11-2-12 Sycamore Valley

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Maureen had borrowed a saddle from her friend in San Ramon, and we needed to return it because it didn't fit Rio. We have found that he is not an easy horse to fit a saddle to. Some time recently, Maureen asked for advice from the guy at Arney's in Crow Canyon. She described Rio's shape and asked what kind of saddle might fit him, and he said nobody makes a saddle like that. By the way, even if you have no interest in horses, you might find it interesting take a look around Arney's sometime. It's like going way back in time, and I always find it amazing that they can fit so much horse stuff into such a small space.

Anyway, we thought that after dropping off the saddle in the morning, we could take Darby for a walk somewhere near there. So we went to Sycamore Valley Park on Camino Tassajara between Blackhawk and Danville, and hiked into Sycamore Valley Regional Park. This park is divided into two sections -- Short Ridge to the north, and the Sherburne Hills to the south. We chose the north section because we could make a make a loop there.

We started off past an elementary school with a playground full of kids making a lot of noise. Soon we were halfway up the ridge and we could still hear them. The trail was kind of steep in places, but it didn't take long to get up high with nice views all around. On the way up, there are some nice oak trees, but on top it is mostly grassland.

Near the top, we passed a guy with two large dogs off leash, but staying close to him. I put Darby on his leash and stepped off the trail a few feet. He said his dogs were friendly, and I replied that mine might not be. Sure enough, one of his dogs had to come over to check out Darby, and Darby replied by growling and lunging at him. Luckily, the other dog backed off and we avoided a fight. We keep running into situations like that, with dog owners who won't leash their dogs and think they are under control, but they aren't. We have ended up with some pretty ugly fights.

Along the ridge, Maureen said that wished she had brought her binoculars. Years ago we watched birds a lot, but we haven't done much of that recently. I looked around and didn't see any birds around. Then, a few minutes later, there were dozens of little birds flitting about in the hillside grass. They were moving too fast to see well, but Maureen said that they were probably goldfinches. Soon I began to notices flashes of bright yellow that confirmed her guess.

After a while, another trail headed back down, and we descended steeply into a little canyon and back to the city park. While we were on the trail, we discussed the question of when does a walk become a hike? We decided that this turned out to be a hike because there were steep hills and it was out in nature. And we decided that this was a nice little hike, but nothing very special.

2.5 mi. -- 600 ft. up and down

10-30-12 Garin

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Today, our vet was coming to our barn to give our horses shots, and check them out. While we were waiting for her to show up, I decided to take Darby for a little hike. We went out on the Zeile Creek Trail, one which we have riden the horses on a couple of times, but it is a bit scary, so we usually avoid it. The scary part is right at the start, where the trail is a single-track with a nearly vertical drop off to the creek about 100 ft. below. On foot, it is no big deal, but on a horse who may spook at anything, the prospect of going off the edge is unnerving. Maureen is especially concerned with Zach, the horse she usually rides, because he is blind in one eye, and she is never sure whether he sees where he is walking.

Everything was in dense fog as we started down the trail. Although we couldn't see far, the mist in the trees was kind of pretty. After about a mile and a half, we reached the upper end of the creek and came out into a grassy valley. As we climbed over the hill and headed back down towards the barn, the fog was even thicker. It was kind of weird walking on a hillside with nothing visible except for a little bit of trail.

Our timing was good. We arrived back at the barn just as the vet was starting to look at our horses.

 

2.8 mi. -- 650 ft. up and down

10-28-12 Black Diamond Mines

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Maureen had volunteered to spend a Sunday working at the snack bar at Golden Gate Fields to raise funds for Horses Honor, a group that rescues unwanted horses. I thought about going along just to watch the races, but decided to go hiking instead. I'll try to go to the races another time.

I wanted to try someplace that I hadn't been to recently, so Darby and I spent about an hour driving to Antioch and Black Diamond Mines Regional Preserve. When we got there I realized that it had been longer then I thought since I had been here -- probably about 30 years.

It didn't look much different than I remembered, but at the Somersville Road entrance, I was told that there was now an underground visitor center, and that dogs on leash were welcome there. So Darby and I walked a short ways up the hill past mounds of tailings to the entrance. After going through a tunnel, we came into a room carved out rock with interesting displays about the mining history of the place. I thought it was very nicely done.

Nearby, there was a sign for a trail leading to the Hazel-Atlas mine where they lead mine tours. I wasn't interested in a tour, but I thought I would check out the mine entrance. It had a concrete portal similar to the visitor center entrance. Apparently lots of work has been done to make these mines safe for visitors in the years since I was here before, when there were only fenced off open holes.

The Chaparral Loop Trail continued steeply up the little canyon, climbing over sandstone boulders. Most of these hills north of Mt. Diablo are steeply rounded grassland with a few oaks here and there. But here in the mining area, the terrain looks much different -- rugged, rocky hills with chaparral and pines. It feels kind of more like the Sierra foothills than the bay area.

At the top of the ridge, I turned right, intending to make my way to the Black Diamond Trail. To get there, I had to descend a couple hundred feet into another little canyon to the Manhattan Canyon Trail, then climb steeply up the other side of the canyon. From the map, I thought it might be possible to cut across off-trail and avoid this down and up, but I couldn't see any easy way across thick chaparral and very steep slopes. It was a warm day, and getting warmer, and I was sweating pretty good by the time we reached the Black Diamond Trail.

We left behind the steep single-track trails, and continued on a wide fire road. I also noticed that we were leaving the area of rocky chaparral and pines and entering an area of smooth grassy hills with oaks. Gently climbing around a hill, the views to the east showed a dramatic transition between the coal-bearing sandstone layers and the rest of the hills. We could also see far out into the central valley.

I had chosen the Black Diamond Trail partly because I wanted to check out the possibility of reaching the high point of these hills, about a half mile south of the park boundary. I could now see that there wouldn't be any real barriers besides a lot more climbing and the worry of getting caught trespassing. I also considered the possibility of descending off-trail to the Nortonville site to make a loop. I could see down into that canyon, but not enough to see if there would be brush or cliffs. It was hot, and I was tired, so we turned around and headed back down the way we had come.

We followed the Black Diamond Trail all of the way down to the Nortonville-Somersville pass. It was a bit annoying that it was not all downhill; there was some climbing involved too. We walked through the Rose Hill Cemetery, and checked out some of the interesting gravestones of 19th century miners.

Looking at the map, I realized that we had visited only a small portion of the park. I hiked most of the trails there years ago, and I'll probably check them out again, but I was quite satisfied with what we had seen today.

4.3 mi. -- 1000 ft. up and down

10-20-12 Las Trampas

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Maureen was going to be working all day, so it seemed like a good time for Darby and I to go for another hike. I had recently been looking at the EBRPD map of Las Trampas, and noticed that they had added some land at the southern end of Las Trampas Ridge, and that there was a new park entrance in Danville. It was new to me anyway -- it has probably been there for a while.

The morning was very foggy, but I didn't feel like waiting, so we drove out to Danville about 10 am. The park entrance is very easy to find. From the Sycamore Valley exit on 680, go straight west through the shopping center onto Remington Loop, and look for a gated road between houses.

Here in Danville, the fog was clearing. We started out in bright sun, but we could see the fog breaking like a wave over the ridge and hiding the top. The trail starts out steep, and continues climbing steadily up the ridge. Looking back down from the edge of the fog, there was a dramatic view of the valley lit by sunbeams breaking through the fog, and the tip of Mt. Diablo barely showing above it. Then a few minutes later, we were in the fog and couldn't see very far in any direction. As we climbed, we could see what looked like the top just ahead, then another hill would appear from the mist.

Finally, after what seemed like a long climb, we reached the ridge top, and headed north along it. There wasn't much to see -- only a hundred feet or so of the trail ahead and behind us. On previous hikes, the furthest south on the ridge that I had been was the junction of the Del Amigo Trail with the Las Trampas Ridge Trail, so I wanted to make it to that point. The fog began to break up, revealing nice views of the Danville area, as we neared the junction. Finally we were there and we turned around and retraced our route all the way back.

5.7 mi. -- 1600 ft. up and down

10-18-12 Redwood

Maureen was going to lunch with a friend, so Darby and I went out for a hike. It was a very warm day, so I picked a place where it would be at least partly shady -- Redwood Regional Park. I expected that on a Thursday, there wouldn't be many people there, but the Canyon Meadow parking lot was nearly full. I saw a bunch of kids, so I think there was a school group there. We started off up the Canyon Trail and left them behind. After passing a couple of bikes and runners, we had the trail to ourselves. It's a hard, steep climb, but it doesn't last too long, and soon we were up on the East Ridge Trail.

It was one of those days when all of the trees and grass and dry leaves and rocks just seem to stand out more clearly than usual. Everything was placed just as if it was meant to be that way. Maybe that sensitivity comes from looking at things as an artist or photographer. Maybe it was because I had neglected to bring my camera and was noticing all of the potential shots that I was missing. Or maybe it's simply that some days I'm more relaxed and in the present. Anyway, even though it was hot, and there is really nothing too special about the trail, I was really enjoying it.

After a couple of miles, we turned left on the Prince Trail defending steeply back into the canyon and then following the Stream Trail back to the start. I was feeling a bit nostalgic about the three stone huts that used to be along this section of trail. I remembered a couple of times in the late 50's when I camped with the scouts in one of the huts. One time it rained the whole weekend and we spent many hours with a bunch of us cramped into a small uncomfortable space. There is no sign of the huts now, but there are a couple of newer wooden structures of a similar size. Maybe some day I'll try to find out what happened.



 

4.3 mi. -- 1100 ft. up and down

9-6-12 Sunol

 

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Only a few days after my last day of work and the beginning of my retirement, I wanted to take advantage of my new freedom and go for a hike. It was a hot day, but I didn't want to let that stop me, so I headed for Sunol. On the freeway, I realized that I had only three dollars cash with me and I would need a $5 entrance fee plus a $2 dog fee to get into the park. I found a convenience store with an ATM in the town of Sunol, and then drove to the Regional Wilderness.

I quickly discovered one of the advantages of being retired and having weekdays free. This being a Thursday, the entrance kiosk was closed, so I got to keep my money, and the place was almost deserted, with only a couple of cars in the parking lot and no one around.

It had been a very long time since I had been up the Flag Hill Trail, so I decided to try it. Since it was hot ( probably mid-90's), I let Darby splash around in the creek a bit before starting up the hill. I expected it to be a steep climb, and I was right. I was using my usual approach to hills, which is to slow down to a barely moving pace, but even that was not enough, and I had to stop for several rests on the way. In spite of the heat and the hard work, it was a beautiful hillside, with old oaks, golden grass and a blue sky with puffy white clouds. As we climbed, the views got bigger until we could see much of the park below us.

Along the top of the hill there is a band of rocks and cliffs. I remember years ago there being a flag on a pole stuck in the rocks at the top, the origin of the name, Flag Hill. It is gone now. We found some shade in some oak trees near the top, and sat down to eat a sandwich. I often don't bother to take water on hikes, but I did this time, and Darby drank about half of it.

We followed the dirt road down to the barn area that they call High Valley Camp, and then down the Hayfield Road back to the car. The heat and the climbing had taken a lot out of us, and we were both quite happy to be back.

 

      

4.3 mi. -- 1650 ft. up and down

8-13-12 Jack Brooks Horse Camp

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The Easy Bay is not the only place where I like the trails. I like lots of other places. And hiking is not the only thing I like to do on trails. I also ride a horse.

About 7 years ago, Maureen decided that she wanted horses in her life again (she rode her uncle's horses as a teenager). Before long she was spending lots of time being with horses, and I was feeling left out. So after 60 years of knowing next to nothing about them, I learned to ride, and soon we had two horses of our own. We have Zach, an Appaloosa, and Rio, a quarter horse. Both are now 24 years old, which is pretty old for a horse, but they are still in good shape. We also made lots of new friends among the equestrian community, and began going horse camping with some of them. One of the places that we went was Jack Brooks Horse Camp in Sam McDonald County Park near La Honda. It developed into a yearly event -- spending a week there every year with two other couples and their horses.

We usually went to Jack Brooks in early September, but this year we did it in mid-August. On Sunday, August 13 (my birthday), we packed our gear into the truck, went to the boarding stable, hitched up the trailer and loaded the horses, hay and bedding, and drove across the bay. At the campground, we found stalls for the horses, set up camp, cooked dinner -- it was a long hot day and a lot of hard work, but the good part was that we had all the next week to take it easy.

Our usual daily routine was to have a leisurely breakfast and hang around camp until late morning. Then we would saddle up and go for a ride for maybe an hour, maybe two. Then lunch and relaxing the rest of the afternoon. We took turns cooking dinner, so each couple only had to cook every third day. The only other thing we had to do was to check on the horses now and then, feed and water them, and clean stalls. Not really too much work.

It's really a beautiful place, on top of a big ridge covered with redwood and douglas fir. Around the campground there are grassy clearings with great views of the mountains all around. Most of the trails go along the ridge or down into the canyon of Pescadero Creek, about a 1000 ft. drop.

On two of the days, Maureen and I rode the Brook Trail Loop, which goes down into the canyon and back, mostly on single-track trail, often across very steep mountain sides. On the way down, we avoided some of the single-track by following a parallel fire road because we had been warned about yellow-jacket nests along the trail. Two years ago, one of our camping group, Norma, was thrown from her horse and broke her wrist after the horse was apparently stung. So we didn't want to take any chances with that. Near the bottom of the canyon, there are some old-growth redwoods with some very large trees, but the rest is all beautiful forest too.

 You can do this trail as a hike by starting at the Sam McDonald park headquarters, and going an additional 3/4 mile to the horse camp. My first visit to this area was done this way. In the mid-70's, I was working with Tom Taber doing maps for his "The Santa Cruz Mountains Trail Book". We did several hikes together gathering information for the book. My brother Richard, Tom, and I hiked the Towne Fire Road all the way to Pescadero Creek, and then back up Jones Gulch and through the YMCA camp there. The park had only recently been opened, and was only minimally developed, so we were semi-lost a good part of the way. I never forgot what a beautiful area this was, and I'm glad that I can still enjoy it today.

6.0 mi. -- 1450 ft. down and up