Fall trip to the Northwest 2010

NEVADA CITY TO MT LASSEN NP

SEPT. 7, 2010Tuesday.

You know how some days just don't start right? And don't get much better as the day grinds on? The gardener didn't show up. The frustration of finding that the $1,000 fix on the automatic levelers isn't working properly was only surpassed by Gail spending over an hour trying to upload to the iPod the download from Audible books, with no luck. Which resulted in a very late start and then a trip to the library to get some books on tape for the journey. (Gene maintained his cool through all this and was very supportive...until later.)

And the shakedown of the first few miles didn't go so well either. I hadn't harnessed Lucy, the hood wasn't completely latched, and the drivers in the library parking lot were making the Driver crazy. Eager to get going, he drove off without his seat belt on and had to buckle up while managing our 6 tons of metal, fiberglass, rubber and household.goods. Which drives the Passenger crazy. It doesn't help that the 'jacks down' light came on, Gene's hat slid off the shelf above, boink, and the ear piece on Gail's glasses came loose. We had just reached Highway 20 in Grass Valley.

This east to west highway across our part of Northern California is much improved from its earlier narrow twisted route, but the sight of fresh scorched earth, a cross and flowers testified to its still dangerous nature. The frustrations of the morning and the pushing of cars and trucks behind leads the Driver to go faster than he might, and the Passenger in the second seat to express her terror in bad language. But, reaching Woodruff Lane, we entered a world of little traffic, lush greenery, and harvest machinery waiting near the grain silos for ripening crops. The occasional BUMP sign doesn't do justice to this beat-up road.

Highway 70, south to north between Yuba City and Oroville is a fruit and nut orchard corridor, with truck farms off to the side. Walnut, pistachio, olive, peach, nectarine, apricot, plum and kiwi...then signs for melons, corn, tomatoes, and lots of fruit stands and a roach coach or two. Names on the properties were Italian, Mexican, Mormon (Desert Farms), and others. Mariani drying sheds numbered at least three. There was a tree nursery of several acres . And suddenly we were out of green and into golden fields of baled hay with a second crop growing. Oroville Dam loomed ahead, signs for the casino flashed by, and Red Bluff was next.

Highway 36 heads east out of Red Bluff toward Manton, our destination for the night. Drove Manton Road to the Indian Peak Vineyards on Forward Road where Donna and Fred Boots met us at their wine barn and tasting room. We were their first Harvest Hosts guests, and this was our first www.harvesthosts.com try at dry camping on private property. The Boots were most gracious and over several tastes of wine they had made, from their own and neighbors grapes, we heard their story. And bought three bottles of wine, which they insisted we didn't have to do, but after 'tasting' the equivalent of a glass or two apiece, we decided it was a good idea. These grandparents and entrepeneurs have spent the last 7 years planting growing harvesting and wine making, while living in a small trailer next to the wine barn. Sold their Cottonwood home at the peak of the market, retired from their jobs, quit commuting, and settled in to work their buns off. Very good wine, by the way.

SAVE THE EARTH...IT'S THE ONLY PLANET THAT MAKES WINE

Wednesday. What do you know, it's raining! Woke to a downpour, but soldiered on over small country roads ever climbing to Shingletown (Hwy 44), past the Wild Horse Sanctuary, and Mt. Lassen National Park. Not a local rain this, reports from all over northern Northern California were the same. So there goes our plan to drive slowly and hike through Lassen. I mean it's pouring. As the ranger said, the mountain makes its own weather. Ah well, time to catch up from the rigors of packing and leaving, take the day off and read Sunday's paper. Settled down in an almost empty campground, levelers working OK now, and then discovered we were almost out of propane....which fuels the stove, the furnace, the hot water heater, the refrigerator. Bolted for the nearby store....no propane. Back to Shingletown, down the highway about 15 miles, and returned, mission accomplished. Still pouring. Good DVD, good wine, nice supper, warm and cozy.

Thursday. The plan is to drive, hike, picnic our way through this lovely park from the NW corner to the SW corner, and head for the coastal redwoods. Our ancient Interagency Senior Pass leaves us feeling a bit guilty for free admittance to all national parks and half price dry camping to boot, but then, we pay taxes, don't we?

　Thursday con't. No rain! A late start on the drive/hike through Lassen, and on the first part of the drive we heard a mysterious thumping and bumping from underneath the kitchen. Although the Driver spread a blanket and crawled under Betsy by the side of the road, no reason for mysterious sound could be found. So on to Bumpass Hell overlook. Well done signs explained Mt. Tehama, a huge volcano, imploded eons ago, leaving a ring of mountain peaks surrounding the caldera in which we stood....Mt. Conrad, Brokeoff Mountain, etc. It looked daunting from where we stood, but the guide book said the 1.5 mile hike (3 mi. RT) was moderate, so off we went over rocky narrow trails on the edge of the caldera with views of forests below and beyond, peaks and valleys in the far distance. A small gain in elevation over the rocky scramble, then a sharp drop down into the steaming pools of sulfurous (read, stinky) and noisy fumeroles and boiling mud pots. The boardwalk kept us from straying into dangerous ground. Poor Kendall VanHook Bumpass lost his dream of turning this area into a tourist attraction in the mid-19th c, along with the leg that fell through the crust into the boiling liquid below. Plenty of people on the trail, although I thought it was cold, in the mid 50's. And surprisingly, lupine still in bloom on the sunny slopes. Huffed and puffed our way back out and felt good about our 1.5 hour excursion until we met a group who had already climbed Mt. Lassen and were going to amble to Bumpass Hell. Oh, well, we're old.

Mineral is the tiny town at the SW entrance to Mt. Lassen Volcanic NP, and we spent our third night of dry camping nearby at Battle Creek NFS campground. The Driver prefers hookups but is clever enough to bring a 'water thief' so we can put water directly into Betsy via our hose and this gadget, which keeps coming off the faucet-with-no-threads and dowsing the 'thief'. Another frosty night makes me glad to be in the woods in a fiberglass box with a furnace and not in a tent or a dreary freeway motel. For entertainment there are always other campers....the elderly couple (by that I mean even older than we are) riding around the campground loop on their fold-up bikes, the campground host(ess) dressed for work leaving at 8 a.m., men with long grey beards and cammies (the sign did say Hunters Welcome on a dreary rv park nearby), the squirrels carrying bright green moss for their winter nests, bird calls, tall trees.

Friday Sept. 10 In under an hour, we dropped 4000 feet in elevation and rose 25 degrees in temperature as Highway 36 took us into Red Bluff for emptying and filling. It's a very mild 75-80 degrees in this normally blistering part of the upper Sacramento Valley. The 'downtown' is somewhat threadbare; all the new shops are on the outskirts in the shopping centers with the big box stores you would expect, plus eateries and entertainment. Crossing both I 5 and the wide and beautiful Sacramento River, we chose Hiway 36 to the coast. The scenery along this route is why California is called green and golden, with dry grass hills, pastures and green trees and bushes. Add pines, manzanita, oaks, berry bushes and cottonwoods and you can see where the water flows. In the middle of nowhere is the R Ranch, with a store, an R Ranch RV lot, the R Wild Horse Ranch, and a few other enterprises. Evidence of a long ago forest fire travels alongside for miles and miles. Then the appearance of Digger Pines tells us we are at about 1,500 to 2,000 feet elevation as we climb and twist our way up the Coast Range. Higher elevations bring taller trees; signs point to Hayfork and Rat Trap Gap, both of which intrigue but don't take us off course. Roads have numbers, not names. The Traveling Wilburys and Bonnie Raitt provide background music. At Mad River there are increasing signs of habitation..farms, church, fire department, grazing horses, abandoned logging sites, trailer park and an air strip with a single orange wind sock. Past Dinsmore miles of narrow, bumpy, winding road with no center line, steep drops on the Passenger side, and at one blind curve, a semi coming the other way in the deep and towering forest. Time for this more than 100 mile trek to end! Brake check areas make me nervous especially when followed by a 10% grade sign and the heart-stopping twisting drop and 10 mph curves. After hours of this, Hwy 36 has begun to lose its charm. But the road levels a bit, shoulders and a center line reappear. Mellowed out with Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto we finally drop down at Hydesville into a lush agricultural valley, just before Hwy. 101, over the Eel River, past a thriving lumber mill at Scotia, on our way to Weott and the Humboldt Redwood State Park. I won't bore you with the details of landing for the night, but just know we went 14 miles out of our way searching for the campground, and once there discovered we had left the windshield privacy cover at last night's camp. And the fees for camping at CA state parks are now $45.00. Oh well. No more guilt feelings about not paying enough.

Saturday Sept. 11 The rumble strip on Hwy 101 N took our front right hub cap and although the Driver was good enough to turn around (twice) and we found two hubcaps, neither was ours. Now we have two left. Before the bad start to the day, we walked through magnificient Coast Redwoods, grove after grove named for major donors, mile after mile. Walked to the Giant Tree, the Flat Iron Tree, whose fallen oval trunk sections in places measures 7.5 feet high by 17. feet wide.

Scotia's lumber mill company town houses look well cared for. Lovely weather up the coast past Fortuna and the Ferndale turn-off, before the fog started. Through Eureka (no freeway bypass for this town) where the fog lifted, and 10 miles further descended again. The Scenic Byway took us through more magnificient redwood groves, past the Elk preserve, with warnings about how big they are and how fast they can run...35 mph. There are hundreds of REALLY BIG TREES, deep groves of tall redwoods, mile after mile. Sunlight filtered through and illuminated the trees and their understory of fern and dogwood...beautiful

A fuel and coffee stop in Klamath at the Yurok Tribe Fuel Mart Pem Mey, where discounts are only for tribe members. The young man behind the counter said folks around there think 9/11 was all a lie. Yep. Do those people vote? Crescent City seems a bit more sophisticated although the WalMart doesn't have a copy machine because people kept breaking it. Honest. Trying to find fresh salmon but the local stores don't carry it and the dock isn't open. Salmon season ends Wednesday, so we're hoping maybe in Oregon? And the Tsunami Area signs don't frighten us, but they are a little disconcerting. Cool campground on the edge of town, Village Camper Inn, private, quiet, wooded, with all the hook-ups necessary at half the price of the State Park.

Hard to imagine that we are so caught up in the mundane, after watching the History channel last night and seeing the archive of videos from 9/11. The flags at half mast all day reminded us of the horror of 9 years ago...and the heroism.

Sunday is Oregon.