Moab

Wednesday started out with Helen feeling a bit bettem but still nursing a very sore hip.  We left the Antelope Valley RV site (Coast to Coast??) and headed east on Highway 50, where we merged with Highway 70--all the way to Green River. 

Along the way to Green River (where they hold a melon festival every September--we bought a crenshaw and a canary melon to take with us from a fruit stand), we stopped at all of the scenic pullovers on our side of the freeway.  Some of the pullovers had picnic tables, others did not, but all had beautiful views--from twisted and ancient trees to vast canyon vistasm with rocks blood red, yellow, grey, and all colors in between.  We lunched at the Ghost Rock pullover.

We arrived in Moab, where I picked up a prescription, and noticed that most of the hiotels were all full.  We had made reservations at the Moab KOA, so we headed there.  While we were setting up, twelve CfrusieAmerica RVs arrived in a grouo--all speaking a fireiufgn language, perhaps Dutch.  The KOA is full up tonight.  Tomorrow we start exploring Arches National Park and Canyonlands.

Fall Utah Trip

On Monday, Helen, Liz and I set out from the walnut ranch before daybreak and headed to Lockford for breakfast, pulling the little Roo.  After a great country breakfast, we continued east on Highway 88 to ultimately pick up highway 50 in Nevada and head across the great basin.  The Three Stooges were on the road again. 

The trip is mainly in Utah, so our goal is to hotfoot it across Nevada, where we spent a good deal of time this spring.  So on Monday, we travelled about 250 miles to end up at a beautiful U.S. Forest Service campground (The Bob Scott Campground) just east of Austin, NV.  Set in the pine trees, the small campground was lovely and at night the only sound was of coyotes, as Highway 50 is lightly traveled.

The next day we pushed on 300 miles, all the way through ev to end up camping at a commercial RV park, Antelope valley RV park, in Utah near Delta.  This is a membership campground, but they allow overnighters.   It is pretty hot here tonight.  By tomorrow, we will be in Moab!

Saving Liz

Bowling Ball Beach (shown at left) south of Point Arena in Mendocino County has been a goal of Helen's for several years.  She and I hiked down there one early morning a couple of years ago, only to be thwarted at the last fifteen feet by an unscalable, it seemed, section of rock.  Liz and I decided to try it once again today, hoping that Helen and I had not found the proper descent area.  I thought about taking a rope, but didn't.

The day was early, and a minus tide at 5 a.m. provided for beautiful scenery as we headed south, passing coves where the tide exposed rocks normally covered by the sea.  

These low minus tides are unusual, and we chose the day because the early low tides would nearly guarantee that the balls would be visible if we reached the beach early enough.  We were parking at Schooner Gulch a little before 7 a.m. at the trailhead. 

We had researched the recent (2011 and 2012) web info for the trail, and people reported that they could climb down the remnants of a ladder.  Well, we ended up at the same point that Helen and I had two years earlier.  The last fifteen feet were marked by an eroded set of steps, dropping to a smooth and steep sandstone slab.  If I were twenty years younger, I would have started down.  If I had brought a rope, I might have given it a try.  Instead, after a close examination, we both said:  "We need Laura."  Our plan is to send the much younger Laura scrambling down the last part and she can see if we can make it.  I will also bring a rope.

We continued down the road to Sea Ranch since the morning was early and we had all the time in the world.  It was near Gualala that I had to save Liz from an attacking Tyrannosaurus rex.  Lucky I was with her, or she might have been a tasty morsel for those sharp teeth.

These metal monsters (more T. Rex, plus two other types along with a giant King Kong-like ape) were interesting, and probably for sale by the metal sculptor who operates the place.  Also interesting were the deer-resistent plants that graced the trail in front of the T. Rex.  Several are lovely, and I will take them to the Botanical Gardens and hopefully one of their master gardeners can help me find out their name so I can get them for my own garden.  Here are two:

We also spotted birdlife along the way--varying from some perched turkey vultures staring out at the low tide as if seeking a stranded fish...

...to a huge flock of Canada geese grazing in the distance amid the dried grass of a dairy pasture:

They were wary, and moved away from me as I took the pictures, but the telephoto lens showed their beautiful markings clearly:

Back at the ranch well before noon, we took a nap....or at least I did.  Lizzie worked the puzzle.

Fern Canyon

The heat wave has hit the valleys of the Coastal Range, and Benbow is very warm.  Deciding that coastal trips were a better idea, today Liz and I explored Fern Canyon along Little River.  Where once the property included a section of land down to the center of the river, now of course it is all parkland, the old road is a trail, and the vegetation remains as lush as my memories of the beauty from fifty to sixty years ago.

Five finger ferns carpet any areas where springs drip glimmers of water, out-competing the sword fern, carrot fern, and lace ferns that abound.  We once hiked down to this section of the canyon, dropping off from the first flat near the old rough-hewn eastern State Park boundary marker, and would zig zag down the steep hill along trails carved out in the late 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps.  When my Grandfather "J.W." first bought the land, he and my grandmother would carry water up the steep hill to the old house, along what was then undoubtedly a fairly newish trail.  The hand-dug well by the house had fallen in, and water was a premium, so the trek up-and-down the steep hillside, zig-zagging along, was just what one had to do.  It wasn't until after my Grandfather's death that my folks became friends with the Mendosas and were able to fill large metal milk cans with water from the spigot behind the market.

Fifteen or so years later in the early fifties, when I first have a memory of walking it, the trail was masked by fallen redwood needles, but where animals used it as a track, it looked as if it had just been built.  I was a small child when my Grandmother would take my brother and me down the hill to fish in Little River. After trekking down the steep hill, we would have to get across Little River to the south side where the road ran. I remember how icy cold the water was as we took off our shoes and waded across, trying to avoid the thorny berries and stinging nettles.  We would walk along the road--then a paved driving road--to a nearby stone bridge where we generally dangled our lines free from the stinging nettles that were creekside through much of the riparian zone.  We caught small, six inch steelhead, then hauled them back up the hill and "Bigma" would fry them up for dinner.  They could be munched, bones and all, much like fried surfish. 

I am sure that remnants of the zig-zagging trail can still be found on the hill, now belonging to the Park.  That section of land leading to Little River was sold to them by Lincoln and Velva in the late 1950s, since the two both thought it should not be in private hands, but belong to the Park. 

The old CCC bridges are gone, replaced by salmon-friendly arched wooden bridges, and the paved road has narrowed to half its size.  Still, the trail is full of surprises around every corner, and the beauty is beyond words.  Whether Liz is holding a "branch" back for the next person (or maybe a bit bigger than a branch)



or we are walking past small little springs that trickle through the stones and ferns into the creek....

...Little River's Fern Canyon Trail is not to be missed!  Those of us who hiked down to Little River over the years will find the canyon very familiar, and the memories will be as fresh as yesterday.

Sunstones, Goose Lake, then back to California

On Friday, Laura, Liz, and I went past Plush to the sunstone gathering area.  I picked up quite a few small ones, but Laura found several good sized crystals and all wth color.  One really needs a shovel and a sieve.  This a unique Bureau of Land Managemnt area where sunstones (with several mine claims and operating mines) abound.  They are the Oregon state gem stone.

We also glimpsed (too quick for a photo) a beautiful antelope on the way in to the sunstone gathering area. 

Erich left on Friday, and missed the wonderful barbecue at Davis Creek that night. On Saturday night we strolled toward the lake and caught sight of  a pair of sandhill cranes and their young one--they are huge birds.  It was only the three that we saw, and I thought sandhills travelled in great flocks.

It ws a weekend of BBQs because we had a great steak at the annual volunteer fire department BBQ at Goose Lake on Sunday afternoon prior to pulling out and heading south.  Great food and good music!

Deadhorse to Goose Lake

The wind kept being gusty at Deadhorse Lake, and the bug tent is on its last gasp, but provides shade, as the sun is very warm when the wind stops.   Many small boats, plus a few other float tubes and pontoon boats are launched each day--some from a few campers using the area but many from day use (perhaps coming overfrom Campbell lake).  Then, on the Friday, the campground filled up, and all sites were in use along with some at the group site.  Many fisherpeople dotted the shore as well as fished in boats/floats/pontoons.  Laura caught a large trophy trout and two smaller fish, which we cookied up for dinner.  After that, both she and Chris caught fish, but released what they caught.  The rest of us did not fare so well and didn't have bites, or if we did, none were caught.

On Friday, Brad and Judy headed toward Red Bluff, leaving Erich, us and the kids at the camp.  We planned to leave on Sunday and head to the Deschutes area, but we decided that the planned camping sites would be even windier than Deadhorse, so we decided to head back to Goose Lake and fish and explore arouind that area.   Erich decided he would go there as well, and the kids planned to leave after supper on Saturday.  Lincoln and Parker did not sleep well Friday night, and Lincoln was really tired because he was so busy playing, so Chris and Deidra changed their plans and left mid-day on Saturday, planning on getting a motel room for the night where maybe the two boys could get some more rest.

On Sunday morning, we arose early, and began to caravan with Erich out of the National Forest.  Erich's brakes did not seem to be working properly, but wr made it easily back to Lakeview then to the Campground, where we set up camp.   We returned to Lakeview and lunched at the Burger Queen, then did laundry, filled propane tanks, re-fueled, and returned to the base camp.

Goose Lake is a beautiful campground, with fields of lupine extending from the grassy campsites out into a large meadow.  Birds and other wildlife abound, around the many trails (below)..  So do mosquitos, and I wore my bug jacket most of the time, but still managed to get well eaten by the blood-suckers.  Erich is parked next to us in campsite 24, and we are in a secluded campsite 25, with Laura in 26.

It is warm at the campground, as a heat wave has hit the western states.  The central valley and interior coastal valleys like Boonville are in the 100s, and Death Valley is reaching 125 degrees.   The nineties here at the lake make it too warm in the trailer (we have air conditioning if we want to use it, but outside in the shade is nice with a soft breeze) until bedtime, when it cools down considerably.  We are cooking on the camp stove--delicious breakfasts like sausage and eggs, and today we had bacon and eggs with home-baked bread`on the toaster.  Wonderful!

The first morning (Monday) at Goose Lake was dedicated to locating a place selling California fishing licenses, which we found at the Davis Creek store.  They still have a barbecue every Fridat night, and we plan to go there this week.  Our next stop was at the Plum Creek winery, where we helped the local economy along with purchases of wine, jams, and spirits.  The owner told us that the big Goose Lake BBQ was this Sunday, so I re-arranged appointments to delay returning by two days so we could attend the BBQ.  We did some errands in town while Errich stayed at camp, and then swung by the New Pine Creek  rockshop where Laura also helped the local economy.  In addition to selling rocks to us and others passing by, the owenr sells and ships large bags of rocks to  China, where they `are made into beads and other items and sold back to Americans and others.  That night,  Erich cooked steaks for us, and our dinner was another delicious one.

The weather forecast was for a warming trend, and the next day it seemed appreciably warmer as we headed back to Davis Creek to take the long way into Reservoir C.  I hadn't known how many miles it would be nor the slowness of the road, so it took a good 2.5 hours to reach the turnoff to Reservoir C.  Along the way we passed through the Devil's Garden area, stopped to explore the historical Pease Cabin, andafter a long while on the gravel road,  decided that we would go into Alturas for lunch.  Laura said she would return to reservoir C the next day, but Liz and I decided we would take her back after lunch, since we were already near, but Erich had had enough of the gravel roads, and decided he would return to camp.  So, after swapping some gear, the three of us returned to reservoir C to fish the afternoon.

Laura fished and caught two trout equal or larger to her trophy trout at Deadhorse, and the whole time was surrounded by pelicans. 

Four large white pelicans seemed to be summering on Reservoir C, and were very interested in her.  Perhaps they hoped she had a stringer of fish they could swipe. But Laura was catch-and-release fishing, so they were out of luck.  It was a warm day, but there was shade in the smll campground (3 sites), and we read, watched wildlife, and took photos whjile Laura fished.  

We returned to Alturas, filling up with gas then doing a quick hose off at the carwash before returning to camp in the early evening.

The next day we traveled 299 to Cedarville, and spent the day doing a little sightseeing in town, a bit of rockhounding out the road by the cemetary, and had lunch at the small diner where Liz, Laura, and I had eaten before.  It was good, and we bought a loaf of homemade bread to take away with us.

That afternoon Erich's air conditioning in his trailer went out--the fan worked, but no cooling.  Erich had planned to leave to head for Red Bluiff on Thursday, but with the heatwave hitting he was concerned about B rody if he stopped at Camping World in Anderson tio get it and the brakes fixed.  As the three of us left Thursday morning  to fish Lily Lake, Erich was heading into Lakeview to make calls and do a few chores, planning on leaving real early Fridaty morning. 

Deadhorse Lake

The three rigs caravanned into the Fremont National Forest—first turning on to Thomas Creek Road, and criss-crossing through agricultural lands, until the National Forest lands started with typical small brown signs directing us toward Campbell and Dead Horse lakes.  We passed through some beautiful scenery, with wildflowers throughout green meadows, surrounded by timber lands.  The roads were open range and we slowed for cattle on the road several times.  Some pre-commercial thinning had stacks of small trees on landings past the Dairy Creek turnoff, but we were un-prepared for the extent of cutting once we turned onto the gravel road leading to the lakes.  Most trees were cut along a wide swath along the roads, but the upland areas were grey—dead tree thickets abounded, with only an occasional green survivor.  All the destruction relates to a severe beetle infestation.  Where once you could not see Campbell Lake from the road, now it was easily seen, all the way around, with barren campsites supporting only an occasional leggy tree.  Despitethis foreshadowing, I was unprepared for the sight of Deadhorse Lake—a place I had camped frequently under lush trees with the small blue lake lying like a gem surrounded by the green forest.  The green forest is gone and, like Campbell Lake, only a few trees are left in a swath around the lake, with dead grey forestland above on the hillsides.

After the initial shock, I adjusted.  The area is still pretty, but is not the lake from the past.  Don’t expect that, and the lakeside campground remains enjoyable.   We set up our camps side-by-side, with me between Brad and Erich.  The bug tent went up quickly, as did Laura’s tent.  Water was brownish, and not really acceptable for drinking, but we felt we could try Campbell Lake for water  Liz went for a walk with Emily, and the others were out and about as well.  Suddenly, a huge gust of wind—far more serious than any gusts we’d encountered, blew across the lake and hit the bug tent.  The stakes ripped out of the ground and the tent cartwheeled onto the campfire.  I ran toward it from the rig, and Laura ran up from the lake, and together we pulled the tent off the fire and rotated it back pver the nearby picnic table.  We re-affixed the poles, ran guy-string ties top two trees and another to a stump, and secured it from further wind cartwheeling.  However, a three foot length of netting had melted, which I patched with black Gorilla tape, and the tent was slightly mis-shapened, but it still did the trick and kept out the insects, more-or-less.  Gusty winds would batter it over the next several days, gradually pulling it into shapes never intended by the manufacturer.  One entry zipper gave up the ghost a couple of days later, but the tent still provided  shade and some protection from bugs.

 Laura got some nibbles on her first morning out, but I didn’t get a bite, nor did Erich or the others.  Fishing from the bank I sa challenge because of all of the trees and brush which are in the lake around the shoreline.

Cocktail hour came every night, and we enjoyed ourselves around the campfire.  Emily would play with her Ipod while the rest of us talked about this-and-that, then mainly went our separate ways for dinner.  The 4^th of July was a communal dinner, with everyone cooking chicken and bringing a side dish.  Great food, great company, and a good time was had by all.

Chris, Deidra and the boys joined us on the 4^th of July—they have a large tent that can fit all 4 of them, and it was easily set up, after we warned them about the wind and they weighted the tent bottom with their things.  Lincoln was really enjoying himself, playing in the dirt, fishing with his Dad, and exploring with his mom and Parker.  Lincoln  had his first campfire marshmallow, and little Parker enjoyed watching his Grandma do up the dishes.