Two years ago I hiked to Tinker Knob but found no safe route to the summit. This was a bit frustrating, for I had stood atop the summit two or three times before. Today I returned and reached the top.
Tinker Knob is the core of an extinct volcano at the crest of the Sierra Nevada in Placer County. It sits along the Pacific Crest Trail, and is a popular hiking destination. The elevation is 8,949 feet. The slopes are rocky and steep. A short path from the Pacific Crest Trail reaches the base, then it splits into several paths. Only one (as far as I know) goes to the summit. Absent finding this path, scrambling is required to reach the top.
I departed the trailhead at Donner Pass at 6:20 AM, my destination about 7.5 miles away. I walked in solitude until 7:05, when I passed the first hikers, a father and his teenage son. Many trees on this first section of trail are bent at the base from the weight of deep snow on the steep slopes.
I reached the base of Mt. Lincoln at 7:55. The going would be fairly level from here to the approach of Anderson Peak. Patches of snow still blocked parts of the trail.
Tinker Knob came into view as I rounded Anderson Peak. By now I had passed about ten hikers who told me they were going the entire length of the Pacific Crest Trail, from Mexico to Canada.
At 11:00 I was at the base of Tinker Knob. I took two paths that led to large rocks on steep inclines that I didn't want to tackle, then I saw a young couple taking a route that involved some scrambling. I followed them and was soon on the summit.
At the summit is a military ammunition can that holds small notebooks. In one notebook I found my entry for July 31, 2010: "Second time here. Great!" I signed in to the current notebook.
The couple I followed to the top stayed but a few minutes. I talked with a group of hikers who were at the top when I arrived. Soon we were joined by Rob, a man in his fifties who lives in nearby Truckee. He had been to Tinker Knob the previous Saturday, and he said he goes there several times a year. He had started his hike at Donner Pass, and would finish it at Squaw Valley.
A woman in the group did a yoga headstand.
Here are the sights from the summit. Rob said that on a clear day one can see the mountains of the Coastal Range across the Sacramento Valley. I told him that Tinker Knob can be seen from Iron Point, the starting point of Euchre Bar Trail, near Alta.
View west, the canyon of the North Fork American River
View north, the Pacific Crest Trail and Anderson Peak
View south, Lake Tahoe
With my Kenwood TH-F6 2-meter radio, I called the W6EK repeater in Auburn, and got a response from a ham operator in Winters. Later, at the base of Anderson Peak, I heard Richard WA6RWS on the repeater, and I made contact with him. Richard and I are members of the Sierra Foothills Amateur Radio Club.
I met a man hiking the entire length of the Pacific Crest Trail, having started in early May. He was checking the news on his smart phone. Reception on the trail is limited. He had last heard about the coup attempt in Turkey, but not that the coup had failed.
Along the stretch of the North Fork of the American River between Euchre Bar and Humbug Bar there is but one domicile, a house on Dorer Ranch. The Dorer family has occupied the site since the 1860s. They apparently value their privacy, for I hear that atop Foresthill Divide the gate across the dirt road that winds down to the house is kept locked. I've reached the Dorer property twice, hiking in along the river from Iron Point near Alta. Those walks on the Gold Rush-era trail were solitary, for few people venture into the deep canyons nowadays. But it wasn't always quiet down there. A bit over a century ago, the clanging from the stamp mills at the Southern Cross and Blackhawk mines reverberated throughout the canyon. A twenty-horse power gasoline engine generated electricity for the incandescent lights and telephone lines and air compressors of the Southern Cross. The greatest activity was in the early years of the Gold Rush, when miners worked the gravels. The level spots they dug into the hillsides to pitch their tents testify to their presence, and sometimes the ceramic shard of a bowl or cup may be found. As far as I know, only the Nisenan walked this area before the Gold Rush - I've found nothing of Hudson Bay trappers coming this far upriver.
Would the 1850 Federal Census show the number of miners down at the river early in the Gold Rush? Today I went to the Placer County Archives to find out. Placer County didn't exist in 1850 - it was formed in 1851 from portions of Sutter and Yuba counties. The archivist provided the microfilm and I scanned the documents for both counties. Names of Americans were listed along with their home state. Others had no name, only a listing such as Kanaka and Chinaman and Spaniard. Occupations were listed, most being Miner. But there was nothing to indicate which portions of the census were taken at the river, so we can only speculate as to how crowded it was in the canyons long ago.
I've taken other videos of Stevens Trail, from the Colfax trailhead to the North Fork American River, a distance of 4.5 miles, but today I took my GoPro for wide angle views of the canyon and underwater shots of the river. The day was cool, a welcome change from the heat of the previous week, when the temperature was over one hundred degrees. Clouds hugged the top of the hills. Few others were on the trail, and I walked mostly in solitude. Near the adit of the abandoned mine, a pile of black bear scat but a few hours old was on the trail. In the river, a few hundred feet below me, were some half dozen miners working the gravels for gold. The river is very low from the drought, and with the slow current moss grows on the boulders. An El Nino is predicted this winter. If it comes, heavy rains will swell the river, tossing the boulders around and refreshing the gravels with small bits of gold washed from the steep hillsides.
Ten years ago today I watched on television as Hurricane Katrina made landfall. Several weeks later I was working Katrina insurance claims, from Biloxi to Pass Christian. Much of the debris had been cleared by the time I arrived, but there was still plenty of devastation to see.
The storm surge had approached twenty feet. In many neighborhoods close to the shoreline, only slab foundations remained.
These were common sights.
This family left a message that they were alive.
This was a casino built atop a barge docked by the shore. The storm surge lifted it across the highway and set it on land.
The surge of water lifted the house from the foundation on the right, and set it atop the vehicle.
The surge of water damaged many crypts, sweeping the caskets away to who knows where.
While at a Waffle House one morning for breakfast, I asked the waitress taking my order why half of the seating area was roped off. She replied that the restaurant had limited workers and could not handle all seating. She explained with disgust that several employees were relaxing at home thanks to their government Hurricane Katrina assistance money.
Beneath Grass Valley is a single network of mine passageways totaling 367 miles in length.
The Empire Mine opened in 1850, and over the years it acquired the North Star Mine and other mines, incorporating them into its network. The Empire was renowned for its important inventions and improvements in mining and milling equipment, and it had a respectable safety record, with only 26 deaths in its history. Engineers from other mines came to The Empire to study its operations. The mine closed in 1956 not because the gold ran out, but because it was no longer profitable to extract. The pumps were turned off and water filled the passageways.
The gold taken would have filled a seven foot cube. An average of one-half ounce of gold was taken from each ton of ore extracted. The Empire produced $130 million in gold, making it the richest of all California mines. (Next-richest was nearby Idaho-Maryland Group in Grass Valley, with $70 million.) The years 1929 to 1940 were very productive for The Empire, with 1,074,284 ounces of gold taken. Operations were suspended during World War II when gold mining was deemed unessential to the war effort.
The state acquired the property in 1975 and turned it into a park. Although the owners had sold off much equipment following the closure of the mine, some equipment and many of the buildings remained, giving the public a good understanding of California's mining operations. As for those 367 miles of passageways, everything below 150 feet is flooded, and it is unlikely anyone will go down there again.
Travel Tip: If you're in Grass Valley and in need of lunch, I recommend Christopher's Old World Deli at 206 Main Street. The food is great, the prices are reasonable, and the staff is very friendly. When the cashier told me when I purchased the $4 pint of 'Ol Republic porter beer that there would be one free refill. I turned to my wife and informed her she would be driving.
Thunderstorm approaching, view towards I-80 with Donner Lake to the right
Today I took a leisurely hike on the Pacific Crest Trail at Donner Pass, until an approaching thunderstorm made me decide to turn around, and then I took a very brisk hike back to my truck. Had I turned around ten minutes earlier, I would have driven home dry. I rate this hike as Interesting.
I hiked part of the Pacific Crest Trail between Old Highway 40 and Interstate 80. This entire section is 2.6 miles long. The Highway 40 trailhead altitude is 7110 feet. The high point on the trail is 7331 feet and the low point is 6842 feet. Donner Pass gets a lot of recreational activity. There were many people about.
Donner Pass is named after the Donner Party. The emigrants were slow on their westward trek, and upon reaching the Sierra the snows were too deep to cross. They spent the winter in camp at the base of the mountains. Some resorted to cannibalism to survive.
This was my first hike on this section of the trail. Many times I've hiked the section of trail south from Donner Pass, some hikes all the way to Tinker Knob. Having hiked both sections, I found the south route to be more scenic, and the north route less strenuous.
I parked my truck in the large lot across from the trailhead, and in minutes I was on my way. I saw several climbers on the granite faces. Some were children with adults giving instruction. I had a grand view of the train snow sheds on the rail route carved out by Chinese laborers in the 1860s. This historic section was abandoned in 1993, after it was decided to run all trains through Tunnel 41, which was built in 1925. Now hikers and bicyclists go through the snow sheds and tunnels.
I shot this video of the snow sheds.
The trail wound up the mountainside. I met a man in his fifties hiking the length of the Pacific Crest Trail, from the border of Mexico to the border of Canada. He said the remainder of his hike should take two months. Over the years I've talked with several hikers going the full trail, and never once have I asked them what they do for a living that allows them to take months off for the hike.
I reached the high point of the trail. I saw thunderclouds to the east and wondered whether I should turn around. No, keep going.
The trail went downhill, and I had good views of Interstate 80 in the distance. I passed a group of teenagers with some adults in charge. I think these were city kids getting a lesson on the outdoors. The coming thunderstorm would give them a real lesson.
I got to less than one-half mile of Interstate 80 when the sound of the thunder made me realize I needed to get back to my truck. I turned around. Soon I passed the group of teenagers. The clouds blotted out the sunshine and the thunder got louder. I reached the high point of the trail. This was exposed granite and all I could think of was a lightning strike. The wind was kicking up. I wound down the mountainside. The clouds now covered the peaks to the south.
Approaching thunderstorm at Donner Pass
I reached a small grove of pine trees just as the rain and hail began to fall. A group of teenagers (not the one I passed earlier) was taking shelter nearby under a tarp strung to the trees. I removed my nylon rain jacket from my Jansport pack and put it on. It would keep my upper body dry. The rest of me would get soaked. Up on the mountainside the group I passed earlier was coming down the trail. Lightning was hitting perhaps a mile away judging by the sound, and I thought about their safety in that exposed location. I looked about for shelter from the rain and hail. A downed tree some three feet in diameter lay atop another downed tree. I crawled under the trunk and curled into a ball, my back to the tree. That worked well. Other than being struck by lightning, I was most concerned about keeping my video camera dry. Now the hail was coming down heavy. The hail was BB size, too small for any damage. The group coming down the mountainside reached the grove of trees. They paused on the trail for a few minutes near me. All had a poncho or other rain clothing. They looked miserable. I thought they would seek shelter in the grove, but they continued on. We were about ten minutes from the parking lot.
I stayed under the tree trunk ten or fifteen minutes, the better part of the hail storm. When things let up a bit I decided to make my way to the truck. The hail had largely stopped but the rain could last for hours. Many parts of the trail were filled with ankle-deep water with hail floating on the top. My boots were soaked. My pants were soaked. The main thing on my mind was the lightning, but there were no strikes close enough to give me a scare.
I reached the group of teenagers with the adults in charge. The youths shuffled zombie-like in single file along the narrow trail. Not a smile on any young face. Nature isn't what you see on Dora the Explorer, kids. I passed them and a few minutes later I was at my truck. Small piles of hail covered the parking lot.
Two women hikers asked me for a ride to nearby Soda Springs. They were in their early twenties, one from San Diego and the other from Vail, Colorado. Both were hiking the entire length of the Pacific Crest Trail. One started in late April and the other in early May. After a few weeks of solo hiking they met up and agreed to stay together. Miserable from the hike in the rain and hail, they had reached the parking lot just as I was leaving. One had a package of hiking supplies waiting at the post office in Soda Springs, and they both wanted a good meal there, so they asked me for the ride. We had a nice talk on the drive of some five minutes to Soda Springs. I dropped them off and wished them a good hike.
Driving away, I thought, dang it, I didn't ask them what they did for a living that allowed them to take months off to hike the Pacific Crest Trail.
Heavy rain on Interstate 80 slowed westbound traffic to 40 mph. The skies cleared near the Highway 20 exit and traffic sped up. I was back in a parched land.
Just want to brag note that on the morning of Independence Day, I passed the test for the Amateur Extra Class license, the highest-level Federal Communications Commission license in the amateur radio service. There was a lot of study involved. I now have full operating privileges across the complete spectrum of all ham radio bands.
