Palomarin to Bass Lake and Alamere Falls, August 20, 2012

Hike 5, August 20, 2012. Habitat: Ocean Shoreline. Trails: Coast Trail and Alamere Falls Trail. Distance: 7 miles

Coast Trail bluffs looking south

In August, we got in three consecutive hikes, camping out at Samuel P. Taylor State Park (which also let us sneak some redwoods into this project). We reserved a campsite for  three nights, feeling extravagant--not so much for the expense as for the time off work--and prepared to make the most of it.

For fifteen years, we've marked the beginning of the Jewish month of Elul, the month of preparation for judgment on Rosh HaShanah and renewal on Yom Kippur, with a ritual dip in Bass Lake. We always try for an early start so we can take possession of our preferred beachhead. We always figure that camping somewhere nearby will help. And we rarely reach the trailhead before 11:00, no matter what we do.

Palomarin Trailhed is at the southernmost end of the park, involving a half-hour-plus drive from the Visitor Center. You follow Highway 1 about nine miles, including a winding, eucalyptus-lined descent that we call "The Bends," take the Bolinas turn-off but instead of continuing into Bolinas, turn right for another four and a half miles on a road that narrows and winds and turns to gravel, passing Point Reyes Bird Observatory's field station and finally ending at the trailhead parking lot.

Palomarin trailhead

We were on our way about 10:00--on track to hit the trailhead close to 10:30--well, by 10:45. A few miles along, we encountered: a road construction project stretching several miles and involving much back and forth of trucks and workers. That left just one lane open; we had to wait half an hour for our turn to pass through. We fumed lightly, then read aloud while we waited

We reached the trailhead a little after 11:00. Even so, we were among the first cars in the parking lot. It does help to do this on a weekday.

Overlooking the ocean

 The trail to Bass Lake is one we know pretty well by now: through a eucalyptus grove, out to bluffs overlooking the ocean, around two canyons, one shallow, the next deeper, with a mini riparian woodland at Bridge #2; inland, up through an evergreen tunnel and over a saddle, descend through Douglas firs, then alders and finally willows as you come out above the lake. There's a lot more habitat variety in this stretch than the Trails Challenge classification "ocean shoreline" suggests.

Maintained trail

Heading into the first canyon, we saw that the brush along the trail had recently been cut back--not a lovely effect in the moment, but the signs of maintenance were reassuring.

The lake access trail is unmarked. We figure that's by way of disclaiming responsibility for an attractive nuisance: swim at your own risk, and don't say we encouraged you. (Psst: this is the best swimming hole in hundreds of miles.) You don't see the Bass Lake sign till you've already turned off and are approaching the clearing at the first main access point. Around the west side, there's a tree with a rope swing. We've never tried it. Always thought we would some day.

Every year, we find the lake's shoreline changed. It seems to me that in the 80s there was a grassy sward at the northeast corner that you could sun on. Not now. And the trail leading down to our spot has been getting steeper and more overgrown year by year. Stephen has more trouble now with the scramble, but the hiking poles (which he didn't have last year) helped a lot. Reaching our spot, we found the bank steeper this year than last, too.

Bass Lake

When we arrived, we had the lake to ourselves. Red dragonflies skimmed and drifted and coupled in midair. Across the lake, a white bird (gull?) skipped across the water making showy splash nabs. As we lunched and talked, fog blew in on a chilly breeze. We looked at the darkening water and the awkwardly steep bank, shivered, and seriously considered "Let's not and say we did." But we did. The bottom dropped off steeply a foot or two out--also a change. The water was cool and clear, as always. Once we're in it, we're never sorry we took the trouble. Climbing out up the steep bank, however, was a project.

The walk to Bass Lake and back is five miles, which used to be short for us. Most every year, we've considered going on to Alamere Falls. And every year, we've run out of time. It took the magic words "Trails Challenge" to get us there. Stephen had never taken that trail; Alice had been there before we got together, which means it's been thirty years or more.

Pelican Lake

Coast Trail continues through lovely-dark-and-deep woods into high open country, passing Pelican Lake and turning to parallel the coastline. Alice's recollection was of an unsigned trail to Alamere Falls--again the "attractive nuisance" theory, since to actually see the falls you'd need to scramble down precarious cliffs. But this year there was a sign. It said "Alamere Falls Trail. Unmaintained Trail. Dangerous Conditions."

Unmaintained trail

We quickly saw what this meant. "Unmaintained trail" means clearance between bushes is barely two feet. "Dangerous conditions" means a good number of those bushes are poison oak.

We edged through the narrow clearance, gingerly pushing aside a wayward poison oak branch.







As far as I remember, in the 70s Alamere Falls Trail was all open grassland. Even now, the bushes give way before long to wide open headlands with lots of wildflowers and inspiring sweeps of hillside. The trail ends at a deeply furrowed dirt bluff overlooking the plateau from which Alamere Creek falls forty feet to the beach.

Looking down at Alamere Falls

So OK: these here would be the real "dangerous conditions." To reach the plateau, it looked like you'd need to scramble down those dirt furrows. To actually see the falls, you'd have to descend from there to the beach. I may have done that in my youth. I'm not sure, so probably not. Bay Area Hiker says it can be done, but the description of the route (especially of the descent to the beach) is not encouraging to geezers. We admired what we could from where we stood, then turned around.

When we reached the junction with Coast Trail, we flopped inelegantly on the dirt for a pick-me-up rest. Two women emerging after us asked if we were OK. We were. They said, "Isn't it gorgeous?" We said yes. They went on. Wait a minute, we thought: we didn't pass them on the trail. They must have been down on the beach. That's what they meant by gorgeous!

Rested, we headed back the way we'd come. The hike back went smoothly. Toward the end, we chatted with a ranger, who advised us to approach the falls by way of Wildcat Camp and a beach walk. That would add three miles--kind of a deal-breaker.

The home stretch

Anyhow, yay for us: seven miles with no mishaps! This time it was Alice who suddenly felt tired during the last half mile, and didn't even think of taking the wheel as usual for the drive back. Stephen didn't think of that either, which seemed like a good sign.




We wondered what would happen when we reached the highway construction project on the way back. Another delay? Should we hang out in Bolinas till we were sure they'd be done for the day? But--then what? Wouldn't the uinder-construction lane still be impassable, and the other lane still need traffic direction, like, all night? How was that going to work? With some trepidation we started back that way--there is no other road to Sir Francis Drake, unless you want to drive up and over Mount Tam--and were amazed and delighted to find the work all done and that section of road silky-smooth. The contrast of that stretch with the rest of the road made us realize how needed the work had been.

On the way up, we took care to mark the location (near Dogtown) of the trailhead for Teixeira trail up Inverness Ridge, which we planned to hike on Wednesday -- a brand new trail for us. The trailhead looked about the size of a traffic turnout. We'd need to stay alert.

Back at camp, we took turns showering with the only soap we had between us, Alice's facial cleanser,  hoping it would wash off any poison oak we might have picked up  Fortunately, we probably managed to avoid it, because I don't think the soap would have worked very well.

Practical lessons for road and trail:
1. Seven miles is doable.
2. Alamere Falls is approachable along the beach from the north.
3. Never be caught without Fels Naphtha.

Total habitats visited: 3. Total miles hiked: 27.

Our fundraising page: Foothill Marmots in Point Reyes Trails Challenge
 

Mount Wittenberg - Meadow Trail loop, July 22, 2012

Hike 4, July 22, 2012. Habitat: Coniferous forest. Trail: Mount Wittenberg Trail, returning by Meadow Trail and Bear Valley Trail (a loop, by golly!). Distance: 5 miles.

Ferny understory on Mount Wittenberg Trail

This July day began unpromisingly with a slow start and hot weather. We'd been up late, we were sluggish, we were researching the trails, yada yada. We left the house at noon, still undecided between Teixeira Trail and Mount Wittenberg. We did know a day this hot (high 80s, I guess) called for either evergreen shade or ocean breezes--not open grassland or scrub. (Yeah, we know: we already did coniferous forest.. But actually, we're shooting for five habitats and fifty miles.)

For the first time, we found traffic backed way up at the spot a mile or two short of Olema where one lane has been out for about a year. We took the recommended detour through Point Reyes Station--a lovely drive, but it lost us another half hour. That tipped the balance in favor of the Mount Wittenberg hike, which starts right out of the Visitor Center.


At the Visitor Center, the midday stillness was downright oppressive. Two or three turkey vultures circled low. The only other fauna we encountered there were one acorn woodpecker (seen, not heard), some wasps sharing the faucet where we filled our water bottles, and a little blue-white butterfly that settled on Stephen's hand. We stretched a bit, applied sunscreen, and went to pack for the hike.


More setbacks emerged: Stephen found he'd forgotten his fanny pack. Alice realized she'd forgotten the Ace bandage she usually winds around her right knee, especially for climbing. Stephen improvised a backpack--just for a water bottle--by putting his arms through the handles of a cloth shopping bag we found in the trunk. Worked fine. There is no known substitute for an Ace bandage, so Alice just hoped for the best.

Teixeira would have been new to us, but we were glad to be climbing Mount Wittenberg. In the day, our favorite hike was Wittenberg to Sky to Woodward Valley, Coast Trail to Arch Rock, and back on Bear Valley. We just checked that out on the map, and it's 13 miles. Guess we'll never be doing that one again. It would be hard for us now to reach Woodward Valley Trail, one of the prettiest in the park, on a day hike--and our backpacking days seem over.

But Wittenberg can still be climbed.

The mountain trail starts off fairly steeply, just past the Bear Valley trailhead. I wasn't feeling so enthusiastic about vertical gain in the heat. But I'd forgotten how lush the lower slopes of this trail are: shaded by mingled bay trees and Douglas firs, with a ferny understory. Pretty soon a little breeze came up and made a swamp cooler effect with my sweat, and the rest of the trip felt perfectly pleasant.

A tired Douglas fir leans on a laid-back bay.

Finally we met some wildlife: a flock of tiny birds swept into and away from a tree at the far end of the tree tunnel pictured at right, saying "Tit! tidit! dididididididit!" Too small for juncos, tails too short for bushtits. I hate not being able to tell you what they were. But we're not birders, we just take an interest.


The trail climbs through a strip of open meadow, then into more tree cover; Wittenberg Trail meets Z Ranch Trail at ridgeline. A short loop trail leads through Doug firs to the summit. I wasn't sure it was even worth going there. Back in the 80s, the mountain was bare and you could go up and sit there with your lunch and see the Farallones. Now it's all over trees, and you're lucky if you can even find the damn summit. I guess this is the same succession phenomenon that Judith Lowry discusses in Bay Nature magazine in relation to the scrubland in the southern reaches of the park, near Point Reyes Bird Observatory.

Mount Wittenberg summit, highest point in the park at 1407 feet

We went up there, and we found the summit.

Mount Wittenberg trail continuing down

Mount Wittenberg Trail continues down along the ridge for about half a mile, providing some wonderful but unphotographable ocean prospects, to the junction where in the old days we'd have picked up Sky Trail. Today, we turned on Meadow Trail for the descent.

The descent on Meadow Trail

This was a new trail for us, one we'd ignored in the old days when we always wanted to cover as much ground as we could. It turned out to be a lovely trail, even more lush and verdant than the ascent.

This is the moss that grows on, uh, something.

Alice hung back with the camera, trying to document all the different kinds of moss and lichen: "This is the moss that grows on tan bark oak. This is the moss that grows on bay laurel..." Stephen, waiting ahead, started to worry about the delay. And as for all those photos, even though I downloaded them right away, I already didn't know which were which.

Tree hugger: a bay tree winds its limbs around a Doug fir

Over the last half mile or so, Meadow Trail drops about 600 feet. These are the times that try folks' knees. Stephen dug in with his hiking poles. Alice edged down the trail with many personal switchbacks. We survived.












In the last hundred feet of the trail, in the open meadow adjoining the parking lot, just when we'd almost stopped thinking about being "in nature," Stephen spied a pair of American goldfinches, male and female, sitting on a bush just feet from the trail. Not that this is a rare bird, but we've never seen a matched pair so close up, and these sat still to be admired. (But not to be photographed. Ah well.)

Practical lessons for road and trail:
1. It is seldom the case that all is lost.
2. Five miles is good.
3. The best sightings are often right out of the parking lot: stay aware!

Total habitats visited: 3. Total miles hiked: 20.

Our fundraising page: Foothill Marmots in Point Reyes Trails Challenge