Hiking this weekend with Kira and two friends, Neal and Emily, through the Sierras’ Carson Iceberg Wilderness.

Departing Berkeley at about 9 PM we drove up highway 4, past the Big Trees, to Ebbitts Pass where we found the trailhead about a half a mile East by 2 AM Saturday morning.  We parked, picked up our packs and hit the trail.  By 4 AM we had made three miles and I was plumb tuckered.  We pulled off the trail by a number of yards and hit the sack.

Up and fed by late morning, we got back on the trail by noon and were at Nobel Lake in no time.  From Nobel we pushed up hill and then departed the PCT to the East toward Bull Lake.  Up over a pass, we then enjoyed a vigorous downgrade which dropped us into a nice valley filled with meadow.  However, as we approached this green filling we found the saturation significant.  The moss and grass squished beneath our feet and the trail was overgrown and un-obvious.  Following our map and GPS we took a stab at direction and pushed through the moist flora.  However, soon our path became obviously poor and I made another attempt to reconcile our location and direction.  To my dismay, I had not, and still have not, yet perfected the objective evaluation of paper maps, GPS coordinates and elevation, and hazards beneath my feet.  After a quick evaluation of the two sources and as I stepped across patches of green and yellow textured under footings, I lifted my head to consult my findings with Kira, exclaiming, “Kira – I think I’ve figured this ou–!” As my eyes pitched from the map to my feet and around to Kira, my words were cut short by my sudden surprise to find myself up to my waist in a thick bog.

Now for those of you who have never sliped yourself, fully clothed, into a thick soup of soil, water, alge, bacterium, and robust olfactory devices, don’t let my experience deter you from giving it a shot.  The shear joy of being surprised.  The wondrous sensation of mud filling your boots as your sink.  The splashing and sucking.  The silence of renewed topside surface tension.  The sensational shutter of fear that strikes through your soul as as time slows down and your feet don’t touch and your friends are frozen stiff watching you wriggle as your pack pulls you deeper.  Then finally you’re toes touch and your anxiety softens.  You dunk your hands in the muck and strike for the solid rim of the bog, rolling your pack to the side and crawling back out in complete and in utter shock at your mismanaged step.  Vain attempts to try and hide the embarrassment and then once standing again, covered now, toe to the hip in muck, with no one but your friends around, all you can do is laugh and continue along.

After the bog event, which only lasted about 90 seconds, we continued along our unmarked path, seeking higher ground as Neal drenched his feet in a second looming pit.  Now with cautious step we crossed the marsh and found ourselves in thicker brush and further from the path.  The meadow gave way to willows densely packed together and taller than our packs, small drainages that continually surprised our footings, sometimes emerging from deep holes beneath us.  A range of undergrowth that grabbed and nipped at your ankles and of course the ever persistant mosquitos sneaking their sips at our necks, wrists and hair lines.  With great fortitude and patines we finally emerged at a clearing of dry rocky soil.  A quick visual nod from each other, we dropped our packs and took respite, evaluated ourselves, climbed a tree, scouted a path, conferenced, confirmed, and quickly struck back toward the creek and toward the unseen trail.  Without event or delay we were back on track and walking comfortably along a well traveled path within five minutes and then paused for lunch.

Which reminds me – is it safe to eat a clove a garlic?

“Digestive Irritation - Because allicin is so strong, there is some suggestion that too much raw garlic could irritate or even damage the digestive tract. As always, use common sense, don’t overdo it and if in doubt consult your doctor.”

Well, we ate our cloves and irritated our digestive systems, but cleared our heads.. or something.. and then got back on the trail.  We still had another four miles to go and it was getting late, but the bulk of the remainder was to be down hill, we weren’t too daunted.

Within a couple of hours and after a number of spectacular river crossings, we moseyed into a small wooded area about a mile away from Asa lake and called it quits, each of us disrobing our soggy shoes and socks.  Neal lit a fire and we gathered ourselves about it drying our toes, bathing in the warmth, and battling the mosquitos.   We ate dinner, drank some wine, ate some cheese, nipped at some scotch and promptly fell asleep.  Content.

The next morning we were up at seven and on the trail by eight thirty, ready for the day’s ten mile return to the car.  By far our longest day and mostly uphill, we attacked it with proper rest and a decent starting time to made it our most productive and consistant day of hiking.  Perhaps it was because our packs were lighter with the food stuffs all consumed and excreted, or perhaps we could see the barn, who knows.

Round about two in the afternoon we reached our 20.5 mile mark and the car, satisfied ourselves with a full featured lunch, enjoyed some small deer bounding through the meadows, and then drove back down the hill to the bay.  As we descended we smiled.  Good weather, great people, and a solid hike through the forests of the California Sierras hardly lends it’s self to anything but a big fat grin.

Download the 2010-07-31 Ebbitts Pass – Carson Iceberg Wilderness Route kml – waypoints indicate trail junctions.

Photos – Thanks to Emily

I was directed to read about the Fourth of July, America’s Independence Day on Wikipedia, and thusly, Kira and I got in the car on the 2nd in order to properly celebrate our Nation’s independence day in full. July two, three, and four.

Leaving at 1 PM on Friday, our plan was fool-proof enough and I walked with arrogance all morning.  However, when 1 PM came and I was leaving Kira’s office, with the car packed, and she with sack lunches in hand, we drove a quarter mile to find the highway stopped at Gilman.  Three hours later we had moved less than 30 miles and our lunches were gone and so was our pride.

With about 40 minutes of 60 mph+ driving under our belts by Sacramento it was no surprise that our car would not put up with the abuse of a hot day and heavy traffic.  By the time we climbed Donner Summit, AC blindly on, and driving smoothly and out of traffic, the radiator flared up and we were again in a limited mode of transport.  A rest stop, some cans of water, and a shotty job of repair later, we limped into Truckee and briefly looked for a hardware store.  Seeing nothing we decided to move along, make camp, and try to forget all about the seven and a half our drive we’d just completed.

Pulling off the 80 E, we headed North on the 89 for about five minutes before we pulled off and dropped in onto Prosser Creek Reservoir where we were greeted by friends.  Kira’s folks had driven all the way out from Colorado to visit, and they were excited to see us and pleased to not have to drive the extra three and a half hours to the Bay Area.  This set of circumstances helped us to forget about our wasted afternoon, we too were soon cheerful.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to get my fly on the water while Kira spent time catching up with her mom and Christopher manned the camping equipment.  After dinner and some star gazing we hit the sac.

……

Woke up the next morning – lounged. Hiked. Dined.

…..

Not a bad weekend.

Another enjoyable summer hike. This time, up the Illilouette creek in Yosemite National Park with Tripp, Karen, and Kira.

Weather was good, and warmer than I packed for.  Crowds were equally better than I’d expected.  And most enjoyably, the water level was wonderfully high making for fun river crossings and some recreational fishing.  I suppose my license, fly rod and the hope of getting some casting practice in inceased the weight of my pack for the weekend, but it was worth the entertainment of pursuing the tiny fish, which I’m guessing were rainbows?, and were about four inches long with a raging thirst for heavily worn flies that kind of looked like ants.

Also adding to the weekend was the ever present wild life, reptiles and insects on the hot dry trail down from Glacier Point, a grouse (Sooty Grouse according to their Birdwatcher List) along a lightly wooded trail to Illilouette Falls.  Deer by the dozen within our campsite, obviously fish in the river by the school, and even a black bear and her cubs walking, digging, and playing along the road down from Glacier Point.  Most fortunately for us, the mosquitos were dormant and our attempts to thwart them were unnecessary. [Visiting Yosemite soon?  Have a look at their animal check lists] Next time we’ll be sure to bring along our edible plants list for the area to help augment our dining. (a guide?)

More so, I learned some better techniques for using a bear cache and I have a stronger understanding for how to prepare for Yosemite summers.  All in all, the hike was a substantial success that has left me on the couch a day later with with tired and sore legs.

Photos! (Thanks to Tripp)

Our Hike: ~5 miles on day one (including walking about Glacier Point). ~10 miles on day two (including a hike east toward Nevada Falls)

2010-06-19 Illilouette Creek, Yosemite, CA

For Kira’s Birthday this past weekend we set off on a hike that would, we hoped, begin to off set our highly skewed wilderness record. (see Mongollon).  Our hike this time around was just about six months the opposite the timing of our last adventure, so we felt odds were in our favor.  However, we still set our minds to a week full of planning making phone calls, looking at maps, reading weather reports, trail reviews, and packing both our car and our bags for anything.

I can tell you now, we made it home safe.  Phew.

It was a short 2 mile hike that ended at the junction of Grindstone Creek and the Eel River.  Both of which surprised us with the volume of water flowing through them.  I kicked myself for not acquiring a fishing license and bringing my goods.  Bloody rock was a beautiful view, and framed the wilderness we were hiking through quite well.  Remarkably, the only deer we saw was along the road.  However, through out the hike Kira almost stepped on three different kinds of snake – so that was an added bonus of sleeping on the ground.

http://blog.johnmizell.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/2010-06-12-Bloody-Rock-Mendocino-National-Forest1.kml

Photos From The Weekend: http://gallery.johnmizell.com/main.php?g2_itemId=6887

Friday: Becoming an REI Member

$20 in and 20% off.  Now I’m entitled to all sorts of good stuff.  Hooray!

Saturday: The Pikes Peak Hike, 14,110 ft

Kira and I woke up at 3:30 AM and pushed ourselves over to the lodge where the rest of our nine had gathered, shoved ourselves into the minivan, and zoned out until we arrived at The Craggs trail head at the base of Pikes Peak on the West side.  Dark and cool we lifted one foot in front of the other up the trail in soft whispers and the burgeoning dawn.  Soon the night lifted, the morning broke, and we anticipated the arrival of solar warmth as we watched the shadows recede across the panoramic of the Rocky Mountains toward our trail.  Patches of snow turned icy dotted our route and every pause between steps debuted a glorious one hundred and eighty snowcapped shark-tooth horizon.  It was breathtaking.

Our companions were of various ages.  Twenty-two was the low bar while the oldest hailed from the low altitude of Michigan and celebrated sixty-five years of  vigor.  As our pace was slow and steady and breaks were frequent, several of us had much too much energy in our legs.  However, we maintained our patience.  And as the day wore on and the peak grew closer, our compatriot grew weaker and weaker to the point of anxiety.  As we stepped across fields of ice and tip-toed through small boulder-scapes, we held our breath as steps became harder to take and balance more difficult to maintain.  Water was shared mercifully and snacks were eaten vigorously.  However, the time finally came when, only one more bound from the top, no more than two thousand feet above, that the group split into two, those who would eat lunch in the wind and those who would begin to descend.  Kira and I, being representative of youth and strength, continued on with several others and finding nothing but a heap of boulders leading to the top, scampered quickly from icy rock to snowy hole to glorious cairn pointing the way in the last one hundred meters.

To the delight of all but us hikers, the small two lane road ends here at the peak and atop it rests a restaurant and souvenir stand, a US Army building, a parking lot, view point, and the end of the line for the Cog Mountain Railway.  So as we stood and enjoyed our lack of three hundred and sixty degrees, a group of men dug their raised Ford F-350 out of some ice they’d tried to run through, and an old man threw a snow ball at his grand child, then laughed.  An overweight family fell out of their oversized SUV, and a middle aged hiking couple remotely locked their Subaru.  Several other hikers had ascended with us and had retreated from the wind into the cafeteria, so we followed suit in order to enjoy the relief of sitting in a restroom for a few moments.

After some pictures with the freshly painted “Pikes Peak, 14,110 ft” sign and enjoying a some slices of guda we’d carried up for the occasion, we turned our noses and toses down the hill and began our decent.  It was now close to 3 PM.  We had left the parking lot at 6:30 AM.  It had taken us eight and a half hours to climb the mountain, only to find it heavily populated and significantly lacking any sort of complete view.  There was some serious disappointment as we reengaged the icy rock for our departure.  But as we reemerged on the West side of the mountain, and the panoramic of the Rockies presented it’s self once again, one couldn’t help but smile and keep on trucking.

By 6:30 PM we had reached the cars at the parking lot of The Craggs campground and we easily slipped back into our seats which we had occupied twelve long hours before, celebrated our accomplishment and then went silent.  It was cold and dark again.  What an ordeal.

Sunday: Pikes Peak Road Runners Trail Race, 4.8 miles (Fall Series Race #2)

Kira and I woke up late on Sunday, about 9:30 AM, to the sound of movement upstairs and my mind raced with enthusiasm for the race!  I threw the covers back and then put all my strength into jumping out of bed.  My back screamed and my thighs winced.  My fists clenched and my body threw up the middle finger.  I paused for a good several minutes, standing next to my bed, fearful of the next steps, fearful of the next event, fearful I’d done a terrible thing to my body.  However, with a few stretches and some slow movements I made it to the shower where the warm water medicated my body and soon I was upstairs and energetic.

MORE PHOTOS FROM THE RACE

We drove out to the park where the race was being held and checked in, stretching and doing a bit of a jog I was mentally convinced I was prepared.  I stepped in line behind Christopher for the start and made a deal to never leave his heels.  The pack was tight and keeping up without edging someone out was difficult, but with some ziggs and zaggs and a bit of some pace adjustment I was stuck to him.  After one loop about the grass the trail started, and the group thinned to a manageable density.  Strong and energized as I had started, I stuck with him, however as the hills kept going up and up and as my body began to recognize the endeavors of the previous day I began to slow more and more.  Christopher left my toes and moved forward.  Relentless I managed to change my goal and defend against any other competitor running between us, with the distance between as no object.  Through a few splashy creeks and up a set of stairs my heart was pounding and I felt the drive of collapse catching me, however every moment before I was about to give up, my pace setter slowed his speed and the hills pointed downward and the ground got softer and someone handed me some water and I relished in some sense of relief.  The last portion of the trail contained a set of ropes leading up an embankment, at this sight and with the cheering of a massive crowd I found the energy to leap across the creek and find the rope and with full force and vigor pull myself to the top passing my trail mentor.  With a lunge I was over a small fence and could see the finish only meters away.  However as I put feet in front of feet I found my energy registering a payment due and I slowed myself to a crawl.  Several others passed me, then Christopher reclaimed his position before my nose.  I put some force through, promised myself some rewards, and struck out to the end to enjoy only 3 seconds behind my leader.

Exhausted and satisfied with my weekend’s exercise I devoted the remainder of the day to successful living and a restful night.

RACE RESULTS

3rd of 16 in my age group, 39th of 203 men, 41st of 347 racers

Monday: Root Beer Floats, Hagandaz 5 and Mr. Thomas Kemper

Delicious and rewarding.