Tuesday morning Jerry Rein and Catherine O'Riley and I walked down the Canyon Creek Trail (CCT), on our way to the High Old Upriver Trail or HOUT, where a tremendous bloom is in progress.
We noted very very many OHV tracks in the Gold Run Diggings, not only on the main road, but also wandering across hill and dale.
The increase in OHV use at Gold Run has itself been increasing. Five years ago there was essentially zero OHV use. On the BLM lands in the southern reaches of the Diggings, the main problem at that time was mining claims.
Having filed a claim, a claimant obtained a key to the BLM gate at the end of Garrett Road. Then it became time to use backhoe and bulldozer to make test pits and roads, suddenly disturbing the historic character of mines which had remained almost untouched since the 1880s.
That is, the people like you and me who might have used the gated road to drive to, say, the head of the Pickering Bar Trail, and who would not have damaged one iota of history, were barred from using this ancient road (depicted on the 1866 GLO map of the area).
But the people who explicitly intended to tear up the Diggings every which way had keys to the gate.
One such used his key, his backhoe, and his dump truck, to steal the last significant accumulation of Eocene-age petrified wood in that southern area. This was done about six years ago as I recall, and two or three years after I walked the Diggings with BLM personnel, pointing out the petrified wood, and asking that it be protected.
For the pretty petrified wood had already been looted from the old hydraulic mines everywhere in this part of the Sierra, and only a little remained. Elsewhere in the United States such petrified wood might have inspired creation of a State Park.
I believe that some part of the OHV use now occurring involves continued theft of petrified wood. I heard from a friend, earlier this year, that a group of people, apparently on foot, were gathering petrified wood in the southern Diggings.
The gate at the end of Garrett is probably a good thing. But mining claims and OHVs are bad things. Not everywhere bad; but there, at Gold Run, yes: bad.
Well.
At a certain point, well down the CCT, a fallen Canyon Live Oak has blocked the trail for many years. I seem to recall that it was there, lying across a switchback, in 1977. Recently this fairly large trunk broke a few feet above the root mass, and yesterday we had the pleasure and excitement of clearing it from the trail. It took some huffing and puffing, and when our perfectly coordinated efforts managed to roll the root mass over, it never stopped, but crashed directly down the slope and disappeared from view, breaking up into smaller chunks along the way.
Good thing no one was below us!
We cleared the remaining debris from the trail and felt quite gratified at a job well done.
Very pretty clouds graced the sky and sometimes shaded us as we marched upcanyon and marveled at the flowers. Since my previous visit last Friday, many many more Bush Monkeyflowers have started to bloom. I expect these very remarkable bushes will hit full bloom within a couple-few weeks, at least down around the 2000' contour and below. At Lovers Leap, 4000', this same species usually waits until the end of May to max out.
And when maxed out, one single bush can bear a couple hundred blooms, large, almost orchid-like, or more closely resembling snapdragons, in a salmon pink hue.
There are tens of thousands of these small bushes in Giant Gap and Canyon Creek.
We wandered a mile or so up the canyon, and watched the pretty clouds scoot by, heading south. Then certain clouds to the west began to look somewhat fuzzy and flared and we knew that rain showers must be falling from them. As the afternoon wore on, a compact mass of dark clouds formed to the west, and the showers became more visible.
On our way out the HOUT, raindrops kissed us every few minutes, but never enough to even begin to dampen clothes or hair. Yet on the CCT, plants were all wet from rain, and we saw that the showers hadn't missed us by much.
It was so very pleasant to hike the HOUT on a perfect spring day.
We were treated to a bird's-eye view of a bird, while on the HOUT near the Blue Lupine Bear Bed. Bears seem to like good scenic overlooks, and the Blue Lupine Bear Bed is a perfect example. A Great Blue Heron flew along the roaring river below, and with Jerry's binoculars we got a pretty good look at the thing, so tall and slender, patiently waiting on the rocks at river's edge for a chance to snag a fish with its long sharp beak.
Such was a fine day in the one and only American River Canyon.
Showing posts with label Gold Run. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gold Run. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
Of Quads and Quandaries
OK, there's some rather minor breaking news on several fronts.
1. Gold Run Diggings. Recently a man named Richmond, who owns land along Garrett Road in Gold Run, blazed a trail for his OHV "quads" (in the plural; he has children who ride, too) down into the Diggings. I learned this from Bob and Judy S---, who often ride their horses and hike in the Diggings. On Saturday I saw Richmond riding his giant quad there. Yesterday I called one of the owners of the 800-acres-now-for-sale, Mark P---, and informed him of the trespass. A little odd, one trespasser "telling" on another, don't you think? Today I talked to Bob S--- and learned that Richmond has blazed his trail across a parcel belonging to an old friend of mine, Anne P---. So I called Anne. It seems likely that Anne will put an end to this particular trail.
Unfortunately, there are several other access points, including one on BLM lands, so if Anne closes down this one trail, Richmond will likely just use another.
2. Lovers Leap. While at Lovers Leap on December 15, 2004, my friends and I noted a cedar tree, rather a large one, had been felled on the BLM land there, and the main part of the trunk was gone. Later that day, we encountered two men cutting firewood nearby, also on BLM land. Soon thereafter, I called Folsom BLM to ask about the cutting. No one knew about it, but some of the people who would know were not in the office. I left my name and number and never heard back. Calling again in March, I talked to the Chief, Deane Swickard. He promised to look into the matter. Today I called again, to find that:
A. The cedar was cut illegally.
B. A permit to cut dead and down wood had been issued to a man in Alta.
C. The men we found cutting did not have a permit.
In my opinion, some kind of vehicle closure is needed at Lovers Leap. Near the very end of the road is a fork: either go straight to the current parking area, or go right to get down to the Big Oak and points to the west. I think both roads should be gated. It would add less than a hundred yards to the walk to the Leap itself. The present parking area has been getting kind of thrashed by cars and trucks and OHVs, in recent years.
I myself don't have much problem with letting people cut dead and down wood, but there should be limits. An area like Lovers Leap deserves special care. If we could thin-from-below (remove the small stuff) the forest west of Lovers Leap, so that it more closely approximates its historic open character, that *might* be a good thing.
3. Gold Run Diggings. The BLM is interested in acquiring at least some of the 800-acres-now-for-sale. Where the money will come from is unknown. Also, the BLM is prohibited from buying polluted lands. Hence some kind of analysis must be made of the Diggings, to quantify just how bad it is. For, it is a fact that there is some degree of mercury contamination there.
I had heard that the BLM hoped to do the analysis this year. However, today I talked to Deane Swickard of BLM, and learned that some lawsuits have been filed against the BLM, having to do with two mines, one in Nevada County, the other in Placer County. These lawsuits will eat up the money which might have been used to perform the analysis in Gold Run.
This does not please me.
4. Gold Run Diggings. While talking to Mark P---, one of the owners of the 800-acres-now-for-sale, I learned that:
A. There are no current offers, and no sale pending.
B. The owners think the BLM has lost interest in the Diggings.
I told Mark that the BLM has not lost interest, and that Jeff Darlington and the Placer Land Trust are continuing the efforts begun by Marc Landgraf and the American River Conservancy, to acquire private inholdings in and near the North Fork canyon, in the Gold Run area (from Green Valley on the east to Secret Ravine on the west).
I still haven't succeeded in luring the good Jeff Darlington up to Gold Run to see the 800-acres-now-for-sale. Today I left a message on his answering machine. These lands comprise one of the most historic and scenic properties in all California. How would the BLM best manage them, to preserve the extraordinary resources? One management scheme would be to pretty much leave The Diggings alone: enforce a vehicle closure on all the Diggings, with the possible exception of a parking area, somewhere, and let people hike and bike and ride horses on the roads, and let people hike on the trails.
It is possible that some kind of interpretive center might be founded, perhaps near the highway rest stop on I-80, or near the Dutch Flat exit, which would tell the story of the mines and the ancient Eocene river which spawned the mines, etc.
Well, that's all for now.
1. Gold Run Diggings. Recently a man named Richmond, who owns land along Garrett Road in Gold Run, blazed a trail for his OHV "quads" (in the plural; he has children who ride, too) down into the Diggings. I learned this from Bob and Judy S---, who often ride their horses and hike in the Diggings. On Saturday I saw Richmond riding his giant quad there. Yesterday I called one of the owners of the 800-acres-now-for-sale, Mark P---, and informed him of the trespass. A little odd, one trespasser "telling" on another, don't you think? Today I talked to Bob S--- and learned that Richmond has blazed his trail across a parcel belonging to an old friend of mine, Anne P---. So I called Anne. It seems likely that Anne will put an end to this particular trail.
Unfortunately, there are several other access points, including one on BLM lands, so if Anne closes down this one trail, Richmond will likely just use another.
2. Lovers Leap. While at Lovers Leap on December 15, 2004, my friends and I noted a cedar tree, rather a large one, had been felled on the BLM land there, and the main part of the trunk was gone. Later that day, we encountered two men cutting firewood nearby, also on BLM land. Soon thereafter, I called Folsom BLM to ask about the cutting. No one knew about it, but some of the people who would know were not in the office. I left my name and number and never heard back. Calling again in March, I talked to the Chief, Deane Swickard. He promised to look into the matter. Today I called again, to find that:
A. The cedar was cut illegally.
B. A permit to cut dead and down wood had been issued to a man in Alta.
C. The men we found cutting did not have a permit.
In my opinion, some kind of vehicle closure is needed at Lovers Leap. Near the very end of the road is a fork: either go straight to the current parking area, or go right to get down to the Big Oak and points to the west. I think both roads should be gated. It would add less than a hundred yards to the walk to the Leap itself. The present parking area has been getting kind of thrashed by cars and trucks and OHVs, in recent years.
I myself don't have much problem with letting people cut dead and down wood, but there should be limits. An area like Lovers Leap deserves special care. If we could thin-from-below (remove the small stuff) the forest west of Lovers Leap, so that it more closely approximates its historic open character, that *might* be a good thing.
3. Gold Run Diggings. The BLM is interested in acquiring at least some of the 800-acres-now-for-sale. Where the money will come from is unknown. Also, the BLM is prohibited from buying polluted lands. Hence some kind of analysis must be made of the Diggings, to quantify just how bad it is. For, it is a fact that there is some degree of mercury contamination there.
I had heard that the BLM hoped to do the analysis this year. However, today I talked to Deane Swickard of BLM, and learned that some lawsuits have been filed against the BLM, having to do with two mines, one in Nevada County, the other in Placer County. These lawsuits will eat up the money which might have been used to perform the analysis in Gold Run.
This does not please me.
4. Gold Run Diggings. While talking to Mark P---, one of the owners of the 800-acres-now-for-sale, I learned that:
A. There are no current offers, and no sale pending.
B. The owners think the BLM has lost interest in the Diggings.
I told Mark that the BLM has not lost interest, and that Jeff Darlington and the Placer Land Trust are continuing the efforts begun by Marc Landgraf and the American River Conservancy, to acquire private inholdings in and near the North Fork canyon, in the Gold Run area (from Green Valley on the east to Secret Ravine on the west).
I still haven't succeeded in luring the good Jeff Darlington up to Gold Run to see the 800-acres-now-for-sale. Today I left a message on his answering machine. These lands comprise one of the most historic and scenic properties in all California. How would the BLM best manage them, to preserve the extraordinary resources? One management scheme would be to pretty much leave The Diggings alone: enforce a vehicle closure on all the Diggings, with the possible exception of a parking area, somewhere, and let people hike and bike and ride horses on the roads, and let people hike on the trails.
It is possible that some kind of interpretive center might be founded, perhaps near the highway rest stop on I-80, or near the Dutch Flat exit, which would tell the story of the mines and the ancient Eocene river which spawned the mines, etc.
Well, that's all for now.
Monday, March 7, 2005
Visit to Canyon Creek
Near Gold Run, Canyon Creek turns to the south and enters the North Fork canyon in a long series of waterfalls. Sunday I met several friends for a walk down the Canyon Creek Trail (CCT). There were ten of us altogether. We left our cars at the Gold Run exit and sneaked through the defunct gas station to a road leading into the Diggings. A walk of half a mile or so brought us to the CCT trailhead in Potato Ravine.
A man named -- -- contacted me several years ago, seeking information about waterfalls in the North Fork. He was developing a website about waterfalls. I made the mistake of telling him about the CCT, for, despite my request that he not publicize it, he put up pictures and maps on his website. Then he went further, and put the pictures and maps on a major trails website. Suddenly large numbers of people were wandering around out on Garrett Road, trying to find the way to the CCT.
I do not know whether this led directly to the recent closure of the old road from Garrett to The Bluffs and the Paleobotanist Trail.
The CCT is fragile. It has not been adequately maintained for over a century. I absolutely believe in public access to this fine yet fragile trail. I myself have led many many people in there. I myself have a map of the trail on my website. But one has to worm one's way into my North Fork American web pages to find it. My idea was, only someone who actually cared about the North Fork would find it; and that kind of person is welcome, and needed.
I write about the CCT to this email list all the time. So, I'm not keeping any secrets. But I maintain the notion that the people on this email list care about the North Fork, and that some kind of positive action on some issue or another, Canyon Creek, for instance, could result.
For if we don't succeed in finding a way for the BLM to buy the private lands now for sale in the Gold Run Diggings, including about 90% of the CCT itself, well, history shows that our access could be lost, or at least, broken and restricted. As has just happened, by the blockage of the Paleobotanist Trail.
I have worked on the CCT for over twenty years. Most of my work has involved cutting brush from the trail. I built a bridge where the CCT crosses Canyon Creek, six years ago or so, and then rebuilt it, a couple years back. Many many parts of the trail need work. It cannot well tolerate much use. It will be damaged further. It has been damaged further, already, by the increased use since -- -- publicized it.
As our group filed down into the canyon, the young folks, ages 13 to 20, dashed ahead, running down the trail. Being young, they did not have the sense to keep their feet on the narrow path. The edge of the trail was broken down in places.
Now, I have carried a shovel in there many times, and have restored, with extreme care and delicacy, several hundred feet of the trail, where bushes once forced animals and humans alike downslope. I made a tiny bench cut in such places, in keeping with the overall narrowness of the trail, merely restoring its proper line. I tried to do it in such a way that no one would even realize the work had been done. But there are many many problem areas which remain.
After we reached the great drain tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co., 1873, where three to five thousand cubic yards of Diggings gravel per day once flowed through the giant sluice boxes into Canyon Creek and into the creek's own giant sluice boxes, a few of us old folk took the lead and left the youngsters behind.
I noted footprints less than two days old on the trail, Vibram-soled prints unlike those made by me and Catherine and Alex near a week ago. Here again, one problem area on the trail had been broken down further by a careless hiker. This will about force me to restore this segment of the trail.
Now, I actually like trail work. I wouldn't mind making a complete fix of the CCT. It's going to require backpacking quite a few 50-pound sacks of mortar and concrete all the way down to the rockslide below Gorge Point. Then the stone steps can be built which will fix this dangerous reach of the trail. And before that is done, the deep gaps near the tunnel should be fixed. In fact, I have nurtured a vague and pleasant fantasy that, once the BLM buys the CCT parcel, they will let me repair the trail. Not to make it a highway; just to fix the bad spots and prevent further damage from occurring. Some hundreds of hours of work would be needed. I already have done a hundred or so hours of work on the thing, not counting the lopping which I do on a routine basis.
Perhaps it is not strange that I have developed a proprietary attitude towards the CCT. I have hiked it since 1976. I have literally bloodied myself working on it. I carried the lumber for the bridge over a mile on my shoulder, both times. It took several trips.
Oh well.
Sunday was a blessing of a day, warm and sunny. We straggled down the trail and some of us made it all the way to the North Fork. We had worked up a sweat just going down the trail, and at the Last Waterfall, beside the river, butterflies of several species landed on our heads and hands, to delicately sip our sweat.
A Great Blue Heron suddenly winged past, heading down the river, and I said, "Just wait; some kayakers or rafters will not be far behind." For the kayaks scare up ducks and herons and hawks and eagles and the birds usually go down the river to escape. Sure enough, five kayaks soon appeared. They stopped at Canyon Creek for a break, on their way to Mineral Bar from Euchre Bar.
We made a nice slow climb up and out in the afternoon sun. At the bridge, a cute couple was met, hiking down the trail with backpacks. Well, the man, a tall young fellow, had a tall backpack. I did not recognize them and gently asked how they had learned about the trail.
"I found out about it on the internet, on a waterfalls website," the tall young man replied.
They looked like good people, and I have no fear that they will leave garbage along the trail. It is likely enough that they will damage the trail a little, just as our party had. It is a fragile trail.
When we reached our cars, around four or five in the afternoon, I-80 westbound was at a near standstill. Perhaps there had been a wreck on Three Mile Grade, a few miles west. The traffic was backed up all the way up to the Alta exit, a few miles east, and beyond. What a nightmare.
It was a lovely day on the Canyon Creek Trail.
A man named -- -- contacted me several years ago, seeking information about waterfalls in the North Fork. He was developing a website about waterfalls. I made the mistake of telling him about the CCT, for, despite my request that he not publicize it, he put up pictures and maps on his website. Then he went further, and put the pictures and maps on a major trails website. Suddenly large numbers of people were wandering around out on Garrett Road, trying to find the way to the CCT.
I do not know whether this led directly to the recent closure of the old road from Garrett to The Bluffs and the Paleobotanist Trail.
The CCT is fragile. It has not been adequately maintained for over a century. I absolutely believe in public access to this fine yet fragile trail. I myself have led many many people in there. I myself have a map of the trail on my website. But one has to worm one's way into my North Fork American web pages to find it. My idea was, only someone who actually cared about the North Fork would find it; and that kind of person is welcome, and needed.
I write about the CCT to this email list all the time. So, I'm not keeping any secrets. But I maintain the notion that the people on this email list care about the North Fork, and that some kind of positive action on some issue or another, Canyon Creek, for instance, could result.
For if we don't succeed in finding a way for the BLM to buy the private lands now for sale in the Gold Run Diggings, including about 90% of the CCT itself, well, history shows that our access could be lost, or at least, broken and restricted. As has just happened, by the blockage of the Paleobotanist Trail.
I have worked on the CCT for over twenty years. Most of my work has involved cutting brush from the trail. I built a bridge where the CCT crosses Canyon Creek, six years ago or so, and then rebuilt it, a couple years back. Many many parts of the trail need work. It cannot well tolerate much use. It will be damaged further. It has been damaged further, already, by the increased use since -- -- publicized it.
As our group filed down into the canyon, the young folks, ages 13 to 20, dashed ahead, running down the trail. Being young, they did not have the sense to keep their feet on the narrow path. The edge of the trail was broken down in places.
Now, I have carried a shovel in there many times, and have restored, with extreme care and delicacy, several hundred feet of the trail, where bushes once forced animals and humans alike downslope. I made a tiny bench cut in such places, in keeping with the overall narrowness of the trail, merely restoring its proper line. I tried to do it in such a way that no one would even realize the work had been done. But there are many many problem areas which remain.
After we reached the great drain tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co., 1873, where three to five thousand cubic yards of Diggings gravel per day once flowed through the giant sluice boxes into Canyon Creek and into the creek's own giant sluice boxes, a few of us old folk took the lead and left the youngsters behind.
I noted footprints less than two days old on the trail, Vibram-soled prints unlike those made by me and Catherine and Alex near a week ago. Here again, one problem area on the trail had been broken down further by a careless hiker. This will about force me to restore this segment of the trail.
Now, I actually like trail work. I wouldn't mind making a complete fix of the CCT. It's going to require backpacking quite a few 50-pound sacks of mortar and concrete all the way down to the rockslide below Gorge Point. Then the stone steps can be built which will fix this dangerous reach of the trail. And before that is done, the deep gaps near the tunnel should be fixed. In fact, I have nurtured a vague and pleasant fantasy that, once the BLM buys the CCT parcel, they will let me repair the trail. Not to make it a highway; just to fix the bad spots and prevent further damage from occurring. Some hundreds of hours of work would be needed. I already have done a hundred or so hours of work on the thing, not counting the lopping which I do on a routine basis.
Perhaps it is not strange that I have developed a proprietary attitude towards the CCT. I have hiked it since 1976. I have literally bloodied myself working on it. I carried the lumber for the bridge over a mile on my shoulder, both times. It took several trips.
Oh well.
Sunday was a blessing of a day, warm and sunny. We straggled down the trail and some of us made it all the way to the North Fork. We had worked up a sweat just going down the trail, and at the Last Waterfall, beside the river, butterflies of several species landed on our heads and hands, to delicately sip our sweat.
A Great Blue Heron suddenly winged past, heading down the river, and I said, "Just wait; some kayakers or rafters will not be far behind." For the kayaks scare up ducks and herons and hawks and eagles and the birds usually go down the river to escape. Sure enough, five kayaks soon appeared. They stopped at Canyon Creek for a break, on their way to Mineral Bar from Euchre Bar.
We made a nice slow climb up and out in the afternoon sun. At the bridge, a cute couple was met, hiking down the trail with backpacks. Well, the man, a tall young fellow, had a tall backpack. I did not recognize them and gently asked how they had learned about the trail.
"I found out about it on the internet, on a waterfalls website," the tall young man replied.
They looked like good people, and I have no fear that they will leave garbage along the trail. It is likely enough that they will damage the trail a little, just as our party had. It is a fragile trail.
When we reached our cars, around four or five in the afternoon, I-80 westbound was at a near standstill. Perhaps there had been a wreck on Three Mile Grade, a few miles west. The traffic was backed up all the way up to the Alta exit, a few miles east, and beyond. What a nightmare.
It was a lovely day on the Canyon Creek Trail.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Conversation on Diving Board Ridge
Wednesday dawned clear and promised nothing but sun, so I felt restless, while working at my computer, and gradually inched towards outright escape. One friend was recuperating from back surgery, and needed to hike for his health. Yet another friend was visiting Dutch Flat from Germany, and had expressed interest in seeing this--this what-you-may-call-it--this "Diving Board Ridge," upon which I had bestowed such extravagant praise, and over which I had lavished such impeccable prose.
Considering these facts, it seemed proper to make some telephone calls, for business must be done, and soon enough I was throwing a sandwich and a camera in my pack, and out the door I sallied, into freedom. And sunshine.
At the Gold Run exit of eastbound I-80 I lay in wait, hard against the massive stone monument, built by the Lord Sholto Chapter of the high and puissant E Clampus Vitus in 1984; built to bear the bronze tablet naming Gold Run a State Historical Landmark. The bronze was originally installed in 1950, but construction of I-80 forced its removal to this new place.
They arrived, and Alex and I piled into Ed and Ingrid's SUV to make the two miles drive south on Garrett Road, to the BLM gate, and parking.
Recently I have heard yet again from someone who innocently drove out Garrett, hoping to hike on the public lands there, lands administered by the BLM; and Garrett passes entirely onto BLM lands, without any sign that a boundary has been crossed (tho suddenly, the trees are much larger); and that person drove until Garrett seems to dwindle into a private driveway, with a home quite near.
And that person was sure he was trespassing, and gave up, and turned around. Not the first time I have heard of just this thing.
Here, towards the end of Garrett, you are still on BLM lands, but it sure doesn't look that way. Immediately past the house, the road bends east and loses all surfacing; no pavement, no gravel. And a hundred yards along is the huge green BLM gate.
This road shows on the 1866 General Land Office map as connecting the town of Gold Run to a certain section corner in Indiana Ravine, on the edge of the North Fork canyon; and it is labeled "Road to the Mines."
The road stays just south of the gold-bearing Eocene gravels of the Gold Run Diggings proper. One could walk this road without ever realizing that a wilderness of raw gravel ridges and boulders and hollows and hills of every type, lay a stone's throw away, over a band of manzanita. From here, the Diggings extend about two miles north to I-80.
We followed this Road to the Mines along the rim of the canyon, bearing generally east, but winding back and forth wildly, through groves of Whiteleaf Manzanita and Knobcone Pine, past the Pickering Bar Trail (unmarked, in a flat, breaking south into heavy manzanita, between two tall pines), to the overlook nearby.
An amazing view of Giant Gap opens from here, framing parts of Green Valley and the Sawtooth Ridge and the even more distant snow peaks, in the background. Truly amazing.
Continuing down the road, we were all hemmed in and overhung by manzanita. The road ends in what used to be a turn-around, but now is half-covered by a fallen Kellogg's Black Oak. I remember driving my VW Bug down here, several times, in the late 1970s. I would follow the little track down to the little ravine, cross, and then explore the Secret World.
This can be quite an adventure, for the Secret World has, well, many secrets. It is a smallish world, I mean, a smallish hydraulic mining pit, closed off on three sides, west, north, and east, to the rest of the Diggings and the rest of the World, by high banks and cliffs of gravel. To the south it opens into the North Fork canyon, and Indiana Ravine plunges over the edge, into a long series of waterfalls, reaching the river at Pickering Bar.
If one bears south upon entering the Secret World from the west, via the tributary ravine at the end of the road, you will find some awesome sluice cuts in the solid rock, places where narrow grooves were hacked and blasted to a depth of twenty feet. A patient exploration of these deep miniature canyons will lead one up and out on the east, into big boulder piles, and quite near to the site of the stamp mill which earned this place its name, the "Mill Claim" on the ancient maps, from the 1860s and 1870s.
For, the deep gravels could be very strongly cemented, and yet quite rich in gold. So they had to be smashed up fine, before running them into a sluice box.
Or, if one bears north on entering the Secret World, one can visit the Stone Cabin, built by gold miner Byron Emric in the 1930s or so. Or one can wend away north to the Great Wall of the Ultimate End, the Ultima Thule, as it were, of the Secret World, where a mine tunnel gives easy access through a high gravel ridge, into the main Diggings.
No, it's quite the special place. Take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints, and as few of those as can be managed.
We followed a loopy path to the Stone Cabin and on across boulder piles dating from the Chinese era of mining here, when the era of drift mining had ended, the stamp mill, likely hauled away, and all that remained was for Tia Sing and his gang of coolies to turn the water over the old drifting ground, and wash it all down to bedrock, and then clean that bedrock with a patience and a care which eked out steady, and possibly good, rewards.
Since the Mill Claim is described in operation by newspapers of the 1870s, and hydraulic mining at Gold Run stopped in 1882, Tia Sing and his men likely made the Secret World around 1880.
To clean the exposed bedrock floor of the Eocene river meant moving all those boulders which had once been in the sediments, but were too large for the sluice boxes, and were piled to this side and that as occasion demanded, until all the ground had been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. If the bedrock was rotten, it would be pickaxed and blasted up, and the debris carefully scraped up and carried to the upper end of the nearest sluice box.
It seems Tia Sing had a derrick, for there are some huge boulders in the Secret World, piled high.
Climbing the east wall of the World near Stone Cabin, we struck a certain secret trail across the Diggings and filed through a pass to the Indiana Hill Ditch, completed on September 13, 1852. Later, one Osmyn Harkness came into sole possession of the IHD; he also owned mines at Gold Run and Lost Camp. It is Osmyn Harkness's old patented hydraulic claim at Lost Camp (1872) which eventually fell into the hands of Siller Brothers Lumber Company. That is, in consequence of Osmyn Harkness's noble efforts, in the 1870s, to tear the living hell out of the land and pollute Blue Canyon and the North Fork with mercury and mud, Siller has now won approval for a drastic timber harvest over 560 acres of ridge and canyon.
Our secret trail crossed the IHD and plunged into the North Fork canyon. The roar of the river could be heard, far below. Winding through live oak woods, always descending, we intersected the old Lumber Slide, after which Trail never strayed far from Slide.
The Slide was used to drag big bundles of sawed lumber down the ridge-crest, and working the stuff all the way down into Canyon Creek and Indiana Ravine, to the east and west. Both these ravines carried tailings in quantity, and were worked as "tailings claims," all fitted with big sluice boxes, at least, between waterfalls. One can still see many of the monstrous iron pins and bolts set in the bedrock beside Canyon Creek; cables once connected the sluice boxes to these bolts and pins, and kept the boxes from breaking up or being swept away, under the tremendous mass and force of the streaming mine tailings.
Great views are had of the Big Waterfall in Canyon Creek, from along the Diving Board Trail.
After passing some impressive rock retaining walls, we reached the Diving Board itself. The ridge profile flattens to level, and a cute little flat spreads across the summit, all sheltered by Canyon Live Oaks, with overlooks nearby, one facing east, the other, west. We admired the views very much; they are extraordinary. One is so central to the axis of the canyon, when perched upon that promontory, that great distances unfold within its vista. Lovers Leap and the Pinnacles are silhouetted against the sky, and we watched cloud shadows chase across the ruddy cliffs and spires.
We had the time, over at sunny West Overlook, to indulge in sophisticated conversation, of the sort ordinary folk could never hope to understand, or how much less, attain to themselves. For instance: I suggested that, if one needed a sweater repaired, and one was mad at the sweater-repair person, one might well exclaim, "Darn it, darn it!"
My "Darn it, darn it" was swiftly and unanimously classified as the lowest form of all that which might imagine itself to be humor, but which could not now, nor ever in any future, any planet, nor even any galaxy, actually be counted as humor, at least, not by a sane and sentient being.
Well. I'm not so sure. I think it's funny.
Then Alex launched into a passionate exposition, or it might, I think, have been a diatribe, and his subject was 1919, and Versailles, and Lloyd George, and President Wilson's Fourteen Points of Light.
The fates of nations were being decided for once and for all, it seems, and Alex was building, building; building in intensity, and in fervor and intelligence, until, almost gasping, or even stuttering, under the burden of the Terrible Truths which sprang so relentlessly into his mind's eye, he deduced there could be but one way to "clearly clarify" the problem.
This brought a series of objections and raised eyebrows and remonstrances into play. If we were to allow Alex to "clearly clarify" any problem whatsoever, we must perforce allow Russell to say "Darn it, darn it" whenever he wished. And this was no easy thing to allow.
We had already strayed into a similar area, trying to compose a limerick about limericks.
So it was a very nice day, and we were really tremendously inspired by our own stimulating conversation. We could and did listen to ourselves well-nigh all day long.
Eventually we climbed back up the trail, and out and around and through the Diggings on a new and different line, and at last reached Ingrid's SUV. We were in good time; I would not be late picking up my son from school.
But the SUV's battery was dead, and no amount of clear clarification or darned darnings could restore it to life. That required the husky little Toyota 4WD and jumper cables of John Davenport, who lives in an old hydraulic mining reservoir, a couple hundred yards away.
So all was well and it was another great day in the North Fork. The tiny puffball clouds of morning had grown into many immensely tall and unbalanced giants of the afternoon, giants which put miles of land into shade at a time. These too-tall clouds were utterly and spectacularly beautiful. Finally they grew into so many Frankensteinian laboratories, so many dark hearts wrapped in brilliant white, where monsters were made all in secret, amid thunders and lightnings of every kind.
Of course, one never actually *sees* the monsters hammered out in those secret sky-factories; they are, after all, secret.
It's enough just to know they're there.
Considering these facts, it seemed proper to make some telephone calls, for business must be done, and soon enough I was throwing a sandwich and a camera in my pack, and out the door I sallied, into freedom. And sunshine.
At the Gold Run exit of eastbound I-80 I lay in wait, hard against the massive stone monument, built by the Lord Sholto Chapter of the high and puissant E Clampus Vitus in 1984; built to bear the bronze tablet naming Gold Run a State Historical Landmark. The bronze was originally installed in 1950, but construction of I-80 forced its removal to this new place.
They arrived, and Alex and I piled into Ed and Ingrid's SUV to make the two miles drive south on Garrett Road, to the BLM gate, and parking.
Recently I have heard yet again from someone who innocently drove out Garrett, hoping to hike on the public lands there, lands administered by the BLM; and Garrett passes entirely onto BLM lands, without any sign that a boundary has been crossed (tho suddenly, the trees are much larger); and that person drove until Garrett seems to dwindle into a private driveway, with a home quite near.
And that person was sure he was trespassing, and gave up, and turned around. Not the first time I have heard of just this thing.
Here, towards the end of Garrett, you are still on BLM lands, but it sure doesn't look that way. Immediately past the house, the road bends east and loses all surfacing; no pavement, no gravel. And a hundred yards along is the huge green BLM gate.
This road shows on the 1866 General Land Office map as connecting the town of Gold Run to a certain section corner in Indiana Ravine, on the edge of the North Fork canyon; and it is labeled "Road to the Mines."
The road stays just south of the gold-bearing Eocene gravels of the Gold Run Diggings proper. One could walk this road without ever realizing that a wilderness of raw gravel ridges and boulders and hollows and hills of every type, lay a stone's throw away, over a band of manzanita. From here, the Diggings extend about two miles north to I-80.
We followed this Road to the Mines along the rim of the canyon, bearing generally east, but winding back and forth wildly, through groves of Whiteleaf Manzanita and Knobcone Pine, past the Pickering Bar Trail (unmarked, in a flat, breaking south into heavy manzanita, between two tall pines), to the overlook nearby.
An amazing view of Giant Gap opens from here, framing parts of Green Valley and the Sawtooth Ridge and the even more distant snow peaks, in the background. Truly amazing.
Continuing down the road, we were all hemmed in and overhung by manzanita. The road ends in what used to be a turn-around, but now is half-covered by a fallen Kellogg's Black Oak. I remember driving my VW Bug down here, several times, in the late 1970s. I would follow the little track down to the little ravine, cross, and then explore the Secret World.
This can be quite an adventure, for the Secret World has, well, many secrets. It is a smallish world, I mean, a smallish hydraulic mining pit, closed off on three sides, west, north, and east, to the rest of the Diggings and the rest of the World, by high banks and cliffs of gravel. To the south it opens into the North Fork canyon, and Indiana Ravine plunges over the edge, into a long series of waterfalls, reaching the river at Pickering Bar.
If one bears south upon entering the Secret World from the west, via the tributary ravine at the end of the road, you will find some awesome sluice cuts in the solid rock, places where narrow grooves were hacked and blasted to a depth of twenty feet. A patient exploration of these deep miniature canyons will lead one up and out on the east, into big boulder piles, and quite near to the site of the stamp mill which earned this place its name, the "Mill Claim" on the ancient maps, from the 1860s and 1870s.
For, the deep gravels could be very strongly cemented, and yet quite rich in gold. So they had to be smashed up fine, before running them into a sluice box.
Or, if one bears north on entering the Secret World, one can visit the Stone Cabin, built by gold miner Byron Emric in the 1930s or so. Or one can wend away north to the Great Wall of the Ultimate End, the Ultima Thule, as it were, of the Secret World, where a mine tunnel gives easy access through a high gravel ridge, into the main Diggings.
No, it's quite the special place. Take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints, and as few of those as can be managed.
We followed a loopy path to the Stone Cabin and on across boulder piles dating from the Chinese era of mining here, when the era of drift mining had ended, the stamp mill, likely hauled away, and all that remained was for Tia Sing and his gang of coolies to turn the water over the old drifting ground, and wash it all down to bedrock, and then clean that bedrock with a patience and a care which eked out steady, and possibly good, rewards.
Since the Mill Claim is described in operation by newspapers of the 1870s, and hydraulic mining at Gold Run stopped in 1882, Tia Sing and his men likely made the Secret World around 1880.
To clean the exposed bedrock floor of the Eocene river meant moving all those boulders which had once been in the sediments, but were too large for the sluice boxes, and were piled to this side and that as occasion demanded, until all the ground had been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. If the bedrock was rotten, it would be pickaxed and blasted up, and the debris carefully scraped up and carried to the upper end of the nearest sluice box.
It seems Tia Sing had a derrick, for there are some huge boulders in the Secret World, piled high.
Climbing the east wall of the World near Stone Cabin, we struck a certain secret trail across the Diggings and filed through a pass to the Indiana Hill Ditch, completed on September 13, 1852. Later, one Osmyn Harkness came into sole possession of the IHD; he also owned mines at Gold Run and Lost Camp. It is Osmyn Harkness's old patented hydraulic claim at Lost Camp (1872) which eventually fell into the hands of Siller Brothers Lumber Company. That is, in consequence of Osmyn Harkness's noble efforts, in the 1870s, to tear the living hell out of the land and pollute Blue Canyon and the North Fork with mercury and mud, Siller has now won approval for a drastic timber harvest over 560 acres of ridge and canyon.
Our secret trail crossed the IHD and plunged into the North Fork canyon. The roar of the river could be heard, far below. Winding through live oak woods, always descending, we intersected the old Lumber Slide, after which Trail never strayed far from Slide.
The Slide was used to drag big bundles of sawed lumber down the ridge-crest, and working the stuff all the way down into Canyon Creek and Indiana Ravine, to the east and west. Both these ravines carried tailings in quantity, and were worked as "tailings claims," all fitted with big sluice boxes, at least, between waterfalls. One can still see many of the monstrous iron pins and bolts set in the bedrock beside Canyon Creek; cables once connected the sluice boxes to these bolts and pins, and kept the boxes from breaking up or being swept away, under the tremendous mass and force of the streaming mine tailings.
Great views are had of the Big Waterfall in Canyon Creek, from along the Diving Board Trail.
After passing some impressive rock retaining walls, we reached the Diving Board itself. The ridge profile flattens to level, and a cute little flat spreads across the summit, all sheltered by Canyon Live Oaks, with overlooks nearby, one facing east, the other, west. We admired the views very much; they are extraordinary. One is so central to the axis of the canyon, when perched upon that promontory, that great distances unfold within its vista. Lovers Leap and the Pinnacles are silhouetted against the sky, and we watched cloud shadows chase across the ruddy cliffs and spires.
We had the time, over at sunny West Overlook, to indulge in sophisticated conversation, of the sort ordinary folk could never hope to understand, or how much less, attain to themselves. For instance: I suggested that, if one needed a sweater repaired, and one was mad at the sweater-repair person, one might well exclaim, "Darn it, darn it!"
My "Darn it, darn it" was swiftly and unanimously classified as the lowest form of all that which might imagine itself to be humor, but which could not now, nor ever in any future, any planet, nor even any galaxy, actually be counted as humor, at least, not by a sane and sentient being.
Well. I'm not so sure. I think it's funny.
Then Alex launched into a passionate exposition, or it might, I think, have been a diatribe, and his subject was 1919, and Versailles, and Lloyd George, and President Wilson's Fourteen Points of Light.
The fates of nations were being decided for once and for all, it seems, and Alex was building, building; building in intensity, and in fervor and intelligence, until, almost gasping, or even stuttering, under the burden of the Terrible Truths which sprang so relentlessly into his mind's eye, he deduced there could be but one way to "clearly clarify" the problem.
This brought a series of objections and raised eyebrows and remonstrances into play. If we were to allow Alex to "clearly clarify" any problem whatsoever, we must perforce allow Russell to say "Darn it, darn it" whenever he wished. And this was no easy thing to allow.
We had already strayed into a similar area, trying to compose a limerick about limericks.
So it was a very nice day, and we were really tremendously inspired by our own stimulating conversation. We could and did listen to ourselves well-nigh all day long.
Eventually we climbed back up the trail, and out and around and through the Diggings on a new and different line, and at last reached Ingrid's SUV. We were in good time; I would not be late picking up my son from school.
But the SUV's battery was dead, and no amount of clear clarification or darned darnings could restore it to life. That required the husky little Toyota 4WD and jumper cables of John Davenport, who lives in an old hydraulic mining reservoir, a couple hundred yards away.
So all was well and it was another great day in the North Fork. The tiny puffball clouds of morning had grown into many immensely tall and unbalanced giants of the afternoon, giants which put miles of land into shade at a time. These too-tall clouds were utterly and spectacularly beautiful. Finally they grew into so many Frankensteinian laboratories, so many dark hearts wrapped in brilliant white, where monsters were made all in secret, amid thunders and lightnings of every kind.
Of course, one never actually *sees* the monsters hammered out in those secret sky-factories; they are, after all, secret.
It's enough just to know they're there.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Visit to Canyon Creek
Thursday morning I met Ron and Catherine for a visit to Canyon Creek, near Gold Run. From the Gold Run exit on eastbound I-80, we doubled back west a short distance on the frontage road to Garrett Road, which leads south two miles to the edge of the North Fork canyon.
The heavy rains of the day before, and light showers throughout the night, had kept Canyon Creek high. There is still a lot of snow in its upper basin. And, with the passage of the air-mixing storm, the atmosphere had stratified, cold air sinking lower, warm air rising higher, and a river of fog had formed in the great canyon.
This happens the first night and morning after almost every storm. We reached our trailhead, at the BLM gate, just before 9:00 a.m. Cirrus clouds above slowed warming by the sun, and every leaf and needle sparkled with water droplets.
The red clay road follows the rim of the canyon east towards Canyon Creek, with the Diggings adjacent on the north, but hidden by a screen of heavy manzanita. Here grows the California Ground Cone, a startling plant which looks like a Douglas Fir cone growing erect from the light duff of manzanita leaves. In the Broomrape family, it has no chlorophyll whatsoever, instead relying on the roots of the manzanita for its nutrients. It is a parasite. But it is too early for these ground cones, yet.
Turning in and out around the head of Sheldon Ravine, we reached the unmarked Pickering Bar Trail, and just to the east, stopped at the wonderful scenic overlook. Black Mountain and Quartz Mountain stood fifteen miles upcountry, freshly dusted with snow, and in the middle ground, the tremendous gorge of Giant Gap etches its profile against those distant ridges and forests. Fog wreathed the canyon in many places, here, still flowing slowly west, like a river, there, warmed by the sun, rising into towers and disjoint masses of many hues. In the foreground one can see Canyon Creek's own gorge, more by implication than directly, and the Blasted Digger is easily picked out, on the ridge dividing Canyon Creek from the North Fork.
Continuing down the road we crossed Indiana Ravine and passed the Stone Cabin, which has suffered even more damage in recent months. A bit of a scramble up the steep banks of this old hydraulic mining pit brought us to the dry reservoir at the end of the Indiana Hill Ditch. We took a shortcut across the Diggings and reached the ditch just where the trail to Diving Board Ridge forks away into the unseen depths. A few steps east along the ditch brought us to another fine overlook, where one can see directly down Canyon Creek to the North Fork, only about 1400' below. Parts of the Canyon Creek Trail could be seen. The waterfalls were roaring in their hidden chasms and recesses. We took a longish break and admired the views, and the fog, rising everywhere now in writhing phantoms and ghostly shards, merging with The Void. We watched it happen, watched as the fog lifted and evaporated in the warmth of the sun.
The Big Waterfall was directly below us, 600' or so below us, and therefore, certain non-native pigeons were surely down there as well, silent sentinels perched on some crag. I gave a suitable rock a tremendous heave, hoping, cruelly, to scare them, to make them flutter away from the cliffs, and circle endlessly, which always amuses Catherine. It is important to keep Catherine amused. But my ruthless rock reaped no rewards, that is, no pigeons circled in endless deliberation about just when and just where to land and settle into yet another sustained vigil.
Duty beckoned, having left Point A, one must actually reach Point B, so we followed the old mining ditch around the corner into Canyon Creek's own proper canyon and took an unmarked shortcut down to the trail, reaching it just above the tiny bridge. Crossing the little inner gorge on wet two-by-sixes, we ambled around the corner and took yet another break, where a fine view of The Leaper opens from the trail. The Leaper was in fine form, shooting out from hidden source in a narrow jet, and crashing against the cliff face opposite (for it enters a kind of vertical rectangular chasm), free-falls into a round pool, from which yet another waterfalls spills into a lower pool. In the meantime, the main, large waterfall is partly visible, a more massive cylindrical region of raging white water plunging into its own pool.
Many kinds of roarings and hissings and thunderings could be heard from the falls and cascades up and down the creek, but The Leaper makes its own special slapping sound as it crashes into its chasm wall. We spent quite a while there and took some photographs.
Then down and down, past Spike Point to Gorge Point, where the Brewer's Rock Cress's purple blooms have been joined by the yellow of Biscuit Root. Yet again, for all its storms and all the supposed excess of snow and precipitation of every kind, this winter has somehow nurtured the earliest bloom I have ever seen. Biscuit Root in January? You surely jest.
I saw the pigeons, and followed up with another rock aimed their way, which scattered them into their usual gyrations, so all was well on that count, anyway. I only hope Catherine appreciates my sacrifices.
We turned away from the trail and followed a steep but easy cross-country route down to the Big Waterfall. Again the cameras came out. Then it was down Big Waterfall Trail to The Terraces, where some dozens, or hundreds, of California Milkmaids were not only in full bloom, but had actually started to set seed. Lower Terraces Trail took us back to the main trail almost exactly where the High Old Upriver Trail, or HOUT, secretly forks away east.
The HOUT is a tenuous little track, often enough blasted right from the very cliffs, and runs along a nearly level line east into 2400'-deep Giant Gap. It is hard to find. Having found it, it is hard to follow. It is a lovable little trail and we are quite devoted to it.
In many reaches of the North Fork canyon there are no tributaries worth the name, and a strongly insular quality obtains: there is The Canyon, and then there is, at least, they say there is, somewhere, out of all view, The Rest of the World. No little valleys enter from the side, offering one a route out and away to The Rest of the World. This reach of the North Fork, from Canyon Creek to Green Valley, is much like this. Yes, the canyon walls are scored by minor ravines and gullies, but (from across the canyon, say) one can see every inch of the "basins" of these "tributaries," for they are entirely within the canyon.
The only exception is Lovers Leap Ravine, in the heart of Giant Gap, which heads up in a little valley on the gentle summit uplands of Moody Ridge, west of Lovers Leap itself. But it approaches the North Fork in a series of high waterfalls amid very steep cliffs. Since it carries little water, it has not deeply incised itself into the canyon wall. I interpret the bend in the canyon wall there, the "inside corner" Lovers Leap Ravine follows down to the river, to be more an artifact of gross structural relations in the bedrock, than an artifact of incision by that tiny stream.
The bedrock here is all the metavolcanic member of the Calaveras Complex, several thousands of feet, more than a mile, of lava flows and volcanic ash beds and mudflows, all laid down perhaps in a subaqueous environment, that is, on the flanks of some oceanic volcano or chain of volcanos, and underwater; and some very disrupted strata exist, too, which may represent turbidity flows, mixing already heterogeneous volcanic strata into chaotic jumbles. And pretty much all of it seems quite mafic, poor in quartz, rich in iron and magnesium, roughly basaltic in composition, say, dark, and often fine-grained. Occasionally some lighter stuff is seen. Bogus Spur has some strange orange-weathering rock. Sometimes there is chert, or at least cherty "stuff" of uncertain provenance.
And these several thousands of feet of strata of volcanic quasi-sediments, were originally, let's suppose, roughly horizontal, but now are all tipped up on edge, nearly vertical. They were smashed down under the margin of North America 150 million years ago, and at last, uplifted and exhumed by long erosion, in their new, vertical, orientation.
And metamorphosed, along the way.
But this metavolcanic part of the Paleozoic Calaveras Complex (one of the more strongly-marked "terranes" within the Northern and Central Sierra block) is not uniform in composition, for some parts are very massive, other parts, more platy and divided. The most massive parts are in Giant Gap, where they are organized into a series of huge parallel slabs, and the river turns in tortuous sharp angles, around the bases of these (vertical) mega-slabs. Lovers Leap and The Pinnacles seem to be founded from one and the same mega-slab, for instance.
One might have quite a bit of trouble trying to climb up and out of the canyon, following Lovers Leap Ravine. I've never tried, but I do hope to at least roughly parallel the thing, from rim to river, someday.
We reached Bogus Spur a little after noon and took lunch on a mossy lawn two hundred feet above the river. The North Fork was running moderately high for this time of year, apparently because rather warm temperatures have melted much snow in the last two weeks, and this in turn has been followed by rain up to high elevations. The water looked quite clear, where one could even see at all, for all through Giant Gap there is white water, lots and lots of white water. There are even some low falls, in the Gap.
Fair-weather cumulus clouds had been reincarnated from the vanished, evaporated fog, and above them, cirrus clouds continued to filter the sunshine. It was sometimes cool.
Later, we had time for a portion of wandering out along the HOUT (a fourth species of flower was observed in bloom), but at 2:30 we saddled up and made the long march out. We followed quite a circuitous route which took us back up the Canyon Creek Trail, past the great tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co. (GRD&M, 1873), then up the Old Wagon Road (also 1873) to the Indiana Hill Ditch (1852, now that I'm doing dates), where we followed someone's secret route over Judd Pass (at the head of Judd Ravine, a tributary of Canyon Creek, on Indiana Hill) into The Diggings, where some roads seemed to lead us in circles down into the huge pit of the GRD&M, which we immediately left on yet another road, climbing to the west and south, back to our vehicles, at the BLM gate.
Such was an especially fine day in the North Fork canyon.
The heavy rains of the day before, and light showers throughout the night, had kept Canyon Creek high. There is still a lot of snow in its upper basin. And, with the passage of the air-mixing storm, the atmosphere had stratified, cold air sinking lower, warm air rising higher, and a river of fog had formed in the great canyon.
This happens the first night and morning after almost every storm. We reached our trailhead, at the BLM gate, just before 9:00 a.m. Cirrus clouds above slowed warming by the sun, and every leaf and needle sparkled with water droplets.
The red clay road follows the rim of the canyon east towards Canyon Creek, with the Diggings adjacent on the north, but hidden by a screen of heavy manzanita. Here grows the California Ground Cone, a startling plant which looks like a Douglas Fir cone growing erect from the light duff of manzanita leaves. In the Broomrape family, it has no chlorophyll whatsoever, instead relying on the roots of the manzanita for its nutrients. It is a parasite. But it is too early for these ground cones, yet.
Turning in and out around the head of Sheldon Ravine, we reached the unmarked Pickering Bar Trail, and just to the east, stopped at the wonderful scenic overlook. Black Mountain and Quartz Mountain stood fifteen miles upcountry, freshly dusted with snow, and in the middle ground, the tremendous gorge of Giant Gap etches its profile against those distant ridges and forests. Fog wreathed the canyon in many places, here, still flowing slowly west, like a river, there, warmed by the sun, rising into towers and disjoint masses of many hues. In the foreground one can see Canyon Creek's own gorge, more by implication than directly, and the Blasted Digger is easily picked out, on the ridge dividing Canyon Creek from the North Fork.
Continuing down the road we crossed Indiana Ravine and passed the Stone Cabin, which has suffered even more damage in recent months. A bit of a scramble up the steep banks of this old hydraulic mining pit brought us to the dry reservoir at the end of the Indiana Hill Ditch. We took a shortcut across the Diggings and reached the ditch just where the trail to Diving Board Ridge forks away into the unseen depths. A few steps east along the ditch brought us to another fine overlook, where one can see directly down Canyon Creek to the North Fork, only about 1400' below. Parts of the Canyon Creek Trail could be seen. The waterfalls were roaring in their hidden chasms and recesses. We took a longish break and admired the views, and the fog, rising everywhere now in writhing phantoms and ghostly shards, merging with The Void. We watched it happen, watched as the fog lifted and evaporated in the warmth of the sun.
The Big Waterfall was directly below us, 600' or so below us, and therefore, certain non-native pigeons were surely down there as well, silent sentinels perched on some crag. I gave a suitable rock a tremendous heave, hoping, cruelly, to scare them, to make them flutter away from the cliffs, and circle endlessly, which always amuses Catherine. It is important to keep Catherine amused. But my ruthless rock reaped no rewards, that is, no pigeons circled in endless deliberation about just when and just where to land and settle into yet another sustained vigil.
Duty beckoned, having left Point A, one must actually reach Point B, so we followed the old mining ditch around the corner into Canyon Creek's own proper canyon and took an unmarked shortcut down to the trail, reaching it just above the tiny bridge. Crossing the little inner gorge on wet two-by-sixes, we ambled around the corner and took yet another break, where a fine view of The Leaper opens from the trail. The Leaper was in fine form, shooting out from hidden source in a narrow jet, and crashing against the cliff face opposite (for it enters a kind of vertical rectangular chasm), free-falls into a round pool, from which yet another waterfalls spills into a lower pool. In the meantime, the main, large waterfall is partly visible, a more massive cylindrical region of raging white water plunging into its own pool.
Many kinds of roarings and hissings and thunderings could be heard from the falls and cascades up and down the creek, but The Leaper makes its own special slapping sound as it crashes into its chasm wall. We spent quite a while there and took some photographs.
Then down and down, past Spike Point to Gorge Point, where the Brewer's Rock Cress's purple blooms have been joined by the yellow of Biscuit Root. Yet again, for all its storms and all the supposed excess of snow and precipitation of every kind, this winter has somehow nurtured the earliest bloom I have ever seen. Biscuit Root in January? You surely jest.
I saw the pigeons, and followed up with another rock aimed their way, which scattered them into their usual gyrations, so all was well on that count, anyway. I only hope Catherine appreciates my sacrifices.
We turned away from the trail and followed a steep but easy cross-country route down to the Big Waterfall. Again the cameras came out. Then it was down Big Waterfall Trail to The Terraces, where some dozens, or hundreds, of California Milkmaids were not only in full bloom, but had actually started to set seed. Lower Terraces Trail took us back to the main trail almost exactly where the High Old Upriver Trail, or HOUT, secretly forks away east.
The HOUT is a tenuous little track, often enough blasted right from the very cliffs, and runs along a nearly level line east into 2400'-deep Giant Gap. It is hard to find. Having found it, it is hard to follow. It is a lovable little trail and we are quite devoted to it.
In many reaches of the North Fork canyon there are no tributaries worth the name, and a strongly insular quality obtains: there is The Canyon, and then there is, at least, they say there is, somewhere, out of all view, The Rest of the World. No little valleys enter from the side, offering one a route out and away to The Rest of the World. This reach of the North Fork, from Canyon Creek to Green Valley, is much like this. Yes, the canyon walls are scored by minor ravines and gullies, but (from across the canyon, say) one can see every inch of the "basins" of these "tributaries," for they are entirely within the canyon.
The only exception is Lovers Leap Ravine, in the heart of Giant Gap, which heads up in a little valley on the gentle summit uplands of Moody Ridge, west of Lovers Leap itself. But it approaches the North Fork in a series of high waterfalls amid very steep cliffs. Since it carries little water, it has not deeply incised itself into the canyon wall. I interpret the bend in the canyon wall there, the "inside corner" Lovers Leap Ravine follows down to the river, to be more an artifact of gross structural relations in the bedrock, than an artifact of incision by that tiny stream.
The bedrock here is all the metavolcanic member of the Calaveras Complex, several thousands of feet, more than a mile, of lava flows and volcanic ash beds and mudflows, all laid down perhaps in a subaqueous environment, that is, on the flanks of some oceanic volcano or chain of volcanos, and underwater; and some very disrupted strata exist, too, which may represent turbidity flows, mixing already heterogeneous volcanic strata into chaotic jumbles. And pretty much all of it seems quite mafic, poor in quartz, rich in iron and magnesium, roughly basaltic in composition, say, dark, and often fine-grained. Occasionally some lighter stuff is seen. Bogus Spur has some strange orange-weathering rock. Sometimes there is chert, or at least cherty "stuff" of uncertain provenance.
And these several thousands of feet of strata of volcanic quasi-sediments, were originally, let's suppose, roughly horizontal, but now are all tipped up on edge, nearly vertical. They were smashed down under the margin of North America 150 million years ago, and at last, uplifted and exhumed by long erosion, in their new, vertical, orientation.
And metamorphosed, along the way.
But this metavolcanic part of the Paleozoic Calaveras Complex (one of the more strongly-marked "terranes" within the Northern and Central Sierra block) is not uniform in composition, for some parts are very massive, other parts, more platy and divided. The most massive parts are in Giant Gap, where they are organized into a series of huge parallel slabs, and the river turns in tortuous sharp angles, around the bases of these (vertical) mega-slabs. Lovers Leap and The Pinnacles seem to be founded from one and the same mega-slab, for instance.
One might have quite a bit of trouble trying to climb up and out of the canyon, following Lovers Leap Ravine. I've never tried, but I do hope to at least roughly parallel the thing, from rim to river, someday.
We reached Bogus Spur a little after noon and took lunch on a mossy lawn two hundred feet above the river. The North Fork was running moderately high for this time of year, apparently because rather warm temperatures have melted much snow in the last two weeks, and this in turn has been followed by rain up to high elevations. The water looked quite clear, where one could even see at all, for all through Giant Gap there is white water, lots and lots of white water. There are even some low falls, in the Gap.
Fair-weather cumulus clouds had been reincarnated from the vanished, evaporated fog, and above them, cirrus clouds continued to filter the sunshine. It was sometimes cool.
Later, we had time for a portion of wandering out along the HOUT (a fourth species of flower was observed in bloom), but at 2:30 we saddled up and made the long march out. We followed quite a circuitous route which took us back up the Canyon Creek Trail, past the great tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co. (GRD&M, 1873), then up the Old Wagon Road (also 1873) to the Indiana Hill Ditch (1852, now that I'm doing dates), where we followed someone's secret route over Judd Pass (at the head of Judd Ravine, a tributary of Canyon Creek, on Indiana Hill) into The Diggings, where some roads seemed to lead us in circles down into the huge pit of the GRD&M, which we immediately left on yet another road, climbing to the west and south, back to our vehicles, at the BLM gate.
Such was an especially fine day in the North Fork canyon.
Friday, September 3, 2004
The 1866 Tommy Caine Route, Revisited
After Wednesday's mixed results in finding the 1866 Tommy Cain Ravine Route (TCRR), of the Fords Bar Trail, going from the North Fork, up, Ron Gould and I drove out to Gold Run and south on Garrett Road to try to find the TCRR from the top, down.
Well, not exactly that, but like that.
On the Dutch Flat 7.5 minute quadrangle, note the ridge in the center of Section 16, T15N R10E. It so happens that almost the entire eastern 1/2 of Section 16 is public land, mostly BLM, but with a chunk of strange California State Lands thrown in for curiosity's sake (see the Tahoe National Forest "big" map: this parcel is shaded blue). On this ridge is a surveyed point with elevation 3007 feet.
We found a rough route to the center of Section 16, found a sign marking the State boundary, almost on the 3000-foot contour, and made a series of explorations off the end of the ridge, through some of the deadliest manzanita I have ever seen. It ranged from huge and elfin-forest-like, in which case one could often slither through somehow (possibly by crawling), to young and stringy, in which case it made an impenetrable thicket. Bear trails were common in more open areas, of which there were many, but in my mind's eye it is all manzanita, and all bad. Bad manzanita!
Off the main spur south of Point 3007 we found The Groove, that clearest of all trail-lines we had seen Wednesday; clear, but really too steep to be a trail, and likely as not marking the route mining equipment had been skidded down to the North Fork a century or so ago. We climbed back up and regrouped.
To make a long long story somewhat short, our final foray invited us to descend, lower and lower, through a convenient gap in that horror of manzanita. My best guess as to the upper crossing of Tommy Cain on the 1866 TCRR was that it occurred near the 2400-foot contour. At a certain point we steeled ourselves to drop just that low.
Canyon Live Oak forest, with rare old Ponderosa Pines and Douglas Fir, and patches of severe manzanita on every side, allowed our descent on quite steep slopes, in the heat of the early afternoon. Beguiling bear trails were everywhere, often, over a distance of fifty or one hundred feet, resembling old human trails. But then the bear trail would split into smaller trails, and these were positively inhuman.
We found more marijuana growers' garbage; plastic pipes, chicken wire, even a 1000-gallon plastic tank.
Finally we dropped to the 2400-foot-contour, and by golly, we found the old thing, the 1866 TCRR. In appearance it was much like the best of all bear trails we had seen, but what set it apart was that it continued, and continued, and continued, unsplit, undiminished, a narrow track, often six inches wide at best, but, after walking it for a few hundred yards, there was no doubt. It was the TCRR and it was making for Tommy Cain Ravine.
We followed it up to the crossing, a little higher than I'd guessed, perhaps 2480' elevation, and found it continuing on the far side, plain as could be.
At a certain point over there it seemed to fork into higher and lower lines, and we could see we were within an ace of converging upon the crest of the ridge dividing Tommy Cain from the ravine-to-the-west. This ridge would then be followed on up north, and then finally, the TCRR would break east to the old-time intersection with Garrett Road: in 1866, the Road From the Mines. For Garrett is quite an old road, and led right on down to Indiana Ravine, the site of the original discovery of gold in the high Eocene-age river gravels of the Gold Run Diggings, in 1851 or 1852.
My time had run out, I had to pick up my son from school, so we retreated back down the TCRR and then up and up and up to the State Lands sign and our secret bear trail over to Garrett. I was only five minutes late.
It was quite a satisfying day.. A trail which is depicted on an 1866 map, but on no later map that we know of, was found, still passable after all these years. I saw not one faint sign that it had been used by humans for any number of decades. No old cut branches, no nothing.
It was a great, albeit brushy, day, around Point 3007 and Tommy Cain Ravine.
More exploration is needed.
Well, not exactly that, but like that.
On the Dutch Flat 7.5 minute quadrangle, note the ridge in the center of Section 16, T15N R10E. It so happens that almost the entire eastern 1/2 of Section 16 is public land, mostly BLM, but with a chunk of strange California State Lands thrown in for curiosity's sake (see the Tahoe National Forest "big" map: this parcel is shaded blue). On this ridge is a surveyed point with elevation 3007 feet.
We found a rough route to the center of Section 16, found a sign marking the State boundary, almost on the 3000-foot contour, and made a series of explorations off the end of the ridge, through some of the deadliest manzanita I have ever seen. It ranged from huge and elfin-forest-like, in which case one could often slither through somehow (possibly by crawling), to young and stringy, in which case it made an impenetrable thicket. Bear trails were common in more open areas, of which there were many, but in my mind's eye it is all manzanita, and all bad. Bad manzanita!
Off the main spur south of Point 3007 we found The Groove, that clearest of all trail-lines we had seen Wednesday; clear, but really too steep to be a trail, and likely as not marking the route mining equipment had been skidded down to the North Fork a century or so ago. We climbed back up and regrouped.
To make a long long story somewhat short, our final foray invited us to descend, lower and lower, through a convenient gap in that horror of manzanita. My best guess as to the upper crossing of Tommy Cain on the 1866 TCRR was that it occurred near the 2400-foot contour. At a certain point we steeled ourselves to drop just that low.
Canyon Live Oak forest, with rare old Ponderosa Pines and Douglas Fir, and patches of severe manzanita on every side, allowed our descent on quite steep slopes, in the heat of the early afternoon. Beguiling bear trails were everywhere, often, over a distance of fifty or one hundred feet, resembling old human trails. But then the bear trail would split into smaller trails, and these were positively inhuman.
We found more marijuana growers' garbage; plastic pipes, chicken wire, even a 1000-gallon plastic tank.
Finally we dropped to the 2400-foot-contour, and by golly, we found the old thing, the 1866 TCRR. In appearance it was much like the best of all bear trails we had seen, but what set it apart was that it continued, and continued, and continued, unsplit, undiminished, a narrow track, often six inches wide at best, but, after walking it for a few hundred yards, there was no doubt. It was the TCRR and it was making for Tommy Cain Ravine.
We followed it up to the crossing, a little higher than I'd guessed, perhaps 2480' elevation, and found it continuing on the far side, plain as could be.
At a certain point over there it seemed to fork into higher and lower lines, and we could see we were within an ace of converging upon the crest of the ridge dividing Tommy Cain from the ravine-to-the-west. This ridge would then be followed on up north, and then finally, the TCRR would break east to the old-time intersection with Garrett Road: in 1866, the Road From the Mines. For Garrett is quite an old road, and led right on down to Indiana Ravine, the site of the original discovery of gold in the high Eocene-age river gravels of the Gold Run Diggings, in 1851 or 1852.
My time had run out, I had to pick up my son from school, so we retreated back down the TCRR and then up and up and up to the State Lands sign and our secret bear trail over to Garrett. I was only five minutes late.
It was quite a satisfying day.. A trail which is depicted on an 1866 map, but on no later map that we know of, was found, still passable after all these years. I saw not one faint sign that it had been used by humans for any number of decades. No old cut branches, no nothing.
It was a great, albeit brushy, day, around Point 3007 and Tommy Cain Ravine.
More exploration is needed.
Tuesday, July 6, 2004
First Canyoneering Descent, Canyon Creek
Various people on this email list know and love the Canyon Creek Trail, near Gold Run. It is surely one of the most beautiful and remarkable trails in this part of the Sierra. And, as one descends the trail, an inner gorge develops along the creek, twisted, water-polished, full of gloom (since the sun cannot pass the overhanging cliffs) and the dull boom of hidden waterfalls.
I have always wanted to rappel down into this twisted gorge; yes, I have talked, and talked, but I have never acted.
Yesterday a fellow named Mike Ming (?) of the Auburn area called to ask the way to the Canyon Creek Trail. He and a friend, Brendan, were planning to rappel down the waterfalls. I gave him directions to the Paleobotanist Trail, out along Garrett Road, and asked for a report on the day's adventures.
This morning he called, full of excitement, to duly report, that they had had success, and, starting up at the first big waterfall, had worked right down the creek, rappelling whenever necessary, through the twisted inner gorge, and on down over the Big Waterfall. Since they had started late, around 1:00 p.m., they had lost the sun by the time they reached the Big Waterfall, and were soaked and cold, from swimming through pools and roping down right through falls.
I asked him for a write-up of the great adventure, which I will send along to you.
Now if only we could find some money for the BLM, to buy the 800-acres-now-for-sale, which includes this remarkable trail, these amazing waterfalls ...
I have always wanted to rappel down into this twisted gorge; yes, I have talked, and talked, but I have never acted.
Yesterday a fellow named Mike Ming (?) of the Auburn area called to ask the way to the Canyon Creek Trail. He and a friend, Brendan, were planning to rappel down the waterfalls. I gave him directions to the Paleobotanist Trail, out along Garrett Road, and asked for a report on the day's adventures.
This morning he called, full of excitement, to duly report, that they had had success, and, starting up at the first big waterfall, had worked right down the creek, rappelling whenever necessary, through the twisted inner gorge, and on down over the Big Waterfall. Since they had started late, around 1:00 p.m., they had lost the sun by the time they reached the Big Waterfall, and were soaked and cold, from swimming through pools and roping down right through falls.
I asked him for a write-up of the great adventure, which I will send along to you.
Now if only we could find some money for the BLM, to buy the 800-acres-now-for-sale, which includes this remarkable trail, these amazing waterfalls ...
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Gold Run Diggings: sold?
This morning I heard a rumor that the 800 acres of private land in the Gold Run Diggings, which includes some parcels outside the Diggings, for instance, a 72-acre parcel containing the historic Canyon Creek Trail, has sold, to a private party.
This 800 acres belongs to a group called Gold Run Properties (GRP).
Wishing to learn the truth, I called one of the general partners of GRP this morning. This is what he said:
1. After listing the 800 acres for several years with one realtor, without results, GRP changed to a "realtor in Nevada City, affiliated with a brokerage in Reno."
2. A couple, or several, offers have been received since then:
a) Someone interested in mining gold on the property.
b) Someone who imagined making a private campground with private trails.
c) Someone interested in owning the property as their own private "reserve."
3. Apparently the most credible offer is from party (c). GRP has made a counter-offer. They have not (yet) entered escrow.
Such is what I learned. It looks like bad news but, nothing is written in stone--yet.
This 800 acres belongs to a group called Gold Run Properties (GRP).
Wishing to learn the truth, I called one of the general partners of GRP this morning. This is what he said:
1. After listing the 800 acres for several years with one realtor, without results, GRP changed to a "realtor in Nevada City, affiliated with a brokerage in Reno."
2. A couple, or several, offers have been received since then:
a) Someone interested in mining gold on the property.
b) Someone who imagined making a private campground with private trails.
c) Someone interested in owning the property as their own private "reserve."
3. Apparently the most credible offer is from party (c). GRP has made a counter-offer. They have not (yet) entered escrow.
Such is what I learned. It looks like bad news but, nothing is written in stone--yet.
Sunday, February 8, 2004
Field Trip a Success
Quite a number of people showed up at 9:00 a.m. or thereabouts to meet with archeologist James Barnes of the BLM, and visit the Stone Cabin in the Secret World. Archeological volunteer Clarissa came all the way up the hill from Rio Linda; Evan Jones of the Historical Trails Foundation was present, armed with many maps; Tom and Julie, who took care of the most recent clean-up of garbage from the Great Tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co. were with us; and NFARA sec'y Catherine O'Riley brought several friends along.
The Secret World is at the head of Indiana Ravine, where the Gold Run Diggings break off abruptly at the edge of the North Fork canyon. This smallish hydraulic mining pit is walled by high banks of gravel on three sides, but opens south to the canyon itself. The day was sunny, but as we walked down the old Road to the Mines from the BLM gate at the end of Garrett Road, we caught glimpses of remnants of the river of fog which had flowed down the North Fork during the night before, being lifted and twined around Lovers Leap and the Pinnacles. Ten miles beyond, Quartz Mountain and Monumental Ridge showed fresh snow.
The Stone Cabin has been vandalized, and parts of its walls broken down, near the door, and at one corner. While James and Clarissa took photographs and developed ideas about what could be done, the rest of us busied ourselves with gathering garbage, and then explored north to a rather large tunnel which leads north out of the Secret World into the master pit of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co.
After a time we formed up for the march and clambered up an awkward bank of gravel to the east, leaving the World, walking past the huge wall of the Old Reservoir at the terminus of the Indiana Hill Ditch, and then short-cutting through the Diggings, over a low pass, to the Ditch itself. Here the trail to the Diving Board plunges directly down a gully. The Ditch winds away and out of sight to east and west, its mossy berm glowing and fresh after the rain overnight, the North Fork canyon, a vast blueness to the south, seen and sensed through a varied screen of Canyon Live Oak. Down we went.
Soon enough we heard the loud voice of the Big Waterfall, and then began to see it through the trees; and then, the ridge becomes rockier, and loses much of its somewhat elfin oak forest, and the views really open up. The Canyon Creek Trail, the Terraces, the Big Waterfall, Giant Gap, and so on. We reached the Diving Board and soon moved to the west side, where the sun was welcome. A leisurely lunch was followed by the slow climb up and out.
We took the long way around going back, looping north through the Diggings on an old road, at a certain point suddenly chilled in the north-falling shadows of high banks of gravel, and then, while passing the dark tunnel to the Secret World, we could actually peer right through, to see a jungle kissed by strong sunshine, away in the World.
We slowly wound up and out of the Diggings, pausing to admire views of Giant Gap. Everywhere along these roads, we saw the tracks of motorcycles and OHVs. I would like to see the BLM close the Gold Run Diggings to OHV use. I worry that, among other things, people will use these vehicles to remove the last of the petrified wood, along with whatever mining artifacts which are not nailed down. They already ride all the way out to the Old Reservoir beside the Secret World, and only an insubstantial curtain of oak branches keeps them off the Indiana Hill Ditch itself. This, by the way, is one of the finest trails of the Gold Run area in its own right, but is a delicate treasure, and certainly must never be used by motorcycles.
It was a very nice day in canyon and Diggings; maybe late in the spring we can have some work parties and repair the Stone Cabin.
The Secret World is at the head of Indiana Ravine, where the Gold Run Diggings break off abruptly at the edge of the North Fork canyon. This smallish hydraulic mining pit is walled by high banks of gravel on three sides, but opens south to the canyon itself. The day was sunny, but as we walked down the old Road to the Mines from the BLM gate at the end of Garrett Road, we caught glimpses of remnants of the river of fog which had flowed down the North Fork during the night before, being lifted and twined around Lovers Leap and the Pinnacles. Ten miles beyond, Quartz Mountain and Monumental Ridge showed fresh snow.
The Stone Cabin has been vandalized, and parts of its walls broken down, near the door, and at one corner. While James and Clarissa took photographs and developed ideas about what could be done, the rest of us busied ourselves with gathering garbage, and then explored north to a rather large tunnel which leads north out of the Secret World into the master pit of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co.
After a time we formed up for the march and clambered up an awkward bank of gravel to the east, leaving the World, walking past the huge wall of the Old Reservoir at the terminus of the Indiana Hill Ditch, and then short-cutting through the Diggings, over a low pass, to the Ditch itself. Here the trail to the Diving Board plunges directly down a gully. The Ditch winds away and out of sight to east and west, its mossy berm glowing and fresh after the rain overnight, the North Fork canyon, a vast blueness to the south, seen and sensed through a varied screen of Canyon Live Oak. Down we went.
Soon enough we heard the loud voice of the Big Waterfall, and then began to see it through the trees; and then, the ridge becomes rockier, and loses much of its somewhat elfin oak forest, and the views really open up. The Canyon Creek Trail, the Terraces, the Big Waterfall, Giant Gap, and so on. We reached the Diving Board and soon moved to the west side, where the sun was welcome. A leisurely lunch was followed by the slow climb up and out.
We took the long way around going back, looping north through the Diggings on an old road, at a certain point suddenly chilled in the north-falling shadows of high banks of gravel, and then, while passing the dark tunnel to the Secret World, we could actually peer right through, to see a jungle kissed by strong sunshine, away in the World.
We slowly wound up and out of the Diggings, pausing to admire views of Giant Gap. Everywhere along these roads, we saw the tracks of motorcycles and OHVs. I would like to see the BLM close the Gold Run Diggings to OHV use. I worry that, among other things, people will use these vehicles to remove the last of the petrified wood, along with whatever mining artifacts which are not nailed down. They already ride all the way out to the Old Reservoir beside the Secret World, and only an insubstantial curtain of oak branches keeps them off the Indiana Hill Ditch itself. This, by the way, is one of the finest trails of the Gold Run area in its own right, but is a delicate treasure, and certainly must never be used by motorcycles.
It was a very nice day in canyon and Diggings; maybe late in the spring we can have some work parties and repair the Stone Cabin.
Sunday, January 4, 2004
Diving Board Ridge
South of the town of Gold Run the Diggings stretch a mile to the edge of the North Fork canyon; paralleling the old hydraulic mining area on the west is Garrett Road, on the east, Canyon Creek. A ridge divides the Diggings from Canyon Creek, here and there broken by small ravines which predate mining. Towards the south this ridge is known as Indiana Hill. It is truncated abruptly by the North Fork canyon, but then emerges anew as a spur ridge jutting well into the canyon, dividing Canyon Creek from Indiana Ravine. I call this spur Diving Board Ridge, though Ski Jump Ridge better fits its shape.
In any case it is a remarkable place, at first plunging steeply, then leveling out, the flat part occupying an almost perfectly central place in the great canyon, with views to the east through Giant Gap to Sawtooth Ridge and Monumental Ridge--the latter, rising to 7000', deeply cloaked in snow--and to the west, a long series of interwoven, forested spurs, with Pickering Bar almost immediately below.
On Sunday I joined geologist Dave Lawler of Grass Valley, and masseuse Cindy Goldman of Dutch Flat, for a visit to the Diving Board. We drove south on Garrett Road, often icy, with a thin coating of snow on the adjacent hillsides, and parked above the BLM gate at the end of the road.
Actually, it is not the end; the road, clearly marked on my 1866 General Land Office map, continues almost another mile to the Secret World, or Indiana Hill Pit, a lost little mining pit on the very edge of the canyon, with a charming little stone cabin hidden away at its center. The road has been gated closed for scarcely ten years, if that, and one can no longer drive to the Pickering Bar Trail or to the Secret World.
We set off marching over thin crunchy snow that had melted ever so slightly on Saturday, and then frozen hard during the night. We all three had loppers and soon enough were hard at work, for the snow had pressed the manzanita down into the road. Snarls of fallen Knobcone Pines also blocked the road in several places.
The day was sunny and bright and cool to cold. Passing the Pickering Bar Trail, we descended slopes facing east, and the early afternoon sun hid away from us, stranding us in a mess of snow-laden manzanita; hundreds of branches needed lopping, and often a shower of snow and ice would shake down over us and sneak, somehow, inside our clothes. I was in the lead and was letting out little screams almost constantly.
We finally reached the edge of the Secret World and worked on re-opening a trail I had cleared seven or eight years ago, but which had become infested with the worst snow-flattened wall of manzanita and buckbrush imaginable. It took twenty minutes to clear a hundred yards or less. Finally we could cross Indiana Ravine to the stone cabin.
This cabin has been vandalized in recent years, portions of the walls battered down, and unless we do something to repair it now, it is not long for this world, and will soon pass beyond that bourne, etc. etc. It was built in the 1930s by one Byron Emrick, a miner and all-around eccentric. Somewhere he stole--well, who knows just how he got it--some heavy-duty corrugated iron roofing, which has stood the test of these last three-score and ten years very well, and is a deep dark rusty red in color, almost black, really. I took some photographs and we cautiously climbed across a vast snowy mass of boulders fifteen feet high and a hundred long, stacked up by the Chinese under Tia Sing, lo these one hundred and twenty years ago.
For, at first this area, exactly where gold was first discovered at Gold Run, was drift-mined, tunnels driven in horizontally a thousand feet along the bedrock floor of the ancient river, and the bottom five feet of cemented gravel stoped out and brought back in thousand-pound ore-cart loads, to a stamp mill on the edge of the canyon. Later, after this rich stratum was worked out, the ground was leased to Tia Sing, and he and his fellows hydrauliced out the pit, and worked the exposed bedrock over with fine-tooth combs. To do this, thousands upon thousands of boulders must needs be shifted to one side and then another.
So, it is an interesting place. We crossed to the east side and climbed the wall of the pit at a low spot, then crossed the snowy Diggings on a secret trail which really could be thought of as the actual beginning of the Diving Board Trail; for it leaves the Diggings through a low pass, and hits the Indiana Hill Ditch just exactly, not one foot to either side, where the trail to the Diving Board plunges down the canyon wall.
We tromped right on down. Over the past couple of years Catherine O'Riley and I have been working on this old old trail, lopping the branches back, and it is almost easy to follow now. Today we had the loppers hard at work, for if you let up on the endless supply of buckbrush and manzanita and silk-tassel and mountain mahogany and live oak, it will rather quickly overwhelm and obliterate a trail.
Pretty much all snow was left behind as soon as we dropped below the Indiana Hill Ditch, and views of the great canyon began to excite us; the North Fork could be heard roaring far below, and Canyon Creek's Big Waterfall, some 120' high, made its voice heard, louder and closer. The sun began to be felt more strongly--so welcome!--and Dave had me get my camera out and take pictures, as the Diving Board, the Big Waterfall, Giant Gap, and other points of great interest and beauty hove into view.
This ridge had been used as a lumber slide in the olden days, when sluice boxes, giant sluice boxes, were fitted into Canyon Creek and Indiana Ravine, and perforce much sawed lumber was needed in these remote, cliff-bound ravines and gorges. For lumber would only tolerate the great rushing streaming mass of mine tailings for a few months at best, even when armored with boulders and fitted with protective layers of railroad track. A constant supply of sawed lumber was required, and the Diving Board Ridge was the main route for delivery. A sometimes deep scar, from dragging bundles of planks and beams a thousand pounds at a time or more, is etched down the crest of the ridge.
The trail wanders back and forth nearby, following a gentler line. Eventually, the ridge narrows to a narrow blade of solid rock, and the slide was forced off the crest. They (and who were "they"?) built a massive dry-laid stone retaining wall along the west side to accomodate the lumber slide.
Just below this area, the ridge flattens, and soon we were on the perfectly level portion, with its tremendous views of the Big Waterfall, the Terraces, the Canyon Creek Trail, Giant Gap, Pickering Bar, etc. etc. We honored and admired the view east but moved rather quickly to the sunny west side, and lounged on the rocks in the warm sun, something which seemed impossible an hour before. Gnats, of all things, were floating in the little sunshine-ignited thermals near the dark-foliaged Canyon Live Oaks. I have often seen this, but after such cold nights!--it seemed, well, odd.
After a good long break we slogged up and out and broke away north into the Diggings, taking the round-about Diggings Road route, rather than the shady manzanita snow cloister we had walked on our way in. We crunched through the thin snow and climbed the long hills and, soon enough, were passing the spot where the largest petrified log in the Diggings was stolen not long ago, and where the one remaining large fragment of that log was stolen, by someone on an OHV, in 2003. Here we began to see many footprints, and the track of a plastic sled, coming in, and going back out, and we saw that there was not quite--almost, but not quite--enough of The Beautiful for sledding, and that the gang had walked in and walked right back out, and we followed their many footprints back up and out to the BLM gate and our cars.
It was a wonderful day, and a strenuous day, clear and fresh and full of fine views. Giant Gap's north-facing south wall was especially notable, with its heavy frosting of snow over the upper 1000 feet--only the most radical cliffs and protrusions standing out dark and unadorned and free of the icy crystals, such as the Pinnacles, and the Eminence.
In any case it is a remarkable place, at first plunging steeply, then leveling out, the flat part occupying an almost perfectly central place in the great canyon, with views to the east through Giant Gap to Sawtooth Ridge and Monumental Ridge--the latter, rising to 7000', deeply cloaked in snow--and to the west, a long series of interwoven, forested spurs, with Pickering Bar almost immediately below.
On Sunday I joined geologist Dave Lawler of Grass Valley, and masseuse Cindy Goldman of Dutch Flat, for a visit to the Diving Board. We drove south on Garrett Road, often icy, with a thin coating of snow on the adjacent hillsides, and parked above the BLM gate at the end of the road.
Actually, it is not the end; the road, clearly marked on my 1866 General Land Office map, continues almost another mile to the Secret World, or Indiana Hill Pit, a lost little mining pit on the very edge of the canyon, with a charming little stone cabin hidden away at its center. The road has been gated closed for scarcely ten years, if that, and one can no longer drive to the Pickering Bar Trail or to the Secret World.
We set off marching over thin crunchy snow that had melted ever so slightly on Saturday, and then frozen hard during the night. We all three had loppers and soon enough were hard at work, for the snow had pressed the manzanita down into the road. Snarls of fallen Knobcone Pines also blocked the road in several places.
The day was sunny and bright and cool to cold. Passing the Pickering Bar Trail, we descended slopes facing east, and the early afternoon sun hid away from us, stranding us in a mess of snow-laden manzanita; hundreds of branches needed lopping, and often a shower of snow and ice would shake down over us and sneak, somehow, inside our clothes. I was in the lead and was letting out little screams almost constantly.
We finally reached the edge of the Secret World and worked on re-opening a trail I had cleared seven or eight years ago, but which had become infested with the worst snow-flattened wall of manzanita and buckbrush imaginable. It took twenty minutes to clear a hundred yards or less. Finally we could cross Indiana Ravine to the stone cabin.
This cabin has been vandalized in recent years, portions of the walls battered down, and unless we do something to repair it now, it is not long for this world, and will soon pass beyond that bourne, etc. etc. It was built in the 1930s by one Byron Emrick, a miner and all-around eccentric. Somewhere he stole--well, who knows just how he got it--some heavy-duty corrugated iron roofing, which has stood the test of these last three-score and ten years very well, and is a deep dark rusty red in color, almost black, really. I took some photographs and we cautiously climbed across a vast snowy mass of boulders fifteen feet high and a hundred long, stacked up by the Chinese under Tia Sing, lo these one hundred and twenty years ago.
For, at first this area, exactly where gold was first discovered at Gold Run, was drift-mined, tunnels driven in horizontally a thousand feet along the bedrock floor of the ancient river, and the bottom five feet of cemented gravel stoped out and brought back in thousand-pound ore-cart loads, to a stamp mill on the edge of the canyon. Later, after this rich stratum was worked out, the ground was leased to Tia Sing, and he and his fellows hydrauliced out the pit, and worked the exposed bedrock over with fine-tooth combs. To do this, thousands upon thousands of boulders must needs be shifted to one side and then another.
So, it is an interesting place. We crossed to the east side and climbed the wall of the pit at a low spot, then crossed the snowy Diggings on a secret trail which really could be thought of as the actual beginning of the Diving Board Trail; for it leaves the Diggings through a low pass, and hits the Indiana Hill Ditch just exactly, not one foot to either side, where the trail to the Diving Board plunges down the canyon wall.
We tromped right on down. Over the past couple of years Catherine O'Riley and I have been working on this old old trail, lopping the branches back, and it is almost easy to follow now. Today we had the loppers hard at work, for if you let up on the endless supply of buckbrush and manzanita and silk-tassel and mountain mahogany and live oak, it will rather quickly overwhelm and obliterate a trail.
Pretty much all snow was left behind as soon as we dropped below the Indiana Hill Ditch, and views of the great canyon began to excite us; the North Fork could be heard roaring far below, and Canyon Creek's Big Waterfall, some 120' high, made its voice heard, louder and closer. The sun began to be felt more strongly--so welcome!--and Dave had me get my camera out and take pictures, as the Diving Board, the Big Waterfall, Giant Gap, and other points of great interest and beauty hove into view.
This ridge had been used as a lumber slide in the olden days, when sluice boxes, giant sluice boxes, were fitted into Canyon Creek and Indiana Ravine, and perforce much sawed lumber was needed in these remote, cliff-bound ravines and gorges. For lumber would only tolerate the great rushing streaming mass of mine tailings for a few months at best, even when armored with boulders and fitted with protective layers of railroad track. A constant supply of sawed lumber was required, and the Diving Board Ridge was the main route for delivery. A sometimes deep scar, from dragging bundles of planks and beams a thousand pounds at a time or more, is etched down the crest of the ridge.
The trail wanders back and forth nearby, following a gentler line. Eventually, the ridge narrows to a narrow blade of solid rock, and the slide was forced off the crest. They (and who were "they"?) built a massive dry-laid stone retaining wall along the west side to accomodate the lumber slide.
Just below this area, the ridge flattens, and soon we were on the perfectly level portion, with its tremendous views of the Big Waterfall, the Terraces, the Canyon Creek Trail, Giant Gap, Pickering Bar, etc. etc. We honored and admired the view east but moved rather quickly to the sunny west side, and lounged on the rocks in the warm sun, something which seemed impossible an hour before. Gnats, of all things, were floating in the little sunshine-ignited thermals near the dark-foliaged Canyon Live Oaks. I have often seen this, but after such cold nights!--it seemed, well, odd.
After a good long break we slogged up and out and broke away north into the Diggings, taking the round-about Diggings Road route, rather than the shady manzanita snow cloister we had walked on our way in. We crunched through the thin snow and climbed the long hills and, soon enough, were passing the spot where the largest petrified log in the Diggings was stolen not long ago, and where the one remaining large fragment of that log was stolen, by someone on an OHV, in 2003. Here we began to see many footprints, and the track of a plastic sled, coming in, and going back out, and we saw that there was not quite--almost, but not quite--enough of The Beautiful for sledding, and that the gang had walked in and walked right back out, and we followed their many footprints back up and out to the BLM gate and our cars.
It was a wonderful day, and a strenuous day, clear and fresh and full of fine views. Giant Gap's north-facing south wall was especially notable, with its heavy frosting of snow over the upper 1000 feet--only the most radical cliffs and protrusions standing out dark and unadorned and free of the icy crystals, such as the Pinnacles, and the Eminence.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Visit to Gold Run Diggings
Tuesday morning I met Ron Gould for a tour of some of the more interesting parts of the Gold Run Diggings: the Secret World, and the southern part of the Indiana Hill Ditch. In recent weeks I had been doing a lot of concrete work and no hiking at all. In the course of all this I managed to severely tweak my back; there appears to be a limit, which was drastically exceeded, to the number of ninety-pound sacks of concrete mix I should sling around on any one day. The result was that I was tottering around like a truly ancient one.
Still, the day was fine and sunny, and we found a way (thanks RC!) to drive into the Diggings, and ended up at the gigantic pit of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co., marked on the 7.5 minute USGS Dutch Flat quadrangle as the Stewart Gravel Mine.
James Stewart the Younger owned most of the Diggings for many years. His father, James Stewart the Elder, had been a hydraulic mining superintendent in the olden days. The younger Stewart was a friend of Jack London and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. It is said that London used to stay at Stewart's house in the Diggings, and did some writing there. His short story, "The All-Gold Canyon," may have been written at Gold Run.
We parked where the road was cut through by the January 1997 flood event, which here was amplified by the failure of a small dam up near Garrett Road. Facing south, we had The Bluffs on our right (west), and Indiana Hill on our left (east). The high ground to either side is BLM land, while the floor of the pit is part of the 800 acres now for sale. Nearby was the more northerly of the two shafts, each leading to a tunnel, which two tunnels join beneath Indiana Hill, and continue east as one huge tunnel, twelve feet wide by nine feet high, before breaking out at Canyon Creek. This shaft and tunnel complex was made in 1873-74 by the GRD&MC.
Walking south through the pit, we marveled at its depth--all of 400 feet--and the millions of cubic yards washed away by the water cannons, through the long sluice boxes, and away into Canyon Creek and the North Fork American. In 1881 California brought suit against the GRD&MC, arguing that the tailings were raising the bed of the American River far downstream, and placing Sacramento and other communities at risk of severe floods. The State prevailed, and Judge Temple handed down an injunction, that no tailings be discharged into Canyon Creek or the North Fork.
It so happens that 45 volumes of testimony were written out in longhand during this trial, and that microfilm of all this can be examined in the Auburn Library (ask at the Reference desk). I have pored through something like a quarter of this mass of material, for the defense explored, in considerable detail, the history of mining in the Gold Run area.
For instance, testimony was taken that, in 1881, between three and five thousand cubic yards of tailings per day were run through the tunnels into Canyon Creek. These tailings went through more sluice boxes fitted into the creek itself, before finally being let free into the North Fork. In 1881 one could drive a wagon right up the tailings from Mineral Bar, below Colfax, to Canyon Creek.
The North Fork has long since ripped all these tailings out and away and downstream. Only insignificant vestiges remain in this reach of the North Fork. Lower down, where the river's gradient begins to flatten, a little more of this mining debris has been preserved. In stark contrast, portions of the Bear River remain buried by tailings to this day, partly because the Bear has a smaller basin, and smaller flows, than the North Fork. It also had more hydraulic mines, and received more tailings, than the North Fork.
Climbing a little above the floor of the pit on the south, we entered a tall tunnel driven through the gravel, and walked through into the Secret World. This relatively small hydraulic mining pit lies at the head of Indiana Ravine, and is surrounded by high banks on three sides, while opening into the North Fork canyon to the south. This, as testimony in the 1881 trial brought out, was exactly where the gold in these "high gravels" at Gold Run was first discovered. Claims were filed, the Indiana Hill Mining District was constituted, and in September of 1852, the Indiana Hill Ditch was completed, bringing water from Canyon Creek a couple of miles south to the head of Indiana Ravine.
In the Secret World is a small stone cabin, built I believe by one Byron Emric, maybe in the 1930s. He used clay for mortar, and gleaned some corrugated sheet iron for a roof. Unfortunately, the cabin was vandalized in 1998, and appears to have been struck again in 2003. A large part of the wall around the door has now collapsed.
The deepest part of the old river channel passed through here, and the gravels were so rich they justified drift mining, until, sometime in the late 1870s or early 1880s, the ground was leased to a Chinese company headed by one Tia Sing, and they used hydraulic mining methods to create the pit, working down to bedrock, and stacking boulders in huge piles, in order to "clean" the bedrock of its golden treasure.
We picked our way across some of these boulder-piles left by Tia Sing's men, and climbed out of the pit on the east, where we passed a monstrous mossy dry-laid stone wall, and entered the small reservoir at the end of the Indiana Hill Ditch. We exited the tiny reservoir basin on the south, and followed the ditch itself around the end of the Indiana Hill ridge, at first right on the rim of the main North Fork canyon, but passing gradually into the valley of Canyon Creek. Some very nice views of Giant Gap, Iowa Hill, Roach Hill, and even some snow peaks, are had from this ditch. It is oft-infested with ancient huge bushes, so that one is forced off the berm and down the hill again and again.
At a sunny opening we stopped for a snack, with the uppermost of the big waterfalls of Canyon Creek directly below us, out of sight, but audibly roaring right along. Some hawks could be seen enjoying the sunny day, out in the main canyon.
Continuing, we reached the Old Wagon Road, which was made by the GRD&MC in 1873 to facilitate construction of the great tunnels. It crosses the Indiana Hill ridge in a low pass at the head of Judd Ravine, and descends steeply to Canyon Creek and the tunnel outlet. The uppermost part is blocked by brush, but from the ditch down it is open enough to walk. We followed it down to the creek, and enjoyed some more sunshine at the U-Bend or Oxbow, where the miners blasted out a huge channel for their sluice boxes, and made some terraces.
Then it was up and out on the Canyon Creek Trail, through Potato Ravine Pass to the Diggings, where a few yards down the Main Diggings Road brought us to Ron's truck.
It was a very pleasant hike, of a couple miles perhaps, first south along one side of Indiana Hill, then north along the other side.
Still, the day was fine and sunny, and we found a way (thanks RC!) to drive into the Diggings, and ended up at the gigantic pit of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co., marked on the 7.5 minute USGS Dutch Flat quadrangle as the Stewart Gravel Mine.
James Stewart the Younger owned most of the Diggings for many years. His father, James Stewart the Elder, had been a hydraulic mining superintendent in the olden days. The younger Stewart was a friend of Jack London and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. It is said that London used to stay at Stewart's house in the Diggings, and did some writing there. His short story, "The All-Gold Canyon," may have been written at Gold Run.
We parked where the road was cut through by the January 1997 flood event, which here was amplified by the failure of a small dam up near Garrett Road. Facing south, we had The Bluffs on our right (west), and Indiana Hill on our left (east). The high ground to either side is BLM land, while the floor of the pit is part of the 800 acres now for sale. Nearby was the more northerly of the two shafts, each leading to a tunnel, which two tunnels join beneath Indiana Hill, and continue east as one huge tunnel, twelve feet wide by nine feet high, before breaking out at Canyon Creek. This shaft and tunnel complex was made in 1873-74 by the GRD&MC.
Walking south through the pit, we marveled at its depth--all of 400 feet--and the millions of cubic yards washed away by the water cannons, through the long sluice boxes, and away into Canyon Creek and the North Fork American. In 1881 California brought suit against the GRD&MC, arguing that the tailings were raising the bed of the American River far downstream, and placing Sacramento and other communities at risk of severe floods. The State prevailed, and Judge Temple handed down an injunction, that no tailings be discharged into Canyon Creek or the North Fork.
It so happens that 45 volumes of testimony were written out in longhand during this trial, and that microfilm of all this can be examined in the Auburn Library (ask at the Reference desk). I have pored through something like a quarter of this mass of material, for the defense explored, in considerable detail, the history of mining in the Gold Run area.
For instance, testimony was taken that, in 1881, between three and five thousand cubic yards of tailings per day were run through the tunnels into Canyon Creek. These tailings went through more sluice boxes fitted into the creek itself, before finally being let free into the North Fork. In 1881 one could drive a wagon right up the tailings from Mineral Bar, below Colfax, to Canyon Creek.
The North Fork has long since ripped all these tailings out and away and downstream. Only insignificant vestiges remain in this reach of the North Fork. Lower down, where the river's gradient begins to flatten, a little more of this mining debris has been preserved. In stark contrast, portions of the Bear River remain buried by tailings to this day, partly because the Bear has a smaller basin, and smaller flows, than the North Fork. It also had more hydraulic mines, and received more tailings, than the North Fork.
Climbing a little above the floor of the pit on the south, we entered a tall tunnel driven through the gravel, and walked through into the Secret World. This relatively small hydraulic mining pit lies at the head of Indiana Ravine, and is surrounded by high banks on three sides, while opening into the North Fork canyon to the south. This, as testimony in the 1881 trial brought out, was exactly where the gold in these "high gravels" at Gold Run was first discovered. Claims were filed, the Indiana Hill Mining District was constituted, and in September of 1852, the Indiana Hill Ditch was completed, bringing water from Canyon Creek a couple of miles south to the head of Indiana Ravine.
In the Secret World is a small stone cabin, built I believe by one Byron Emric, maybe in the 1930s. He used clay for mortar, and gleaned some corrugated sheet iron for a roof. Unfortunately, the cabin was vandalized in 1998, and appears to have been struck again in 2003. A large part of the wall around the door has now collapsed.
The deepest part of the old river channel passed through here, and the gravels were so rich they justified drift mining, until, sometime in the late 1870s or early 1880s, the ground was leased to a Chinese company headed by one Tia Sing, and they used hydraulic mining methods to create the pit, working down to bedrock, and stacking boulders in huge piles, in order to "clean" the bedrock of its golden treasure.
We picked our way across some of these boulder-piles left by Tia Sing's men, and climbed out of the pit on the east, where we passed a monstrous mossy dry-laid stone wall, and entered the small reservoir at the end of the Indiana Hill Ditch. We exited the tiny reservoir basin on the south, and followed the ditch itself around the end of the Indiana Hill ridge, at first right on the rim of the main North Fork canyon, but passing gradually into the valley of Canyon Creek. Some very nice views of Giant Gap, Iowa Hill, Roach Hill, and even some snow peaks, are had from this ditch. It is oft-infested with ancient huge bushes, so that one is forced off the berm and down the hill again and again.
At a sunny opening we stopped for a snack, with the uppermost of the big waterfalls of Canyon Creek directly below us, out of sight, but audibly roaring right along. Some hawks could be seen enjoying the sunny day, out in the main canyon.
Continuing, we reached the Old Wagon Road, which was made by the GRD&MC in 1873 to facilitate construction of the great tunnels. It crosses the Indiana Hill ridge in a low pass at the head of Judd Ravine, and descends steeply to Canyon Creek and the tunnel outlet. The uppermost part is blocked by brush, but from the ditch down it is open enough to walk. We followed it down to the creek, and enjoyed some more sunshine at the U-Bend or Oxbow, where the miners blasted out a huge channel for their sluice boxes, and made some terraces.
Then it was up and out on the Canyon Creek Trail, through Potato Ravine Pass to the Diggings, where a few yards down the Main Diggings Road brought us to Ron's truck.
It was a very pleasant hike, of a couple miles perhaps, first south along one side of Indiana Hill, then north along the other side.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Gold Run and the North Fork American W&SR
For years I have been wondering why the BLM allows mining claims on its lands in the Gold Run Diggings. Recently I have tried once again to discover the basis for this BLM policy. For, there is a special northward extension of the North Fork American W&SR corridor; and lands within the W&SR corridor ought to be closed to mineral entry.
In 1978 Congress added the North Fork American River to our national Wild & Scenic River system. The relevant part of this legislation reads as follows:
*******
(21) AMERICAN, CALIFORNIA. -- The North Fork from a point 0.3 mile above Heath Springs downstream to a point approximately 1,000 feet upstream of the Colfax-Iowa Hill Bridge, including the Gold Run Addition Area, as generally depicted on the map entitled, "Proposed Boundary Maps" contained in Appendix I of the document dated January 1978 and entitled, "A Proposal: North Fork American Wild and Scenic River" published by the United States Forest Service, Department of Agriculture; to be designated as a wild river and to be administered by agencies of the Departments of Interior and Agriculture as agreed upon by the Secretaries of such Departments or as directed by the President.
*******
Why did Congress create the special Addition? Because the Diggings are wild, they are beautiful, they are historic, and there are two trails--the Canyon Creek and Pickering Bar trails-- which give access to the North Fork American itself. Congress recognized that the Gold Run Diggings constitute a kind of "portal" to the North Fork American.
Now, it happens that in the more southern part of the Gold Run Diggings, there is very much BLM land. These BLM lands are just those which lie within the so-called "Gold Run Addition" as mentioned in the legislation, above. Yet the Folsom BLM has, over all the time it has managed the lands at Gold Run, and in particular, since 1978, considered that these BLM lands within the Addition are open to "mineral entry," i.e., to mining claims.
A careful examination of the "big" Tahoe National Forest map will reveal that all these BLM lands in the Diggings are marked as within the W&SR corridor. Ordinarily, the W&SR corridor is considered to extend only one-quarter mile from the center of the river. Yet Congress wanted to extend the corridor to the north at Gold Run, and created the special Addition.
Ordinarily, all public lands within any river's W&SR corridor are immediately "withdrawn from mineral entry," that is, closed to any further mining claims. I believe it is also typical for there to be an off-highway-vehicle (OHV) closure on all public lands within the W&SR corridor. This a natural consequence of managing a river to be a Wild & Scenic River.
Yet at Gold Run, BLM lands remain open to mineral entry and to OHVs.
This has led to significant adverse impacts upon BLM lands at Gold Run. For instance, one claimant, apparently, used his key to the BLM gate at the end of Garrett Road to bring a backhoe and dump truck into the Diggings and remove large quantitites of petrified wood. The pieces weighed in the 200-300 pound range, but included the very last petrified log of any size exposed at the surface, around fifteen feet long and two to three feet in diameter. This happened just a few years ago.
These impacts include blading out roads wider with a bulldozer, creating new roads, and making many "test pits" to justify the existence of a valid mining claim. In fact, so far as I have been able to discover, it was these mining claimants who placed the gate at the end of Garrett Road. They, the claimants, actually made the very policy which excludes the rest of us from driving in to the head of the Pickering Bar Trail.
Now, in this last case, I reluctantly go along with the adverse impact. The gate reduces vehicular access to a wild and beautiful area I like to hike in. That makes it nicer for hiking. Also, there had been problems with squatters down that road, before the gate went in.
Nevertheless, I oppose leaving these lands within the special Gold Run Addition open to mining claims. And I still do not understand the basis for this BLM policy. I am told that the "master plats" or master maps upon which the BLM relies do not show the Addition as within the W&SR corridor. Why not?
For, after all, Congress itself wrote
"... including the Gold Run Addition Area, as generally depicted on the map entitled, 'Proposed Boundary Maps' contained in Appendix I of the document dated January 1978 and entitled, 'A Proposal: North Fork American Wild and Scenic River' published by the United States Forest Service ... ."
The TNF map reflects the extended corridor as depicted in the 1978 "Proposed Boundary Maps." The BLM master plats do not. Why? I still do not understand.
Everything within the Gold Run Addition ought to be closed to mineral entry and closed to OHV use.
Deane Swickard, Area Manager of Folsom BLM, tells me that in 2004 a new management plan will be developed for the entire Folsom Resource Area. There will be opportunity for public comment. Perhaps at that time we can exert influence to exclude the BLM lands at Gold Run from mineral entry and OHV use.
In 1978 Congress added the North Fork American River to our national Wild & Scenic River system. The relevant part of this legislation reads as follows:
*******
(21) AMERICAN, CALIFORNIA. -- The North Fork from a point 0.3 mile above Heath Springs downstream to a point approximately 1,000 feet upstream of the Colfax-Iowa Hill Bridge, including the Gold Run Addition Area, as generally depicted on the map entitled, "Proposed Boundary Maps" contained in Appendix I of the document dated January 1978 and entitled, "A Proposal: North Fork American Wild and Scenic River" published by the United States Forest Service, Department of Agriculture; to be designated as a wild river and to be administered by agencies of the Departments of Interior and Agriculture as agreed upon by the Secretaries of such Departments or as directed by the President.
*******
Why did Congress create the special Addition? Because the Diggings are wild, they are beautiful, they are historic, and there are two trails--the Canyon Creek and Pickering Bar trails-- which give access to the North Fork American itself. Congress recognized that the Gold Run Diggings constitute a kind of "portal" to the North Fork American.
Now, it happens that in the more southern part of the Gold Run Diggings, there is very much BLM land. These BLM lands are just those which lie within the so-called "Gold Run Addition" as mentioned in the legislation, above. Yet the Folsom BLM has, over all the time it has managed the lands at Gold Run, and in particular, since 1978, considered that these BLM lands within the Addition are open to "mineral entry," i.e., to mining claims.
A careful examination of the "big" Tahoe National Forest map will reveal that all these BLM lands in the Diggings are marked as within the W&SR corridor. Ordinarily, the W&SR corridor is considered to extend only one-quarter mile from the center of the river. Yet Congress wanted to extend the corridor to the north at Gold Run, and created the special Addition.
Ordinarily, all public lands within any river's W&SR corridor are immediately "withdrawn from mineral entry," that is, closed to any further mining claims. I believe it is also typical for there to be an off-highway-vehicle (OHV) closure on all public lands within the W&SR corridor. This a natural consequence of managing a river to be a Wild & Scenic River.
Yet at Gold Run, BLM lands remain open to mineral entry and to OHVs.
This has led to significant adverse impacts upon BLM lands at Gold Run. For instance, one claimant, apparently, used his key to the BLM gate at the end of Garrett Road to bring a backhoe and dump truck into the Diggings and remove large quantitites of petrified wood. The pieces weighed in the 200-300 pound range, but included the very last petrified log of any size exposed at the surface, around fifteen feet long and two to three feet in diameter. This happened just a few years ago.
These impacts include blading out roads wider with a bulldozer, creating new roads, and making many "test pits" to justify the existence of a valid mining claim. In fact, so far as I have been able to discover, it was these mining claimants who placed the gate at the end of Garrett Road. They, the claimants, actually made the very policy which excludes the rest of us from driving in to the head of the Pickering Bar Trail.
Now, in this last case, I reluctantly go along with the adverse impact. The gate reduces vehicular access to a wild and beautiful area I like to hike in. That makes it nicer for hiking. Also, there had been problems with squatters down that road, before the gate went in.
Nevertheless, I oppose leaving these lands within the special Gold Run Addition open to mining claims. And I still do not understand the basis for this BLM policy. I am told that the "master plats" or master maps upon which the BLM relies do not show the Addition as within the W&SR corridor. Why not?
For, after all, Congress itself wrote
"... including the Gold Run Addition Area, as generally depicted on the map entitled, 'Proposed Boundary Maps' contained in Appendix I of the document dated January 1978 and entitled, 'A Proposal: North Fork American Wild and Scenic River' published by the United States Forest Service ... ."
The TNF map reflects the extended corridor as depicted in the 1978 "Proposed Boundary Maps." The BLM master plats do not. Why? I still do not understand.
Everything within the Gold Run Addition ought to be closed to mineral entry and closed to OHV use.
Deane Swickard, Area Manager of Folsom BLM, tells me that in 2004 a new management plan will be developed for the entire Folsom Resource Area. There will be opportunity for public comment. Perhaps at that time we can exert influence to exclude the BLM lands at Gold Run from mineral entry and OHV use.
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