Lovers Leap

Lovers Leap is a prominence on Moody Ridge that overlooks the North Fork of the American River. I've often seen it from the east, standing at Iron Point and thereabouts, and yesterday I got a blocked view of it from the south at Giant Gap Ridge. Today I decided to stand atop it.

Residences are scattered about the privately owned land on Moody Ridge but the public can access Lovers Leap. The dirt road started getting rough some five hundred yards shy of Lovers Leap, so I parked my truck and walked the remainder of the way.

From the highest point (4139ft) of this tree covered ridge, a trail winds southward, until one reaches a final few steps down to a small ledge. On the south end of this ledge, overlooking the canyon, rises a stone outcrop some three feet high. At the sides of this ledge are...sheer drops. How far straight down, I don't know. I was by myself and I didn't want to make that final descent onto the ledge to find out more. Others have gone there, for their graffiti is carved into the rock. As for me, I preferred to stand back to take my photo.

The ledge - the North Fork can be seen
in the distance to the left of it

I turned around and walked uphill. At the top I proceeded east, down a trail that led to another overlook. This overlook was far more inviting than the first. Although it had its own rock outcrop with sheer drops beyond, there was more room to move about. So I stood there and pointed my camera east, and took photos of Iron Point, where I begin my hikes to Euchre Bar. The peaks of the Sierra in the distance were dusted with snow from the recent storm.

I left Lovers Leap and drove northeast about two miles, as the crow flies, to a point by the railroad tracks, to get a photo of Lovers Leap and Giant Gap.

 

While in the area, I stopped to look at the rocks where over countless centuries Nisenan women ground acorns into meal. The Nisenan camped here during the warm months and I'm sure they enjoyed the view of Giant Gap.

Giant Gap Ridge

I've seen Giant Gap many times from the east. Today I wanted to see it from the south rim of the canyon. I drove up Foresthill Divide to Sugar Pine Road. Patches of snow covered the ground at the turnoff. I parked my truck where Sugar Pine Road meets Iowa Hill Road. These are paved roads. I walked up Elliot Ranch Road, an unimproved dirt road muddy from the recent storm. I passed a camp of deer hunters. Deer season ends tomorrow. I would pass several deer hunters driving the roads this day, and hear shots in the distance.



Elliot Ranch Road

A water ditch paralleled Elliot Ranch Road for a short distance. This ditch is not on the topographical map. I would guess it dates to the Gold Rush. Ditches are common along the North Fork of the American River and Bear River. Some are still in use but this one was dry.

A Gold Rush water ditch

Forest scenery

I walked to the south end of Giant Gap Gulch but large trees blocked a good view of Giant Gap.

The most I could see

I backtracked and then headed north on Giant Gap Ridge. A large pine tree had fallen across the road. The damage looked fresh and I wondered if the tree had fallen during the storm this previous week. I crawled over it and continued on.



Fallen tree

I reached my destination, the northernmost point of Giant Gap Ridge. Down below (2250 feet below) was the North Fork of the American River, and the bridge at Euchre Bar was 2.6 miles to the northeast (129 degrees). But tall trees blocked a full view of the magnificent Gap. I could not see what I wanted, but still it was a great day for a hike.

Northernmost point of Giant Gap Ridge

Last Hike of the Year on Donner Summit

Storms arrive tonight and Donner Summit is projected to get 18 inches of snow by Tuesday. So today I took in my last hike there for this year. I went with a friend. The elevation at the parking lot is 7108 feet, and Donner Peak is 8019 feet. The winds were brisk, bringing the wind chill probably down to freezing, but we had plenty of layers of clothing. From atop Donner Peak we had a full view of Donner Lake. The members of the Donner Party spent the winter of 1846-47 in camps east of the lake. These emigrants reached the wall of the Sierra too late, for the deep snows prevented their crossing. Food ran low and people died. Some members resorted to cannibalism to survive.

The trails should be mostly free of snow and ready for hiking by mid-June.

My friend at the trailhead

 

Me with Donner Peak in the background

 

View of Donner Lake from Donner Peak.
Interstate 80 is to the left.

 

Panama, California

Panama is a small town in California, in the San Joaquin Valley, a few miles southwest of Bakersfield. I think most of the residents are of Mexican heritage.

Buck Owens' Crystal Palace

Work sometimes takes me to Bakersfield, and if I spend the night there, I try to take in dinner at the world famous Buck Owens' Crystal Palace, on Buck Owens Boulevard. It's a marvelous place, filled with mementos of the musician's long career, plus the food is excellent. Buck was a Dust Bowl emigrant to California and here he made it big. Very big. Perhaps my own Okie heritage draws me to the Crystal Palace. My great-grandparents (born and raised in the Missouri Ozarks) with most of their children came to California from Shawnee, Oklahoma, and spent the Depression years in the Sacramento Valley. It wasn't a desperate life straight out of the Grapes of Wrath, but it wasn't a comfortable life either. My great-grandparents are buried in Sacramento, and their children are buried throughout California.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Purchased a Personal Locator Beacon

After doing some research on Personal Locator Beacons, I purchased an ACR Electronics ResQLink (Model PLB-375). I registered it with the US Government on the NOAA website. That way, should I ever activate the beacon, the authorities will know that it is me who sent it.

The unit is small and I will carry it with me in all my remote travels. It is to be used only as the last resort. Hopefully, I will never use it.

Having this unit does not give license to taking increased risks. I'm reminded of a planned hike on the Euchre Bar Trail last November. I wanted to try some late season gold panning, for I figured the river level was still low. The day was overcast with cool temperatures. No other vehicles were at Iron Point when I arrived. I started down the trail. The rocks were a bit slick from a recent rain. Some five minutes into my hike, I realized my stupidity. I would likely be the only person on the trail this day. Although I had fire starting items I did not have a jacket, much less a sleeping bag. The temperature during the night would drop to freezing. If I twisted an ankle or otherwise got injured not allowing me to walk, I could be dead of exposure before a search party found me. So I returned to my truck and drove home.

With the ResQLink in a similar situation, I would still turn around.

A Man Recounts His Brush With Death, Providing a Lesson Learned

Today is Labor Day. I went to the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the American River for some exploring. I've been there a few times in recent weeks for gold panning but this time I just wanted to poke around.

Two other vehicles were parked near the trail head. A man was putting camping gear into one vehicle. As I gathered my pack, he walked over to say hello. His first name was Herbert. He was 63 and appeared in top physical shape. He lives in Fremont, California, where he works with a medical device company. He was finishing a solo camping and prospecting trip of several days along the river. He has hiked and camped the canyons of the American River since the 1960s, and he often goes by himself.

We talked about gold prospecting in the area. There are many mining claims along the Middle Fork. He had been working on a friend's claim with some luck.

He's had numerous black bear encounters over the years, so he now carries a Freedom Arms revolver with the .454 Casull cartridge, in a shoulder holster. He's never shot a bear but once he fired two rounds over a sow and her cub to chase them away from his camp. He says the .454 Casull will stop a black bear quick.

He told me of a survival situation he had in 2009 during the Labor Day weekend. He had hiked alone down to the North Fork of the American River, on the Sailor Flat Trail. This trail was built by the Forty-niners, it is very steep, and it leads to remote and rugged canyons. Few people go there. It's not a trip for the unfit. He explored along the river and lost the trail. He had to make his way uphill.

He encountered a large area of manzanita bushes. He crawled through them and atop them and the going was slow and difficult. He came to a rock clearing shortly before darkness fell. He built a small fire.

He was out of water, and being dehydrated he could not eat what small amount of food he had. His clothes were drenched with sweat. The night would be chilly. The fire provided some warmth but he could not sleep.

Morning came and he continued uphill. The manzanita gave way to rocks, which gave way to trees. He was completely lost. The day wore on. He was severely dehydrated and he knew that soon he would lose his reasoning. He could not survive another night in this canyon.

Except...a few months earlier, just for the heck of it, he had purchased a SPOT Personal Tracker, a personal locator beacon, which was in his pack. Now was the time to use it. He pressed the 911 button, which sent his coordinates with a distress notice to a satellite, and then to a GEOS International Emergency Response Center dispatcher, who notified the Placer County Sheriff's Department. It also sent an email with the coordinates and distress notice to his son in Los Angeles.

Before darkness fell, a helicopter arrived, but the canyon was too steep for it to land. The helicopter announced that a ground party would be dispatched. That party arrived in the darkness, and assisted Herbert uphill, where emergency vehicles and his son awaited.

Herbert was very emotional when he gave his account of his rescue, and his meeting with his son. He credits his life to the personal locator beacon, and the actions of the Placer County Search and Rescue Team.

Having heard Herbert's story of his brush with death, I decided I would purchase and carry a personal locator beacon. Although I always tell my wife where I'm going (and sometimes I even print out a map), I never carry even a cell phone with me when I hike alone. Part of it is because there's no cell phone reception in the deep canyons of the Sierra, part of it is because I figure my pioneer ancestors would roll over in their graves if I carried this "help" with me. (The latter is pig-headedness.) But now I'm going to buy and carry one.

We had a good long talk, and then we went on our ways. Herbert drove off for Fremont. I hiked alone into the canyon, taking video with commentary.

Well, almost alone. On the overlook to the river, about one mile from the trail head, a family of four passed me, with a sluice box and pans and other gear, in search of gold. I followed them down the steep steps carved into the slate rock, and continued upstream by myself for about one-half mile. This trail ran about thirty or forty feet above the river. I saw few panning spots of any promise. I returned to my truck.