Top alone, and see if I can get above the fog. It's a mountain about 1394 feet above sea level. So I set off with my water bottle and a camera, and I'll see how far I get.

[12:50 PM June 28th]

So within 10 minutes of leaving Wildcat Camp, the camp was lost in the fog below. Wildcat camp is a large, flat grassy area on the bluffs immediately before the beach. There's a small creek that runs through the meadow and down over the bluffs into the sea. It's a beautiful spot for a camp.

There's a lot of wildlife. Last night we saw a white deer (elk really) close in by camp, and I tried to creep close to take a picture which scared him off, along with three other deer that were nearby, two of them with nice racks. Later on the white deer came back.

We also saw skunks lurking around.

And this morning Deanna surprised a bobcat on the way to the restroom, a large male munching on something by the side of the trail. Deanna got very close but the bobcat wasn't budging. Eventually she had to shoo it off so she could get through.

This morning there were harbor seals, a dozen of them or so, down along the shoreline, slowly cruising the surf zone.

Of course the meadow is filled with birds as well - red-winged blackbirds and little finches of all kinds. We saw an eagle (or something like) carrying a fish home for dinner last night as well. And of course sand-pipers, pelicans, seagulls, turkey vultures cruising the edges of the bluffs, catching the updrafts.

Quite a wild spot.

But now I'm up in the fog, leaving the coastal chaparral behind and starting to enter denser woodland as I head inland. I'm hoping at Fir Top I'll be able to see above the fog.

[2:00PM June 28th]

Well as I climbed the gently winding road up from Wildcat Camp, it didn't seem I would rise above the mist. In fact the fog got heavier, and as the fir trees grew larger each one scraped the mist from the sky and deposited a mini rainstorm underneath it.

But I persisted all the way to the top of Fir Top, which is a tree-covered hill with a little meadow in the middle of it. No view to speak of. There is a bit of sunshine - I can see mostly blue sky. So I'm just above the fog, but no view to accompany it.

Each day here brings new appreciation for the natural world we're immersed in. It take a few days to clear your mind of the clutter of everyday life, and to really see the treasures that surround us - from the cliffs of twisted rock and the vast ocean, to the microscopic grains of agate on the beach. Each pebble can be a masterpiece, and each flower filled with a humble glory.

The longer I stay, the more I see, both large and small. I guess that's the purpose of seeking the wilderness.

Summer Backpacking

Fri, 14 Jul 2006 16:25:31 GMT

In know it's most fun to read blogs that are current to the minute, but when summer gets busy sometimes it takes a week or even two to sort through and post photos or jot a few sentences on what's going on. I'm still catching up on our recent backpacking trip to Point Reyes two weeks ago. But I plan to finish it up today and tomorrow and get it all posted. Anyway, here's the start of the story...

This summer I really wanted to go to Italy. But to be with the people we wanted to be with, and see the people we wanted to see, at the optimum season and price, in the time frame we had availble simply wasn't working out. As the difficulties mounted for a consolation prize I chose hiking the entire 164 mile Tahoe Rim Trail, which has also been on my list for a long time. Committing to that adventure set a lot in motion!

To prepare for such a trip requires that your equipment (not to mention your body) be in good shape. And with a fast pace, a reasonable set of gear including plenty of ultra-light items, is essential. So we've spent a fair bit of time at REI this year, with a new backpack for Deanna, new sleeping bags for everyone, a second two-man tent, polypropelene clothing, and so forth.

With all this untried equipment, a couple of trial runs is a necessity! The first small step was a simple two-night campout, only a hundred yards from the car, for which we chose the secluded Steep Ravine camp. That proved our equipment to be largely successful and helped us pare down our clothing and other items (and in some cases beef it up - Tiva's are worth their weight when you're going near tidepools!)

Immediately afterwards, we headed north the few miles to Point Reyes, where we headed in from Palomarin Beach trailhead in the south end along the coast and hiked in a modest 5 miles and spent another couple of nights. That gave us more opportunity, especially to try out some lightweight dinner ideas.

The weather was cool and foggy, a welcome change from the central valley heat wave, where temperatures of 108 were forecast. Perfect hiking weather, and although fairly flat light isn't the best for taking pictures, there are occasions when you can use it to your advantage.

Anyway, photos and transcripts of a few audio notes (recorded onto my camera while hiking) to follow.

Me kayaking

Sun, 02 Jul 2006 06:18:28 GMT

Thanks to Paul for capturing this one. Not often get a shot of myself on the water!

A day with the salmon

Sat, 19 Nov 2005 02:16:35 GMT

Today I joined some friends in floating in my kayak down the lower part of the American River. This part of the river, though surrounded by residential development, turns in broad meanders. At some bends bluffs rise up to about sixty feet. Willows, pampas grass with their flags, cottonwoods turning yellow, wild grape climbing in their branches with shades of deep orange and red, even a few palm trees, mix in with the predominant oaks on the banks.

The river is currently awash with migrating salmon. Up to about a meter long and tall enough that their dorsal fins and tails stick out of shallow riffles like a miniature whale, they search out gravelly patches to spawn. We could see them gliding under us in the deeper water, some mottled with white and pink fungii which accompanies their final journey from salt to fresh water. In shallower water, they would be startled by a kayak floating among them and zig away from towards the other boats like a demented torpedo, never hitting their target but leaving a jet trail of ripples to mark their path. While we saw some leap completely out of the water, many seem tired enough they don’t flee. One swam directly under my boat, and didn’t seem the least startled by my touch as I reached down and touched his back.

The salmon, especially those who have completed their mission and expired, attract flocks of birds. There were hundreds of contented-looking seagulls crowded onto each gravel bar, and more standing watchfully in evenly-spaced sentry positions along the bank. Turkey vultures, when not wheeling serenely overhead, seem to prefer groups of about a half-dozen, and share the gravel bars with the seagulls, though I didn’t see any bird sharing his catch as there is apparently enough for all. At one point an osprey wheeled overhead with his catch, looking for the best place to dine without the ogling of our kayak party.

Besides these predators and scavengers, we saw flocks of what appeared to be golden-eye, a few cormorants, four large grey heron stalking calmly the grasses at the shore, scattered egrets, mallards whose iridescent head features change from a backlit dark purple on your approach, to an emerald green as you float past them into the warm afternoon sun.

The following simulated arial shot is from Google Earth, and shows the portion of the river we traversed today, from top right to bottom left.

Update 11/21 added a photo from Randall Smith. See some of his other work here.

First Rain

Sun, 23 Oct 2005 05:58:11 GMT

We had our first rain of the fall last weekend. Not counting one thunderstorm in September, we haven't seen precipitation since early June. I walked up to the barn to feed animals the next morning, and relished the change in color from the moisture. The sun was breaking through the clouds, highlighting familiar views in a new way. I took a few photos, now posted on flickr, to capture the change in color that moisture brings.

While feeding the horses, I heard a commotion behind the shed. I snuck around to see about thirty turkeys (they begin flocking in large numbers in Autumn). A coyote, amazingly close to the flock, decided I was move interesting than his quarry, and stared for a few seconds before vanishing down the slope. I was too slow with the camera to get a shot, and had to satisfy myself with a shot of a turkey up a tree. All around me turkeys were dropping ungracefully to the ground to scamper off.

First rain of turkeys of the season, too, I suppose...

Crooked Lakes Basin

Thu, 15 Sep 2005 23:59:38 GMT

10 miles, 14 lakes. The Crooked Lakes Basin in the Tahoe National Forest a great place for a child's first backpacking trip. And so my daughter (almost 9) and I did a three days/two nights backpacking trip last week.

I took over 250 pictures (teaser at left), of which about a third are now posted in the flickr set Crooked Lakes Basin. Three of them required some sectional adjustment in Photoshop, the rest are quickly tuned in Picasa. More on my experience with panorama stitching later.

Details of our route: park at the Carr Lake trailhead, and ramble along it's shores, and gently upward past Feely, Delhany, and Island Lakes. I'd come this far on day hikes with the kids before, but didn't realize the beautiful 7000-foot alpine-granite ecosystem really doesn't start until Island Lake. We continued on the Crooked Lakes trail, camping at a small marshy lake which seems to be known only as one of the Crooked Lakes. We found a great spot on a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by marsh grasses. Despite this, we had zero mosquitos at any of the lakes, and only a couple during snack breaks in rather unlikely spots. Both sunrise and sunset provided incredible lighting for my photographs.

The second day we left our tent and set out cross-country, following the dry outflows of each of the Crooked Lakes, which are strung out every few hundred yards, making it pretty hard to get lost! Each of these lakes is a lush alpine oasis of grasses, alpine lily pads, and dragonflys, surrounded by granite, manzanita clumps, and the late summer wild flowers. In between are mixed stands of lodgepole pines, various firs, ponderosa pines, and junipers (bristlecones?), many in shapes indicating the stress of snow pack on the saplings, and the force of storms on the adults. Many dead snags bleaching and gradually turning to powder in the high altitude sun.

Leaving the final Crooked Lake, we struck out due east to catch the Grouse Ridge trail (for another cool outing, check out the scale series of geocaches centered on the Grouse Ridge Lookout and arranged as a scale model of the solar system.) We descended past Middle Lake (which we somehow missed completely - it must be farther off the trail than the maps would indicate - and down past Shotgun Lake, which really isn't much of a lake at all - simply a grassy marsh on it's way to being a meadow (still attractive though!).

From there we descended further to the Lindsay Lakes trail, back up to Penner Lake. This was the greatest elevation gain of our trip (1000 feet?) but reaching Penner Lake at the top made it all worth it! It's a beautiful lake hemmed in by granite walls all around, just warm enough to plunge into (though the breeze which dries you off is pretty brisk!) We sat in the sun on a rock in the shallows enjoying the warm sun and I even got a thorough hair combing from my little hairdressing apprentice. What luxury!

The descent back down to Crooked Lakes affords awesome views, and is just about my favorite part of the trail. We moved our camp from the first Crooked Lake to the second (or third, depending on how you count) - which is the biggest of the series. The dawn on the granite hill opposite was spectacular.

The hike out is short, sweet, and slightly downhill (500 feet or less). We stopped for a long time on the shores of Feely lake to construct fairy mansions out of the shore gravel.

I learned a few things about packing this trip, like: no matter what you pack for lunch the last day, you're better off saving the weight because you end up picking an eatery on the way home that sounds way better than whatever you've packed in, and out again. Tuna fish in foil packages is the greatest invention ever. Vienna sausages don't taste all that great when you grow up. Leaking DEET (air pressure from the elevation gain?) is pretty nasty stuff - double bag it if it's near your toothbrush. And, girls require way more toiled paper than guys, pack a generous amount ;-). I look forward to putting this newfound wisdom into practice again very soon.

Resources: A snippet of the map at the trailhead is at left. I found a partial scan of a topo here. I chose the hike based on 100 Classic Hikes in Northern California; you can read an excerpt of an overlapping hike here.

[Sorry this is a week late, I had to upgrade Flickr to a pro account to get them all up there and organized into a set, and using paypal it took days and days...]

100 miles, 1 day

Fri, 22 Jul 2005 05:21:11 GMT

Well, it's that time of year again. Last night the day-off-of full moon shaded an amazing California poppy rose large over the hills not long after dark. Horse trailers and large motor homes are more prominent on the roads of Auburn. I checked the schedule and sure enough, this weekend marks the 50th annual Tevis Cup, one of the most prestigious long-distance horse races in the country. While most riders are Californians, riders come from far and abroad to participate. This year there are riders from Australia, Austria, French Polynesia, Japan, Venezuela, and the United Arab Emirates. I know or have friends that know entrants riders between the ages of 14 and 80. Some of the difficulties these hardy folks will be facing on Saturday (and into early Sunday morning):

A predominantly single-track trail accessible to vehicles in only about a dozen places. If it's any consolation, Medevac insurance is available.
Elevations that range from 8700 feet to 700 feet.
Approx 19,000 feet of uphill (elevation gain). Even more downhill, which can be even harder on the horse.
Temperatures can range from 40F to 120F during the 24 hours of the event.
250 entrants are accepted. Imagine up to 250 high-strung Arabs bolting off the starting line!
Dust is a major vision inhibitor, though rumor has it that after about 25 miles the horses spread out enough to start to see.
15 vets man 10 checkpoints. Horse's pulse not dropping as fast as it should? You're pulled!
Most riders finish the race well after dark (hence the importance of scheduling during a full moon.)
You only are judged to have completed the race if your horse is in "fit to continue" shape at the finish line.
On average over the 50 years the race has been going, onl 54% of entrants finish cleanly (within the 24 hour window, without ruining the horse).
If you complete all these obstacles you win $1 million dollars. Err, well actually you win a belt buckle, which is definitely rarer than the million, and probably more covetted.

One of the most covetted trophies (and certainly the most talked about) is the Haggin Cup, awarded to the top-10 finishing horse in the best shape after their experience. Some of these horses cross the finish line and look like they're raring to do it again the next day! I'll probably check in on the webcast during the day, maybe even stop by the finish line tomorrow night to see a few of the early finishers.

Good luck to all the riders! And if your horse just poops out partway through, you can try it again on foot in the Western States 100, which is essentially the same race, sans horse.

The sky is falling

Wed, 06 Jul 2005 23:28:24 GMT

Our small end-of-the-road neighborhood (if neighborhood isn't too grandiose a term for a few houses sharing a private road) only has one access road. Which makes it difficult when you are preparing to leave town for the July 4th weekend and a tree is down across that road. Even more difficult is when your chainsaw blade is simply shot, and the replacement you bought the last time you were at Home Depot only has 72 drive links instead of the 84 your saw actually requires. But if you're lucky and the tree is hung up on another, you might be able to sneak carefully under and trust that a hard-working neighbor will clean up the mess while you go on to visit your mom.

But then, when you return home, you might just find another tree down (a previously unobserved effect of the start of scortch season after an abnormally wet winter?) That's OK if the branches in question were too big and dangerous for an amatuer to tackle, and you really wanted to head off quickly for firework watching anyway. Who knows, someone might have trimmed off enough of the small stuff to squeeze your car under, with breath held, by the time you returned so you could sleep in your own bed without a two mile midnight walk first. And if your luck really holds, you might find that someone else had cleared the whole thing by the next morning.

You may even have felt a bit fortunate that you didn't have to invest significant labor to address these problems yourself (although I admit that emergency chainsaw work is kind of fun), unless of course you just thought it to be a kind of karmic justice after spending several hours of the holiday with a pole saw in your mother's driveway - you guessed it - trimming trees.