Journal
Trinity Alps, California. Troop 7
June 19-27, 2009
Gary Hochgraf
Crew A, Adults: Bill, Myself
Scouts: Xavier – crew chief, Mathias – scout in charge, Jeff – QM, Maxime, Jacob, and George.
Crew B, Adults: Greg, SM, Andrew, Dick
Scouts: Alex, Joe, Jake.
Friday 6/19
Flew from Detroit to San Francisco. I got a window seat on the second leg, and enjoyed looking down onto the badlands of South Dakota, the dry hills of Wyoming, the basin and range of Nevada, then suddenly the snow capped mountains in California, the central valley, and the golden hills along the coast.
We got our rental cars in a very windy city – two Dodge Chargers and a mini van, and headed out, with a brief stop at a burger joint for dinner and also to pick up our stoves and empty fuel bottles which had been shipped out to a relative of Bills. A three hour drive north brought us to Calusa Sacramento River state park, where several tents were soon erected except for four of us who slept under the stars.
Saturday, 6/20
Bill and I went out and brought back two boxes of donuts which soon disappeared as the tents came down and the cars were packed. We continued north, stopping in Redding to fill those fuel bottles and last minute groceries. Then up and out of the long flat central valley into the hills to Weaverville, where we stopped for permits and info at the ranger station. The woman behind the desk was very helpful.
Here we split up, as Crew B will head for the trailhead at Stuart Fork, while we enter at Swift Creek. The road twists and turns as we climb the hills and finally reach the trailhead, and after an obligatory photo at the sign, we're off! The trail follows Swift Creek, climbing steadily and occasionally crossing minor tributaries. At about 3 miles in we find a nice campsite at the confluence of Parker Creek and Swift Creek. We've been walking up a wooded valley with cedars and red pines at the beginning, giving way to cedars, hemlock, spruce, and jeffery pines. Many of the trees are quite large.
We met a family with a pack horse, and one with a dog, but otherwise the hike is ours. We also got quite close to a mule deer, and many wildflowers are out. St John's wort in profusion along the roadside, fragrant white rhododendron beside the trail, a beautiful white orchid at the side of the little creeks, and insectivorous pitcher plants in the meadows.
Our campsite is pretty large, plenty of space for five tents, and Parker creek at our doorstep, both for water and audio ambiance. We're surrounded by big trees, but there's an opening where we can look up Bear Creek valley and see snow on a shoulder of Siligo peak. Bill cooked Mtn House Kung Pow chicken, it was ok, and also mashed potato and gravy which was pretty good.
Sunday
Chilly this morning, probably in the 40s, with a light breeze too, so I'm still wrapped in my sleeping bag as I write this and await the warming sun to crest the ridge.
Bill and I are up and get a fire going to take the chill off. I made cranberry nut bread and Bill has his coffee. We ate, cleaned up, and packed up and finally the boys are stirring, except George who was up and shared cranberry bread with us. The sun is now streaming into the campsite so I douse the fire.
Late morning. We have a problem. I had returned to camp after answering nature's call, the guys were all digging into breakfast, and Bill was all packed up and heading out onto the trail. So I grabbed my pack, stuffed in the last items, told the boys to be good, and followed suit.
Just past camp the trail crosses Parker Creek, and just past there is a large campsite with two trail crossings in it. The trail the appears to go straight is actually the left turn that goes up Bear Creek to Bear Basin. To continue on Swift Creek trail one turns right. Then within a few feet Parker creek trail splits off to the right.
Bill hikes slowly, so I figure I'll catch him shortly. In a mile I reach Parker meadow and am surprised that I haven't met him. So I watch for footprints, and none are his size. After about 2 miles I reach Foster's cabin, and he's not there. In another mile I flush a roughed grouse with two chicks. Would she be here right on the trail if someone had just passed b? But the chicks were cute and fuzzy brown balls about 3” long.
I meet another group camped by the trail. “Have you seen anybody pass by?” I ask. No, they had not. I begin to suspect that he took the wrong trail and is now headed toward Bear Basin. I turn back. At the lower end of Parker Meadow I meet the scouts. They had seen the possibility of missing the turn to Swift Creek too. So we discuss the options and plan our search. Three of them will day hike up Parker Creek trail to the next intersection and return to the old campsite. The other three will take lightened packs up Bear creek trail. And I will solo up Swift Creek just to make sure.
Noonish. I've climbed up past Mumford Meadow and still no cell phone reception, and I'm now 100% certain he's not up here. So I'm heading down.
2-ish. Back at the fateful intersection. Xavier, Jeff and Mathias are here, having already checked out Parker Creek trail. After another hour of waiting, here they come! He had indeed gone up Bear creek trail. We're all together and tired (some of us anyway) so we'll camp right here tonight, about 0.25 miles up the trail from last night. Bill and I had lentil soup, the guys have spaghetti.
Toward evening a man comes by riding a horse and leading three more and a mule, and stops to chat. He tells us of a spring nearby and the guys take off to search, thinking its a hot spring. I chatted a bit more then went to look. I found good cool drinking water. The guys found nothing except an extra hike of a mile or so.
Before dinner many of us took a dip in a large pool in Swift Creek, and got cleaned up a bit.
We've decided to modify our plan some, having lost today. Bill does not feel he can make it up to Ward Lake, so he'll stay at Mumford Meadow, and the rest of us will go on up to the ridge and try to make a loop of it.
Monday.
Another beautiful chilly morning in the Trinities. They guys are slow to get up (no surprise). Bill and I have whole wheat bread, they have rice pudding with raisins.
I head out a bit ahead of the guys, and we meet at Fosters cabin. There's two buildings here, a barn with corrugated steel roof, log frame and plank walls and no door. Its in disrepair but would still keep you and your horse dry. A short distance away is the cabin, much newer than I expected, with log walls, glass in the windows, cedar roof, and a functioning door. Perhaps its been re-built.
The five guys hike pretty close together, while I leapfrog them, rarely out of earshot. The trail continues to climb gently along the north side of Swift Creek, through open alpine meadows, past huge cedars and pines. Its warm, the sky is blue, no breeze, and no mosquitoes. Perfect!
We finally reach the head of the valley and begin the serious climb into the cirque. The trail switches back and forth, there are stairs, and grand vistas down the Swift Creek valley and up onto the nearby ridges. Up, up, up! We get to the turnoff to Horseshoe lake, drop our packs and hike the short spur. Its a beautiful lake, surrounded by white granite, and the walls of the cirque are quite close and steep. There are several lingering snow fields and we have the obligatory snowball fight. After some bouldering, photo ops, and exploring we head back to the packs. Spring is late here. There are several springtime flowers just coming out – trout lilies and pussywillows, and some ferns are still in fiddlehead stage.
The trail to Ward lake continues up, around a hill, then a short descent, across the outfall creek, and we're here! The ranger told us there are four campsites here, and one of them is occupied. I circumnavigate the lake, and we pick the one on the south shore, facing north.
The other group is the one I met yesterday when I was suspecting that we had lost Bill. We talked briefly and they were glad we had found him.
Ward lake cirque faces east, which means the sun drops over the western horizon about 5pm. That ridge is the southern spur off Black Mountain, which dominates our northwest view, about a thousand feet above us. Behind camp is a steep high ridge that separates us from Horseshoe cirque, which is soon scaled. The views are magnificent, as one would expect. We look east along the valley, and beyond that more mountains in the purple distance. On the way back down some of us slide on the snowpacks above camp. Great fun, in shorts!
Dinner is consumed as the shadow crosses camp, which gives us a long evening before its dark enough to see the star show. Our view is north and every star is out tonight.
Tuesday.
When your campsite is at the center of the universe, why bother getting up and going anywhere? The spot I've chosen is on a peninsula a few feet from the lake on either side. There's not enough room for a tent, just a sleeping bag and pad. Above me – stars. Behind me – the ridge we scaled yesterday and trees. Ahead of me to left and right – the lake. Behind and left – an inlet that burbles. Further left and ahead – the high wall of Black Mountain, defining the cirque. To the right – the lake's outfall and some lower rocks and hills and the sky. Into this setting the sun rises. First onto the face of Black Mountain. I watch the shadow descend and the light turn from orange to white. Then it appears in a low gap between two hills near the outlet. Normally I'd get up now, but why? There is frost on the ground, and as the sun beats down into this little amphitheater, the day warms. Soon its too hot for a sleeping bag. Ok, I'll get up!
They guys are all camped back in the woods, inside tents, and they sleep in. They don't see this.
Today we'll do a day hike. There's a trail up to the pass between Black Mountain and Snowslide Peak, which we quickly loose and resort to scrambling up the talus. Its probably steeper than 45 degrees. As we climb, Mt. Lassen comes into view, then Shasta just before the ridge is attained. Now we can look north along the South Fork of the Salmon River. But the more dramatic mountains are to the south., and since we're looking at their north face, there's lots of snow on them. We're high enough to look out over the south ridge of Black Mountain into the Stuart Fork valley, where the other crew is.
But this is just the ridge, not the peak. And its a very steep and exposed and rugged ridge. After a snack, we work our way toward the peak. But its really tough going, not any more dangerous than the climb to get here, but the exposure makes it feel so much worse. Progress is slow, and the way gets tougher. We turn back. When we reach the pass we re-find the trail and descend to camp.
There is a resident osprey here. He seems to hang out around here, horseshoe, and other nearby alpine lakes. They stock them with trout, so that's good for him too. We enjoy watching him soar over, perch and watch, then swoop down for a fish. He's usually operating from the other side of the lake, so the camera shows little more than a dot.
Jacob and Jeff were timing themselves on getting up to the ridge and back, so I ascended too (but not for speed.) Once there I felt drawn on up along the ridge, so I soloed to the peak. Much of it was an easy walk over broken rock and soil with a few trees and logs, but the last bit was a steep scramble over scree. But I made it, and got a 360 degree vista of the Trinity Alps and beyond. There's the South Fork of the Salmon river heading north, Swift creek to the east, deer creek which joins Stuart Fork to the south, and beyond Stuart is Canyon Creek. Somewhere along Deer or Stuart is the other crew. Also to the south is snowy Siligo peak, while west of here is the Sawtooth ridge to Thurston and Hilton peaks.
Later, back at camp I tried to get the guys interested in doing a short walk but they would have none of it. Preferring to hang out in camp, insult each other, throw snowballs, skip stones, and engage in typical teenage banter. Eventually it came time for dinner, which they fell to with competence.
Long afternoons and evenings can lead to rambunctious behavior. Up here, above timberline, the principles of Leave No Trace ethics become even more important than down in the valley or back in Michigan. This is a fragile ecosystem, with tiny plants that can be a hundred years old. The growing season is short, the soil thin, and rainfall scant. Open fires are not permitted up here, and the rangers emphasized that when we got our permits. So I've tried hard to curb the recreational use of lighters and matches, with limited success. Granted, the infractions have occurred either in the existing firepit or on snow. And we watched the other group last night enjoying an evening fire. But there is no need for playing with fire just for the fun of it. So, while I took a walkabout down the outfall a bit and around the lake, what should come wafting across the lake, but a pall of smoke. Wtf?
When I finished my circumnavigation, we had a discussion about leadership, and how these guys are not just leaders to the younger scouts, but to each other as well. And when they see behavior that shouldn't be, they have an obligation to speak up with authority and knowledge. Then I confiscated their lighters.
Wednesday
Another beautiful morning, but warmer. I'm camped in the same spot. Woke in the middle of the night and watched the stars and saw a few meteors and the Andromeda galaxy. Morning broke with magic as before, with the shadow sliding down Black Mountain, and the sun popping over the ridge.
We head down today, along Swift Creek, meet Bill and George, and camp by Parker Creek.
The hike was uneventful and quick. Bill left a note at Foster Cabin. He and George had stayed near here Tuesday night, and were heading back to Parker Creek for Wednesday, then on to the trailhead, to meet us there on Thursday.
We've settled in to our first campsite again. Time to kill becomes rambunctiousness again.
Thursday
Last day on the trail. I slept in the tent due to the black flies. I've been able to sleep under the stars at every campsite except this one. Another beautiful day with blue skies.
A few other hikers and equestrians are coming in for the weekend as we head out. Bill and George are there at the parking lot with donuts and pop. They had run out of stove fuel yesterday, so they went to town for the night.
A twisty drive to Weaverville, where Mr Copp and the other crew have already arrived. A quick lunch and we head west. Two hours of twisty mountain roads, then suddenly it levels out for the last few miles to Samoa beach. Light fog and strong wind from the north. We run, toss the frisbee, explore the flotsam, and chase the waves.
A few miles up the road we find a buffet and everybody fills up. Then south and the trees get bigger. We turn off and drive a twisty road through giant redwoods to our campsite at Humbolt Redwoods State Park. Very cool.
Friday
Long drive to San Francisco. We stop to view the Golden Gate bridge, drive up and down Lombard street, and park near Fishermans Wharf. The thought was to take a ferry to Alcatraz island (and perhaps leave a few scouts there) but they were all booked until monday. So we wandered the shops, listened to and watched street performers, and watched the California harbor seals which have decided to call part of the harbor adjacent to the wharf their home. And had dinner. Lots of people, different languages, buying and selling of trinkets. So very different from earlier in the week.
After rush hour cleared we headed out to Mt. Diablo, to find the gate locked at sunset. Luckily while waiting around contemplating alternative options, a ranger showed up, let us in, and we got to our reserved campsite. Everybody slept under the stars (cool!)
Saturday
Up and out early, drove to SF to return the cars, rode the tram to the airport, waited for our flight, and flew home.
