We got
started from Teri's at 6:30 a.m. on June 23. The first two reports
give the details of the route (including an alternate route we took
by accident), so I'll skip right to our drive through the Feather
River Canyon, a place of great scenic beauty and amazing views of
river, canyon and forest. Once you start up from the Central Valley
at Oroville, you are soon high above the river. Although the
elevation at the start is fairly low, about 2,000 feet, it's farther
north than our usual mountain haunts, and the trees are what we
would see at 4,000 feet in the central Sierra. There is a railroad
running parallel to the river, and at various places both highway
and railroad go through tunnels, cross over on bridges mostly built
in the 1930s, and drop down to river level, then rise up again.
Thanks
to our early start, we arrived at Caribou Crossroads
a little before 1 p.m.,
and got checked in and set up. After fixing some lunch, we wandered
around the area, with Mikie and Lizzie doing some fishing. Late in
the afternoon we walked up the road that goes past the resort to a
Forest Service campground and eventually to a lake on the river. We
went only as far as the campground, looking for promising fishing
spots.
Back
at the RV park, we were sitting by the East Branch when we
spotted an animal swimming downstream. At the time we thought it was
a muskrat, which I have seen in the canals of Fresno a number of
times, but after looking at photos on line back at home, we decided
we had enjoyed the rare treat of seeing a North
American river otter. In other animal sightings, Mikie saw two
snakes while fishing, and we all saw several deer in various
locations.
Since
it was only a little more than a two-hour drive to Lake Almanor, we
deliberately got a late start on Saturday. After breakfast, Mikie
and Lizzie fished, while Teri and I walked up the road about two
miles. A short distance from the resort we noticed a set of
steps,
made of local slate rock, going up the bank. We climbed up, and
found more rock
work, presumably the site of a cabin or similar
residence from earlier times.
We
also took advantage of the opportunity to take a close look at some
of the evergreens that we don't normally see in the central Sierra
closer to home. Teri had a tree identification book with her, which
helped us spot hemlocks and Douglas
firs; and later at Lassen, western white pine and red firs that
differed somewhat from the ones we are used to. Above us on the
higher hills we could see scars from the CHIPS
Fire, which charred 75,000 acres in 2012.
When I
started thinking it was time to go back, we used a technique that I
often call on - we said we would walk "to that next bend."
Then if we saw something interesting beyond the bend, we would
walk
farther. In this case, there was a large penstock that came down the
hill on our right, crossed above the road, and rose up on the other
side of the river, so of course we walked that far. We
also enjoyed various flowers, rock formations,
steep cliffs above the road
on both sides of the narrow canyon, and the sound and sight of a good-size
river.
When
we left Caribou, we continued on Highway 70 along the river
for a few more miles, then turned on Highway 89 along Indian Creek. At
one point this canyon becomes a wide, level valley, where we stopped
in the town of Greenville to get a few items. A highlight of this
stop was a dairy case that mooed at us when we opened the door to
get milk.
We arrived at the
lake, and started looking for Almanor Drive West, which the
directions warned us not to confuse with West Almanor Drive. This
was not a problem, but the lack of a clear sign caused us to miss
the turn. We were able to turn back after a short distance and got
on the right road; then went past the poorly signed entrance to our
campground, and made another U-turn. Once in the campground, we
found our spot with no difficulty and got everything set up. We had
a quiet space in a section of the camp where there was plenty of
room between camps. We were also surrounded by huge, tall ponderosa
pines as well as firs and various small bushes and plants.
After
we got organized and had lunch, we drove along Almanor West Drive
till we saw a place we could get to the lake without being
surrounded by mobs of people. Mikie and Lizzie fished, and everyone
but me got wet in the
lake. We spent about an hour or a little more
here, then returned to camp for our evening activities - playing
cards, reading, eating, and loafing.
Mikie
had called Duncan McIntyre, the guide he went with on the two
previous trips, and arranged to meet him Sunday morning at Big Cove
dock, where we had camped the first time. Since fish apparently get
up earlier than civilized people, this meant getting up, eating
breakfast, and making the 30-minute drive in time to arrive by 6
a.m. The first part of our route was north on Highway 89 to its
junction with Highway 36. To the west, this road goes through Red
Bluff on I-5 and on to the coast; to the east it goes through Chester
on the north shore of Almanor, then on to Susanville. A short distance
past Chester is the road that takes you down into the peninsula
that juts into the northern side of the lake, and to resorts,
residential areas and boat docks.
After dropping the kids off, Teri and I set out on our own
adventure. Before the trip, she had checked on conditions at Lassen
Volcanic National Park, which often has deep snow well into
summer. A few days before we left home, access was very limited, but
we had hopes that things would be open by this time. After
determining that the fishermen would probably return around noon, we
decided to drive to Lassen and check things out for ourselves.
As we
had expected, only the first mile of the road was open, but people
could hike up the road beyond that point. After getting advice and
information at the entrance station we drove to the Sulfur Works, a
thermal area with steam vents and a bubbling, boiling mud
pot. There
is a large parking lot here, and despite the early hour, we were not
the first to arrive. After looking around this area, we started up
the road beyond. We had just got across a bridge when some other
hikers pointed out a doe and fawn in a snow field beside the road
just above us. We watched and took pictures as they made their way
down the snow, across the creek, and up the barren slope on the
other side.
We
continued up the road for about three quarters of a mile, amid
bright yellow mule's ears blossoms on both sides of us. In many
places water
running down the hills and along the road went through snow bridges,
and there was a large one in the parking lot, created by the melting
process. One bridge we saw the first day had collapsed by the time
we returned the next day. As Teri and I walked up the road, we passed the sign marking
the 7,000 foot elevation point. We went up to where we had a good
view of Brokeoff Mountain, which is a remnant of Mt.
Tehema, a huge volcano that rose to 11,000 feet (higher than
Lassen) and was eleven miles wide at the base. Eruptions and
explosions and lava flows between 600 thousand and 400 thousand
years ago reduced the giant mountain to a circle of
remnants.
Although there were no human witnesses to Tehema's demise, Mt. Lassen had a period of
eruptions, steam explosions and lava flows between 1914 and 1921, and there are photos and even movies
of these events available.
By the
time we got back to the car it was 9:30, and the visitor center was
open, so we went there to shop for souvenirs and study the various
exhibits. I had been to Lassen three times previously, but it was
Teri's first visit, and the limited activities we were able to do
that day and the next only made her want to return again.
On our
way back we stopped at the Child's Meadow Resort, where I had stayed
both times with grandson Johnny in the 1990s, and in 2010 with Tim
and Mikie. This location has a huge meadow, several miles long,
filled with flowers and boasting dramatic views of the snow-covered
peaks in the national park.
We got
back to the fishing dock a little before noon, and parked next to a
shaded picnic table, where we had our lunch. Eventually we received
a text that the sailors were coming in, and before long we were admiring
the five fish they had
caught, a mix of rainbow
trout and salmon. The guide service included filleting the fish, so we headed back to
camp with a large bag of fresh fish, some of which went into tacos
for that night's dinner.
It had
already been decided that we would all go to Lassen Park the final
day. With no deadlines to meet, we got up when we felt like it,
enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and started up the highway. We had
decided to hike to Mill Creek Falls, a four mile
round trip starting near the visitor center. However, the first 50
feet of the trail were covered in snow, and we slipped and slid as
we made our way down. We called a halt, and with little discussion
and no dissenting votes, decided to abandon this potentially
hazardous trail and hike up the road from the Sulfur Works parking
lot. Rangers had told us that most people hiking there were seeing
bears down in the canyon along the road about a mile or so up.
Although
four miles on pavement left us a bit footsore, we all realized we
were getting a much better look at things along the way than we
could have from just driving through. This included a ridge of volcanic
material with a window in the rock which Teri spotted the previous
day, and which I had never noticed driving past it three or four
times. We also had a distant view of Child's
Meadow, a green patch
in the midst of the dark green evergreens that cover most of the
land in this part of the state.
The road went up hill gently with a
steep slope above us on one side, and the canyon of a little creek
on the other. We didn't see any bears, but the bottom of the
valley was
probably a quarter mile below us, so they could have been lurking
behind any bush. We did see a deer feeding on the slope just above
us, and of course throughout the hike, we were in upper elevation
forest, with red firs the predominant tree. This bark of this
species was not quite as noticeably red as we are used to, but a
study of the foliage and a look at Teri's tree book showed that we
had identified them correctly.
We
also saw lots of snow and water, with little creeks running down the
hillside and along the road, and snow banks
sculpted by the sun
everywhere along the road, some of them rising higher than our
heads.
Of
course, the most dramatic sight was Mt.
Lassen, rising nearly 3,000
feet above us to more than 10,000 feet. Johnny and I hiked the trail
to the top back in the 20th Century, but it was clear that the trail
would be blocked by snow for at least another month.
We saw
quite a few other hikers, some of them going well beyond where we
turned back, and chatted with some of them. It seemed that everyone
was making the best of the situation, just as we were.
When
we returned to the truck, we drove to the visitor center so Lizzie
and Mikie could get a look and buy some t-shirts. Here we observed a
number of small children playing in the snow and throwing snowballs.
As
previously planned, we drove into Chester on our way back and had
dinner at a restaurant. We drove through all the way through town looking at various
possibilities, then made another of our famous U-turns and went to
the Kopper
Kettle, which proved to be an excellent choice. After dinner we
planned to go to a place that had ice cream, but it was
closed, so we were forced to drive to the little store just beyond
our campground to get something to take home for dessert.
Lizzie
and Mikie drove down to the lake, and took advantage of the
campground's shower facilities. They took their poles, but didn't do
much more fishing.
The
next day was Tuesday, and time to head for home. Mikie drove my
truck and I rode with Teri both coming and going. We left camp
together, but they got ahead of us, and ended up taking a slightly
different route home, having located their new favorite deli
franchise, Mr. Pickles, in Yuba City on a highway that ran parallel
to the one we were on, just a few miles farther west.
One of
the more unusual sights seen while driving through the Central
Valley north of Sacramento is the Sutter
Buttes, a small complex of eroded lava domes rising from the
flat valley floor in Sutter County. Going up I-5, I had seen them
from the west side when I made my first trip north of Sacramento
about 1970. From Highway 70 or Highway 99, you get a look from the
east side. I was able to get only a hazy
photo, but there are plenty
of views on the Internet.
We
arrived back in Fresno to find that the weather had cooled off
somewhat from the 105 and higher levels we had experienced before
our trip - barely 99 degrees. At Teri's house we moved all my stuff
from the motor home to my pickup, and said goodbye until our next
adventure.
--Dick Estel, July 2017
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