Friday

Elizabeth and I left home at 2:30 and picked up another hiker, Kent, for the five hour drive to Ripstein Campground in the Trinity Alps.

The road to the campground was narrow and winding, but well-paved. We arrived at sunset to an attractive campground sheltered by a lovely forest of pines and oaks. Camping was free, as far as we could tell. Most of the campsites were still available, so we picked our favorite: number four, right above Canyon Creek. We set up our tents and, since the night was warm, built only a small campfire. We went to sleep listening to the creek’s rushing water.

Saturday

On Saturday morning, Kent, Elizabeth, and I packed up our gear and drove to the trailhead, only a mile up Canyon Creek Road. There, we met the rest of our group: the leaders, John and Linda Ghysels, and Aleta, Terri, and Janet.

We started hiking at 10, climbing a hillside next to Canyon Creek. The trail was gentle and wide. As at the campsite, we were in a forest of pines and oaks. Moss-covered boulders and tree trunks suggested ample moisture. The vegetation was particularly lush next to the streams, where we pushed our way through dense, leafy shrubs.

As we climbed higher, we got our first views of the peaks on the opposite side of Canyon Creek. Treeline was not too far above. There were even patches of snow on the peaks.

Four miles into the hike, we reached Canyon Creek Falls. Snowpack in the Trinity Alps had been double the average this winter, and the recent warm weather had begun melting it. This made for swollen rivers and spectacular waterfalls.

The falls were also where I first spotted Brewer spruce (Picea breweriana). Easily identified by its graceful weeping boughs, Brewer spruce grows in the higher elevations of the Klamath-Siskiyou, but nowhere else on earth.

Beyond the falls, we hiked through patches of high chaparral that afforded excellent views. The chaparral was filled with unfamiliar shrubs, although I did recognize manzanita (Arctostaphylos spp.), shrub oak (Quercus vaccinifolia), serviceberry (Amelanchier utahensis), and tobacco brush (Ceanothus velutinus).

We walked through a wonderful old-growth forest where incense-cedar (Calocedrus decurrens) and Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii var. menziesii) raised their green crowns well over a hundred feet into the bluest of skies. We were getting closer to the lakes and several backpackers had made their camps next to the creek. I, however, was getting bitten by mosquitoes, and was happy to continue higher.

We found another set of falls, even more impressive than the first, roaring down bare granite cliffs.

We walked through a broad meadow where the young grass was bright green and corn lilies (Veratrum californicum) were popping up everywhere. The grass was already dotted with violet shooting stars (Dodecatheon sp.), but the best wildflowers would have to wait a few weeks.

A climb up granite slabs brought us to Lower Canyon Creek Lake, a dark blue gem ringed by isolated conifers and reddish brush. Behind the lake were jagged granite peaks, still covered with broad, gleaming snowfields.

It was windy on the bare granite, so Elizabeth and I went looking for a sheltered site to set up camp. A dark grove of trees on the northwest shore of the lake turned out to be an excellent spot, and we set up our tent on a spit of land next to the water. There was even a small waterfall nearby.

We joined the other hikers for dinner then walked back to camp after dark. Elizabeth and I agreed that we were enjoying this trip much more than the Humboldt Redwoods trip. We fell asleep listening to the lapping water of the lake and the waterfalls coming down from the melting snowfields.

Sunday

The sun rose at 5:50 on Sunday, but only made it over the peaks surrounding Lower Canyon Creek Lake at 8:45. The lake gleamed cobalt blue and the boughs of the Brewer spruce swayed in the wind. I noticed that the grove of trees in which we’d set up our tent held a nice variety of mature trees: Brewer spruce, western white pine (Pinus monticola), and red fir (Abies magnifica var. shastensis).

We met with our group at 10. Our goal today was to leave our tents in place and hike a few miles up the canyon to L Lake for lunch.

The outlet from Upper Canyon Creek Lake to the lower lake, which is normally an easy crossing, was deep and swift. We decided to avoid it. We found an alternate route where the outlet entered the lower lake, but it wasn’t that much better. We had to hop over lots of boulders and bushwhack through lots of shrubs, but we all made it across to the upper lake unscathed.

At the other lake, we saw a group of hikers that had just forded the outlet. According to them, the water was not dangerous. In fact, they found it only thigh deep. We decided that we’d try it on the way back.

We continued our hike to L Lake. The path to L Lake is not on the official map of the Trinity Mountains, and is considered a scramble. Having done most of it, I agree with the assessment: the trail’s ducked, but faint and steep.

After an initial climb, the trail leveled off and became easier to follow. It was blocked by some patches of snow, but we crossed them easily.

But at around 6,000 feet, the trail disappeared completely under deep snow. That was enough for us; we decided to stop for lunch without having reached L Lake. It was probably covered in snow and ice, anyway. In front of us was the canyon we’d just come up, with Canyon Creek lakes below and awesome snow-clad peaks above. Behind us, in the snow, was a pair of deer under a Brewer spruce, confident that we wouldn’t go anywhere near them.

On the way back to camp, we all forded the outlet from Upper Canyon Creek Lake. The ford was straightforward, but exciting and refreshing, soaking us all to our knees.

We got back to camp at 3. With time to spare, some of us went swimming in the lake. I jumped in first. The water was so cold I could hardly control my limbs. I was out in five seconds.

Before dinner I took some time to identify the alpine wildflowers growing around the lake. I spotted pussy paws (Cistanthe umbellata), the curious-looking mountain jewelflower (Streptanthus tortuosus), and two types of penstemon: alpine penstemon (Penstemon davidsonii) and mountain pride (Penstemon newberryi).

The group had dinner together at dusk. We had gelled after two days out in the wilderness together.

It was another warm night. I had my 0-degree sleeping bag, but the temperature only got to 52. I had to unzip the bag and sleep with my arms outside of it. The number of stars was immense. When the moon finally rose, its reflections sparkled on the black lake.

When I got out of the tent in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I saw a black figure run away into the darkness. I scanned the rocks and trees with my headlamp. What I found was a pair of green eyes staring back at me. What the hell is that? I walked toward it. Then I saw the faint outlines of two big ears and a black tail: a mule deer. Nothing to worry about. I watched the eyes watching me as I went to the bathroom, and then I got back into the tent and went to sleep.

Monday

On our last day, we broke camp at 8:30 and started hiking down the canyon at 9. After the warm weekend, the creeks had become even more swollen and the mosquitoes in the forests had become even more plentiful. We made it back to the car at 12:30. Kent decided to ride home with someone else. Elizabeth and I stopped at La Grange Cafe in Weaverville for lunch.

The plan was to start from the meadows near the visitor center, hike through the ancient Douglas-fir forests on the leeward side of Inverness Ridge, then descend through Bishop pine and ceanothus to the coastal scrub and the Pacific Ocean. We’d stop at Arch Rock on the coast, then come back through the densely forested Bear Valley.

Elizabeth and I started our hike at 9:20. We walked across the meadows surrounding the Bear Valley visitor center and then climbed the forested east side of Inverness Ridge. The air was cool and fresh. Sunlight came in through the trees at a low angle. Elizabeth and I had both been a little cranky from waking up to an alarm early on a Sunday morning, but being out in the mountains quickly improved our mood.

Blue and white forget-me-nots (Myosotis latifolia) lined the trail. In the understory were California hazel (Corylus cornuta var. californica), California bay (Umbellularia californica), and tanoak (Lithocarpus densiflorus). Douglas-firs (Pseudotsuga menziesii var. menziesii) grew above everything else. Showy irises (Iris spp.) and huge cow parsnip (Heracleum maximum) grew in the forest clearings.

We stopped in a meadow for a break once we reached the top of Inverness Ridge. In the distance, the golden cliffs of Point Reyes’s western boundary dropped into the Pacific Ocean.

I looked behind us at the short spur trail to the summit of 1,407-foot Mount Wittenberg. I must have walked by it a dozen times, ignoring it each time. But not this time. We hiked to the top, but I’m sorry to report that it was not worth the effort. The summit was indistinct and covered with patches of dense Douglas-fir that blocked any views. I don’t think I’ll be going back.

We hiked north to the Fire Lane Trail. Two years ago, I’d hiked it too late to see all the blueblossom ceanothus (Ceanothus thyrsiflorus) blooming on it. Would we catch them blooming today?

Through the gaps in the trees I saw the dark green hillsides ahead of us dusted with blue. The blueblossoms were blooming! Their boughs were weighed down by masses of blue flowers. Tiny blue petals completely covered the trail.

As we approached the ocean, the forest thinned into Bishop pine (Pinus muricata) scattered between clumps of California blackberry (Rubus ursinus), coyote brush (Baccharis pilularis), poison oak (Toxicodendron diversilobum), and bracken fern (Pteridium aquilinum). Fluorescent-orange scarlet pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis) and bright yellow bird’s-foot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus) lined the trail.

When we got to the beach we sat in the sand below the cliffs. We had lunch and watched the surf. The wind blowing off the water was cold enough for me to put on my jacket.

After lunch we walked for miles along the ocean on the Coast Trail. We were in coastal scrub, a plant community that bears some resemblance to chaparral, but that I’ve never been able to bring myself to like. Maybe that’s because it’s usually choked with poison oak.

Lovely creeks trickled from Inverness Ridge down into the ocean. The combination of a sheltered ravine and fresh water supported surprisingly lush vegetation: alders (Alnus rubra), willows (Salix sp.), horsetails (Equisetum sp.), cow parsnips, big yellow monkeyflowers (Mimulus guttatus), and ferns stumbled all over each other above the creeks.

Next to one of the creeks a small, inconspicuous flower caught my eye. A closer look revealed it to be a species of Calochortus I’d never seen before: pussy ears (C. tolmiei). Their three petals were a dusty lilac covered with fine hairs on the inside.

Our last stop was Arch Rock, a popular headland with excellent views of the ocean. As usual, it was crowded, so I had to ask two guys if we could sit next to them. One of them looked familiar. Then I realized it was Stuart, whom I’d met on a hike with a mutual friend years ago. He was there with his friend Dave. We talked out for a while, and then walked back to the Bear Valley visitor center together.

We all talked and joked, a welcome break from the solitude Elizabeth and I had had all day. We finished at 6:15—Elizabeth and I were out for nearly 9 hours! A great day in the wilderness. We all stopped at the Marin Brewing Company on the way home for an excellent dinner.