Visit to Heath Springs

Tho pressed by a ton of work around the home front, on Friday I contrived to escape for an adventure on the upper North Fork, with Michael Joyce of Dutch Flat. We planned to visit Heath Springs. These mineral springs are along an old trail which parallels the North Fork closely for a few miles, beginning at The Cedars, on the east

The Cedars is a private club comprising some twenty-five families which dates back to around 1905, and has large land holdings in the upper North Fork. I am ignorant of the details concerning how The Cedars acquired these lands. The usual checkerboard pattern of ownership, in which the odd-numbered sections had been granted to the Central Pacific Railroad, but the even-numbered sections remain public land, does not obtain near The Cedars. To the east, the Chickering family own very much land around the Old Soda Springs, that meadowy wonderland of petroglyphs, cascades, springs, and rich forests, all hemmed around by high peaks. The Chickering lands include the site of the old Soda Springs Hotel, and Mark Hopkins' log cabin still stands nearby.

What we now call Soda Springs was just the train stop where visitors would change to stage coaches for the ten-mile drive down into the upper basin of the North Fork, to the hotel.

Of course, Mark Hopkins was one of the Big Four, along with Stanford, Huntington, and hard-driving Charles Crocker, who built the CPRR. And the power of these railroad men grew and grew until the reins of government were firmly in their too-capable hands. Finally, in an effort to give the people of California a chance to wrest political power away from the railroad men and their cronies, the device of a recall election was added to our state constitution. Ergo Arnold.

I don't know how or even if the political power invested in the heirs of Mark Hopkins and the wealthy families who began The Cedars acted to consolidate and expand their land holdings in the upper North Fork. It happened. The Cedars, Chickerings, and a few other private parties in the area comprise the North Fork Association. Altogether, the NFA holds some eight or ten thousand acres. The old stage road from the CPRR down to the North Fork is now part of the Soda Springs-Foresthill Road. This road makes for one of the prettiest drives in California, but the upper twenty-five miles is unpaved, rough, bouldery, and often dusty. A high-clearance vehicle helps. It is slow going, slow, but pretty.

Now, the old public trails which thread the upper North Fork perforce cross the private lands of the North Fork Association. A hundred years ago there was no question that these trails were indeed public trails, and as recently as 1962, the trail from The Cedars down the river to Heath Springs is depicted on official Tahoe National Forest (TNF) maps. It also shows, as one would expect, on older TNF maps. But at some point, The Cedars determined that they wanted no strangers in their private paradise, and closed the public trail to the public. Here again I am ignorant of the details. I have heard of some kind of "deal" struck with TNF, in which the North Fork Association formally conceded the public's right to use the public trail up the river--the Painted Rock Trail--and over the crest into Squaw Valley, and in exchange, TNF conceded The Cedars' right to close the public trail down the river.

Thus as one drives down the rough old stage road into the wondrous upper basin of the North Fork, one begins to see "No Trespassing" signs everywhere, special, expensive, custom-made signs, nailed to the trunks of giant trees. If one ventures away from the road, still more custom signs, signs which befit the wealth of the North Fork Association, are found, in the most obscure and outlandish places. I wouldn't doubt but that there are literally hundreds of these signs up there.

Now, Michael and I were determined to hike the old public trail down to Heath Springs, and I saw on my TNF map that, where the road crosses Onion Creek, there was some public land. We parked there and followed a logging road down the creek. From the well-rotted appearance of the stumps it seems this harvest occurred some forty years ago.

In this part of the Sierra the rocks are divided into the younger "Superjacent" and the old "Subjacent" series. The Superjacent series includes all the relatively young volcanics, such as comprise most all the high peaks encircling the upper North Fork. These form roughly horizontal layers of (from lowest to highest, oldest to youngest) rhyolite ash, welded rhyolite tuffs, andesitic mudflows, and basaltic and andesitic-basaltic lava flows, capping some of the summits, such as Needles Peak. The oldest rhyolites date to near 30 million years ago while the youngest basalts date to as little as three million years. Add to these Superjacent rocks very much in the way of glacial till, occasional moraines, and locally large glacial outwash terraces. Beneath the oldest of the young volcanics is an old river channel, probably at least 55 million years old; but I am unaware of where, if anywhere, these river gravels are exposed in the upper North Fork. Very much of the lower ground is covered in glacial till.

For instance, where Michael and I began walking, there is a great thickness of glacial till. Onion Creek itself had subsided beneath the surface of this unsorted (unstratified) mass of boulders, cobbles, and sandy sediments, deposited during the last, "Tioga" glaciation, which ended ~12,000 years ago. As we walked downstream, it emerged at the surface, and soon the creek plunged abruptly into a little gorge, where rocks of the Subjacent Series are exposed.

The Subjacent Series comprises the vastly-older metamorphic rocks and granitic plutons which are exposed in all the canyons in this part of the Sierra, and over broad areas of the upland regions around the canyons. The young Subjacent volcanics etc. are mostly confined to the ridge crests between canyons, and to the Sierra Crest itself. Generally, the granites are younger, having welled up in enormous bubbles--plutons--into the older metamorphic rocks. And these older metamorphic rocks are everywhere turned up on edge, that is, whether originally sediments or igneous rocks, they have been rotated almost ninety degrees to the east.

I should mention that this complex arrangement of granitic plutons intruding metamorphic rocks has been exhumed from great depth and miles of its thickness had already been stripped away before the so-called "Ancestral Sierra" developed its system of sluggish, sediment-laden rivers more than 50 million years ago. The vestiges of these old rivers are the loci of our hydraulic mines, as at Malakoff, Dutch Flat, Gold Run, Lost Camp and Iowa Hill.

Michael and I might have stayed high and tried to avoid the gorge, but it looked brushy, so we dropped down a very steep gully to the creek. Here the fine-grained metamorphic rocks betrayed the proximity of a granite pluton, being seamed with dikes of granite, and in places, so throughly cooked that the metamorphic rock was re-crystallized into a granitic texture.

It was quite the pretty place, with cliffs rising a hundred feet high to either side of the creek, which formed a succession of deep pools and cascades. We were almost immediately confronted with some real rock-climbing, in order to follow the creek. Bears had abjured these steep rocks and waded right up the creek itself; we could see their footprints underwater, in a bed of silt. We slowly picked our way across the cliff, and found easier going below, a natural ramp of rock leading past a waterfall and a longer, deeper pool. Small trout darted about.

Soon we reached an interesting body of limestone. The strata were not so vertical as usual, tipped up scarcely 70 degrees, if that, from the horizontal. The limestone was metamorphosed into marble, of variegated colors, nicely polished near the creek, and rife with solution pockets, miniature caves and hollows with little arches. This rock would make some fine ornamental marble if quarried and polished. I saw no fossils. Presumably it is Paleozoic in age, say, 200 million years, but I do not know to what formation this rock might be assigned. At one point the strata of marble were cut by a dike of some dark brown igneous rock, very fine-grained to almost glassy, but with a hackly fracture, very old, metamorphosed right along with the marble it intruded.

We skirted along past the pretty marble for a couple hundred yards. Enormous boulders of granite increasingly littered the creek, quarried out by the glacier from somewhere higher to the east, and dropped here when the ice finally melted. Then we entered a sort of floodplain of glacial outwash, and Onion Creek subsided beneath the surface again. No more bedrock was exposed.

As we approached the North Fork, we reached the trail, and headed west, down the canyon. The trail climbs from Onion Creek to a gigantic glacial outwash terrace about 150' above the river. Glacial outwash is simply the sediment carried down by a valley glacier, the same as would be deposited in a ridge-like moraine or left scattered across large areas as glacial till. It differs from till and moraines in being sorted, not unsorted, that is, the boulders, sand, cobbles, silt, are at least weakly stratified, showing that they were laid down by water. Glacial outwash forms floodplains downstream from a valley glacier. Often, after the glacier has melted and is no longer delivering such an overabundance of sediment, the river will cut through the floodplain to bedrock, leaving terrace-like remnants on one or both sides of the valley.

Such was the case here. A rich forest of White Fir and Jeffrey Pine occupied the outwash terrace. Across the river, on slopes with a northern exposure, hence, colder, we say many tall Red Firs. There are quite abrupt and extreme variations in microclimate in these deep canyons.

We crossed Serena Creek, which drains Ice Lakes, up near the town of Soda Springs. Mark Twain himself named these two lakes Serena and Dulzura, hence, Serena Creek. Continuing west and down the canyon, more in the way of bedrock appeared, and much less in the way of outwash or till. The trail began to buck up and down quite a bit. We saw places where stone steps had been carefully built over a century ago, and where the cliffs had been drilled and blasted to make the trail. Few blazes were seen on the big trees, but ridiculously many "No Trespassing" signs. The bedrock was all metamorphic, the strata nearly vertical and striking north-south across the course of the river, and I was at a loss as to just what kind of rock it was. It may have been fine-grained metavolcanic rocks, say, beds of volcanic ash and debris flows laid down underwater, in the ocean, near some volcanic islands.

Kelloggs Black Oaks and Canyon Live Oaks began to appear, and Douglas Fir instead of White Fir. These harbingers of lower elevations were accompanied by a number of Western Juniper, trees one associates with the high country. We were dropping towards 5000' elevation across these sunny treeless cliffs interspersed with small forested bodies of glacial till, when a remarkable gorge and waterfall came into view on the North Fork, below us. This is Heath Falls. It had been all of fifteen years since I had been here. An impossibly deep and narrow pool is bound tightly by vertical cliffs, the pool perhaps two hundred feet long, and a waterfall plunging fifty feet or so into its upper end.

We took a quick look from near the trail and then pushed west to Heath Springs. Here the main trail climbs to a pass only a few hundred feet above, crosses a forested flat with gigantic, humongous, ancient Ponderosa Pines etc., and joins the Palisade Creek Trail. We had passed some springs, but I suspected that the true Heath Springs were still west, so we cast about in the forest until we found a faint old human trail leading west, and followed it to some sunny ledges where a small body of granite had intruded the metamorphic rocks.

Here we lunched and enjoyed fine views of the canyon walls, soaring 2000' above us. There was no sign of springs farther west, where a deep gorge separates Heath Falls from Palisade Creek, about a mile downstream, or less. We concluded that the springs we'd passed were "the" Heath Springs, and followed out faint old trail back to them.

These mineral springs are cold, rich in iron, and much frequented by bears, who wallow in the pools. We started back up the trail, but took a side trip to visit Heath Falls.

Gaining the cliffs directly above the long narrow pool, we saw that it is actually two pools, with a small waterfall between them. They are both very deep, the entire flow of the North Fork being so tightly bound between the cliffs, that it scours them out very efficiently. The river's inner gorge follows a sharply-bending zigzag course, and just upstream from the main waterfall is another high waterfall, perhaps thirty feet, which drops into its own deep, cliff-bound pool. These pools and waterfalls are very wild and lovely. The usual "No Trespassing" signs are nailed to the trees above the gorge.

There is little more to report from our adventure, except, we decided to try to find a logging road up and out near Onion Creek, so as to avoid the Marble Gorge. So, while on the great outwash terrace, we struck away to the north, and eventually, after some fairly intense bushwhacking, and some steep climbs, did indeed find a logging road, and followed it all the way to the last switchback on the old stage road, before the crossing of Onion Creek. We sauntered down the road to the car, and drove back to Dutch Flat, and dragged some folding chairs up to the railroad tracks, and drank a beer, and watched the sun set over the foothills south of Grass Valley. It had been another great day on the North Fork.

Mike and Jason II

Here is the second part of Mike and Jason's 2003 trip on the North Fork. Enjoy!

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Hi all, here is part 2 of my son Jason and I's trip down the North Fork of the American river in August of this year. First I'd like to apologize for the format of part 1 sent last week. When it left my computer it was divided into paragraphs, parts were underlined, and it was made as easy to read as possible. But for some reason most the punctuation disappeared into the mists of computer land by the time you received it. I know its hard to read with every sentence jumbled together, not knowing where paragraphs start or end, and I do apologize.

August 16th, 2003 We were up early and had breakfast cooked by sunrise. We had learned earlier how quickly it got hot after the sun came over the canyon rim. Today we were going to explore the upper part of Green Valley. Last year we had wanted to investigate the area, but we really didn't have the time. This year with 2 extra days we felt we could relax a little more. We left our camp at the head of Green Valley by the lovely translucent green pool, and walked down river across the large boulder strewn gravel bar. We were intending on eventually investigating what looked like a trail cut out of solid cliff face across the river and perhaps 150' up the mountain >from our camp. We had just came to lower end of the gravel bar when we saw some likely looking bedrock and tried some gold panning. Sure enough, there were several nice sized flakes smiling at us from the bottom of our pans when we were finished! From this vantage point across the river, we saw what looked like rock work up on the bank on down the river perhaps 100 yards away. Heading in that direction we climbed the 40' bank and sure enough, there was the final resting place of an old cabin. Rock work hemmed it in on 3 sides, and it was evident no one had lived there for many, many years. There were pieces of heavy piping lying around, then we saw something in the brush next to the cabin which amazed us. It was a very old, small building perhaps 3' wide, 4' long, and about 3' high. It was made from concrete and the walls were atleast 4" thick. An old cast iron door weighing at least 200 lbs. still swung freely. We came to the conclusion it must have been some kind of smelter or furnace, and we just couldn't get over how good of condition it was still in.

Finding a small trail trending down river, we followed it a short distance, avoiding the poison oak. It brought us to the bottom of a deep gully, and there before us was a small Choke Cherry tree, loaded with ripe Choke Cherries. As a youngster growing up in Southern Oregon I used to pick and sell them, but my son Jason had never seen one before. I knew I could have a little fun here, and ate a couple in front of him praising them for their flavor. "mmm, better than black cherries", I said. Jason then took several and started chewing, and the look on his face was priceless! Spitting them out he muttered something about weird Dads as he headed down to the river to rinse out his mouth. It was here also that I got the best wild flower shot of the trip. In the dry sandy area at the bottom of the bank, there were several thistle bushes of some kind growing with large beautiful yellow flowers. After photographing them we followed the trail down river a little ways farther without finding anything too interesting, then headed inland, north, away from the river to try and find that trail we had seen from camp. We were both dressed in only shorts, a tee shirt, and good hiking tennis shoes, and were about to find out just how difficult the brush was to penetrate. The farther we got from the river, the thicker it got. Manzinita, thorny buck brush, poison oak, and regular oak tore at our skin and clothes. Jason was all for giving up and heading back to the river, but I really wanted to see that trail. So we pushed on through the brush, sometimes having to crawl on all fours, and eventually came out of it into a very large open area under large Oak trees. We were following a dry stream bed and it was evident people had once mined and lived there. We found several old dumps with bottles, old mining gear, and a nice marked trail leading up and presumably out of Green Valley. It was marked with red ribbon every 300' or so. Following this until we tired, we re-traced our steps coming to where the dumps were, and it was here that I noticed a faint trail leading across the slope in the direction of camp. Following it for a short distance, it rapidly turned into a large ditch that once brought water for mining to the area we had just explored. Following it toward camp, we were amazed to see how large this ditch once had been. In places it was 4' deep and 6' wide. It was here that I experienced the only let down of the day - a bad bloody nose. I come from a very wet climate on the Alaska coast, and here the weather was hot and dry, making me very susceptible to bloody noses. But it ended and we went on. Quickly the slope dropped away from us and we found ourselves over a 150' above the river. The giant oaks growing there almost overwhelmed us, and we got several good pictures of them. Then we saw our camp below us, across the river, and our rafts hid under the trees for protection >from the hot sun. Now the ditch disappeared, and it turned into a good trail perhaps 4' to 6' wide in places. The trail now was blasted out of the solid cliff face, and just ahead was the part I really wanted to explore. It went across a smooth, whitish granite face just ahead, and it looked like it was still in good enough shape to cross. But, at that point Jason refused to go any farther. It was a vertical 150' drop into the river from there, and the trail was dangerously narrow in places. So he sat down in a wide place and enjoyed the sunshine, while I explored a little further. I soon came to a gully with a little water coming down it, and lots of slippery mud. It was quite evident that there had once been a wooden walk way here, and not wanting to tempt death any farther than I already had, I retraced my steps to where Jason was. Looking at the trail ahead across the cliff face with field glasses, I saw where in at least 2 places it looked unfinished and impassable. So we took pictures of each other with that elusive trail in the background, looking up the gorge we had came down the day before, and started back towards camp. Not far down the trail we saw a smaller trail heading down hill. Not wanting to repeat the buck brush experience, we decided to follow it. And wouldn't you know, it led almost directly back to camp! Someone had been down there recently with loppers and red flagging and had marked this trail pretty well.

Arriving back in camp around sundown, we swam, bathed, played in the river, gold panned, fished, and thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon and evening. Soon the bats were back out eating our enemies the mosquitoes, and the little hummingbirds re-appeared. It had been quite an eventful day, and we were so glad we had taken the time to explore the area. We found a lot, but we knew there was so much more out there we would never know about. So much history and so little time to explore it. As we lay on our bags watching the stars, we were content, yet looking forward to exploring the rest of Green Valley the next day.

August 17th, 2003 The morning dawned bright and warm. We were up early, had breakfast cooked and ate, the rafts loaded, and were on our way down the river having the time of our lives. We quickly passed the Choke Cherry tree at the first bend below camp, and then came to a straight stretch in the river maybe 1/3 mile long. The trail we had followed along the river the morning before was evident in places help up by rock work, and it beckoned. But we kept to the river, and soon came to the second bend below camp where the river turned 90 degrees and headed due south. At this turn, Jason saw a mine tunnel about 30' above the river on the north bank that we hadn't saw last year. Beaching our rafts and grabbing our cameras, we crossed the river and climbed up to it, forgetting our flash lights. Standing there in the tunnel entrance we could hear water falling in the distance, and something just told us to stay out of it. So we carefully climbed back down to the river after taking pictures, and climbed the high embankment to explore the tailing piles and trail back up river. At the top we found the trail, supported by rock work in many places, to be an excellent trail. Following it up river about 200 yards, we came to a dry stream gully entering the river beside a large bedrock abutment. Here we found the perfect camping place, if only the stream had water in it. Resting here, and nursing another bloody nose, we went back to the area above the mine tunnel and found another old cabin site. There were square nails everywhere, green glazed window glass, rusty cans, piping, and we even found an old blue and white porcelain cup broke into several pieces. Looking but not taking, we marveled at how the old timers got everything down there! There were huge tailing piles behind the mine, and a stream that still had some water flowing. Following the stream back towards the river, we were shocked to see that the whole stream suddenly disappeared down a black hole perhaps 5' wide. Throwing a couple stones down it, we heard deep toned splashes, indicating there was a deep pool at the bottom. We were sure this was the other end of the mine tunnel we had just been standing in minutes before, and we climbed down to it, and took several flash pictures straight down it. It would have been a good system for getting rid of unwanted tailings from their sluice boxes directly into the river, and was quite ingenious. As it turned out, the hole was only about 20' deep, and the pool of water was perhaps 4' deep. After I had enhanced the digital pictures of it when I got home, the interior of the hole was quite evident.

From this point the river turned south and flowed perhaps 1/2 mile due south. Arriving back at our rafts we continued on down the river. Not far down river, maybe 150 yards, we saw a large, rock worked embankment on the north side of the river, and beached our rafts once again. Climbing up to it, we found it to be 100' long and in some places 12' high. Someone had went to a lot of work building this one! Arriving at the top, we were surprised to find that it was marshy and muddy on top. A stream came off the hill above, and flooded the whole flat area on top of this rock work. On the down stream end of this flat area, we found a pipe with ice cold water running out of it beside a large boulder covered in Lady Bugs! I'll bet there were 10,000 Lady Bugs there! Exploring up behind the marshy area, we found a beautiful marshy meadow with lots of Black Berries, an Apple tree, and 2 Pear trees. I picked 3 apples and 2 pears for treats later on in the trip. There was a very faint trail leading up this meadow, and following it we came to some very large Fir trees. In this area we found the most memorable place of the trip. Hidden in the underbrush and poison oak was a small white marble grave stone, reading "IN MEMORY, JOE STEINER of SWITZERLAND, 1869 - 1949" On his grave were several mining implements such as a gold pan, pick head, and a pry bar. Almost emotionally overcome by this find, we felt bad that Joe had been forgotten, that his grave was overgrown, and all that he had done in Green Valley would probably never be known. Before leaving we cut the poison oak and brush away from his grave, re-piled the stones and replaced the mining tools under his gold pan. Finally, we had come almost face to face with a person that helped make history in Green Valley. What an adventurous life he must have lived! Leaving Joes grave, we found a good trail leading up the Fir covered mountain. We guessed this must be another trail leading out of Green Valley. Following it maybe 200 yards, we returned to the Lady Bug rock and quenched our thirsts. If I could live anywhere in the world, it would be right here in Joes little meadow. Looking across the river from there, we saw another rock wall maybe 4' high and extending as far down river as we could see. We just had to explore it! Crossing the river we climbed up a very steep slide area to the wall, perhaps 80' above the river. At one time it had been a very good wall, and it was easy to tell that someone had put many hours into its construction. Exploring the area we found the wall was about 600' long, and once again had a large flat area behind it maybe 150' wide. We guessed it had been constructed to hold tailings >from mines up above, from going into the river after they had outlawed the hydraulic mines from dumping their tailings directly into the rivers. At any rate, it had lovely pine trees and manzinita bushes growing in it. This would make a great park if somehow they could get water up there, plant grass, and put up some picnic tables. But then again, that would bring too many people into this almost sacred area. It was while climbing up to this wall that we saw the only snake of the trip, other than small water snakes. He was lying in the shade on a rock all stretched out, and was perhaps 5' long. It was colored like an ordinary water snake, but was larger that any water snake I've ever seen. As I touched him on the nose gently with a stick, he suddenly came alive and left the country in a big hurry!

Looking across the river to the north again, we saw more rock work about 100 yards down from Joes meadow. Re-crossing the river, we climbed up to it and discovered it was the entrance to an old mine. The mine itself had been purposely covered over, but the V shaped rock work leading to it was still very evident. Inspecting the covered over mine closer, I saw a rusty pipe just inside. Pulling it out I found I was holding an old sledge hammer. It was an ax on one end and a hammer on the other, and must have weighed 20 lbs. After photographing it, we put it back exactly like we had found it. We then walked the trail back up to Joes meadow and found where his house must have been, as there were large holes dug with trash in them. Most of the trash however looked recent, and certainly was deposited since 1949. Turning around we explored the trail down to the next bend finding several more covered over mines, with impressive rock work.

Returning to our rafts, we continued lining them on down the river. It was getting to be afternoon and the sun was starting to get low. Knowing we had to push on if we wanted to get to the same camp site that we had stayed in last year, we hurried. Passing lucious black berry patches, we stopped occasionally to eat our fill. At one of these patches we were intently stuffing our faces, when I looked down to check on the rafts. Seeing mine but not Jasons, I quickly looked down river to see his raft perhaps 300' away disappearing around a bend! Non-chelantly I said, "hey Jason, where's your raft?" Frantically looking around, he spotted it just disappearing around the bend and took off after it at a sprint, well....as fast as a person can sprint over slippery 2 foot boulders! I caught up with him a 1/2 hour later and gave him a bad time about it, and we both had a good laugh. A little farther down river we heard the distinct sound of an engine, something like a ATV or 4 wheeler. Then it stopped. Kind of puzzled we continued lining our rafts in the beautiful afternoon sunshine. A little ways farther we came to a man fly fishing. After talking for a few minutes I asked how he had got there. He told us that he had ridden his 4 wheeler down some trail on the south side of the river. The trail was somewhere near the end of the 1/2 mile straight stretch of the river that went due south >from the mine we had found, and 3 bends down from our camp at the head of Green Valley. We never could find that one on the map. The next two hours were fairly uneventful. We continued lining our rafts, and finally came to our camp we had last year just as the sun dipped behind Lovers Leap. Camp hadn't changed that much since last year, and we quickly made camp and got cleaned up in the river before the evening chill arrived. Our camp was at the bottom of a serpentine cliff, just 300' above a very large log wedged across the whole river and jammed up against a house sized boulder. We had explored a lot of area today, had saw a lot of history, and we were kind of tired. Cooking supper that evening we both reflected on how much the valley must have changed from what Joe Steiner must have known, and we wished we knew only a tenth of what he did about this area. Catching and releasing a few trout, I relaxed as Jason panned for gold, and the evening set in over us. Soon our bat friends were back darting here and there, the fish were jumping in the river just in front of our camp, and the stars came tumbling out. We were as content as any father and son have ever been! My chair I had back packed down Euchre Bar trail was proving itself to be worth its weight in gold, also. Once again, it had been an excellent day of rafting. Still not one hole had punctured our rafts, and they rode high and slid along easily compared to trying to line the heavy water filled rafts last year. What a trip this was turning out to be!

Talking while we were laying on our bags after supper, we decided to spend one more day in Green Valley before plunging into the depths of Giant Gap. There were lots of tailing piles we had passed this afternoon we hadn't had time to explore, and we really wanted to see them. Besides, neither one of us, as it turned out, were particularly excited about re-entering Giant Gap, after the horrific problems we had encountered in there last year. Yes, one more day in heavenly Green Valley.........

I'll try and have part 3 out in a couple days.

Best regards.......Mike Case
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Mike and Jason Return to the North Fork

Mike Case sent me this account of the beginning of a trip from Euchre Bar to Mineral Bar (Colfax-Iowa Hill bridge) with his son, Jason, in August. Sounds like another great adventure, and less hassle and hard work, too! Thanks Mike!

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Hi Russell, here is part one of my son Jason and I's trip back down the North Fork of the American river in August, 2003 We had the adventure of a lifetime last summer, and now we were setting off to do it all over again. I am from Alaska and rarely get the pleasure and opportunity to experience Gods best creations. Here in Alaska there the rivers are all full of ice water, full of water coming directly out from under glaciers, all silty and dirty. There are valleys un-peopled and still, but they're impossible to explore because of the hordes of mosquitoes and the muskeg that will swallow you alive. They say its easier to live in these valleys than it is to attempt to travel through them. I've lived in Alaska for 35 years, and have owned airplanes, snow mobiles, and atv's, and have seen most of this state. But nothing - and I mean nothing can compare to what Jason and I found on the North Fork of the American River in California during the past two summers. I wrote briefly about our trip in August of last summer in a 3 part story last fall, and now will attempt to put this years trip into words. Some of the things we saw are completely indescribable in words however, you'd have to be there to experience the feeling and awesome power of Gods creation. Our trip last year was really a learning experience. We had 12 days to make the trip in last year, and now we were taking 14. We didn't know what we were getting into then, and had no idea of the hardships that lie ahead of us when we were dropped off at the Euchre Bar trailhead. We had too much gear, we were not prepared for the 105 degree temperature on the trail, and especially not prepared mentally or physically for the hardships that presented themselves to us on the river between Euchre Bar and Mineral Bar Campground. There were many times we wanted to give up, but we couldn't. We knew we couldn't hike back up that torturous trail with all of our gear, and even if we made it up, there was no one to pick us up once we got there. We couldn't climb out of the canyon either for the same reasons. The only thing we could do was keep going. There were times last year in Giant Gap and Secret Gorge that I was nearly at the end of my mental wits. One time in Secret Gorge the mental pressure was so overwhelming that I threw away all the change in my pockets and half the nuts and bolts holding my small sluice box together just to lighten the load! Not knowing what lie ahead, when these gorges ended, and finding camping places before dark was mighty stressful! Of-course it didn't help any that after traveling only 1/4 mile down river from Euchre Bar we had met a couple coming back up the river who had given up in Giant Gap and were re-tracing their steps out of there! It was these people who told us of the 20 foot water fall we would encounter with no way around it. They couldn't remember exactly where it was but had encountered it some 15 years before. We knew it lay just around each bend a little out of sight, and we dreaded coming to it. Our simple 3 man rafts we were using to transport our gear quickly developed holes in them from the rocks and shallow gravel bars we encountered, and we spent the entire trip lining them by hand with 3 to 4 inches of water in their bottoms. No matter how much we patched them, new holes would form and quickly fill them with water. This made for extremely hard travel. And the portages! Oh Lord, did we ever find some rough places where we had to portage everything. Over shallow gravel bars, over and around gigantic boulders where the river just oozed through them with no where to float a raft, and up and around house size boulder jambs completely blocking the river! We were completely spent both physically and mentally by the time we reached Mineral Bar campground last year, but for some reason we both had a sense of fulfillment and victory that neither of us had ever felt in our lives before. We had persevered, and finally won. We succeeded where others had failed. We felt as though we had been tested and found worthy. Thus it was that we found ourselves this year back at the Euchre Bar trailhead, ready for more punishment. August 12th, 2003 I had just worked my last night shift at the Trans Alaska Oil Pipeline Terminal in Valdez, Alaska. Getting off work at 6 a.m. I fitfully slept for a couple hours, then drove to Anchorage, 305 miles away. I work a two week on and two week off shift, and it was good to get home and see my wife again, if only for a few short hours. I quickly threw my remaining un-packed gear together, having packed most of it two weeks before. My main pack this year weighed 65 lbs. and I had ratchet strapped a pack frame to it. I had spent much time packing it with everything I would need for the trip, and in the order that I would need it. With the time for my departure growing near, my wife drove me to the airport. After checking in, I boarded my "red eye special" and headed south to adventure once again. August 13th, 2003 My son picked me up on my arrival in Sacramento at 9 a.m. He lives over by Moke Hill, California. He spent most of his life in Alaska with me, but recently moved to California to help his relatives with their sand and gravel business in that area. As I picked up my baggage from baggage claim, I noticed that my main pack had been "inspected" and was in shambles. After repacking it and finding nothing missing, we started up interstate 80. Stopping in Auburn we picked up a 6 pack of bottled water that we knew we'd need for the trail, and some last minute food items and things that they wouldn't let me carry on the airplane like Coleman fuel and lighters. We found our way to the trail head with little problem, and quickly said goodbye to the friend who would drive the car back. We were alone once again in Gods great creation! After taking several pictures of the trailhead area and each other ready to conquer the trail again, we shouldered our packs and headed down. As I had last year, I brought a small luggage cart for our heavy carry on bags, and it worked excellent this year. Last year I had attempted to carry everything on it, almost 140 lbs. of gear and it had been a dismal failure. We had spent almost 5 torturous hours on that trail in 100+ degree temperatures fighting that cart. This year the temperature was hovering around 85 degrees. Last year the cart seemed to tip over every hundred feet or so threatening to send my whole outfit plunging down the steep mountain side. In many areas Jason would have to help me carry one end of the cart with everything on it over the worst areas. I quickly got over heated, tired out, dizzy, was shaking, and came the closest I had ever been to a heat stroke. But we rested a lot, luxuriated in any stray breeze that came along, worked together as a team, and eventually made it to the river - 2500 feet below. This year, wearing my pack lightened the load on the cart and it only tipped over a couple times. We had ample water, we rested, and we made it down to the river in just under 3 hours. We both felt pretty good about that, and was so thankful that this years trip down the trail was so much better than last years. Once at the river we quickly set up camp in the same spot we had last year, after taking pictures of ourselves triumphantly on the bridge with full packs. Last year I was so whipped at this point, that Jason had to pack my heaviest bag from the bridge down to camp for me. This year I had no problem, as we had purposely packed lighter and learned a lot from our mistakes last year. My whole outfit this year weighed in at around 85 lbs. and Jason's was about 75 lbs. compared to 140 lbs. and 120 lbs last year. We had the opportunity to really take in the beauty of the trail this year, and noticed things we hadn't last year, such as wild flowers, the beautiful pine trees, the sweet smelling mountain air, and the sound of the river far below. After camp was set up, we relaxed a few minutes and gave thanks to God for guiding us down the trail so swiftly and safely. Last year we had only thin pads to sleep on, and Jason didn't even have a sleeping bag. He merely had a thin bed roll blanket that he thought would be warm enough. Several nights he got cold, and would have to get up and put on all his extra clothes just to get warm, especially in Giant Gap where the wind blew at night. For Christmas last year I had got him a nice light weight sleeping bag, and someone else had got him a nice 2 1/2" self inflating air mattress. And I had got a 3 1/2" self inflating air mattress for Christmas too. So, our sleeping situation was drastically improved! I have a bad back, and one of the things last year that had hurt it the most was sitting on the ground or laying on my side trying to carry on in conversation or cook meals. So for my one luxury item this year I had packed in a collapsible chair complete with arm rests. Believe me, the 2 lbs. that it weighed was certainly worth packing it! It felt soooo good to sit down in that thing at the end of the day! This year we had better photographic gear, less mining gear, and a far better knowledge of what we were in for. Instead of candle lanterns, this year we had 3 LED flashlights that we wore on our foreheads on headbands. What a luxury! And we could actually see to cook our meals! We had new 3 person rafts, the same as we had last year. We also brought along several hundred feet each of small line, which we lashed back and forth across our rafts to keep our gear off the floor. Last year we had put so many holes in the floors of our rafts from our gear sitting directly on the floor, that water continually leaked in through the holes and rips. This year, our gear was tied high on the rafts, and we hoped this would prevent so many holes. I also had a new fishing pole that broke apart in 5 pieces and some small lures, that I hoped would add to the quality of this trip. This year our food supplies consisted of mostly freeze dried food, but also 5 lbs. of Tang orange drink, an assortment of kool aid, 8 lbs. of pancake flour, a couple squeeze tubes of peanut butter, a small bottle of syrup, cookies, sardines, and an assortment of peanuts and cashews. We also brought along 2 packages of the new pre-cooked bacon, something which proved to save the day later on. This year we had both brought along a shorty wet suit. I had found them in Anchorage months before for $29 each. Last year we had wanted to swim so bad, but the water was uncomfortably cool which really limited our swimming activities. This year we hoped it would be different. So, in camp at Euchre Bar bridge and before the sun went down we each got into our wet suit and got in the river. The water was very cool, but the suits kept us noticeably warmer after we got used to it. The cold water initially seeping down our backs made us gasp for breath, but soon it was warm. After spending an hour swimming around and exploring we noticed the sun dropping behind the canyon rim and decided it was time to get out and think about something to eat. We remembered from last year that the temperature dropped fast when the sun went down, so we got out and got dried off and into warmer clothes. Last year the mosquitoes at Euchre Bar were numerable, but this year they were 4 or 5 times as bad. From the time the sun went down until the bats came out we were tormented by those pesky small mosquitoes. In Alaska they are huge, but here they were so small it was surprising. But they bit just as big! But, soon our bat friends came out and promptly all the bugs disappeared, just like we remembered. We cooked supper, and each had mountain house beef stew. It tasted darned good, even if it was just freeze dried food! We lay on our sleeping bags after our meal watching the stars, the meteorites, and the satellites, and just couldn't believe we were here again! It was almost too good to be true! We knew that we had 2 extra days this year, and decided to spend the next day just exploring around the Euchre Bar area. Last year at this camp we had heard music. Music that we couldn't recognize. We only heard bits and pieces of it, but we could make out voices, fiddles, pianos, and singing. We soon realized also that there was no one else around us, and that the music was some sort of ghostly music from the past. Sometimes we could make out whole songs, but didn't recognize any of them. This year we were curious if the ghostly music would still be present, and I had even brought along a small hand held tape recorder to see if I could get any on tape. But unfortunately, this year it just wasn't there. Sometimes we could hear a note or two, but not much more. Soon I started getting drowsy and realized that I had only had about 2 hours sleep since the previous morning. I tried desperately to stay awake and answer Jason's questions and conversation, but after I woke up a couple times with him still talking, I politely said good night, and thus ended our first day on the river at Euchre Bar, 2003. August 14th, 2003 We had slept very comfortably through out the night on our new air mattresses, and now the sun was waking us up as it came over the eastern rim of the canyon. It was strange how hot it was, and it had only been up 5 minutes! In Alaska it takes a good hour after sunrise before you feel any heat. Our LED lights had come in very handy too. We had decided to cook a breakfast of pancakes, and then explore up the river. Scrounging around in my food bag I could not locate my PAM cooking spray I had purposely packed for this trip. I went through everything, and it just wasn't there. We finally came to the conclusion that security at the airport must have confiscated it because it was in a pressurized can. Nice of them to tell us! Had we known we could have easily replaced it at the store in Auburn the day before. As a side note, when I returned home I called the Transportation Security Association and inquired as to why I wasn't told what was taken, and was told in no uncertain terms that they do not have to report what they take. Out of common courtesy it seems as though they would! So, we made do the best we could. The pre-cooked bacon didn't have much grease in it, but had just barely enough to grease a Teflon pan to cook our pancakes. The T.S.A. definitely isn't one of my favorite organizations! After organizing camp and shouldering our small packs with the gold pans, cameras, and Tang, we started off up river in the hot sunshine. Last year we had followed what looked like an old road up the river from Euchre Bridge on the north side. It went to within about 500 feet of where North Fork of the North Fork enters the river. It was strange, because it appeared to just end for no apparent reason. We never did find out what this old road was used for, but someone went to a lot of work in building it, because it was blasted right out of solid bedrock. I'm guessing it could have possibly have been where a flume was once situated to move the river so the old miners could mine the river bed. This year we decided to explore up river on the south side and follow the trail. It had been an excellent trail at one time, but is now in sad need of some maintenance. We managed to follow it up to the bend in the river, to where the North Fork enters, and then there was just too much poison oak growing in the trail to follow anymore. Occasionally we'd see where someone had been cutting it back from the trail, and I wondered it Russell hadn't been down here recently with his loppers. We found it very sad that these trails, once so heavily traveled, are now falling into ruin. On the trail about 200 yards up river from Euchre Bar bridge, we came upon a wooden sign nailed to a hanging tree perhaps 50 feet above the river. It said" Jeffry Allen Blondell 1956 - 1984 A good miner but a better friend" We wondered what had happened to Jeffry, had he fallen to his death from this spot in 1984? We proceeded on up to where the North Fork enters the main river, and did a little gold panning, and marveled at the depth and clarity of the water up there. We took a lot of pictures and wished we'd have brought our wet suits up there. Just up river from there we noticed where a whole cliff face had fallen into the river, and the river just disappeared under it. We were both very glad we didn't have to portage around that one! Heading back to camp we came to the bridge, and followed the trail down river a ways. Once again, it had once been an excellent trail, but soon became too overgrown with poison oak for us. Both Jason and I are highly susceptible to it, and sure didn't want something like that to ruin our trip. We were very happy so see where some caring souls had cleaned up an abandoned camp just on the other side of the bridge that really be-smudged the area last year. We couldn't understand why people just went off and abandoned their trash and gear! Arriving back at camp we explored the main Euchre Bar tailing piles. Much of them on the south end are now covered in wild grapes. It was awesome to see how much earth and boulders had been moved by the old timers. We thought, if only these rocks could speak, what stories they would have to tell! We re-traced our steps back up the main trail a ways to an old foundation. It was obvious that a cabin used to sit there, but someone like BLM had burned it down. There were irises that had gone wild and were growing a long ways down the hill from there. And beside the foundation was a tree that we couldn't identify. It had sort of flowers all over it, and they reminded be of a cross between a common purple thistle and a Hawaiian bottle brush flower. It was beautiful, and I got a great picture of one of the flowers. Some one had also written their names in the concrete steps, but time had erased it to the extent that it was no longer legible. Arriving back at camp again, we swam awhile, got cleaned up, blew up our rafts, lashed the line across them to keep our gear off the floor. We organized camp a little, and then the sun dipped below the canyon rim once again and here came the mosquitoes. Pesky little things really got us again, right up until the bats came out. After supper we lay there on our sleeping bags, silent, just wondering what it would have been like to have been here in the 1850's, especially when a note or two of music would come drifting to our ears from God knows where. I have often thought I was born in the wrong century, about a 100 years too late. Times like this confirmed it for me beyond a shadow of a doubt! I sat there in my chair that evening, watching the peaceful river flow by, talking to my son, both of us wishing we could step back through the window of time. We were once again at peace with the world in one of Gods greatest creations! August 15th, 2003 We were up before the sun came up, had breakfast cooked, and our rafts packed by 9:30 a.m. We were looking forward immensely to our first day of lining our rafts down the river. It was a hot day, and we both started down river without our wet suits on. At the first bend down >from Euchre we came upon an excellent place to camp, only about 400 feet away >from where we had camped. Had we only known! Here there were huge pine trees, flat sandy areas, and a great view of the sky. Oh well, maybe next time. It was here that we done our good deed for the day. In an abandoned 5 gallon bucket left standing up-right by someone, we discovered a large lizard trapped in it. I dumped him out, and boy, was he ever glad to be free! Jason put his wet suit on here, and we continued on down the gorge to Green Valley. I had forgotten just how beautiful this little gorge is between Euchre Bar and Green Valley. It was some of the most picturesque scenery we saw on the whole trip. It is very narrow, but fairly easy going. I think we only had to portage 3 times the whole day. On our first portage on the 2nd bend below Euchre, we had just finished carrying everything over a large boulder bar to a beautiful pool below with some rapids rushing into it, when a couple overtook us. I forget their names, but they were very friendly and said, "you're the guys, right?" In partial bewilderment I looked at them, and they said it again, "you're the guys who wrote that story last year, right? You've got to be because you've got the same rafts & everything!" I then mentioned that yes, I did write a 3 part story for Russell Towel last year. They then said that it was great to be able to put a face with the guy who wrote that story, and that my story was the reason they were there!. Well, that made me feel pretty good. They were traveling very light weight, both in full length wet suits, and were carrying their pack on a small Styrofoam surf board type thing. They were going to the end of Giant Gap and climb out on some trail that goes up the north wall there. They were supposed to be home the next night. I've often wondered if they made it. It took us 3 days just to get through Giant Gap, much less Euchre Gorge and Green Valley! We wished them luck, and they pushed on leaving us far behind. We continued on down the gorge, wondering for the life of us why it had been so hard for us through here last year? We were now having the time of our lives! It was fun, exhilarating, and not the challenge this part of the river had been last year. It had taken us >from 10 a.m. last year until 5 p.m. to travel this short 1 mile gorge, and we had been so happy to emerge into wide Green Valley at last! Last year by the time we reached Green Valley our rafts had numerous holes in them, and were filled with water. Our gear was wet, we were beat, hungry, and had rafts to patch. Now, we were having the time of our lives! We traveled all day without putting one hole in our rafts, and they were so easy to line down the river with the gear tied up off the floor. And due to the fact that they had no water in them, they handled all that much easier. We took our time, savoring the scenery, surroundings, and serenity of the area. We were actually trying to go slower, because we knew we'd come to Green Valley soon enough. We took many pictures through the gorge, both with a digital camera, a 35 mm camera, and an underwater camera. We came through some of the loveliest scenery on earth this day, and the river was so beautiful. Instead of riding our rafts over the deep pools, we chose to swim through them towing our rafts. This way we kept water out of our rafts, and somehow felt more connected with the river. There is a beautiful little waterfall somewhere in about the middle of the gorge. I got a fantastic picture of it, even though it was in the shade. The picture came out with the most beautiful shades of blue and green. Soon enough we came to Green Valley, and found our old camp spot we had last year. It was at the last pool in the gorge, right at the beginning of Green Valley. Everything was the same, except that the log we used last year to dry out our gear was gone. We quickly made camp, and got cleaned up in the river before the sun went down. I fished some in the beautiful pools near camp, catching and releasing several nice sized trout. As the sun went down we started getting supper ready. It was almost dark when we noticed little tiny hummingbirds buzzing around our camp. They were after some little white flowers that grew around camp, which sort of reminded me of morning glories. They were the smallest hummingbirds I had ever seen, and it seemed so strange that they would only come out at dark. There weren't many mosquitoes here, thank heavens! Pretty soon our bat friends came out, and all was peaceful in Green Valley. Last year at this camp we heard the ghostly music quite clearly, and we were both wondering if it would be here now. As night progressed and things got quieter, we began hearing it. But again, it wasn't as loud or as clear as last year, although we could make out voices, singing, and some kind of instrument, probably a fiddle. Again, like last year, it made us feel welcome on the river by the old time miners who have all gone to that big gold mine in the sky. The same ghostly light appeared on top of Lovers Leap that had appeared there last year and startled us so much, but now we knew it was nothing more than a lovely house up there. It had been an eventful day, and we were so glad to be back in Green Valley. The day had ended with no mis-haps, no holes in the raft, no bone tired bodies, and no stress - unlike last year. Today had been a perfect day on the North Fork of the American river between Euchre Bar and Green Valley. Thats about it for part 1. I'll try my best to have part 2 out next Tuesday, I have a busy weekend ahead. Best regards all, Mike Case
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Big Valley Bluff

Big Valley Bluff is one of the premier scenic overlooks in Placer County, a 3600-foot cliff on the north rim of the North Fork American canyon, east of Emigrant Gap. I wrote the following letter to Forest Supervisor Steve Eubanks of Tahoe National Forest, advocating a road and vehicles closure near the Bluff:

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October 28, 2003

Steven Eubanks
Forest Supervisor, Tahoe National Forest
631 Coyote Street
Nevada City, CA 95959

re: Big Valley Bluff

Dear Supervisor Eubanks,

Recently I visited Big Valley Bluff, in the Nevada City Ranger District, a cliff on the north rim of the canyon of the North Fork American River. This is a very remarkable and beautiful place. The views of the North Fork canyon often make me wonder why there is no North Fork American National Park.

The elevation of the storm-swept summit is around 6400 feet. Sparse Jeffrey Pine, Western White Pine and Sugar Pine grow in the summit area, along with the odd stunted Douglas Fir and the somewhat unusual Common Juniper. This juniper is a ground-hugging shrub, and although I have found it on several rocky, sunny cliffs in the North Fork canyon, it is sufficiently uncommon that two friends, connoisseurs of our native plants, had never, over the course of decades, seen it.

I have noticed, in recent years, a great increase in 4WD and OHV activity around Big Valley Bluff. People drive up onto the summit area and have created a number of ad hoc roads. They build large fire rings and scatter beer bottles and other trash. The great beauty of this place, and the rare wildness of the North Fork canyon, suggest that Big Valley Bluff deserves special care.

Hence once again I suggest that a road and vehicle closure be applied to Big Valley Bluff. I believe all vehicular traffic-cars, trucks, SUVs, and OHVs-should be stopped at least one-quarter mile north of the old TNF lookout site. And, since Big Valley Bluff is so highly visible, from such long distances, a parking area should be chosen such that existing tree cover will tend to hide parked vehicles, and reduce or eliminate the sparkle of chrome and windshields.

A certain saddle or pass on the Big Valley Bluff ridge, near the center of the southwest one-quarter of Section 24, T16N R12E, and near the word "Valley" of "Big Valley Bluff" on the USGS 7.5 mnute Duncan Peak quadrangle, might be the best place to effect a vehicle closure, and make a parking area.

Sincerely yours,

Russell Towle
*******

Big Valley Canyon

From a particular clifftop perch below the East Summit of Big Valley Bluff, one can see the remarkable gorge of the lower, southern reaches of Big Valley Creek, as it enters the tremendous depths--here, around 3500 feet--of the North Fork canyon. The bare rocky canyon walls rise thousands of feet, and an inner gorge is often incised within the main gorge. Here are many waterfalls, seldom if ever visited by humans.

On Monday Ron Gould and I drove up I-80, took the Yuba Gap exit, bore right at the first fork, passing an obscure petroglyph site along the line of the Donner Trail, beside a long wet meadow, and then took the left turn onto Forest Road 19. Lake Valley Reservoir was on our right as we slowly climbed eastward to another left on Forest Road 38, which leads in past Huysink Lake (named after outdoorsman Bernard Huysink of Dutch Flat) and the popular Salmon Lake Trail, on past the unmarked Big Granite Trail, and beyond to Pelham Flat and Sugar Pine Point. Just past the wet meadow of Pelham Flat, a road breaks away right and winds down into Big Valley.

The USGS 7.5 minute "Cisco Grove" and "Duncan Peak" topographic maps cover this area, but do not show the more recent logging roads, such as the above road into Big Valley.

The old Big Valley Trail used to cross the valley here, on an east-west line, from Mears Meadow, atop Monumental Ridge on the west, to Pelham Flat, atop the Sugar Pine Point ridge on the east. At Pelham Flat the Big Valley Trail met the Sugar Pine Point Trail. Both trails have been obliterated by logging within the past 30 years.

We wound down the narrow road, hemmed in by thick brush, over slopes of glacial till, and forests of Red Fir gradually changing into the White Fir, Incense Cedar, and both Lodgepole and Jeffrey Pine which dominate Big Valley itself. All along the way we saw golden Aspens, and then down near the creek, golden Cottonwoods trees. Fall is here.

Big Valley Creek heads at Huysink Lake and runs south some five miles to the North Fork. It is incised into a variety of different metamorphic rocks, including the Sailor Canyon Formation, in the upper reaches around Huysink Lake, and rocks of the Taylorsville Sequence etc. in its middle reaches, until finally it enters the metasandstones, slates and cherts of the Shoo Fly Complex, in the lower reaches.

Big Valley is named for a large, mostly forested flat in the middle area, with scattered meadows, and only one bedrock outcrop of note, a glaciated mass of Triassic conglomerate on the west side of the creek. Flat-lying, light-colored, clay-like glacial sediments exposed in the creek suggest that this large flat may be a silted-in glacial lake. Another model might be a large glacial outwash plain.

Unlike Little and Big Granite creeks, immediately to the east, also running south to the North Fork, and of equal lengths, Big Valley has not one shred of granite in its upper reaches. The metamorphic rocks, most resembling steeply-dipping slate, are far more easily cut by glaciers and streams alike; for the granite is more "massive," with widely-spaced joint planes, and tends more to being rounded and smoothed by glaciers, rather than quarried away wholesale.

To the north, the shallow upper canyon of the South Yuba could not hold its own due portion of ice, and over a long succession of glaciations, glaciers swept right over the divide, into the drastically deeper North Fork canyon. Here again we see the contrast between granite (Yuba) and metamorphic rocks (North Fork). A deep pass at Huysink Lake marks the path of especially large volumes of ice flowing south through Big Valley. Even in the last, "Tioga" glaciation, which ended around 12,000 years ago, the ice was deep enough to fill Big Valley to the brim and even cover the ridges to either side.

It has become an article of geomorphological faith that glaciers carve "U-shaped" valleys, while rivers carve "V-shaped" valleys. Big Valley seems very U-shaped in its middle reaches, around the large flat; but the actual bedrock profile of the valley there is buried beneath thick glacial sediments, so who can say what its "true" profile is? Yosemite Valley presents a similar case. It is often described as U-shaped, but the bedrock floor of Yosemite is lost beneath deep glacial sediments. In both cases the bedrock profile may be more V-shaped than we might like, were we trying to apply our articles of faith.

And in the lower reaches of Big Valley, one sees a plain old V-shaped canyon, a gorge, really, despite the fact that here, if anything, the glaciers were thicker and bore down more heavily upon the rock, than to the north and upstream. Similarly, the main North Fork canyon, as it passes Big Valley Bluff, is rather distinctly V-shaped, even though its valley glacier was at least three thousand feet deep at this point.

So at any rate Ron and I parked and first scouted west across the flat to a fossil site I have never been able to find, with brachiopods and crinoidal debris. Once again I managed to not-find the fossils, although Ron spotted some patterned, limy rock which had a large number of blurred, indistinct egg-shaped masses within it. Perhaps these were the fossils.

We broke away to the south, crossed the dry bed of the creek, and soon struck one of the larger meadows. This wet meadow was crossed by some amazing bear trails, beaten wide and deep into the lush grasses, and, following one of these, we came to a perfect bear wallow, a hole in the meadow some five feet long by three feet wide, brimming with water, and showing signs of having been used only that morning. Bear trails converged upon the wallow from all sides. We held a southerly course and soon passed from the main flat of Big Valley into the rocky open slopes of the gorge, marked as "Big Valley Canyon" on the topographic maps. Suddenly the creek held water, suddenly the bedrock was exposed everywhere.

We picked our way along mild cliffs and through brushy areas, while the canyon plunged ever more steeply. The day was warm and bright, the sky a deep clear blue. Forest and meadow had been replaced by cliffs and scattered Jeffrey Pines and Western Junipers. Nearly a mile south from Big Valley we hit the first major inner gorge. This gorge-within-a-gorge was in the hundreds of feet deep, and contained a series of pools and waterfalls. By my reckoning we were far enough south to be in the Sierra Buttes Formation, which has an upper and lower member, and it seemed we were at the contact between the two, for the thinner, more slaty strata of the upper member suddenly graded into an alternating series of more massive debris-flow breccias interleaved with slaty zones. All was as usual tipped right up on edge, and in this case, the upper member was to the north, the lower member to the south. These rocks are submarine volcanics and volcaniclastic rocks, Paleozoic in age, but much younger than the Shoo Fly, a little farther south. They are intermittently exposed from north of their namesake, the Sierra Buttes, south to at least Picayune Valley. They are part of what David Harwood of the USGS dubbed the "Taylorsville Sequence," which lies to the east of the Shoo Fly Complex in the Northern Sierra.

We picked our way down cliffs to some pools below a waterfall, with rather astounding and even frightening cliffs rising hundreds of a feet above us, frightening, because massive overhangs held thousands of tons poised in the air as it were, directly above us. Some very nice breccia was exposed along the creek, dark slaty angular raisins in a pudding of gray volcanic ash.

After a lunch break, we left our packs and dropped down the inner gorge. We were a little uncertain about the first little cliff. I should say that these canyons in the Northern Sierra, whether little or big, are dangerous places. I used to think of the High Sierra, with its peaks rising twelve, thirteen, fourteen thousand feet above sea level, and its monstrous cliffs, as the truly dangerous part of the Sierra. I have since come to realize that our local river canyons, here in the north, offer every bit as much danger. So we approached this little forty- or fifty-foot step in the gorge with all due caution.

Picking my way down the almost vertical rock face, I saw, but could scarcely believe I saw, bear poop on a ledge. I pointed it out to Ron and we had a bit of a laugh over the bowel-moving tensions of climbing sheer cliffs. Once again I am reminded of how very well these bears do in the most extreme terrain. Ron and I had seen bear sign all the way through Giant Gap earlier this year, on the high old discontinuous Giant Gap Survey trail.

We saw trout swarming in some of the pools, and were intrigued by signs that the bear or bears had waded all through these trout pools. Do they fish? Maybe.

Turning a corner in the gorge, we passed into a narrow band of igneous intrusive rock, a long thin body of fine-grained gabbro which strikes across the canyon. Here the creek had cut a fine broad avenue floored by solid rock, oh, thirty feet wide, and hundreds of feet long, a plane surface sloping south, and we walked along this steep mountain sidewalk until suddenly another waterfall was met, this one at least fifty feet high, and the cliffs beside it looked quite challenging. We had only just then passed from the thin gabbro body into the first fault-bounded slices of the Shoo Fly Complex, here, thin masses of the Duncan Chert.

We had great views south to the East Summit of Big Valley Bluff on the right, and to the low pass on the Foresthill Divide, across the main North Fork, where the Beacroft Trail heads up. We were not quite far enough south in Big Valley Canyon to look back north and see some rather remarkable cliffs and spires of the Duncan Chert I had noted the other day, and had hoped to visit; but the gorge below us to the south looked quite challenging, quite difficult, and to reach the next relatively level and passable reach of Big Valley Canyon would mean a circuitous passage over the cliffs to the left, and a descent of another couple hundred feet.

We decided we had come far enough. Another mile and a half of gorge lay between us and the North Fork, and that last bit looks rather drastically steep. I still doubt that anyone has ever followed the creek itself all the way down; it would require rappelling again and again and again, over the waterfalls.

On our way back up and out I got creative and tried to forge a new route, the result being that I found myself almost trapped within a patch of sunny, hot, impenetrable brush. I had to struggle uphill against the grain of the stubborn bushes. Every once in a while I saw places where bears had busted out a little opening, but these openings always closed down again, and it was back to acrobatics, huffing, puffing, sweating, cursing, and all the while Ron was strolling merrily along up the bouldery creek below me.

That hundred yards of brush sapped my strength. I was more or less ruined. However, we were not far from Big Valley itself, and a little higher we discovered remnants of yet another old trail, which is shown on a 1939 Tahoe National Forest map, and which ran down the length of Big Valley, to the beginning of the gorge. This old trail made for easy going, and soon we reached the truck. I was a wreck.

It was a very interesting day, in a very beautiful place. The land acquisition efforts by Tahoe National Forest in this area should be continued. In particular, the private lands at Pelham Flat; Section 7, within Big Valley itself; Section 17, which includes Sugar Pine Point; and other lands near the head of the Big Granite Trail, all ought to be purchased from the lumber companies, if possible.

This lovely part of the Placer County high country has been fairly heavily impacted by logging.

In particular, the old-growth Incense Cedar of Big Valley must have made an amazing forest. However, I believe the wild and scenic and recreational values are more than enough to justify further land acquisitions in this area.

Visit to Big Valley Bluff

Wednesday I met Julie Carville and Karen Callahan at the Dutch Flat exit on I-80, and we drove up to Emigrant Gap, and in Forest Road 19 to Big Valley Bluff.

Julie Carville is a botanist and author who has written books about the wildflowers of the Tahoe area; see "Lingering in Tahoe's Wild Gardens," in which she describes many hikes and many flowers. Karen Callahan is a botanist active in our local Redbud Chapter of the California Native Plant Society.

Big Valley Bluff is a cliff of Shoo Fly Complex metasediments rearing 3500 feet above the North Fork of the American River, east of Emigrant Gap. This monstrous mass of rock presents an almost El-Capitan-like appearance as seen from up and down the canyon; the views *of* Big Valley Bluff are very fine; but the views *from* Big Valley Bluff are truly exceptional.

I remember it was Matt Bailey of Dutch Flat who told me about the Bluff, lo these twenty-five years ago. Matt and others, such as Gene Markley and Eric Gerstung, worked long and hard to obtain Wild & Scenic River designation for the North Fork.

So we drove out Forest Road 19, in part at least called the Texas Hill Road, out beyond the pretty East Fork of the North Fork of the North Fork American River with its multitudes of giant Indian Rhubarbs, out beyond the pavement and past the road right to Sawtooth Ridge and Helester Point and the elusive Sawbug Trail, and kicking up dust, some few more miles to the road right to the Bluff.

The Bluff projects far into the canyon and a road follows along the top of the ridge to where the World suddenly ends and the Yosemite-like vastness of the "upper middle" North Fork canyon break into view. A Forest Service lookout tower once stood on the very edge of the cliff; only some large concrete piers remain.

Snow Mountain looms to the east, standing all of 4500 feet above the river; its monstrous mass hides Tinkers Knob and Anderson Peak, yet farther east on the Sierra crest; but also in view, peak-wise, from north to south, are Red Mountain, Mt. Lola, Basin Peak, Castle Peak, Devils Peak, Mt. Lyon, Needle Peak, Squaw Peak, Little Needle Peak, Mt. Mildred, and summits of the Crystal Range, far to the southeast.

In clear weather over one hundred miles of the Coast Range is in view to the west. It was hazy while we were there.

Within the main theater of the canyon one sees Wabena Point, where petroglyphs are inscribed high above the waterfalls of the Royal Gorge, and Wildcat Point, an enormous glacially-truncated spur; Cherry and Sugar Pine points share the north wall of the canyon with the Bluff; Sawtooth Ridge winds away to the west; and one sees portions of many side-canyons, including Big Valley, Little and Big Granite creeks on the north, Wabena, Wildcat, Sailor, New York and Tadpole canyons on the south.

Directly across the canyon from Big Valley Bluff one sees the pass of the Beacroft Trail, the Iowa Hill Canal, and the unnamed eminences of sheer rock between Tadpole and New York canyons.

Three thousand feet below, the American River Trail can be seen from some vantage points, threading high above the river.

So the Bluff has a phenomenal view. I had enticed the botanists there with promises of Juniperus communis, or Common Juniper, which is a ground-hugging sub-shrub of a conifer. It is "common" because it is found all around the Northern Hemisphere, in the higher elevations and latitudes. And it is common within the North Fork, seeming firmly wedded to rocky, sunny, storm-battered knolls and cliffs.

The main summit of the Bluff is around 6500' in elevation. Storm-twisted Jeffrey and Sugar pines are scattered widely about, with low masses of Huckleberry Oak and manzanita, and much in the way of raw rocky areas, and weirdly-shaped pillars of rock rising along the verges of the cliffs. The humble junipers, not even a foot high, sprawl over the rocky ground here and there.

There are interesting ecotones and gradations and discontinuities of microclimate at Big Valley Bluff. For instance, it is warmer along the edge of the cliffs. Not only Jeffrey and Sugar pines, but storm- and elevation-stunted Douglas Fir are found. A short distance north is the broad summit of the spur ridge leading south to the Bluff; and by its broadness, and its gentle slopes, it is less able to shed heavy cold air. Here the contrast between warmer, western exposures, and cooler, eastern exposures, is evidenced by Western White Pines east of the crest, and Sugar Pines to the warmer west.

I am concerned about 4WD activity out at Big Valley Bluff. Over the past ten years jeeps trails have proliferated and spread, and huge fire-rings have been built, and the usual beer bottles and cans scattered about. I think Tahoe National Forest ought to enforce a vehicle closure somewhere along the access road to the north, perhaps a quarter-mile north from the old lookout tower site. Let people walk in from there. For there is something quite extraordinary about Big Valley Bluff, and its storm-beaten almost elfin forest, and its awesome views, its hawks and eagles and falcons, its lowly little junipers.

One wonders why the North Fork canyon is not a National Park.

I wrote a letter to Forest Supervisor Steve Eubanks some years ago urging a vehicle closure. Perhaps it is time for a more concerted effort.

We wandered up along the crest of the cliffs and then down to the East Summit of Big Valley Bluff. Around 1987 I tried but failed to get Tahoe National Forest to deny permission to Sierra Pacific Industries to build a road across TNF lands down to SPI lands (old railroad lands) at the East Summit. I have been scared to go down there and see the stumps and skid trails and log landings and roads since then. Julie and Karen and I walked through the logged area, which was not so drastically torn up as I feared, and lunched on East Summit, with more marvelous views down into the great canyon.

Later we meandered farther down the ridge, to a cliff which offered the best views I have ever had of the lower reaches of Big Valley itself.

Heading at Huysink Lake, Big Valley runs due south some several miles to the North Fork. Ice spilling south over the divide from the South Yuba Icefield deepened Big Valley far beyond any proportion to its length or basinal area. As the valley approaches the North Fork, it steepens dreadfully and narrows into a gorge, with some unknown number of waterfalls hidden within shady chasms, and every sign that it is totally impassable. No one walks down Big Valley to the North Fork. With a long rope and nerves of steel one might rappel down the waterfalls and win through.

I could see the dark slots of inner gorges, and ragged cliffs and pinnacles painted with lichen, and flocks of Band-Tailed pigeons zooming around far below me. I felt confident that I could advance another mile south within Big Valley, from my previous most-southerly point limit of exploration. It looked exceptionally wild and pristine and cliffy. Just my kind of place, really.

We walked slowly back to the main summit and the car and drove back out, stopping at Onion Valley, a large meadow of glacial origins with a weak moraine on its west side. Almost all its lush complex of flowers had died away, but along a shallow stream-course we found some unusual flowers of the Broom-Rape family, probably in the genus Orobanche, flowers none of us had ever seen. These Orobanche are root-parisitic on various plants, and have no leaves and no chlorophyll. So--once again--out came the cameras, the hand lens, the manuals, and we botanized long enough to make me slightly late in picking up my daughter Janet from the school bus stop at Alta.

All was well despite my tardiness and it was a fine fine day in the upper middle North Fork.

Sawtooth Ridge

It being Columbus Day, Ron Gould and I decided to Discover America, at least, that part of it comprising Sawtooth Ridge, which divides the main North Fork American on the south, from the North Fork of the North Fork (NFNFAR), on the north. The crest of this ridge ripples high and low in a succession of peaks and passes. On some old maps it is named Texas Ridge, and I.T. Coffin, a Dutch Flat gold miner and photographer who once live at Burnett Canyon and Texas Hill, calls it the "Camel Humpbacked Ridge" in his 1863 diary. Also living at Burnett Canyon at that time was one E.B. "Tex" Smithwick and his wife; I have suspected, never knowing for sure, that Tex Smithwick himself might have lent his nickname to Texas Hill, Texas Diggings, and Texas Ridge.

Howsoever, Sawtooth Ridge trends roughly east and west, running higher on the east, the summits verging upon 5500', and lower on the west, the very last knoll just clearing 4000' in elevation. The slopes on the North Fork side are south-facing and sunny, much more rocky and open and given to brush and Canyon Live Oak, while on the north-facing, north side of the ridge, there is more in the way of coniferous forest. In the olden days a trail led along the ridge crest, avoiding the very summits where possible, and just nicking the passes. Several trails dropped away from this main trail south into the vastness of the North Fork canyon--to Mumford Bar, Italian Bar, and Humbug Bar--, and others dropped away north into the narrower confines of the North Fork of the North Fork, to China Bar and the Rawhide Mine.

Only the Mumford Bar and Rawhide trails show on our modern USGS 7.5 minute Westville quadrangle.

A Tahoe National Forest lookout tower once stood at Helester Point, 4930', midway along the length of the ridge. Gradually roads penetrated west along Sawtooth Ridge, probably reaching Helester Point by the early 1900s. From there, a jeep trail of likely more recent vintage continues west down the ridge. The checkerboard pattern of land ownership, dating back to President Lincoln's land grants to the Central Pacific Railroad, are much in force in that area. Around 1985 a corporate takeover attempt scared Southern Pacific (the successor of the CPRR) into selling its vast land holdings in Tahoe National Forest. A lumber company, Sierra Pacific Industries (SPI), ended up with the most of these lands.

The steep north slopes of Sawtooth, then, already networked by logging roads and skid trails to the utter obliteration of the China Bar Trail, have in recent years been the target of SPI clearcuts. Some of these are highly visible from the scenic overlook called Iron Point, or from the line of the railroad near Blue Canyon, and from many places. They are on extremely steep slopes. SPI used herbicides to kill the natural groves of Kelloggs Black Oak and Canyon Live Oak interspersed with the Ponderosa Pine and Douglas Fir timber on these slopes, and replanted to a pure coniferous stand. I don't like this industrial approach to timber "management." I believe that Tahoe National Forest ought to be trying to purchase these SPI lands on Sawtooth Ridge, along with the Siller Brothers property at Lost Camp, and other SPI lands along the Lost Camp Ridge.

Whether it is clearcutting or ordinary, selective-harvest tractor-logging, old foot trails tend to be obliterated by timber harvests. Again and again I see every vestige of some historic trail erased, hidden forever under a welter of skid trails and log decks. Nobody looks out after these trails, which once comprised a vast network. One might well think that in this day and age, Tahoe National Forest and CDF would declare, "Enough is enough! More than half of the old trails are ruined, but no more! Harvest your timber, yes, but leave the trails intact!" One would be wrong.

But I digress.

Ron and I drove up I-80 to Emigrant Gap and caught Forest Road 19 out to Texas Hill, continuing east up Burnett Canyon, past the old Towle sawmill site, past the tiny thread of I.T. Coffin's old mining ditch, first below, then above the road, until almost insensibly we reached Sawtooth Ridge, and the road curved to the west, around the head of Burnett Canyon.

We passed the obliterated beginning of the Burnett Canyon Trail, and swung around the headwaters of Wilmont Ravine, where I.T. Coffin's oft-drunken partner, Tommy Williams, once washed a 20-ounce gold nugget out of the creek. We reached one of Sawtooth's passes near here, where old maps show a trail descending to Italian Bar, almost, as it were, the direct continuation of the Burnett Canyon Trail. I.T. Coffin used this Italian Bar trail from time to time. The top has been erased by logging, but Ron and I picked it up within a couple hundred yards of the pass, and followed it down into a mixed grove of large Ponderosa Pine and Kelloggs Black Oak, where the slopes eased a bit. We saw no very clear continuation, and since we were really more concerned with the trail down to Humbug Bar, another "lost" trail, we climbed back up to the pass and drove west.

Within a maze of logging roads on very steep slopes, where the roadcuts sometimes rise thirty feet high--apparently we can afford to just throw away topsoil and subsoil alike, in order to harvest timber--we bumped along in Ron's trusty old Toyota 4WD pickup, looking for one certain left turn which would put us on the old jeep trail west of Helester Point. We took a guess and found ourselves bucking up and over high waterbars within one of the major SPI clearcuts in Section 35, T16N R11E. Then we plunged down into a swale, and although still within SPI land, we had reached an area so lightly timbered that it had suffered relatively little.

At a certain point a large oak blocked the narrow road, but we managed to pull it aside, and continued west to one of the most pronounced passes on Sawtooth Ridge. We were now on TNF land, in the very northeast part of Section 3, T15N R11E; it was so nice to see an unlogged part of the ridge. Here the ~1900 Colfax Folio topographic map shows a trail dropping down to the North Fork at Humbug Bar, where a bridge once spanned the river. We parked and Ron immediately spotted old blazes on some oaks, and then another on a large pine just above us. The oak blazes were just where the Humbug Trail (I also call it the Sawbug Trail, because it runs from Sawtooth Ridge down to Humbug Bar) forks away from the equally-old Sawtooth Ridge Trail. Further explorations showed that we had stumbled upon a section of the original Sawtooth Trail which is now distinct from the road--for this old road, or jeep trail, had been, in many areas, cut directly into the line of the original trail.

Tom Molloy and I had found the upper end of the Sawbug Trail last fall, but had lost the line of the thing as it dropped away south and west into the steeps of the North Fork canyon. Ron and I worked hard on clearing fallen Knobcone Pine trunks and other obstacles from the well-defined uppermost section of the trail. These Knobcones are fire-adapted pines, members of the Closed-Cone group of the genus Pinus. The gigantic Volcano Fire of ~1960 had swept across the Foresthill Divide, down through Humbug Canyon, and right across the North Fork and up onto Sawtooth Ridge. These pines had seeded in thickly after the fire, and fought one another for sun, and those which lost the battle had died and fallen across the trail, in dozens. So Ron and I had our work cut out for us.

Eventually, we left the snarled mass of dead Knobcones for a more open forest of scattered large Ponderosa Pines, Kelloggs Black Oak, and Canyon Live Oak. A deep layer of leaves and pine needles covered the ground. Bears and other game had often used the old human trail above us, but here, on gentle slopes, in an open forest, the paths of animals were not tightly constrained, and soon we had really nothing to go by--not a blaze, not a suspiciously well-defined game trail, not anything.

We zigged and zagged down past some old prospect pits, with chunks of quartz lying about. The gold-bearing quartz veins here are allied to those worked so heavily down below us in the North Fork canyon, as for instance at the Dorer Mine, the Central Mine, the American Eagle Mine, the Gem Mine, etc. etc. A trail appeared, and we followed it west to one of the larger prospect pits, where it seems to end.

Once again a variety of factors conspired to make it seem more reasonable to search out the line of the Sawbug from Humbug Bar going up, rather than from Sawtooth down. The slopes where the trail disappeared were steep, and only getting steeper, below us. Then again, this last portion of "the trail" might well have had only to do with the mining prospects, not the Sawbug itself. The Sawbug itself may have dropped away into the great canyon a smidgin to the east, and then passed to the west far below us.

So, we retreated up to the truck and explored the vicinity of the pass. I followed the faint trace of the Sawtooth Trail up moderately steep slopes to the west, and had the satisfaction of finding another ancient blaze, on a huge Sugar Pine, and just above, a well-defined section of the trail itself. I eventually rejoined the road, and saw a large oak down.

Regrouping, we drove west, but were soon stopped by the large fallen oak. There was no pulling this aside. So we walked another half-mile along the meandering little road, and found some more very old blazes along the way, showing that here at least the road had been cut right into the line of the original trail.

The sun was lowering, and we retreated to the truck and started back out.

Sawtooth Ridge is interesting from the standpoint of geomorphology, and the evolution of the landscape of the North Fork. Its geology is part of this story.

Especially here in the Northern Sierra, the major canyons are young, freshly-incised, and steep-walled. A long series of volcanic eruptions, commencing around thirty million years ago, had buried the Ancestral Sierra beneath a plateau composed of rhyolite ash below, and andesitic mudflows above. Finally, and apparently very locally, basaltic lavas flowed down minor valleys eroded into this plateau. These youngest of the volcanics date from as much as seven to as little as three million years in age, and we may place the beginning of the incision of the North Fork canyon to the time of these youngest flows. One tiny remnant of basalt caps one of the knolls along Sawtooth Ridge, just east of Helester Point. Suppose it is "five million years old." Then the North Fork canyon is also five million years old, and here it has cut down nearly three thousand feet in that five million years.

The idea here is that the basalt atop Sawtooth was following the lowest, deepest valley available at the time, say, five million years ago. Which is as much as to say that the North Fork canyon did not exist at that time. The Sawtooth basalt followed and filled some minor valley in the plateau.

The generalized volcanic plateau sloped to the southwest. It was thickest near the crest, and thinned westward. The Sierra began to tilt up en masse several million years ago and this uplift increased the gradient of the plateau, sloping down to the southwest. Almost simultaneously the climate cooled and a long series of glaciations began. The steepened gradient and the glaciations combined to make for rapid downward incision of the new canyons. As they deepened, they widened. And we are at just that stage in the deepening and widening, which continues to this day, in which the main ridges between the canyons still hold remnants of the volcanic plateau.

Hence the flat-topped ridges of the middle elevations of the Northern Sierra.

But Sawtooth Ridge is not flat-topped. It does have some few tiny vestiges of the volcanic plateau on some of its knolls. Other knolls are "bedrock" of the Subjacent Series, here, metasediments of the Shoo Fly Complex, all the way to the top, for instance, Helester Point is a bedrock knoll.

We can ascribe this peak-and-pass topography to the near proximity of two canyons, the main North Fork and the North Fork of the North Fork. In their deepening and widening they have managed to erode intervening Sawtooth Ridge below the level of the plateau. In a sense Sawtooth offers a preview of what the more common flat-topped ridges will look like in another million years or so.

However, the extent to which glaciation may have figured into all this is not well known. It is clear that the very last "Tioga" ice extended well down Fulda Canyon, down the main North Fork of the North Fork, down the East Fork of the North Fork of the North Fork, and down the North Fork itself. But exactly how far? This remains to be established. My own guess is that the Tioga-age North Fork glacier, which melted back up the canyon some 12,000 years ago, came down at least to Mumford Bar. And I guess that Fulda and NFNFAR ice came down at least to the Gorge of Many Gorges, just upstream from the China Bar Trail.

On Sawtooth Ridge itself, right up along the crest, are minor bodies of much older glacial till. These till bodies--the largest being just west of Helester Point--show that during one of the earlier episodes of glaciation, perhaps Tahoe I or Tahoe II (ca. 130,000 and 65,000 years before the present, respectively), ice in both the main North Fork and in the NFNFAR came up at least as high as Sawtooth's low passes, and likely right over the top of everything, all peaks, all knolls. In fact, the passes are places where, as the ice began to recede and its surface lowered in elevation, ice probably flowed right through, probably from the main North Fork into the NFNFAR.

I have found patches of old till almost all the way down Sawtooth Ridge, to a point directly above Humbug Bar, and all of 2000' above the North Fork. It is almost impossible to avoid the conclusion that glacial ice reached down the North Fork to Euchre Bar and perhaps even Green Valley itself, these places being a scant two to three miles down the canyon from the last till on Sawtooth's crest.

On the other hand, temperate-latitude glaciers such as these are well known to have steeply-plunging termini. It is within the range of possibility that the ice never reached Euchre Bar itself. This is another open question which begs serious study.

Together with these visibly old till bodies on Sawtooth--visibly-old, because of the redness of the fine silts, and the punky rottenness of some of the boulders--there are other signs of glaciation along the ridge crest: planed-off patches of Shoo Fly slates, not bearing any striae, but on the other hand, such flat surfaces are not to be expected in this region of near-vertical strata of rather friable, easily-splitting rock.

As we drove back out, we took the higher, older road, much the nicer route by the way, and no longer blocked by a huge pine log, as Terry Davis and I had found it several years ago. Ron and I stopped at Helester Point and enjoyed the views, up to Snow Mountain, Tinkers Knob, Lyon and Needle peaks, and Little Bald Mountain. Some rocky crags on the verge of the North Fork canyon, just east of Tadpole Canyon, caught our eye; they look like they would offer some especially fine views. They are near, but above, the eastern terminus of the old Iowa Hill Canal, the line of which we could see, faintly, up near the Beacroft Trail.

We could also see more to the north, to Bowman Mountain, Grouse Ridge, and the Black Buttes.

All along Sawtooth Ridge one is treated to views into either the North Fork or the NFNFAR, and we would sometimes stop and scan the terrain with binoculars and sort out which canyon was which: there lies Fulda; there is where the NFNFAR drops in waterfalls into the Gorge of Many Gorges; there is Texas Canyon; there are the cliffs of the Railroad Tracks in Space Mine; and so on.

After reaching Texas Hill, we drove out past some rather major hard-rock diggings with large piles of angular quartz, presumably unprocessed ore, in search of still other hard-rock workings, where I.T. Coffin had one of his two cabins, and where he would use the blacksmith shop to "put steel" into crowbars and other mining tools. However, I misremembered the roads, and we missed these other diggings, and found ourselves instead on a road which drops into lower Burnett Canyon. So we gave it up and hit the homeward trail.

Such was a day in a wild and beautiful area, much scarred by logging, and most notoriously and terribly scarred by recent clearcuts. I would like to see this area treated much more gently; I would like to see We the People purchase the private inholdings; I would like to see timber harvests done in the snow, so that the land underneath is left untouched, not churned up into a miasma of sickening skid trails and roads. I would like to see the NFNFAR get Wild & Scenic River designation. There are limits, or there should be limits, on which areas are suitable for timber harvests. To my way of thinking these limits have already long been exceeded on much of Sawtooth Ridge and, for that matter, over across the NFNFAR on the Lost Camp Ridge.

There are limits, or there should be limits, on the proliferation of roads. To my way of thinking there are already far too many roads.

So, looking towards the future, I can imagine a Sawtooth Ridge in which much less timber is harvested, and many roads are closed. Let Helester Point be the most-westerly part of the ridge open to vehicular use, and let the jeep trail to the west lapse back into a foot trail. Not an OHV trail, a foot trail, a foot and equestrian and mountain bike trail, let's say. Let the timber harvests continue in selected areas on the higher parts of the north side of Sawtooth, but none at all on the south, North Fork side. But for God's sake, let the timber harvests take place only in the snow, or using such methods as do not tear up the slopes. And have a care for the old trails.