East of Lost Camp, Texas Canyon descends to the North Fork of the North Fork American River (NFNFAR). Still farther east is Fulda Canyon, with headwaters up above Emigrant Gap. Between Texas and Fulda is what I call Fulda Ridge. To the south and east of Fulda Ridge is that remarkable gorge and complex of canyons, where Fulda, the NFNFAR, the East Fork of the North Fork of the North Fork, Burnett Canyon, and Wilmont Ravine, all converge within a narrow compass of cliffs and many waterfalls.
This makes for one of the strangest topographical features in this part of the Sierra, strange, difficult to get to, wild, strange, and very beautiful. The entire complex of canyons is incised into metasediments of the Shoo Fly Complex, which are all turned up on edge and sometimes folded sharply.
On Friday Ron Gould and I drove up to the Blue Canyon exit on I-80, then south towards Blue Canyon, and east on an unmarked road near houses, just before the railroad is reached. This road-east is being watered for logging trucks, and we followed the wet and freshly-graded dirt down and across the tracks and saw the wetness continue towards Lost Camp itself. So we investigated. Had the Siller Brothers' timber harvest already commenced? But, no. The harvest is apparently on a small SPI parcel farther out on the ridge between Blue Canyon and the NFNFAR. Having found that the great rape of Lost Camp and Fulda Ridge has not started quite yet, we retraced our path and drove out as far as we could on a certain road cut into the line of the old Bradley & Gardner ditch, or Placer County Canal, which was the first big ditch to supply the hydraulic mines of Dutch Flat, arriving there, with bands and parades and speeches and sumptuous repasts, in 1859. Miners marched the streets of Dutch Flat bearing banners aloft upon which were blazoned the heraldry of their individual claims, some with mottos too, like "Root Hog or Die."
We parked at a locked gate in an area where all the large trees had been cut down a year or two ago, and, it would seem, some larger parcel had been subdivided. This is the exact pattern of progress in the middle elevations, the timber regions, of Placer County. Buy the large parcel, cut the timber, subdivide, sell; and then soon after come the gates and the "No Trespassing" signs,
Blithely trespassing beyond the gate, we followed the ditch-road on a meandering course in and out of several ravines at the head of Texas Canyon, until we reached Fulda Ridge. There we dropped away southward.
My 1866 General Land Office map shows a "Trail to Monumental Camp" bearing east from Lost Camp, and an 1862 newspaper article describes this same trail as leading to Onion Valley. Several past efforts to find some shred of the old trail had failed. Ron and I tried yet again, hugging the east side of plateau-like Fulda Ridge as we wandered south through tall pines, cedars, and Douglas Fir. This forest has not long to live. If it is left untouched after the Siller Brothers are through cutting, why, never fear, our grandchildren's grandchildren will live to see something like what is there today.
This pretty patch of forest has already been logged at least twice, the last time forty or fifty years ago, and what with the old roads and skid trails we had little hope of finding our lost trail from Lost Camp to Onion Valley. We did find two small old mining ditches, at around the 4400' contour, and the well-monumented "West Sixteenth Corner" on the line between sections 13 and 24. The lower of the two ditches is the larger and would such a fine trail in its own right. It drew from about a mile up Fulda Canyon, and apparently led to the hardrock mine of the "Railroad Tracks in Space," which Steve Hunter showed me a few weeks ago. I have since discovered that this was called the Red Rock Mine.
After exploring north on the lower ditch, we turned back south and reached a swale with a spring, heavy timber, dogwoods, and an old mining reservoir, and a section of eighth-inch riveted iron pipe, a century or so old. This seemed a likely spot for our lost trail to kiss along the way east to Onion Valley, but we could discover no trace. However, we did find the higher of the two ore-cart-runs, the wide, road-like run, both of which connect the main ore body, on the cliffs to the south, to the ore-processing area, well within shady Fulda Canyon.
We followed the old road with its dry-laid stone walls south to the ore body, where a monstrous quartz vein was stoped out from the ragged sunny cliffs plunging towards the NFNFAR. The vein has the same north-south strike as the strata of the Shoo Fly metasediments, and the same almost vertical dip.
We visited the wonderful Railroad Tracks in Space, where a tremendous view is had of the Gorge of Many Gorges, and then hung from the very railroad tracks while crossing little cliffs to gain the lower ore-cart run. We followed this back north to the ore-processing area, where rather large Douglas Fir, around four feet in diameter, are marked for harvest.
Sorry, our grandchildren's grandchildren will *not* live to see anything like these ancient monsters, after Siller Brothers reap their profits.
Ron and I thrashed north and down to Fulda Creek, arriving between a pair of pretty pools, with much in the way of sculptured rock and little waterfalls, and masses of Five-Finger Ferns, and Indian Rhubarb. After a lunch break we made a scramble down the creek itself to the confluence of Sailor Ravine. Gigantic boulders of the local Shoo Fly were a commonplace, sometimes thirty feet across, and seeming too large, really, for the size of the canyon, but, there they were. We saw ancient Douglas Fir marked for harvest all the way down to Fulda Creek, and on the slopes to the east.
From just below Sailor Ravine we began the climb back up to the flat top of Fulda Ridge, on very steep slopes which seemed to never end. Finally we reached the ore-cart runs and ore body, and from there it is relatively easy going up to the plateau, where we followed a bear trail, with its characteristic deep footmarks, the result of stepping in exactly the same spots over and over again. We followed it north to the Bradley & Gardner Ditch, and then the ditch and ditch-road west, back to Ron's truck.
It was interesting, while crossing a tiny patch of Tahoe National Forest land, to see signs nailed to the trees, warning people not to shoot, and warning that "Dogs Will Bite." These signs are on public land and were placed there by the person who has the cabin down below, and the new gate with the "You Will Be Shot" sign. Log, subdivide, sell, gate, "no trespassing," and now, an added twist, placing signs on public lands.
We never found the least trace of the Trail to Monumental Camp.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
Sunday, September 14, 2003
Big Granite Trail
Saturday I returned to Four Horse Flat for a reconnaissance of problematic parts of the Big Granite Trail. This trail once began at Cisco on the railroad--tho it may well be older than Cisco, which only dates to 1866--and climbed to the pass between the South Yuba and the North Fork American at Huysink Lake (named for Bernard Huysink, a 19th-century outdoorsman of Dutch Flat), skirted the headwaters of Big Valley, and entered the basin of Little Granite Creek through another pass. The trail descended Little Granite Creek, crossed to Big Granite Creek, and finally dropped to the North Fork American, where a ford led to the American River Trail. A short distance upstream, the Sailor Flat Trail was thought of as the continuation of the Big Granite Trail, and one could climb past the La Trinidad Mine, and on beyond Sailor Flat to Robinson Flat.
The Big Granite Trail is one of the sixty-odd historic trails declared to be "county roads" in the notorious yet abortive 1953 Placer County BOS ordinance which intended to preserve public access to public trails. This ordinance was repealed in 1954, and replaced by a weaker ordinance, which mentioned no trail specifically, but only provided that all "public trails" were declared to be "county roads." But who is to say which trail is public? Not Placer County. Not Tahoe National Forest.
At any rate, Four Horse Flat is south of the Loch Leven Lakes, in the glaciated valley of Little Granite Creek. The most detailed map of the region is the USGS 7.5 minute Cisco Grove quadrangle. The Flat is a meadowy area on the north side of the creek, at about 6000' in elevation, with an odd mixture of trees more often found at lower elevations, such as White Fir and Incense Cedar, and trees of the out-and-out high country, such as Aspen and Lodgepole Pine. This is where the Cherry Point Trail meets the Big Granite Trail. Very unfortunately, the area (within Section 9) was logged some fifteen or twenty years ago, and the original lines of the various trails disrupted and obliterated, by logging roads, skid trails, and log decks.
A few weeks ago, with Catherine O'Riley et. al., I had walked past Four Horse Flat on a logging road, and noted a fairly new sign on a tree reading "Big Granite Trail." Yet a tangle of brush and logging slash separated this sign from the old foot trail itself, a few yards away. So my first order of business was to resolve this issue.
The rest of my family was heading for Salmon Lake with friends Neil and Cindy and I dropped them off at the Salmon Lake Trail. There were all of ten vehicles parked there. Then I drove a scant half-mile further to the pass between Big Valley and Little Granite Creek--a TNF sign gives distances to Husink Lake, Pelham Flat, and Big Valley, here, at an elevation of about 6600'--and started off down the unmarked road, or jeep trail, which skirts a mass of Mountain Alders as it descends a small valley. Blazes showed this to be the line of the BGT. These groves of shrubby alders grow in wet areas and are for all intents and purposes impenetrable to humans. The courses of trails are often governed by these alder thickets.
The jeep trail ends at an elaborate hunters' camp, with sleeping platforms, and even piped water! From there the foot trail drops into a grove of large Incense Cedar, only lightly logged, and still impressive. A few weeks ago it showed no signs of recent use, but yesterday I was angered to see that some four-wheeled ATVs had been on the trail, tearing it up a bit, scattering small boulders and leaving heaps of dust. There ought to be a vehicle closure on this trail.
The Cisco Grove quadrangle shows the Big Granite Trail following this tiny tributary of Little Granite Creek southeast into Four Horse Flat, but this course has been abandoned in favor of a logging road. I searched without success for the original line of the trail, and then took the logging road, which drops gently to the southwest, and intersects another logging road at the aforementioned sign.
Here the old trail reappears just a few yards below, yet the most direct route is blocked. Yesterday I saw that, just at the sign, one switches back northeast--the wrong direction--on the lower logging road, and then almost immediately, one switches back sharply southwest, on the original trail. Old blazes on the trees confirmed this to be, in fact, the Big Granite Trail, and there is also a second sign, just where the trail is reached.
I decided to scout back north into Four Horse Flat and see if I could discover more of the original line of the trail. Soon I saw a duck, and a blaze, and a bit of undisturbed trail, and another duck, and wondered who it was, who had apparently, just like me, tried to find the old trail. The path climbed slowly into a meadow, and then, just as it would seem to have climbed higher, into the forest, I lost it. In the general scheme of things, this particular trail does not show on the Cisco Grove quadrangle; it is a "short-cut" which avoids *two* crossings of Little Granite Creek, by simply staying to the west of the creek.
For, the way the map has it, the BGT drops steeply down the little tributary, skirts Four Horse Flat on the north, crosses Little Granite Creek to meet the Cherry Point Trail, and then turns sharply southwest and crosses the creek again.
I planned to ascend the Cherry Point Trail later, and deferred further explorations in this area until I had visited another "problem" on the trail, well downstream.
As I walked back south on the "short-cut" trail, I was able to recognize its exact course more accurately. Soon I was back on the main trail, and followed along southerly, through forests and meadows, where the ATVs had flattened the late-season wildflowers. It was a lovely warm day, and butterflies were everywhere. There were blues and checkerspots and Lorquin's Admirals. I noted the recent tracks of perhaps half a dozen mountain bikes.
At a certain point, a little ways south into Section 16, at an elevation of about 5800', the most-used line of the BGT crosses Little Granite Creek to the east side, where it remains. However, the Cisco Grove quadrangle shows it staying on the west side for another half-mile south. I have walked both routes. The west-side trail is the old, original trail. I don't quite know why it was abandoned. Mule trains used this trail in the olden days, and in places, it was eroded into a narrow, bouldery trench. Add to this that the old trail crosses the creek in what might be considered a more hazardous route, over huge granite boulders, and I guess we have the reason for the new crossing.
The new crossing is a little awkward in its own right, impeded by alders, and everyone tries to make it across without getting their feet wet, and what with the alders, the banks of fine-grained weak sediments get broken down. I did a little lopping to help open the crossing, and then took a lunch break. Exploring a bit on the east side of the creek, I saw some six-foot-diameter Incense Cedar and White Fir. No logging had ever occurred here, in TNF-owned Section 16.
It was time to start back north towards Salmon Lake. I had stored waypoints for the two crossings of Little Granite Creek up by Four Horse Flat on my GPS unit, and found that that area had been heavily impacted by logging. A logging road had been carried across the creek, either directly on the line of the old trail, or quite near it, and then this new road became directly superimposed upon the old trail. As I walked along and neared the northern crossing, I guessed that the road diverged very slightly from the old trail, so, I dropped away toward the creek, and found the crossing. This is just where the old BGT and Cherry Point Trail joined. The creek was dry here, and spread wide over a bouldery floodplain. I crossed, and followed along what I took to be the BGT to the northwest for a while, but the large trees which might have held blazes had been all cut down, and the faint trail-like groove in the ground might have been no more than a skid trail. I returned, re-crossed, and followed a faint trace of the Cherry Point Trail east. I found a nice old aspen tree with not only a blaze, but initials carved into the trunk, as well as the claw marks of bears, who often scar aspens to mark their territories.
However, immediately to the north the trail seemed to coincide with the logging road. The creek itself was inviting, since it flowed directly over the metasediments of the Sailor Canyon Formation, although the flow was almost non-existent. The water-polished rocks were lovely, and I scampered higher and higher. Just a little ways north these Jurassic metasediments abruptly terminate at the granite pluton of Loch Leven Lakes. I was intrigued to see evidence of contact metamorphism in the Sailor Canyon fm. rocks: little zones of granitoid texture here and there. I wanted to follow right up to the contact itself, but Mountain Alders began to close in tightly, and I didn't want to get too far off the line of the Cherry Point Trail. So I left the creek and struck away uphill to the east until I hit the logging road which now counts as the Cherry Point Trail.
This proved to be the trail by which the half-dozen mountain bikes had descended, perhaps aiming for the North Fork, the American River Trail, and then climbing out of the canyon at Mumford Bar. These bikes cause quite a bit of erosion on steep trails. I saw a pair of large grouse along the way. There are some rather scenic escarpments of granite, and wet meadows, and nice views of Cherry Point Ridge, its north face all cloaked in Red Fir. Eventually I got far enough north to strike out west, cross-country, to Salmon Lake, and the rest of my party. Up there, in the highlands, the northeast wind was brisk, and although the kids swam, the adults stayed dry. We saw a Goshawk and a falcon in the area, along with numerous birds I did not recognize, with dark greenish wings, given to perching on tree-tops, and making sudden hawklike forays out for flying insects, and then resuming their perch. There were dozens of these. Sometimes they would flock together, sometimes they would spread out widely to their individual perches.
A large party was camping above the lake, with all of ten tents. We thought that they might be Boy Scouts.
From the lake one can see parts of Snow Mountain, and even Lyon Peak and Tinkers Knob, in the distance. From an eminence south of the lake a much wider view embraces the length of Little Granite Creek, Sugar Pine Point and its Little Slate Ridge, and the main North Fork canyon itself.
Around four o'clock we hiked back out to Forest Road 38 and the cars.
Summing up, logging has severely impacted both the Big Granite and Cherry Point trails, especially near Four Horse Flat. Both trails now follow logging roads in this area. It seems possible that the "short-cut" portion of the BGT, in Four Horse Flat, might be reestablished, offering an alternative to the logging road now in use.
The Big Granite Trail is one of the sixty-odd historic trails declared to be "county roads" in the notorious yet abortive 1953 Placer County BOS ordinance which intended to preserve public access to public trails. This ordinance was repealed in 1954, and replaced by a weaker ordinance, which mentioned no trail specifically, but only provided that all "public trails" were declared to be "county roads." But who is to say which trail is public? Not Placer County. Not Tahoe National Forest.
At any rate, Four Horse Flat is south of the Loch Leven Lakes, in the glaciated valley of Little Granite Creek. The most detailed map of the region is the USGS 7.5 minute Cisco Grove quadrangle. The Flat is a meadowy area on the north side of the creek, at about 6000' in elevation, with an odd mixture of trees more often found at lower elevations, such as White Fir and Incense Cedar, and trees of the out-and-out high country, such as Aspen and Lodgepole Pine. This is where the Cherry Point Trail meets the Big Granite Trail. Very unfortunately, the area (within Section 9) was logged some fifteen or twenty years ago, and the original lines of the various trails disrupted and obliterated, by logging roads, skid trails, and log decks.
A few weeks ago, with Catherine O'Riley et. al., I had walked past Four Horse Flat on a logging road, and noted a fairly new sign on a tree reading "Big Granite Trail." Yet a tangle of brush and logging slash separated this sign from the old foot trail itself, a few yards away. So my first order of business was to resolve this issue.
The rest of my family was heading for Salmon Lake with friends Neil and Cindy and I dropped them off at the Salmon Lake Trail. There were all of ten vehicles parked there. Then I drove a scant half-mile further to the pass between Big Valley and Little Granite Creek--a TNF sign gives distances to Husink Lake, Pelham Flat, and Big Valley, here, at an elevation of about 6600'--and started off down the unmarked road, or jeep trail, which skirts a mass of Mountain Alders as it descends a small valley. Blazes showed this to be the line of the BGT. These groves of shrubby alders grow in wet areas and are for all intents and purposes impenetrable to humans. The courses of trails are often governed by these alder thickets.
The jeep trail ends at an elaborate hunters' camp, with sleeping platforms, and even piped water! From there the foot trail drops into a grove of large Incense Cedar, only lightly logged, and still impressive. A few weeks ago it showed no signs of recent use, but yesterday I was angered to see that some four-wheeled ATVs had been on the trail, tearing it up a bit, scattering small boulders and leaving heaps of dust. There ought to be a vehicle closure on this trail.
The Cisco Grove quadrangle shows the Big Granite Trail following this tiny tributary of Little Granite Creek southeast into Four Horse Flat, but this course has been abandoned in favor of a logging road. I searched without success for the original line of the trail, and then took the logging road, which drops gently to the southwest, and intersects another logging road at the aforementioned sign.
Here the old trail reappears just a few yards below, yet the most direct route is blocked. Yesterday I saw that, just at the sign, one switches back northeast--the wrong direction--on the lower logging road, and then almost immediately, one switches back sharply southwest, on the original trail. Old blazes on the trees confirmed this to be, in fact, the Big Granite Trail, and there is also a second sign, just where the trail is reached.
I decided to scout back north into Four Horse Flat and see if I could discover more of the original line of the trail. Soon I saw a duck, and a blaze, and a bit of undisturbed trail, and another duck, and wondered who it was, who had apparently, just like me, tried to find the old trail. The path climbed slowly into a meadow, and then, just as it would seem to have climbed higher, into the forest, I lost it. In the general scheme of things, this particular trail does not show on the Cisco Grove quadrangle; it is a "short-cut" which avoids *two* crossings of Little Granite Creek, by simply staying to the west of the creek.
For, the way the map has it, the BGT drops steeply down the little tributary, skirts Four Horse Flat on the north, crosses Little Granite Creek to meet the Cherry Point Trail, and then turns sharply southwest and crosses the creek again.
I planned to ascend the Cherry Point Trail later, and deferred further explorations in this area until I had visited another "problem" on the trail, well downstream.
As I walked back south on the "short-cut" trail, I was able to recognize its exact course more accurately. Soon I was back on the main trail, and followed along southerly, through forests and meadows, where the ATVs had flattened the late-season wildflowers. It was a lovely warm day, and butterflies were everywhere. There were blues and checkerspots and Lorquin's Admirals. I noted the recent tracks of perhaps half a dozen mountain bikes.
At a certain point, a little ways south into Section 16, at an elevation of about 5800', the most-used line of the BGT crosses Little Granite Creek to the east side, where it remains. However, the Cisco Grove quadrangle shows it staying on the west side for another half-mile south. I have walked both routes. The west-side trail is the old, original trail. I don't quite know why it was abandoned. Mule trains used this trail in the olden days, and in places, it was eroded into a narrow, bouldery trench. Add to this that the old trail crosses the creek in what might be considered a more hazardous route, over huge granite boulders, and I guess we have the reason for the new crossing.
The new crossing is a little awkward in its own right, impeded by alders, and everyone tries to make it across without getting their feet wet, and what with the alders, the banks of fine-grained weak sediments get broken down. I did a little lopping to help open the crossing, and then took a lunch break. Exploring a bit on the east side of the creek, I saw some six-foot-diameter Incense Cedar and White Fir. No logging had ever occurred here, in TNF-owned Section 16.
It was time to start back north towards Salmon Lake. I had stored waypoints for the two crossings of Little Granite Creek up by Four Horse Flat on my GPS unit, and found that that area had been heavily impacted by logging. A logging road had been carried across the creek, either directly on the line of the old trail, or quite near it, and then this new road became directly superimposed upon the old trail. As I walked along and neared the northern crossing, I guessed that the road diverged very slightly from the old trail, so, I dropped away toward the creek, and found the crossing. This is just where the old BGT and Cherry Point Trail joined. The creek was dry here, and spread wide over a bouldery floodplain. I crossed, and followed along what I took to be the BGT to the northwest for a while, but the large trees which might have held blazes had been all cut down, and the faint trail-like groove in the ground might have been no more than a skid trail. I returned, re-crossed, and followed a faint trace of the Cherry Point Trail east. I found a nice old aspen tree with not only a blaze, but initials carved into the trunk, as well as the claw marks of bears, who often scar aspens to mark their territories.
However, immediately to the north the trail seemed to coincide with the logging road. The creek itself was inviting, since it flowed directly over the metasediments of the Sailor Canyon Formation, although the flow was almost non-existent. The water-polished rocks were lovely, and I scampered higher and higher. Just a little ways north these Jurassic metasediments abruptly terminate at the granite pluton of Loch Leven Lakes. I was intrigued to see evidence of contact metamorphism in the Sailor Canyon fm. rocks: little zones of granitoid texture here and there. I wanted to follow right up to the contact itself, but Mountain Alders began to close in tightly, and I didn't want to get too far off the line of the Cherry Point Trail. So I left the creek and struck away uphill to the east until I hit the logging road which now counts as the Cherry Point Trail.
This proved to be the trail by which the half-dozen mountain bikes had descended, perhaps aiming for the North Fork, the American River Trail, and then climbing out of the canyon at Mumford Bar. These bikes cause quite a bit of erosion on steep trails. I saw a pair of large grouse along the way. There are some rather scenic escarpments of granite, and wet meadows, and nice views of Cherry Point Ridge, its north face all cloaked in Red Fir. Eventually I got far enough north to strike out west, cross-country, to Salmon Lake, and the rest of my party. Up there, in the highlands, the northeast wind was brisk, and although the kids swam, the adults stayed dry. We saw a Goshawk and a falcon in the area, along with numerous birds I did not recognize, with dark greenish wings, given to perching on tree-tops, and making sudden hawklike forays out for flying insects, and then resuming their perch. There were dozens of these. Sometimes they would flock together, sometimes they would spread out widely to their individual perches.
A large party was camping above the lake, with all of ten tents. We thought that they might be Boy Scouts.
From the lake one can see parts of Snow Mountain, and even Lyon Peak and Tinkers Knob, in the distance. From an eminence south of the lake a much wider view embraces the length of Little Granite Creek, Sugar Pine Point and its Little Slate Ridge, and the main North Fork canyon itself.
Around four o'clock we hiked back out to Forest Road 38 and the cars.
Summing up, logging has severely impacted both the Big Granite and Cherry Point trails, especially near Four Horse Flat. Both trails now follow logging roads in this area. It seems possible that the "short-cut" portion of the BGT, in Four Horse Flat, might be reestablished, offering an alternative to the logging road now in use.
Thursday, September 11, 2003
Visit to Giant Gap
Twenty-five years ago I made a series of explorations in and around Giant Gap and Canyon Creek with several friends from Dutch Flat, including Neil Gerjuoy, the amazing guitarist. Yesterday I joined Neil, his friend Cindy, and Ron Gould, for a jaunt to Giant Gap, by way of the Paleobotanist Trail (PBT), Canyon Creek Trail (CCT), and the High Old Upriver Trail (HOUT), this last being the line of the old Giant Gap Survey.
In the late 1890s a scheme was hatched to divert the waters of the North Fork American into an existing mining ditch serving the Green Valley Blue Gravel Mine, and then carry the ditch west through Giant Gap and on and on down the canyon, finally breaking out near Auburn. From there a pipeline would carry the water to San Francisco. Apparently to demonstrate the feasibility of the project, much work was done to eke out a bench cut between Green Valley and Canyon Creek. The bench cut was never finished, but in places it can be used as a trail. Hence the HOUT.
The "secret" road into the Gold Run Diggings being blocked at last, we could not drive to the Canyon Creek Trail, and so we started from BLM lands at the Bluffs. This adds 1.6 miles to the round trip in and out of the great canyon. The Paleobotanist Trail follows a somewhat wildly meandering course through the Diggings, past some rather large pieces of petrified wood, over 50 million years old, and, crossing the Main Diggings Road, follows a spur road east to the CCT.
We soon reached the huge tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co. (1873), which leads from the Diggings on the west over 2000 feet to Canyon Creek on the east. Here the miner's camp had at last been vacated, with the large blue tarp still tied up to the trees, and garbage strewn about. We cut the tarp free and piled all the garbage on it, folded it and rolled it up and used scraps of rope to cinch it up into an ungainly bundle almost four feet long. This we left on the trail above the tunnel and continued south on the CCT, passing the bridge, and lovely Waterfall View, with the side trail to the Overlook of the Blasted Digger, and wound on down the steeps of the CCT to the secret junction with the HOUT.
Neil was duly impressed with the HOUT. The HOUT winds along in and out of ravines and around little spur ridges, on a nearly level line, sometimes blasted right out of little cliffs, where one feels much the mountaineer, to have dared to traverse the airy ledges.
Starting cool, the day had warmed rapidly, and we were eager to reach the river for a swim. What with this eagerness, and that extra eight-tenths of a mile at the beginning of our hike, it seemed right to make no attempt to continue on the HOUT into Giant Gap itself, but rather, to drop down to the river at Big West Spur and then boulder-hop up to the deep pools and steep cliffs of Giant Gap.
We found a huge boulder which provided a kind of cavern of shade, stashed our packs, ripped off our clothes, and dove in. The water was much colder than it had been in Green Valley last Saturday; the clouds and cool nights of recent days must be responsible; and so we swam with a certain amount of screaming and exclamations and were not long in the crystal-clear water.
Lunch followed, and then a foray up into the Gap, swimming across a cliff-bound pool, and exploring upriver until another deep pool barred our way.
All in all we were several hours down at the river, and waited for the sun to lower, before starting the march up and out. Canyon Wrens serenaded us, and the occasional Ouzel flashed past like a little fighter jet, low to the water and hugging every curve. At last, after a third river revel, we made the steep climb up to the HOUT, followed along the cliffs back to the CCT, which had only just lost its afternoon sun, so we made that steep climb in the shade, and eventually, arrived at the tunnel, and lashed on loads of garbage, and slogged slowly up and out and across the Diggings to the Bluffs and our vehicles. It was 7 p.m.; we had started around ten in the morning; altogether, a hike of some eight or nine miles, just to spend a few hours in great and glorious Giant Gap, had been more than worth it. It was a "good one" indeed.
In the late 1890s a scheme was hatched to divert the waters of the North Fork American into an existing mining ditch serving the Green Valley Blue Gravel Mine, and then carry the ditch west through Giant Gap and on and on down the canyon, finally breaking out near Auburn. From there a pipeline would carry the water to San Francisco. Apparently to demonstrate the feasibility of the project, much work was done to eke out a bench cut between Green Valley and Canyon Creek. The bench cut was never finished, but in places it can be used as a trail. Hence the HOUT.
The "secret" road into the Gold Run Diggings being blocked at last, we could not drive to the Canyon Creek Trail, and so we started from BLM lands at the Bluffs. This adds 1.6 miles to the round trip in and out of the great canyon. The Paleobotanist Trail follows a somewhat wildly meandering course through the Diggings, past some rather large pieces of petrified wood, over 50 million years old, and, crossing the Main Diggings Road, follows a spur road east to the CCT.
We soon reached the huge tunnel of the Gold Run Ditch & Mining Co. (1873), which leads from the Diggings on the west over 2000 feet to Canyon Creek on the east. Here the miner's camp had at last been vacated, with the large blue tarp still tied up to the trees, and garbage strewn about. We cut the tarp free and piled all the garbage on it, folded it and rolled it up and used scraps of rope to cinch it up into an ungainly bundle almost four feet long. This we left on the trail above the tunnel and continued south on the CCT, passing the bridge, and lovely Waterfall View, with the side trail to the Overlook of the Blasted Digger, and wound on down the steeps of the CCT to the secret junction with the HOUT.
Neil was duly impressed with the HOUT. The HOUT winds along in and out of ravines and around little spur ridges, on a nearly level line, sometimes blasted right out of little cliffs, where one feels much the mountaineer, to have dared to traverse the airy ledges.
Starting cool, the day had warmed rapidly, and we were eager to reach the river for a swim. What with this eagerness, and that extra eight-tenths of a mile at the beginning of our hike, it seemed right to make no attempt to continue on the HOUT into Giant Gap itself, but rather, to drop down to the river at Big West Spur and then boulder-hop up to the deep pools and steep cliffs of Giant Gap.
We found a huge boulder which provided a kind of cavern of shade, stashed our packs, ripped off our clothes, and dove in. The water was much colder than it had been in Green Valley last Saturday; the clouds and cool nights of recent days must be responsible; and so we swam with a certain amount of screaming and exclamations and were not long in the crystal-clear water.
Lunch followed, and then a foray up into the Gap, swimming across a cliff-bound pool, and exploring upriver until another deep pool barred our way.
All in all we were several hours down at the river, and waited for the sun to lower, before starting the march up and out. Canyon Wrens serenaded us, and the occasional Ouzel flashed past like a little fighter jet, low to the water and hugging every curve. At last, after a third river revel, we made the steep climb up to the HOUT, followed along the cliffs back to the CCT, which had only just lost its afternoon sun, so we made that steep climb in the shade, and eventually, arrived at the tunnel, and lashed on loads of garbage, and slogged slowly up and out and across the Diggings to the Bluffs and our vehicles. It was 7 p.m.; we had started around ten in the morning; altogether, a hike of some eight or nine miles, just to spend a few hours in great and glorious Giant Gap, had been more than worth it. It was a "good one" indeed.
Monday, September 8, 2003
Siller Brothers & Lost Camp
Thinking that some attempt must be made to communicate directly with Siller Brothers lumber company, about their lands at Lost Camp, today I sent the following to Siller representative Rick Frey, with whom I've spoken in the past, about yet other Siller properties in our area.
*******
September 8, 2003
Rick Frey
Siller Brothers
P.O. Box 1585
Yuba City, CA 95992
re: Lost Camp, and THP 2-03-040-PLA
Dear Rick,
We spoke on the telephone a few years back, when I called to ask about property belonging to the Siller Brothers near Bear River, here in Placer County. That small acreage is of interest to me because it is along the line of the historic Towle Brothers lumber company's narrow-gauge railroad, which would make a lovely trail from Drum Forebay north into Nevada County.
Today I write about another Siller Brothers property, south of Blue Canyon, comprising 600 acres, and spanning the site of the old mining town known as Lost Camp. Siller Brothers is planning a timber harvest on 590 of the 600 acres (THP 2-03-040-PLA). Lost Camp dates back to the late 1850s, and was a hydraulic mining town. It was connected by road to Dutch Flat, a few miles west, and trails radiated away from Lost Camp to other, more remote mining camps. One of these trails remains in use, the China Trail, which drops south to the North Fork of the North Fork American.
The Lost Camp area is an important part of Placer County's heritage, and the China Trail is a wonderful little remnant of the vast complex of trails which once threaded through Placer County generally, and the high country in particular. Many of these old trails have been destroyed by logging. For several years, without knowing who owns the lands around Lost Camp, I have written letters to Tahoe National Forest (TNF), urging that TNF seek to purchase these lands. I have also brought Lost Camp and the China Trail to the attention of Placer County District Five Supervisor Rex Bloomfield, and to the attention of the Placer Legacy.
Many people are concerned about Lost Camp and the proposed timber harvest. TNF has been purchasing lands in the nearby North Fork American, and elsewhere, for years, using Land & Water Conservation Act funds. I am fairly sure that TNF can eventually obtain funding to purchase the Siller Brothers property at Lost Camp, along with other Siller parcels, for instance, in Green Valley on the North Fork American.
I beg Siller Brothers to look favorably upon these land acquisitions-to be a willing seller-and also to defer timber harvests on these lands for ten years. Experience has shown that the process of obtaining money to make land purchases is slow.
Thanks for your consideration of these matters!
Sincerely,
Russell Towle
*******
*******
September 8, 2003
Rick Frey
Siller Brothers
P.O. Box 1585
Yuba City, CA 95992
re: Lost Camp, and THP 2-03-040-PLA
Dear Rick,
We spoke on the telephone a few years back, when I called to ask about property belonging to the Siller Brothers near Bear River, here in Placer County. That small acreage is of interest to me because it is along the line of the historic Towle Brothers lumber company's narrow-gauge railroad, which would make a lovely trail from Drum Forebay north into Nevada County.
Today I write about another Siller Brothers property, south of Blue Canyon, comprising 600 acres, and spanning the site of the old mining town known as Lost Camp. Siller Brothers is planning a timber harvest on 590 of the 600 acres (THP 2-03-040-PLA). Lost Camp dates back to the late 1850s, and was a hydraulic mining town. It was connected by road to Dutch Flat, a few miles west, and trails radiated away from Lost Camp to other, more remote mining camps. One of these trails remains in use, the China Trail, which drops south to the North Fork of the North Fork American.
The Lost Camp area is an important part of Placer County's heritage, and the China Trail is a wonderful little remnant of the vast complex of trails which once threaded through Placer County generally, and the high country in particular. Many of these old trails have been destroyed by logging. For several years, without knowing who owns the lands around Lost Camp, I have written letters to Tahoe National Forest (TNF), urging that TNF seek to purchase these lands. I have also brought Lost Camp and the China Trail to the attention of Placer County District Five Supervisor Rex Bloomfield, and to the attention of the Placer Legacy.
Many people are concerned about Lost Camp and the proposed timber harvest. TNF has been purchasing lands in the nearby North Fork American, and elsewhere, for years, using Land & Water Conservation Act funds. I am fairly sure that TNF can eventually obtain funding to purchase the Siller Brothers property at Lost Camp, along with other Siller parcels, for instance, in Green Valley on the North Fork American.
I beg Siller Brothers to look favorably upon these land acquisitions-to be a willing seller-and also to defer timber harvests on these lands for ten years. Experience has shown that the process of obtaining money to make land purchases is slow.
Thanks for your consideration of these matters!
Sincerely,
Russell Towle
*******
Sunday, September 7, 2003
Visit to Green Valley
Green Valley is near Dutch Flat and Alta on the North Fork American, just where the weak serpentine of the Melones Fault Zone crosses the river, and the canyon widens, the walls recede, and large glacial outwash terraces of multiple ages cloak many slopes. Two thousand people are said to have resided in Green Valley in 1851-52. Saturday, Gay Wiseman, Neil Gerjuoy, his friend Cindy, and I, walked down the old mule trail by which Green Valley was provisioned in the old days. In some places it is worn and eroded into a narrow trench. Mule trains came up from Illinoistown (~Colfax) to many mining camps, such as Little York, Dutch Flat, Cold Springs (now Gold Run), and Green Valley.
Later in the 1850s wagon roads reached Dutch Flat itself, and the pack trains to Green Valley and the other remote or canyon-bound mining camps left from Dutch Flat, Gold Run, and Towle.
Helicopters thundered constantly across the canyon to the south, filling their water buckets at Sugar Pine Reservoir, and then zooming east and south to the Codfish Fire, near Deadwood Ridge. The day was sunny and clear, tho a pall of smoke had lifted out of the canyons near the fire, and drifted slowly across the main North Fork canyon to the east, as the upslope winds increased in strength.
We took the High West Trail and threaded our way down to the very end, below the bluffs of the Green Valley Blue Gravel mine, and near the site of the old suspension bridge, torn out by a flood several decades ago. I have two old photographs showing one incarnation that bridge, ca. 1940. This bridge is mistakenly shown very far upstream to the east, on the USGS 7.5 minute "Dutch Flat" quadrangle.
At the river a fresh strong breeze stirred the trees and ruffled the river and we could no longer hear the helicopters.
After a lunch break, Gay and Cindy swam the huge deep pool at the end of the trail, a spot also notable for its fine view of Lovers Leap, rising 2300` above the river, just to the west. Neil and I went upstream to the bridge site, forded the North Fork, admiring the masses of cemented glacial outwash, and took the trail climbing west to the Gold Ring Mine. We continued right past the old, Depression-era log cabin, following the trail across the meadow, and into Giant Gap Gulch, where the path plunged right down to the river. Somehow I had missed the correct trail, which stays high, so we climbed steep slopes adorned with poison oak to this true trail, and continued west.
The trail passes a number of mining areas which involve patches of glacial outwash. Apparently the glacial outwash in general, and the cemented outwash in particular, was rich with gold, and stamp mills were dragged down here in the olden days to pound it up so it could be run through sluice boxes.
The trail narrowed drastically as it approached the North Fork, and crossed some rather steep slopes, just where one would wish it broadest, but soon enough we were on the sparkling clear stream again, just upriver from the Gate Post, a remarkable column of rock which rises right from the water, where the river leaves the shattered serpentine of Green Valley for the massive metavolcanic rocks of Giant Gap. The faulted contact between the Melones serpentine and the Calaveras Complex metavolcanics is very near the Gate Post, and an especially fine pool is just downstream. The last significant deposits of Green Valley's glacial outwash sediments, including some cemented gravels, on the south bank, are just here, just at the contact. Farther downstream, in Giant Gap, the slopes are too steep to have preserved such sediments. Springs likely associated with the more fractured rock in the fault zone, which zone forms a near-vertical plane crossing the canyon obliquely, are on both sides of the river, that on the south bank still flowing nicely.
Fording the river again, we climbed up to the line of the Giant Gap Survey on the north canyon wall, 150 feet above the river, but did not follow it very far. On the way to the river from the Gold Ring Mine I had looked across and seen two major sections of the Survey, where a narrow bench cut had been blasted from the cliffs a century ago, part of a scheme to divert the waters of the North Fork and deliver those waters to San Francisco. However, these sections of the Survey were on very steep cliffs, and the bench cuts did not look to be properly continuous, in fact, it looked difficult to impossible for someone to really hold the line of the Survey, over there, just upstream from the Gate Post. These sections were the last crossing the serpentine, before the Survey entered the tough Calaveras Complex rock of Giant Gap.
Dropping back to the river, we swam the fine pool below the Gate Post, admired the wildflowers, especially the purple asters, and the fine views of the Pinnacles, to the southwest, and then made the pure scramble up the north bank of the river back to the West Trail Pool. After some more snacking in the shade of a big alder tree, we started a long slow slog up the trail, reaching the top about 7 p.m.
Such was a fine day in Green Valley and at the eastern entrance to Giant Gap.
Later in the 1850s wagon roads reached Dutch Flat itself, and the pack trains to Green Valley and the other remote or canyon-bound mining camps left from Dutch Flat, Gold Run, and Towle.
Helicopters thundered constantly across the canyon to the south, filling their water buckets at Sugar Pine Reservoir, and then zooming east and south to the Codfish Fire, near Deadwood Ridge. The day was sunny and clear, tho a pall of smoke had lifted out of the canyons near the fire, and drifted slowly across the main North Fork canyon to the east, as the upslope winds increased in strength.
We took the High West Trail and threaded our way down to the very end, below the bluffs of the Green Valley Blue Gravel mine, and near the site of the old suspension bridge, torn out by a flood several decades ago. I have two old photographs showing one incarnation that bridge, ca. 1940. This bridge is mistakenly shown very far upstream to the east, on the USGS 7.5 minute "Dutch Flat" quadrangle.
At the river a fresh strong breeze stirred the trees and ruffled the river and we could no longer hear the helicopters.
After a lunch break, Gay and Cindy swam the huge deep pool at the end of the trail, a spot also notable for its fine view of Lovers Leap, rising 2300` above the river, just to the west. Neil and I went upstream to the bridge site, forded the North Fork, admiring the masses of cemented glacial outwash, and took the trail climbing west to the Gold Ring Mine. We continued right past the old, Depression-era log cabin, following the trail across the meadow, and into Giant Gap Gulch, where the path plunged right down to the river. Somehow I had missed the correct trail, which stays high, so we climbed steep slopes adorned with poison oak to this true trail, and continued west.
The trail passes a number of mining areas which involve patches of glacial outwash. Apparently the glacial outwash in general, and the cemented outwash in particular, was rich with gold, and stamp mills were dragged down here in the olden days to pound it up so it could be run through sluice boxes.
The trail narrowed drastically as it approached the North Fork, and crossed some rather steep slopes, just where one would wish it broadest, but soon enough we were on the sparkling clear stream again, just upriver from the Gate Post, a remarkable column of rock which rises right from the water, where the river leaves the shattered serpentine of Green Valley for the massive metavolcanic rocks of Giant Gap. The faulted contact between the Melones serpentine and the Calaveras Complex metavolcanics is very near the Gate Post, and an especially fine pool is just downstream. The last significant deposits of Green Valley's glacial outwash sediments, including some cemented gravels, on the south bank, are just here, just at the contact. Farther downstream, in Giant Gap, the slopes are too steep to have preserved such sediments. Springs likely associated with the more fractured rock in the fault zone, which zone forms a near-vertical plane crossing the canyon obliquely, are on both sides of the river, that on the south bank still flowing nicely.
Fording the river again, we climbed up to the line of the Giant Gap Survey on the north canyon wall, 150 feet above the river, but did not follow it very far. On the way to the river from the Gold Ring Mine I had looked across and seen two major sections of the Survey, where a narrow bench cut had been blasted from the cliffs a century ago, part of a scheme to divert the waters of the North Fork and deliver those waters to San Francisco. However, these sections of the Survey were on very steep cliffs, and the bench cuts did not look to be properly continuous, in fact, it looked difficult to impossible for someone to really hold the line of the Survey, over there, just upstream from the Gate Post. These sections were the last crossing the serpentine, before the Survey entered the tough Calaveras Complex rock of Giant Gap.
Dropping back to the river, we swam the fine pool below the Gate Post, admired the wildflowers, especially the purple asters, and the fine views of the Pinnacles, to the southwest, and then made the pure scramble up the north bank of the river back to the West Trail Pool. After some more snacking in the shade of a big alder tree, we started a long slow slog up the trail, reaching the top about 7 p.m.
Such was a fine day in Green Valley and at the eastern entrance to Giant Gap.
Thursday, September 4, 2003
Lost Camp
A few years ago I stumbled upon the following reference to Lost Camp, somewhere on the internet. Wendell Robie, noted for many things, being among the founders of the Auburn Ski Club (which built a ski jump at Baxter (!) in 1928), and who was among the originators of the Tevis Cup race from Squaw Valley to Auburn, was also an advocate for public access to the historic trails of this area.
But Robie died and Siller Bros. bought Lost Camp.
*******
Robie wanted to preserve the special heritage of the region, of which he owned a part. He managed the Robie Estate, which owned Lost Camp mine, a hydraulic mining site two miles from Blue Canyon. He was a patriot, blending history and religion in a manner that modern times either dismisses or disapproves. "Among all desirable homelands of the world, it was the will of providence to hold this one to the last, for Americans," he said in 1958 of the Gold Country. "Of this the record of history speaks plainly," Robie said. "Civilized people never lived in this Sierra foothill area before the Gold Rush." Skiing in the Sierra for Robie was a reminder of Providence. "..No experience so reverently expresses the presence of God in our lives, than that majestic and silent beauty He provides with these great mountains," Robie wrote. The Auburn Ski Club established a chapel for services and worship as part of its winter park at Cisco.
In a letter from "these hill slopes of the Sierra," Robie wrote to friends that "from our part, it is plumb regrettable when God made man in His own image that He did not add a little more of brains to go with him."
"We have more knowledge," wrote Robie. "But no more intelligence than the ploughman with a crooked stick as to how to use it."
*******
But Robie died and Siller Bros. bought Lost Camp.
*******
Robie wanted to preserve the special heritage of the region, of which he owned a part. He managed the Robie Estate, which owned Lost Camp mine, a hydraulic mining site two miles from Blue Canyon. He was a patriot, blending history and religion in a manner that modern times either dismisses or disapproves. "Among all desirable homelands of the world, it was the will of providence to hold this one to the last, for Americans," he said in 1958 of the Gold Country. "Of this the record of history speaks plainly," Robie said. "Civilized people never lived in this Sierra foothill area before the Gold Rush." Skiing in the Sierra for Robie was a reminder of Providence. "..No experience so reverently expresses the presence of God in our lives, than that majestic and silent beauty He provides with these great mountains," Robie wrote. The Auburn Ski Club established a chapel for services and worship as part of its winter park at Cisco.
In a letter from "these hill slopes of the Sierra," Robie wrote to friends that "from our part, it is plumb regrettable when God made man in His own image that He did not add a little more of brains to go with him."
"We have more knowledge," wrote Robie. "But no more intelligence than the ploughman with a crooked stick as to how to use it."
*******
Lost Camp THP approved
I heard from Rich Jenkins, CDF archeologist at Redding, today. He wrote: "... Visited the THP area two weeks ago. Plan still under review. Thanks for all of the provided information..... ."
Since the plan is still under review, I believe the public comment period is technically still open.
It is quite doubtful that any comments would substantially change things at this point, unless we found some weird hybrid of a Spotted Owl and some rare, endangered trout, and then, and only then, the OwlTrout would save the day.
590 acres of Placer County history is about to get hammered.
Since the plan is still under review, I believe the public comment period is technically still open.
It is quite doubtful that any comments would substantially change things at this point, unless we found some weird hybrid of a Spotted Owl and some rare, endangered trout, and then, and only then, the OwlTrout would save the day.
590 acres of Placer County history is about to get hammered.
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