Giant Sequoia Natl Mon: February, 2009

In between two storm systems, we managed to find a dry weekend (at the end of January/start of February). (Remember to click on the pix to enlarge and then hit "back." A couple of these pictures might be worth clicking on.)

We headed up to Wishon Campground above Springville, in the Giant Sequoia National Monument northeast of Bakersfield. The campground (at 4000 feet) is right on the Tule River; the campsites are spacious and are all shaded by oaks. The first night, there was one other group in the campground. The rest of the time, we were alone:



Note -- the four mile road from Highway 190 to the campground is steep and narrow and twisty; and the highway is no picnic, either. Don't go up to Wishon in a big rig, and don't try it with a trailer longer than 20 feet. Your transmission will get a nice workout, both going up and coming down! Fortunately, there was no ice on the road -- that would have made it even more entertaining. Also, clearance inside the campground is a little tight -- watch those low branches.

After setting up the trailer, we took the SUV up a very rocky, muddy, icy road toward Alder Creek:



When the snow got too deep, we continued on foot -- there are quite a few Sequoias on or near this fire road. The next day we took Highway 190 up to Freeman Grove, at 7000 feet. The access road was buried in two feet of snow, so we hopped onto our snowshoes and trudged down into the grove. We had a huge snowy grove all to ourselves -- sort of dreamlike. It was really great to get off-trail and walk among "wild" Sequoias that are seldom visited by anyone; during the summer, we would have to stick to the trail, both because it can be harmful to walk on the soil near the trees and because the undergrowth would get in the way. In the winter, the brush is mostly buried in the snow. The color of the red bark was intense in the afternoon light:



This is the same shot, edited more than seven years later, with Lightroom 5.  It is amazing that there are still so few other Google results for "snowshoeing in Freeman Grove:"

Although the weather was clear, it was fairly cold, getting down into the high 20s at night. We tried to run the heater in the trailer as little as possible, both to preserve the battery and to preserve the silence -- we could hear the river roaring right next to us, and it was a pleasure just to listen to it all evening long. The inside of the trailer was a toasty 45 degrees -- we bundled up like Eskimos. Not glamorous, but comfortable:




On Sunday, we took a hike along the Camp Nelson trail, through the Belknap Grove and up toward the Wheel Meadow Grove. The snow was a few days old, and the water vapor in the air had collected on the snow crystals to form fragile "hoar frost:"



There were some tricky stream crossings -- we had to build a temporary log bridge across the river -- and it would not have been fun to fall into the icy water:



Once again, we saw no one else during the entire day of hiking -- just us and the big trees in the snowy forest. The black dot at the base of the tree is Felice:



The higher up we went, the deeper the snow got. Although we were not on snowshoes (the terrain was too rough), we were still able to make good progress in our waterproof hiking boots. Our gaiters (leggings) kept the snow out of our boots. All along the trail, the river tumbled over half-frozen falls:



Back down near the campground, we ran into quite a few red sierra newts -- it was the start of their mating season and they were crawling slowly across the path, stunned by the cold temperatures:



On Monday, before heading home, we hiked up from Wishon toward Mountain Home State Forest; in the mountains, we could see several large groves of Sequoias, but they were across the river and hard to reach. Right where Burro Creek empties into the Tule River, there were thousands of ladybugs swarming on the rocks and leaves:



In four days of fairly strenuous hiking and snowshoeing, we did not see anyone else on the trail.

Kings Canyon, November 2008: A Surprise Blizzard

Although we've spent almost 50 nights this year in our trailer, we just had to try one more camping trip. So in mid-November we headed up to the Sequoia National Forest, in between Kings Canyon National Park and Sequoia National Park, for a four-day trip. At around noon on Friday, we set up camp in a remote area near Big Meadows; our nearest neighbor was about a half-mile away. This was not a campground -- the national forest allows "dispersed camping" (or "boondocking") in many areas. We had a wonderful view of the Great Western Divide. That afternoon, we hiked to a remote grove of giant sequoias (Evans Grove), north of Buck Rock. The dirt roads were very rough, but we had no trouble. The grove was lovely -- absolutely silent. We saw no one during the entire hike.

On the next day (Saturday), we took a long steep hike from the Wolverton area up to Heather Lake. The total elevation gain was over 2000 feet, and the total mileage was more than 9 miles. At the top of the route, there were tremendous views of the entire Tokopah Valley:



The lake itself was surrounded by snowy rocks, reflected in the water:



On the way back from Heather Lake, we tried to take the Watchtower route, which is a narrow trail along a cliff overlooking the valley. But we had to turn back because the trail was so narrow and icy:



(This picture does not really do justice to this trail -- immediately behind Felice, there is an icy chute about 18 inches wide. On one side is an icy rock wall. On the other side is a 2000 foot cliff. We did not cross the chute!)

As we finished the hike (on a safer route), it started to get pretty cloudy; the weather service had predicted a dusting of snow over 9000 feet and a few light rain showers below that elevation. We weren't too worried, since our campsite was at 7500 feet. Sure enough, late that evening, it started to sprinkle, making a lovely tinkling sound on the roof of the trailer. We were snug and warm inside our tin box, dressed like Eskimos and drinking hot tea.

After we went to sleep (under a comforter and four blankets!), it started to rain a little harder. Around midnight, the rain suddenly stopped; it was very quiet. At first, I was glad that the rain had stopped; I had been worried that the ground would become so muddy and soft that we wouldn't be able to tow the trailer out of the woods and back to the roadway. But after a while, it dawned on me that the silence might mean that the rain had simply turned to snow. Around 1:30 a.m., I crawled out of my nice warm bed -- the inside of the trailer was at about 40 degrees -- and peeked out the door of the trailer. Surprise! There was already about a half a foot of wet snow on the ground, and it was essentially a full-scale blizzard.

We had to make a decision -- what to do? If we simply waited it out until the morning, we could have been stuck in the snow -- my SUV and my trailer only have about 10 inches of ground clearance. If the snow got much deeper, we couldn't have towed the trailer out of our campsite. Remember, also, that this was not a campground -- this was just the wilderness. And the Forest Road leading to our campsite was not a maintained or plowed road.

So we reluctantly decided that we had to leave right then. It felt like we were being too conservative, and nobody wants to go outside in that kind of weather; but we thought it was the prudent thing to do. Without rushing, without panicking, we bundled up in our waterproof garments and headed out into the storm to pack up our equipment and hitch the trailer to the car. It was absolutely pitch black, and very wet and cold. Fortunately, we had headlamps; also, we have hitched and unhitched so many times that we could do most of the tasks blindfolded. A lot of our tools and equipment had already been covered by the snow, but we were able to find all of them. The hardest part was clearing the snow off of the awning, which had accumulated a thick, wet, sticky layer of icy snow.

When it came time to hitch up (after about an hour and a half of packing up), the car windows were completely covered in ice and snow. I was able to clear them off a little bit, but I could hardly see anything. Fortunately, Felice skillfully guided me back so that we were able to drop the hitch onto the ball the first time.

The next question was whether the car would be able to move the trailer over the soft wet dirt and through the deep snow. I put the SUV into "four-wheel drive low," the high-torque setting. No problem! Quite a relief. We were able to move onto the roadway and slowly drove out of the woods for a couple of miles to the highway. As we expected, the highway was not yet plowed (since the storm had been a surprise to everyone), so we drove very slowly through deep snow to the Grant Grove area of Kings Canyon National Park. It was sort of dreamlike -- the dark, deserted highway, the blowing snow, at 3 a.m., with the trailer trundling along behind us, pushing through the deep snow.

Since the roadway had been very cold prior to the storm, the rain had frozen to the pavement, creating a layer of black ice under several inches of snow. The trickiest part of the drive was on the banked turns, where the highway designers had intentionally tilted the roadbed in order to accommodate cars traveling at 45 mph. At 10 mph, however, the car and the trailer tended to slide sideways a little. No big deal, but it was interesting. (I had decided not to attach the anti-sway bar to the trailer, since I was concerned that if the trailer slid sideways, it would drag the back of the car along with it. I'm not sure that was the right decision, but we made it out okay.)

We toyed with the idea of heading down the hill to Fresno but decided that it would be safer simply to sleep in the trailer in the parking lot near the ranger station at Grant Grove. When we awoke the next morning, there was still quite a bit of snow and ice on the trailer, although it had rained again in the early morning hours (since Grant Grove is only at about 6500 feet):



In the morning, one of the rangers asked us what we were doing in the parking lot, and we explained. She told us that we had done exactly the right thing: other campers who had stayed throughout the night at Big Meadows had gotten stuck and had to call for tow trucks to get out, which was enormously expensive. So we didn't feel too bad about evacuating, even though we missed our lovely remote campsite.

And actually, to tell the truth, the "midnight blizzard fire drill" was sort of fun. It was a challenge, and I was pleased that we were able to deal with it in a calm, methodical way, without rushing, and without making mistakes. We had to force ourselves to follow our checklists carefully, even though our instinct was to scramble out of there before the snow got too deep. Plus, the whole experience gave us the spurious sense of being rugged individuals having a legitimate adventure. It was also fun to work as a team to solve the little problems we encountered.

So, instead of heading home right away, we went for a morning hike in Grant Grove itself. The low clouds and fog obscured the tops of the snowy trees:



We later took a hike through the North Grove area. If you have never seen a Sequoia up close, here are some indications of the actual size of these trees. It is difficult to find a place where you can take a picture of an entire tree from top to bottom; we found a couple of places along a fire road in which I could stand far enough back from the tree to encompass the whole thing. First, a long shot of one tree -- look for the little orange dot at the bottom of the tree -- this might be worth clicking on to enlarge, and then hit back to get back:



And, from the very same picture, here is an enlargement of the orange dot, i.e., Felice:



Also, here she is peeking through a cleft in a grouping of trees:



And here's a close-up of the cleft, again from the same picture:



To get another feel for the scale, here she is next to a tree trunk:



We decided to stay another night at the Azalea campground, which was very quiet:



We discovered that camping in cold and snow is not impossible or unpleasant, as long as the temperature does not drop much below 20 degrees. (Any lower than that, and the plumbing might be damaged.) We had plenty of electrical power, with two group 27 deep cycle batteries. We could run the propane heater during meals and when showering. The only problem was what to do with all of the damp clothing -- we hung it up on hooks, but things did not dry very quickly.

The next day (Monday), we took a hike through the Redwood Canyon grove. It was very wet and just above freezing; imagine the "refrigerated vegetable room" at Costco. But we didn't mind because we were properly dressed. There was even a little remnant of fall color on the dogwood trees:

Santa Cruz and Montana de Oro, October 2008

We took a quick trip up to Santa Cruz in early October of 2008. We biked the Skyline to Sea trail in Big Basin and hiked up to Berry Falls:





Gold Falls was just a little further up the trail:



We also rode in the Forest of Nisene Marks and in the Henry Cowell Redwoods; this was taken on an early morning walk in Henry Cowell:



On our way home, we camped at Montana de Oro in the Morro Bay area. Although we did see some sea otters, they were not very close to shore. The wind was offshore and we could see the entire Big Sur coastline to the north:



The waves were smaller than usual, but they still surged and crashed on the craggy rocks:

Fall Color in Eastern Sierra -- Sept. 2008

We took a quick trip during late September to the Bishop Creek area of the Eastern Sierra. On the first day, we took a short hike to Bull Lake (near South Lake), and Chocolate Peak was in the lake. (Remember to click on the picture if you want to see a larger version and then hit "back.")



We weren't able to hike as far as we had planned because we kept having to stop and admire the aspens. All of the pictures that you see here are unaltered -- this is how it really looked. The next few shots were taken on the east side of South Lake:





We could look down the cliff through the orange aspen and toward the turquoise water of the lake; if this scene had not been painted by nature, it could have been criticized as too garish:





The next day, we drove over to North Lake. From the road up to the lake, we could see Mount Darwin and Mount Powell:



The entire canyon of the north fork of Bishop Creek was covered in aspens:



The volcanic Piute Crags lined the north side of the canyon:



The south wall of the canyon was granite; there are so many big peaks in this area that this 12,000 foot crag near Loch Leven does not have a name -- how about Finger Peak?



Later that afternoon, it started to get stormy. Here is the same view of Mount Darwin (see above) on a cloudy afternoon, instead of a sunny morning:



The next morning was showery, which (paradoxically) seemed to make the colors even more intense:



(If you're wondering how we obtained the time exposure of the water, I use a neutral density filter, which allows me to slow down the lens speed.) After hiking along the creek, we went up to Lake Sabrina. The granite walls of the canyon were wet and dark:



As soon as we hit the trail, a thunderstorm rolled in over Mount Darwin:


More than five years later, I edited that shot in Lightroom - this is closer to the real thing:

The hike to Long Lake was a little soggy, but it cleared up for a few moments here and there:



The lake reflected Mt. Goode, a 13,000 foot peak (on the left) and Hurd Peak (on the right):



As we approached the 11,000 foot level, the rain turned to sleet -- note the stylish hefty bag:



The sun came out briefly in the afternoon, above Lake Sabrina:



During the night, there was more rain (and snow at the higher elevations). The next morning, we could see the top of Mt. Tom from the campground:



We headed up to the North Lake area again to do a different hike; once again, the view of Mount Darwin from North Lake Road was astounding, with snow in the higher elevations:



We were surprised to find aspens reflected in Grass Lake; none of the guidebooks mentioned them:



Years later, I re-edited that shot in Lightroom:

Later that day, the sun came out as we crossed Bishop Creek:



Here are two more shots of the creek, edited years later in Lightroom:

That evening, we drove south to the Lone Pine area, staying at Tuttle Creek, a primitive Bureau of Land Management campground in the shadow of Lone Pine Peak near Mount Whitney:



Perhaps not too surprisingly, the stars in the high desert were brilliant. Here is Jupiter, along with the Milky Way, over the Sierra crest:

(This was a 30 second time exposure, and I set the ISO to 3200. Apparently, with enough time, the camera can see colors in the Milky Way that are not ordinarily visible to the eye.) The next morning, we watched the sun come up over the White Mountains to the east and catch the Sierra to our west:


This is almost the same shot, edited in Lightroom (more than five years later):