My Trails

Not long after I arrived in Southern California, it became crystal clear why so many people live here. While every other part of the country lay buried under snow, suffered from ice and wind, or shivered from the cold, the LA area basked in warm sunshine. I have a hard time realizing it is January and February. 

I’ve had a great time here. To reconnect with my brothers fills me with such warmth, I can not tell you how good it has been. I met with Don and Betty on Sunday and we enjoyed breakfast together at one of their favorite places. Afterwards, we stopped at 24Hr Fitness where Michele, Betty’s daughter works so that I could say goodbye to her.   It was cool and rainy that morning so I recommended we take in a movie. I had seen True Grit before, but it is so good I wanted to see it again.  I tried to get Betty to close her eyes in one part of the movie but it was too late. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes popped out as one of the outlaws got his fingers chopped off. It was a fun time we spent together and a sad goodbye when I left. When we got back to Don’s, Jennifer and Patrick were there, so I got to say goodbye to them, too. 

Richard, Dianna, and I had made plans to visit Griffith Observatory that evening, but the weather was dreary and we thought we would have to cancel. As the afternoon rolled around, the sun came out and the clouds broke apart, inviting us to see yet one more attraction. 

We met Diannas sister, Julie, and her friend Ron just before dusk at the entrance of the observatory. From the top of Griffith Park, the lights of LA were just spectacular. A cool front associated with the weather brought crystal clear air that made the city sparkle. We watched a fascinating movie about our universe projected on a dome screen surrounding the theatre. The laser projector used in the theatre is state-of-the-art, displaying a phenomenal, realistic picture.  As you recline in your seat, it feels like your right inside the movie. 

There were all sorts of displays about astronomical things scattered throughout the building, and it seemed that Richard knew an awfully lot more about them than the rest of us did. He did concede, however, that Daryl might be able to correct him on some points.

After the observatory, we all ate at an Italian restaurant, recommended by staff at Griffith. Then it was time to leave and we said goodbye to Julie and Ron. Over the last few
weeks I’ve come to know Julie quite well. Through these hard times, I’ve moved furniture for her, worked with her through the yard sale, and enjoyed her company when we all went out to eat. She is a very special friend and I will miss her a lot. 

Between Richard, Dianna, and Julie, I could not pay for a thing. They bought me gas, took me to expensive restaurants, and Dianna fixed home cooked meals every night. Helping with moving and using my van was something I would have been happy to give, but every time I tried to pay for something, Dick would pull the bill away and say, “Your Money Is NO GOOD In California!”.

Right now I’m at a campground somewhere on the Pacific Coast Highway. This is turning out to be one of the most awesomely beautiful trips I’ve ever been on, and I will tell you about it in the next post, undoubtedly by the length of this post, more than you want to know. 

High profile vehicles like mine are no fun in the wind. My van danced and rocked as I drove through the San Gabriel Mountains, demanding all my attention just to keep from being buffeted into another lane. To say that it was windy is a gross understatement. A steady wind is one thing but strong gusts are yet another. They hit you with a thud, demanding all your attention just to keep a vehicle on a semi-straight line.

I was headed north to spend a day at Death Valley National Park. With temperatures in the summer reaching well over 110 degrees, this January weekend would be the best time for me and my old truck to tour the park. Richard told me the climb over the mountains just to enter the park would give my vehicle a workout both going up and coming down and I didn’t want to have to worry about overheating, too.

Highway 14 north was very nice. Valleys, canyons, and distant mountains dot the landscape, and to my relief, the wind calmed down as I descended into the lowlands. It wasn’t long before the Sierra Mountains came into view and I turned away from them towards Death Valley. It is amazing that the highest point in the lower forty eight – Mt. Whitney in the Sierra Mountains -and the lowest -Badwater Basin in Death Valley – are less than 100 miles (as the crow flies) apart.

I have a hard time coming to grips with the price of gas in California, so I passed by more filling stations than I should have. By the time I reached the road that turns into Death Valley, I hadn’t seen gas for twenty miles. I’m not sure what felt worse, the apprehension of running out of gas in Death Valley, or the reality – as it turned out – of paying $4.45 a gallon for a tank full at a run down mom and pop quickie store.

I spent the night at Stovepipe Wells in a campground built on a chunk of desert wasteland. It was little more than a parking lot divided by cement curbs into a two dimensional grid, sporting only one restroom for five-acres of campers. But it was quiet, cheap, and conveniently located for my next day of exploring.

In the morning, after a good night’s sleep in mild temperature, I was puzzled by the fact that it seemed to take forever to boil water for my coffee. I always thought that water boils easier at sea level than high altitude, but it sure didn’t seem like it.

I spent the day visiting historic and scenic sights scattered along the Valley floor. My first stop was at Scotty’s Castle in the northern area of the park. The story of Scotty’s Castle is in itself a tale right out of Hollywood, involving deception, wild west trickery, and the romance of a mansion built on the edge of a wasteland. The tours were expensive so I walked around the property and read information boards in the visitor’s center. Then it was off to hike one of the slot canyons near Furnace Creek.

In most parts of country, there is usually a transition of plains to foothills and then to mountains, but the mountains seem to rear directly from the valley in Death Valley. It doesn’t rain much here, but when it does, the soft mountain base erodes to form deep, beautiful canyons. I hiked up Golden Canyon to the Red Cathedral, unfortunately joined by about a hundred other people, enjoying an afternoon of 80-degree temperatures in January.

My last stop took me to the lowest point in the USA. At 282 feet below sea level, Badwater Basin holds the record high temperature of 135 degrees. It is an inferno of heat in the summertime. I walked to the edge of the salty lake and took pictures of a sign high on a cliff above the parking lot, marking the symbolic point of sea level.

Death Valley National Park was a fascinating place to visit. I always imagined the park to be a desolate desert of sand and rotting animal bones, but it was surprisingly beautiful in a unique sort of way. I’m glad I got to see another natural wonder in this vast land of ours.

On Sunday, the second day of 2011, Daryl, Les, and I went hiking in the South Mountains near Phoenix.  Les, a good friend and hiking partner of Daryl, and incidentally a professor of botany at Arizona State University, gave me an introductory lesson of plant life in the Arizona desert. It was amazing to learn the names of the various plants and their characteristics.  I hope I remember some of the interesting traits, and that I will be able to identify a few species when I’m in the field again. 

In the chill of early morning we had the trails mostly to ourselves. A few mountain bikers and scatted hikers were enjoying the bright sunshine and crystal clear views from the mountains.  We stopped to admire some petroglyphs left by ancient natives and then ate lunch in the lee of a rocky ridge. By the time we walked back to the parking lot, the place was getting crowded with bikers, runners, and hikers. 

 It felt good to exercise after a week of holiday feasting and inactivity. Both Daryl and I are aware of too many calories going in and not enough burning off. Only the day before, we took a 6 mile bike ride with Apollo, and while it was great exercise, Apollo got the ultimate workout.  I hope to keep hiking and be more careful with what I eat as I head out to the west coast for a few days. I owe many thanks to Donna and Daryl for putting up with me the last few weeks. 

Check out my Gallery to see a few pictures of our hike.

The cliff dwellings were quite interesting. It’s one of the few sites they let you walk through the ruins, although, there are guides stationed strategically to keep an eye out for mischief. It was afternoon by the time I finished looking around so I decided to stay another night in Gila NF. As I drove the winding road through the wilderness, a wolf passed in front of me. I stopped in the middle of the road and watched him until he disappeared over a hill. Just before he vanished, he turned and looked at me for a few seconds. That was pretty cool!

The Continental Divide National Scenic Trail runs through the Gila Wilderness, and I spent part of the afternoon looking for it. I have hiked small sections of the Appalachian Trail, Pacific Crest Trail, North Country Trail, and the Arizona Trail. I wanted to add the CDT to my list, but after much searching, I couldn’t find where it crossed the road and gave up. 

I hope to get to White Sands NM tomorrow. I should find a cell signal for an update soon. Then it’s wherever I end up I guess. 

During the last month, Daryl, Donna, and I had been considering an overnight hike someplace in southern Arizona. It would be Donna’s first experience at backpacking and my first experience camping in a wilderness where rattlesnakes, scorpions, and coyote call home. Daryl has hiked in several areas around Phoenix and knows the climate and terrain we were likely to encounter, as well as having a vehicle that could get us to remote trailheads if need be. It seemed that everything was coming together as planned until an unusually, rare cold front moved into the Phoenix area and dropped nighttime temperatures dangerously close to freezing. We were beginning to think that our hike wouldn’t happen this year when Donna noticed that the weather for one of the areas we were considering reported a fairly mild night the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Two days later we were headed for Picketpost Trailhead and a section of the Arizona Trail just south of the Superstition Mountains.

Over the last few weeks, Daryl and I had searched for a trail in a forested area, but the altitude in the mountains of Southern Arizona where treeline begins also brings cooler temperatures. We wanted this hike to be fairly easy for Donna’s introduction into the world of backpacking, leaving out the long distance, mountain climbing, and arctic weather. This was my first time backpacking in a desert area and I have to say that I truly enjoyed it. The only drawbacks were having to carry a lot of water and wear long pants – it seems like everything that grows in the desert has needles sticking out of it.

The temperature for the first day was almost perfect. We hiked about 8 miles through rolling hills, canyons, and dry riverbeds (called washes out here because they only see water when it rains). There were several different kinds of cactus and innumerable plants and bushes, many of which Daryl knew their names. Daryl has a friend who is a botanist and they go hiking in the surrounding area and study plants. It was kind of interesting to learn the names of some of the plants and why they are called what they are.

Donna did great. In fact, I was the one usually lagging behind. I tried to lighten her pack by distributing some of the heavy items between Daryl and I, but by the time we divided up the water and food, she had a pack that weighed more than some of my overnight packs. Plus, she had to carry a whole bunch of makeup and her curling iron and blow dryer

At about 3:30 we crested a hill and glimpsed a valley far below. There was an open area that looked like a good camping place, green trees near the edge of the valley suggested water nearby, and it looked protected from the wind. Our maps indicated that this place was called Spring Trough. The trail seemed to skirt the edge of the trough and it took us a long time to hike down from the hills and navigate a riverbed into the campground, but we all agreed it was a good place for our home that night. I began to gather firewood as Daryl scouted for water at the spring and Donna prepared spots for our tents. Apparently, this land is open range and cows also enjoyed this place. The ground was covered with cow pies.

Daryl came back to report that the spring didn’t look like anything we would want to drink. We still had plenty of water for drinking and cooking but we would be careful not to waste any. After we set our tents up, we all gathered wood. The sun was beginning to set behind the hills and already the air had a chill to it. When we were sure we had enough firewood to last into the night, we made our dinner of Lasagna, chicken, and mushrooms – no, Donna and I did not like the mushrooms.

As we warmed ourselves by the fire, Daryl kept getting up to check the thermometer I had brought. By 9:30 p.m., the temperature was almost down to freezing and we were a little concerned that we would be able to stay warm in the night. According to the weather report we had so readily trusted, it should have been closer to 50 degrees at the minimum. Donna and I had tents but Daryl was sleeping out under the stars. None of us were prepared for below freezing temperatures, so when we crawled into our bags, we were wearing all our warmest clothes.

I remember wakening in the night and listening to Daryl unfold an emergency space blanket. He asked me if I was still staying warm and I replied, “Just barely”. I never herd a peep from Donna in the night, but the next morning she said she was a little cold too. Clouds moved in towards morning and the temperature rose a few degrees. By the time daylight broke over the hills and Donna and I crawled from our tents, Daryl had a nice fire going and we breakfasted on oatmeal and coffee.

The hike out followed an old forest road for most of the way. At times it would rain and once we were pelted with hail. It was chilly but we stayed warm with the exercise of walking. We met a group of horses and riders that talked with us briefly, and when we were almost back to the car, two young day-hikers were in awe of our rugged accomplishment. The only other people we met on the trail were two motorcycle riders that Daryl reminded should not be on the trail.

I had a great time on our desert hike. It was wonderful to spend time with Donna and Daryl. Maybe next summer we will be able to hike in the forests and mountains and get more relatives to come. Donna and I agree that one thing that definitely could have made this hike better was to have Karen with us.