Mountain Lions on the Trail: They See You Before You See Them.

I like to tell stories. Sometimes, I even like to write stories about things that I've seen, done and experienced. This one's a long one, so don't complain about "TL; DR" to me - you've been warned, but it is one of my favorites. I'm also happy to say that in my opinion, the story is made at least ten times better by the great photos that Calipidder lent me to accompany the piece, so go check out her site as well for more great trail reports and photos! So, without further ado, here's the story about how I avoided death-by-mountain-lion!

Heading up the Old Rockslides Trail. Photo Courtesy of Calipidder.com

In 1998, I was offered a job from the Backcountry Division of the National Park Service in Yosemite.  The job was longer than a summer, since it started in April and ended in September, but the term of my contract said summer – one of the longest and best summers of my life. I went into my job a fresh faced 20-something year old, and came out a tan, still mostly fresh faced 20-year old with a unique perspective on wilderness, the National Parks, and life who was ten pounds lighter and needed a haircut badly. There is no doubt in my mind that that job was the experience of a lifetime.

In case you’re not familiar with the National Park Service, it has a number of divisions and departments. My division, the Backcountry Division had three primary responsibilities: patrol and maintain the trails; issue wilderness permits; and preserve, protect and educate the general public about the park. These three responsibilities sound simple enough, but in reality, the job encompassed everything from telling park visitors where the bathroom was, to providing first aid on searches and rescues. Although it was the job of a lifetime, it was not for the faint hearted. Even though my contract said that I would work 8 to 5, or ten hour shifts, it was an all day job from the moment I went to bed and took off the uniform, and from the moment I woke up and put the uniform back on.

Yosemite is a large park – as big as Rhode Island, and in Yosemite, there are a number of Backcountry Rangers with different areas of responsibility. I was a Valley Backcountry Ranger, meaning that I was responsible for the middle corridor of the park, heading down towards Wawona, and up towards Tuolumne, and bordered on the East by Big Oak Flat. Some people would say that as a Valley Ranger, I had the worst assignment, as I would see the most people. Actually, I had the best assignment as I ended up seeing most of Yosemite; but when I was starting out in April, I didn’t know much about the park. I had been to the park several times, but compared to visitors who had been traveling to Yosemite for over twenty years, or Rangers who had been living there for thirty years, I knew nothing.

Looking at El Capitan from the Old Rockslides Trail. Photo Courtesy of Calipidder.com

The first couple weeks turned out to be the best weeks of my job: as I was new, and as it was April, I spent nearly all of my time patrolling the trail, in order, as my boss put it “to get the lay of the land”. In those early weeks, I definitely got the lay of the land, covering mile upon mile on every conceivable trail. It was great – I was getting paid to hike. Even on my off days, I was encouraged to go to new destinations from other Rangers that I lived with. Despite all of the hiking, I still had a two page list of unknown spots in the park that people told me I “had” to visit. One of the spots on that list was the “Old Rockslides Trail”. If you haven’t heard of this trail in Yosemite, it’s because it isn’t really a trail.

The thing about the Old Rockslides Trail that I’m trying to remember as I tell this story if it was an actual trail back in 1998. I think it was a trail that was semi-maintained by the National Park Service, but then again, perhaps it wasn’t even back then either. In any case, what the Old Rockslides Trail really is is the Old Big Oak Flat Road that used to run out of Yosemite Valley before rockslides (I know, surprising with a name like “Old Rockslides”) caused the road to be closed. If you’re at Inspiration Point even today, you can look across the Valley, and see what looks like a straight line road cutting across part of a talus covered road. You guessed it: that is the remains of the Old Big Oak Flat Road/Old Rockslides Trail. If you’re interested in hiking this trail, be prepared: while it may be a “trail” in the sense that it is easy to follow in places as it is an old road; in other places, it is overgrown, blocked by boulders, and not traveled by many visitors. (For more information on how to get here, check here and here).

The terrain of the Old Rockslides Trail. Photo Courtesy of Calipidder.com

I was told that I had to check out the Old Rockslides Trail by my co-workers for one reason and one reason only: to see amazing views of the North Rim without being surrounded by tons of visitors. I was also told that one of the great forgotten viewpoints of the park was Rainbow View, which had been abandoned, but was accessible after heading up a steep boulder field. (This is the hike discussed in the link above). So, one Wednesday (Park Rangers never get Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays off), I headed out from the Ranger Club (Yes, that’s where I lived, the Ranger Club – swanky!) and across the valley. It was a great spring day, and the temperatures were finally beginning to melt the snow up at the higher elevations. All around me, waterfalls – seasonal and regular – were roaring with the ferocity that only an El Nino year of melting snow can bring.

After a bit of route-finding past El Capitan, I found the trail and continued up, heading out of the valley. It was a quiet day, and I could hear the snap of every twig and the crunch of brush as my boots passed through overgrown areas and various deadfalls. Alongside the trail, chipmunks raced along, chirping at me for a free handout. The wind rustled the leaves of the plants alongside me, and I could hear every leaf stretching and growing in the spring sun. As I ascended, I knew exactly why this “trail” had been recommended: there was indeed nothing like it on the “approved” list of National Park valley trails. It was wild. It was what the park had been; and what the park could be if man vanished. It was a great hike.

On the Old Rockslides Trail, looking at Bridalveil Falls/Bridalveil Canyon/Yosemite Valley. Photo Courtesy of Calipidder.com

It was also a hard hike. After I broke treeline, the road – what was left of it – vanished. In its place? Rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. And when I say rocks, I mean boulders. As I hefted myself over boulders, I checked my holds; checked my landings and most of all, watched for snakes. I even had to constantly check upslope for the stability of the field – it was after all, the old rockslides trail. At around 2pm, I began to consider turning around. I had probably gone about seven miles total from the Ranger Club, which meant that I would have had a fourteen mile day when I returned back home – on my “day off”. While the view was spectacular, I knew it wasn’t going to get any better within the next mile or so. I stopped on a particularly large rock, ate some lunch, and began to descend back the way I had come.

The trouble about abandoned places, in my opinion, is that the mind begins to play tricks on you. The mind has evolved over thousands of years to survive; and it doesn’t like to be alone in the wild. The mind hears things where nothing makes a sound; it sees things where nothing is; and these two things are just the top of the iceberg. As I had traversed the boulderfield on my way up, I had begun to feel like I was being watched; and after several breaks to ostensibly look at the view, I had satisfied myself that those feelings were nothing more than the usual “heebie-jeebies” that new and empty places sometimes bring. But as I descended, the feeling began again, except this time, it was more intense.

After a certain point, I was rattled. I had one eye on my immediate surroundings, so I wouldn’t break an ankle, and one eye on everything else. It was a sort of hop-drop-scan-hop-drop-scan routine that probably made me look ridiculously paranoid, and made me glad that there were indeed no people anywhere around me. Finally, after a while, I found myself at the edge of the boulderfield, and near actual cracked pavement leading back into the trees. I dropped down at the base of one last boulder and looked up as a matter of recent habit, and froze. Upon the top of that boulder, not more than six feet from me was a full grown mountain lion.

Looking down the Old Rockslides Trail. Photo Courtesy of Calipidder.com

My first thought was that my brain was playing a hell of a trick on me. There was absolutely no way that I could be that close to a mountain lion. After all, it was six feet away! I blinked. In fact, I didn’t blink. I shut my eyes for at least five seconds. I opened them. It was still there. At that point, my brain was positively screaming at me to MOVE! MOVE RIGHT NOW! But I couldn’t move. I was frozen solid. And then it looked at me. Its head turned silently on those creepy smooth cat vertebrae and it was looking right at me. Before its head turned, my brain had registered how I couldn’t see it. Its lower coat was gray – gray that blended right in with the rocks and its upper coat wasn’t exactly brilliant gold.

These were the things my brain was chattering at me as I stared into golden eyes that looked like certain death. Because while its coat wasn’t snap-pow brilliant, it was clearly a healthy mountain lion. It was big – at least six feet. It didn’t appear to have an inch of fat on it; but neither was it skinny: all I could see was powerful cat muscles as it laid on the rock. And while I was dead certain its eyes were the last things I would see, they were stunning. I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there, staring at it, watching it stare at me, but I knew my mind was still screaming at me to move, before it started screaming at me to go for the knife I had in my front right pant pocket. It was a three inch Buck folding knife. The fingers on my right hand may have flicked imperceptibly toward it as I continued to stare at the lion before a thought raced through my brain even faster than the one that had preceded it. That thought? Going for the knife isn’t going to do anything for you. You’d never get it out of your pocket at this distance.

It wasn’t that I was resigned to die at that moment; it was just the certainty that there wasn’t anything that I could do to stop the process. Run? I wouldn’t make it a foot. Go for the knife? I was six feet away. The cat would leap on top of me, pinning me down with its momentum, claws, and teeth at a large twitch. So I stared. I stared. It stared. Time, to me, stopped. And then it closed its eyes, put its head down and stopped looking at me. I stared. Clearly, I was hallucinating. It didn’t move. It didn’t raise its head. Then, the voice in my head came back. GO. GO NOW. It said. As quick slow as I dared, I began to ease away from it, while facing it. Its head stayed down. By the time I’d reached the treeline, it was just a blob on a rock. A furry blob of death that I hadn’t seen and I had stumbled at least five times.

Two switchbacks down the trail from treeline, when I couldn’t see the rocks, nor the blob anymore, I threw caution to the wind and broke into a flat out panicked full out sprint, risking ankles, knees, legs, and pretty much any body part to a major fall. I didn’t care. It wasn’t until I was on the valley road again did I allow myself the luxury of walking. And that was how I saw a mountain lion, got to participate in a mountain lion research study, and how I escaped death from a mountain lion as well. So yes, mountain lions: they're out there, and they see you before you see them.

How to Climb Mt. Whitney

So, you’re looking to climb Mt. Whitney? If so, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve climbed Mt. Whitney a number of times – without snow, with snow, on the mountaineer’s route, on the Mt. Whitney trail, under sunny skies, and under cloudy skies with thundersnow. I’ve seen bears, lots of marmots, and all sorts of hikers, mountaineers, and climbers. While I’m not going to say that I’ve seen it all, I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve written a lot, and since I’ll be talking about Mt. Whitney tomorrow on IIAWT, this is a great time to recap all of the resources that are present on this site (and off this site). So, without any further ado, if you want to know how to climb Mt. Whitney, here’s what you need to know!

Alpineglow, Trail Camp, Mt. Whitney, 2007

What Is the Mt. Whitney Trail?: Lucky for you, if you need to start at the very beginning as to what the trail is and where it takes you, I talk about that right here.

Permit Process: Yes, Mt. Whitney requires a permit for the peak season (from Memorial Day through October). If you’re looking for tips and tricks as to how to get a permit, get some great insight from me here as to how the permit process works, and how to get that elusive permit if you need it. And, if you’re interested, go straight to the source here, and see what the Forest Service has to say.

Gear Lists: In case you’re wondering what to take, check out my gear lists for a multi-day climb; or my gear list for a single day climb.

Trip Reports: Check out my trip reports from 2013, 2012, and 2010. And, if you are looking for current Trail Conditions, Whitneyzone always has great trip reports and is a great resource for the casual or serious climber year-round.

Trail Hazards: Yep, Mt. Whitney is the largest peak in the continental 48 states. While I can’t predict exactly what you will encounter on the mountain, you should be prepared and aware of the dangers of altitude sickness, untreated water, dehydration, heatstroke, and hypothermia. Placing all of those scary things to the side, you should also know how to protect your food and store your food both in the car and on the trail to avoid problems from hungry marmots and hungry bears.

Mt. Whitney, April 2013

Everything Else: Like most mountaineers, I have my thoughts about the sport, and how one should climb Mt. Whitney. While you can read it all here, what I think in short is that everyone needs to stay safe above all else, and enjoy what they are doing. Very zen indeed!

Finally, tune in tomorrow to In Ice Axe We Trust to hear more of my thoughts (if possible) on this subject at 8PM PST.

The Zen of Mountain Climbing

I’ve been heading up to Mt. Whitney on a yearly basis for a while now. I’m not quite sure when it started, because I have a love-hate relationship with the mountain. Every time I get there, I am amazed, awed, and thrilled to be there. Then, at some point on the climb, the positive emotions turn negative – I get tired, I posthole for a couple miles, or something minor happens and becomes frustrating. I then vow never to go back. After about six months pass I think to myself, “I should really go to Mt. Whitney”, and the cycle starts again.  This year, due to some external factors, I had to make my yearly trip earlier than usual (Last week, I talked current trail conditions here), and while I was climbing/mountaineering/hiking along, I realized that I had a tip to share about climbing Mt. Whitney. I’ve shared many tips, but the main tip, I realized as I sat under perfect blue skies at just above 12,000 feet on an icy slope, is that it is more than fine to turn around on Whitney, and in fact, turning around on Whitney, or any mountain, for that matter, can make your climb into a better experience – and not just for practical life-saving reasons.

Inyo National Forest, April 2013

Hear me out: I didn’t summit Whitney this year, and I don’t have a problem with admitting that, as it was one of my better climbs. I feel that this is what makes the difference between a veteran climber, and a novice climber. A novice climber feels the pressure of having to make the summit at all costs, and when they don’t, in my experience, they come up with the x, y, and z of excuses of why it didn’t happen. A veteran climber, on the other hand, simply states the obvious: that there were adverse factors, but admits that they personally didn’t get it done. To prove this theory, I need look no further than my last climb of Whitney. From two miles in, I had to find my own route; I was on ice; I was on snow; and there was a stiff, vigorous breeze that was pushing against me at around 25 mph; and in the chute, the sun partially melted the snow and slowed my progress to a crawl.

Mt. Whitney Trail, April 2013

Depending on how I tell the story; any one of those reasons could be used as an excuse as to why I didn’t make the summit. But here’s the deal: I got a late start. That was on me. I wasn’t moving as fast as I could. That was on me. I didn’t bring snowshoes. That was on me. Finally, perhaps my conditioning could have been a little better, because my conditioning could always be a little better. Those external factors? Well, it’s Mt. Whitney. In 2007, when I successfully climbed it with my group, I woke up in the middle of the night at Trail Camp, and headed outside. At that point, there were 35-45 mph wind gusts ripping down the mountain. The temperature? A balmy -1. The climb? Yeah, we made it up to the summit and back down the next day in those same winds. As for snow, I’ve seen more snow on the mountain in 2002, 2005, and 2010, just to name a few times.

As for the chute, in 2010, we made good, but not great time on our ascent, and got trapped in the chute in that same molasses like snow and ice – but we still summited. To top that off, on that same climb, we had to hustle off the summit to avoid an unexpected thunderstorm. That storm also dumped snow on us during our descent. All of that happened on June 21st – the summer solstice! My point? On Whitney, like any big mountain, there’s always going to be problems. There’s just no two ways about it. This is a true story: every mountain, including Mt. Whitney is always going to throw everything it can at you. The weather is always going to be an issue. The altitude is going to always be an issue. No matter how good your conditioning is, your conditioning is also always going to be an issue. The reason these things are always going to be an issue is because mountaineering – the climbing of mountains - is challenging; namely because mountains themselves are large, immovable objects, and are inherently challenging. Mountaineering is meant to be a challenge. After all, it’s not sleeping. It’s meant to challenge every aspect of your being.

Mt. Whitney Trail, April 2013

This challenge is also what I’m talking about when I talk about the difference between novices and veterans. In my opinion, and not everyone may agree with it, a novice makes those excuses I talked about above, because they feel like they’ve failed the challenge of climbing the mountain. A veteran, on the other hand, understands this point: that the challenge is only failed if you endanger yourself; or other people. Whether you make the summit is immaterial. The challenge is how you respond to adversity – the mountain. Sure, the summit is the most tangible example of whether one completed – and rose to the smaller challenge; but the real example in my mind as a veteran climber of whether one has risen to the mountaineering challenge is whether one made it back down safely – irrespective of whether one has “bagged” the peak.

I turned around on Whitney this year, because I knew I didn’t have enough daylight left to summit and safely descend. Sure, I had the gear; and sure I had the skills. I also knew that I was the only one on the mountain that day. If something happened to me, and accidents do happen on Whitney, I would be on my own, in a bad way. I turned around because the challenge was to get down safely at that point, and come back another day. Sure, it was easy for me because I’ve been on the summit eight times. But, I’ll be honest: as a veteran, I would have turned around even with no summits under my belt, because the mountain is always going to be there.

That’s the awareness I’d like to leave novice climbers with: the mountain is always going to be there – but you won’t. If you’re in a spot where it’s “go” – or “don’t go”, give the “don’t go” serious consideration, because you can always come back. Sometimes, when you don’t go, as well, you not only place yourself in a better position in terms of surviving, you place yourself in a better position for appreciating what’s out there, and that’s what I’d like to leave you with. I don’t know how big the mountaineering community is world-wide, but I’d be willing to guess that even with the increase in popularity the last ten years, it’s still fairly small. We, as mountaineers are a minority of the populace. We are a community that will hike, climb, and yes, mountaineer into some of the remotest spots on the planet. These are spots that most people will likely never hear about; and may likely never see. These are spots that most people will likely never experience, even if they are popular spots like Mount Whitney. Irrespective of whether a far summit is achieved, we as mountaineers have a duty to appreciate what others cannot; and appreciate what beauty there is in the world.

So, if you are on Mount Whitney later this year, or on any other peak, and your trekking poles seem heavy, or your ice axe keeps sticking, stop, look around, appreciate the challenge, appreciate the environment, and appreciate the moment. Maybe you make it up; maybe you don’t, but the important thing is that you accept the challenge of returning, and the challenge of appreciating what you, and only you are seeing at that moment.

Current Conditions, Mt. Whitney Trail, April 8, 2013

First "serious" snow, near Lone Pine Lake, Mt. Whitney Trail, April 8, 2013

Every year, I like to take a trip up to Mt. Whitney, either to climb the mountain, or to hike around the general region, as it is stunning. This year, I had to make my trip a little earlier than usual due to a combination of factors; but also to get in some ice axe and crampon practice for my upcoming climb of Mt. Rainier, which my climbing and podcast partner, Matt Mills and I will be climbing the first week of May. If you’ve ever read my blog, you know that I always have additional commentary about things that I think about while hiking, which I’ll reserve for tomorrow; but for today, just the facts regarding trail conditions as of Sunday, April 8, 2013.

Trail Conditions: The road up to Whitney Portal is almost completely clear of all obstacles. There were some small rocks/boulders in the middle of the road; and there were some fresh rocks that fell onto the road during the day; but overall, the road is currently in excellent shape for this time of year. I didn’t get the early alpine start that I had originally planned, but I did get on the trail slightly before 6:00 a.m. At that point, it was around ~35 degrees at the portal, with intermittent wind gusts that were around 20-25mph.

Uphill section near/at treeline, slightly above Mirror Lake, April 8, 2013

As I headed up, I noticed that the trail is clear from the Portal to just before Lone Pine Lake. While there are drifts of snow in places before that point, the trail is exposed, and easy to follow. Both the creek crossings – Carillon Creek and the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek are flowing; but are not flowing high at this point, and are very easy to cross. Based on my observations and my altimeter, I’d say that what snow there is at the lower elevations is patchy coverage that starts around 8,800 feet, and it is melting fast during the day, and re-freezing at night. Other than a few drifts here and a few drifts there, there’s not really much for me to say about these lower sections, as they are in good shape.

Just past the trail junction for Lone Pine Lake, the snow goes from patchy coverage to what I would call 75%-100% coverage. From the junction, there is a snowfield that is present heading up the slope toward Outpost Camp. Enough people have passed through this area that the trail is readily apparent; although there are some “false” trails that head off to other areas at this point. However, once you enter the meadow that Outpost Camp is located in, the coverage drops substantially and there are plenty of spots to camp. It was at this point that I encountered the only two people I would see all day, who were just waking up. I spoke to them for about five minutes; but unfortunately didn’t get any great information out of them, other than that they had tried the Mountaineers Route the day before, and said that it was “too sketchy”. Unfortunately, they were very reticent to share any other details than that with me about the route, including the particulars of why it was “sketchy”, so rather than risk unknown problems, I elected to keep heading up the main trail.

Snow Coverage, Mt. Whitney Trail, April 8, 2013

Looking back down toward the Trailside Meadows drainage, Mt. Whitney Trail, April 8, 2013

From Outpost Camp, the switchbacks heading up to Mirror Lake are partially covered with snow, but the trail is mostly exposed. Again, enough people have headed up through this area that the trail is readily apparent. At the base of Mirror Lake, the trail is completely obscured, but there is a clear path through the snow past the lake. When I passed through, the lake was completely frozen; but in the afternoon, it had partially unfrozen. From Mirror Lake, the trail is harder to find; and I basically blazed my own way up toward the top of the granite block. As far as I could see, this seemed to be the stopping point for 99% of most day hikers, and a good portion of climbers not familiar with the area. From the granite block/treeline area toward Trailside Meadows, there was near total coverage of solid snow/ice. So, for anyone keeping track at home, I would say that if you are wondering where the real snow/ice is an obstacle, I would say exactly at treeline – between 9,500 – 9,600 feet. While there was snow before that as I noted, it was nothing that really slowed or hindered my progress. From this point, to Trailside Meadows, I was able to follow the “trail” based on a couple of markers; and my knowledge of the area. While there were not too many tracks, I left a clear set heading up.

Frozen Consultation Lake, Mt. Whitney Trail, April 8, 2013

At Trailside Meadows, I elected to head pretty much directly up the drainage toward Trail Camp; and while I did follow some of the trail, overall it was more expedient for me just to head over the snow/ice in this area as it was very solid in the early morning. It is worth noting that I wished that I had brought snowshoes, which I did not have, as they would have definitely helped my pace in the early going, and been a huge asset on my descent in the afternoon. Atop the drainage, I was able to pick up the trail heading into Trail Camp; and had some great views of the fully frozen Consultation Lake. As far as I could tell, there were no tracks heading through Trail Camp, so, unless it snowed Sunday night, mine are basically the sole set heading up toward the switchbacks. While there are some spots that a tent could be pitched in Trail Camp, overall, the snow coverage was pretty good.

Mt. Whitney Ridgeline, April 8, 2013

Heading up the chute, April 8, 2013, Mt. Whitney

Once past Trail Camp, I could see that while portions of the switchbacks are slightly exposed, the overall trail is still impassable due to the snow and ice that remains. Based on this, I elected to head up the chute next to the switchbacks, which I have done many times before. Slightly past Trail Camp, I put on my crampons, and was using my ice axe, which I would say are absolute necessities if you are attempting this traverse within the next six weeks. It was at this point, when I was heading up the chute that the lack of an alpine start came back to bite me in the butt. Despite the intermittent 25-35mph wind gusts coming from the West, the direct mid-morning sun on the chute made it an absolutely brutal slog. I made it approximately 75% of the way up the chute; and I imagine that had I not had to make it back to the Portal by a certain time, I could have made it to Trail Crest; but, I would strongly suggest that if you are attempting to summit via this route anytime soon, that you get an alpine start to avoid this problem.

At that point, due to my time constraints, I elected to turn back around, and was able to glissade part of the way back down the chute in uneven snow conditions; some slushy; some solid. I made good time back to Trail Camp; but from Trail Camp to about Lone Pine Lake, I was stuck in bad snow conditions, where I was postholing step after step. Again, this is where a pair of snowshoes would have really helped me out. Due to the soft snow, and frequent postholing, it took me a fair amount of time to cover this short distance that is not technically challenging or dangerous. While this portion of the climb was a little frustrating, it was a great hike/climb under mostly perfect conditions for this time of year. I was surprised to see so few people on the mountain; but this is something that I am sure will change quickly.

Summary of Conditions: patchy snow from 8800 feet on up; mostly total coverage from 9600 feet on up. Snow is solid in most places during the early morning, turning into soft/slushy bad conditions in the mid to late afternoon. I expect there will probably be one late season storm that rolls through, but overall, the melting season has begun, and the trail is starting to clear for what will no doubt be another busy summer!

Looking up toward Trail Crest, April 8, 2013, Mt. Whitney

In Ice Axe We Trust, March 2013 Recap

Humphreys Peak, Arizona

Ahoy-hoy listeners and readers! If you’re not listening to In Ice Axe We Trust (“IIAWT”), you are missing out! March was a great month of podcasts for IIAWT, and we had three fantastic guests, @jesthecc (Her website here), @jenniferwoods (Her website here), and Jonathan House (his website here). We discussed two big peaks - Mt. Humphreys and Mt. Hood; and had some fun debates along the way, including to trekking pole, or not to trekking pole - a timeless and eternal question.

March 13, Episode 5: Humphreys Peak, Arizona.: the IIAWT How-to climb guide. I previewed this episode here a couple weeks ago, but on it, we had two great guests, Jes and Jen, and we discussed all things Arizona, including its highest point. Catch it here, or on iTunes. (Update! Read to the bottom to learn how to make your own homemade Larabars, courtesy of Jen!!)

Mt. Hood, Oregon

March 27, 2013, Episode 6: Mount Hood, Oregon: the IIAWT How-to climb guide. We were lucky to have a great guest, Jonathan House, who shared his story of how he climbed Hood just last year; and in case you missed it, you can listen here, while viewing his fantastic photos here. This show had a great discussion of the considerations that go into roping up, and more importantly, which Oregon team you should root for in collegiate sporting events. Don’t believe it? Listen HERE, or on iTunes.

Coming Shows: We will be back on the air on 04/10/13 with another mystery guest or two, and we will be discussing thepeakseeker's climb of Mt. Hood, my time on Mt. Whitney, and our upcoming climb of Mt. Rainier. Stay tuned to us on Twitter to find out who or whom!

Giveaways/Sponsors: On March 27, 2013, we had a winner in our COLD giveaway, and it was WalkSimply, with her great story about encountering a snake on Sitton Peak. While we're not sure what our next giveaway will be, you can be certain that it will be interesting! If you’re interested in entering any contests or sponsoring the show, contact myself, or thepeakseeker, and be sure to tune in!

Recipe for Homemade Larabars:

Homemade Lärabars: Mango Lassi Bars

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups unsalted almond or almond pieces (raw or toasted/roasted)

1 cup medjool dates

3/4 cup dried mango

1/4 cup unsweetened coconut (shredded or curls)

1/4 teaspoon cardamom powder (use up to 1/2 teaspoon if you love cardamom)

pinch sea salt

Line an 8x8 square baking dish with parchment or waxed paper.  First, pulse the almonds in a food processor (or a blender should work) until they are finely chopped (but not so much that you’ve created a nut butter).

Pour nuts into a bowl.

In the food processor (you don’t have to clean it out) add the remaining ingredients and process until you’ve created a uniform paste.  If you need to add tiny splashes of warm water to get it to come together, feel free to do so.  If your mixture has turned into a ball, turn the machine off and use a spoon to push the mixture back down into the blades.  

Add back the nuts and then process until it’s a uniform consistency again.

Press the mixture into your baking pan so that it’s even.  Dipping your hands into a bowl of water helps tremendously here.  Place the pan into the refrigerator for at least a half an hour to make it firm up enough to easily cut into bars.

Wrap in a cloth, or squares of parchment or waxed paper and take with you for your adventure on the trail.

Botanical Trail, Elfin Forest Recreational Reserve

Crossing Escondido Creek, Elfin Forest

On many shorter trails, I hear various derogatory comments from my fellow hikers, such as “This isn’t a hike, it’s a stroll” or my favorite, “You call this a hike”. Whenever I hear these comments, I always am tempted to pull these people to the side and ask, “So, you were with Edmund Hillary when he summited Everest then?” or utter any number of other pithy comments regarding their negativity. Sure, shorter trails may be easier, but they serve a great purpose: they allow you to enjoy being in nature. That for me – being in nature – is what hiking is about. Sure, there may be theoretical distinctions between strolling, walking, and hiking, but really, who needs to have these academic discussions when outside. Even more importantly, these trails provide a great introduction to the wilderness to innumerable people – young, old, and everyone in between. In my experience, I find that people ultimately enjoy the wilderness more – and appreciate it more when they are introduced to it slowly, versus throwing them into the fire on a fifteen mile uphill trek. A perfect example of an introductory trail is the Botanical Trail in the Elfin Forest, it is simple; but it has something for every level of hiker.

Passing through the Coastal Oak Grove, Elfin Forest

Directions: The Elfin Forest Recreational Reserve is located in Escondido, California. The reserve does a great job of providing interactive directions HERE, so there is no need for me to recreate the wheel. The trail leaves directly from the parking area; and returns to the parking area, as it is a loop trail. However, do note that the Elfin Forest is a popular destination for San Diegans, and the parking area is somewhat small. If you are visiting the Elfin Forest on the weekend, there may not be parking available in the lot; but do note that there may be available street parking along Harmony Grove Road.

From the trailhead, the trail winds along the Escondido Creek, and there is a small area near the beginning that has great views of the creek. At this point, it is definitely worth noting that this trail is interactive – the reserve has placed markers along the trail that can be followed in one of two ways – by the paper trail guide that is present at the location, or online via this link HERE. This is a great way to learn about Southern Californian plants, and the local ecosystem of the reserve, and personally for me, I think that it’s great that this can be accessed on your smartphone while hiking – it’s a great way to be outside and learning all at the same time. After a short distance, the trail crosses over Escondido Creek, which, depending on the season, may be flowing high or low. Once you are across the creek, the trail passes through a grove of Coastal Live Oak, before heading uphill. While this section of uphill is not as steep as the nearby “Way Up Trail”, it will definitely get the blood pumping.

Once past the uphill portion, the trail intersects with the “Way Up Trail”, and heads back down to cross Escondido Creek over the reserve bridge. Total, the loop runs for 1.1 miles, and is easy to moderate, depending on your skill level; and as I noted above, is a great way to learn about Southern Californian plants.

Tips: The Reserve has a great, new, high-tech Visitor Center that is also located in the Parking Area; and this is a must-visit if it is your first time to the Reserve. Finally, if you know me, you know that I like the weird and strange rumors about places, and Elfin Forest is a place that has plenty of rumors – read more about that HERE.

Spring Flowers, Botanical Trail, Elfin Forest, 2013

Lawrence Welk Caves a/k/a the "Hidden Meadows Caves"

"Trail" to the Lawrence Welk Caves

If you’ve ever read this blog, or stumbled across this blog, you know that I’m always up for an adventure and always up to explore something new. This last weekend, one of my alert followers asked me if I’d ever heard of the “Lawrence Welk Cave”. I was initially skeptical, because my memories of Lawrence Welk and the terrain surrounding the Lawrence Welk village were something like this; and while that is wholesome and fun for 1960, it doesn’t exactly scream adventure, unless we’re talking one of those creepy adventures where everything appears normal, but actually isn’t. Nevertheless, I’m always willing to admit that I’m wrong, and after a little internet research, it did appear that I was really wrong, and that there were some awesome caves there.

In fact, after reading the three trip reports (here, here, and here), I wondered why I had never heard of these caves, well, ever; especially as I have been exploring San Diego County for over twenty years. Even though I thought it was a little strange that I had never heard of them, I decided to head out to check it out. From the moment I arrived on site, and followed the directions listed, I realized why I hadn’t heard of it. As things turned out, I hadn’t heard of it for two reasons: 1) the caves were actually on private land; and 2) the caves weren’t that awesome (anymore).

"Trail" to Lawrence Welk Caves

This brings me to the main point of this blog: take everything you read on the internet (yes, even me), with a grain of skepticism, because at the end of the day, it’s the internet, and the information could just be wrong. Case in point: all of those “trail reports” above? They all repeat some variant of, “the caves are on public land”; “there’s an easement”; “it’s a nature reserve, totally ok to be there”. That is just wrong. How do I know it is wrong? I met the landowner, Mark, while I was passing across the route that was supposedly “public”. He specifically flagged me down to tell me it was his land. Now, while Mark turned out to be a very nice guy, and let me pass through his land (as I did not possess cans of spray paint), he had no obligation to do so – it is, and always has been his land. While you may read this and go, “hey, no big deal, why even highlight this as you got to go”, this is a big deal. While Mark was easygoing, take it from me, the LA, that most landowners –especially in rural areas – are not so sanguine about trespassers. More importantly, even though Mark was a good guy, that doesn’t give you or me the absolute right to go on his land – it’s his land. He has the right to regulate who uses it, and as I’ll detail in a second, his land has suffered due to the anything goes attitude of people getting information on the internet.

Some of the graffiti around the Lawrence Welk Caves 

His land has suffered because the internet is right about one thing: there are caves there. And, as I suspect, they might have been pretty awesome at one point. They are talus caves, like the Balconies Cave or Bear Gulch Cave in Pinnacles. However, unlike Pinnacles, they are on Mark’s land. Mark is one guy – he is not a private entity; he is not the state park system; and he is not the National Park System. He has not been able to protect the land from the depredations of hordes of people. People have come onto the land, into the caves, and have destroyed the area. There is no ifs ands or buts about it. The “trail”? That’s a foot trail that visitors have made. I’m sure Mark would be fine with that, if that was the extent of the damage. But it’s not. All along the “trail” is trash – mostly empty bottles, and I’d be willing to bet Mark would be fine with that too, if that was it. But then there’s the fact that from a quarter mile in, pretty much every rock has been defaced with some sort of tag – images, words, and more.

Unfortunately, it’s not just the rocks that have been tagged; it’s the trees too in a number of spots. Even worse, there was a specific area that had Kumeyaay Petroglyphs on it as well. That area? Gone. You guessed it, as it has been tagged over as well. I don’t know what to say about all this. Well, actually, I do. I feel bad for Mark – it’s his land, and no one deserves to have this happen to them. For all you people that say, “well, if he built a bigger fence, blah blah blah”, I have this to say: it’s his land. He shouldn’t have to take extreme measures to keep people off of it. That’s not his job. More importantly, I feel bad for the land. I feel bad for nature.

More of the graffiti at the Lawrence Welk Caves

You know why? This is a beautiful area: a canyon tailing down a hill; a creek; plenty of old growth oak and native chaparral. The rocks that make up the cave? They’re thousands of years old. The caves themselves? Something that’s formed over centuries. All of this? Trashed. That’s what I don’t really get – what inspires people to just flat out ruin a beautiful area, just because they can. It’s disgusting; but on the positive side, it makes me glad there’s National Parks and State Parks out there to protect things, because clearly, things need protecting.

As for the caves, here’s what I have to say: I debated giving directions, because of the massive problem of traffic and trash that previous blogs have created. Then I realized the obvious: whether I give directions or not, it’s not going to matter, because those posts are still out there. So what I will say is this: yes, there are caves. You want to explore them? Follow those directions in those posts; you can’t miss the caves, assuming Mark lets you cross his land. You can’t miss them mostly because there’s freaking arrows painted onto rocks leading you there. You need a map? Use this map HERE to navigate the caves. As always, be cautious when you’re exploring caves, because caves are dangerous.

But you know what? You want to be extreme? You want to do something really freaking extreme? Here’s a hint: it’s not this here. Something extreme would be to carry out trash from Mark’s land. Really. Something extreme would be to stop others from littering if you see them doing so, or defacing more rocks or trees. Now that would be extreme. Sure, nothing’s going to bring back the petroglyphs, and those rocks that were defaced? Probably ruined for a long, long time. But it would be nice, if instead of ruining this site further, the hiking community came together to help fix it. Now that would be extreme, and that would make this a bona fide secret that was worth keeping in the County.