Trip Date: July 4, 2013
Boat camping with my children has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life. Camping out of the canoe is a wonderful experience – full of good vibes from being on our own, independent, self-propelled, away from people, using an ancient form of travel, on a beautiful body of water, and with your children, or child in this case. That is a sweet combination.
One of the happiest, most fulfilling moments in my life was when my children, both my son and daughter, told me they wanted to go camping. My son and I drove into the Mendocino National Forest where I worked while I was going to college at Humboldt State University. The Mendocino is a very special place to me – not only because I know it well and have many great memories of working and playing throughout its borders, but now my son and I camped there.
This time, however, it was my daughter who suggested we go camping. She was a bit apprehensive about my suggestion of canoe-camping at first, but after she told lots of people what we were doing, she knew she couldn’t chicken out and have to face all those people, and I think she got a little more excited about the idea as time went on. And I know she is glad we did it – we had a blast.
We had originally intended to go for 3 nights, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday July 3, 4, and 5. I haven’t gone anywhere on the 4th of July weekend since I was a kid – mostly to avoid the crowds and traffic and drunk drivers. Also, Rancho Cordova always had a cool small-town parade and carnival in the park which was right behind our house so we could walk to the parade route, then walk through the park, and eventually let the kids stay there and hang out with their friends (meaning cause 4th of July type mischief and fool around at the river, etc.). So when the kids were young, we usually stayed home and did the parade, the carnival, and then watched the fireworks show at night from our back yard – sometimes from the hot tub.
But as the children got older and became young adults, they began to have similar schedules and conflicts as adults do, so trying to get a few days in a row when we both could get away was tough. After much conferring and scheduling and unschduling, we realized the 4th of July weekend was the best we were going to get. My wife was going to be out of town, so that cleared a big load, and the annual gathering in St. Helena was postponed, and this is when Haley could get away, so this is when we were going to go. At least, by leaving Wednesday, we would beat the hordes up the hill.
So much for that plan. I could not do all I needed to do over the weekend before, which pushed some of that into Monday and Tuesday and there was no way I’d be ready and packed by Wednesday morning. I gave up trying and called Haley Lynne. All of Wednesday was needed to clean up from the previous camp trip, buy groceries, get gas, grab the stuff we needed, load and pack the truck with the camping stuff and the canoe stuff. It was a good decision and really the only decision.
We got an early start Thursday morning, on the road by 7:00, and we were amazed at how little traffic there was- it being the 4th of July and all. We cruised out Highway 16, then South on Highway 49, The Golden Chain, then East on Highway 4 without any traffic or congestion – it was almost surreal how few people were out and about. My goal was to get through Arnold without a massive traffic slowdown, and we did that way quicker than I ever imagined and we were up into the Sierra’s and Stanislaus National Forest in no time. The road to Union, Utica, and Spicer reservoirs, Forest Route 7NO1, Spicer Meadow Road is well marked and paved, so that stretch went quickly as well. We soon were at the turnoff onto Forest Route 7N75, a good dirt road that leads up to Union and Utica Reservoirs – only 2 miles to go. After a mile or so we came to a fork – Union to the right (staying on 7N75) and Utica to the left, turning on to Forest Route 7N17. Right we went and soon came our first surprise – signs for 2 campgrounds along the south shore of Union. When did that happen?
I was at Union Reservoir several years ago with a couple of buddies. One of us must have known this was a popular place because we brought a wheel barrow and hand truck so we could haul our gear away from the parking lot a bit to get some privacy and seclusion (the boys need privacy and seclusion – do not ask why). We had a most memorable trip – beautiful weather and lake and fantastic hike around the lake to the opposite shore. I vividly remembered the numerous long fingers of granite reaching far out into the lake framing many little bays and inlets, some of which also had small islands not far off shore. I was struck how beautiful it was and what a great place it would be to paddle around. There is a 5 MPH speed limit and there might be a 5 HP motor limit, if not a restriction on all gas engines altogether, but either way, the vast majority of boats were paddlers with a few electric motors.
I also vividly recall one of our friends throwing up great quantities of a red semi-viscous fluid and holding an ice bag to his swollen groin. At least it appeared swollen, but not having a sufficient sample size, we could not be sure. The three of us were ready to spring into action to get him down the hill to medical attention as soon as he said the word, but he kept saying this was something he had been dealing with and it wasn’t an emergency. It looked like an emergency to us, but we took his word for it. Both conditions seemed to calm over the course of an hour or so, a tense period of time for sure, but before too long, the patient was asking for a cold beverage and we knew his condition had improved sufficiently to relax and enjoy the rest of the trip – there was much rejoicing.
I also distinctly remember coming back to the truck for more wood or water or something and seeing a massive bear paw print on the rear passenger window. There was no damage, just the prints of a bear who must have been poking around for food and thought maybe he’d see if the windows were secure. That area was filed away with a note that I should definitely return to explore the lake more and hopefully get to the far side to camp. And so it was. I was really happy to be able to return, even if it was on the 4th of July, because so often that opportunity does not materialize. So here we were, excited to be with Haley and back at the reservoir, but a tad confused and bewildered nonetheless.
There was no campground the last time I was here – I was sure of that. I don’t remember Utica Reservoir or the sign for it or the fork in the road at all, or the signs for Spicer on the main road, so who knows. Much had changed, but so far, nothing that would impact our trip. I was real surprised to see the signs and leave the access road to drop to the lakeside campground loop. It had maybe 20 sites, fairly spacious and spread out, with some amount of underbrush that afforded some level of privacy. It really wasn’t bad. There was no boat ramp, but there was a wide flat spot at the water’s edge that we pulled into, unloaded, and then drove back up the road to a little parking area. Not many people were around and there was plenty of room to move about, maneuver, unload, pile and organize the gear, park, etc. It was just real smooth and easy.
We were probably on the water in half an hour. We had to pack our clothes and sleeping bags into dry bags (water tight bags specifically designed for water travel) and minimize the supplies we brought to some extent, but we certainly had everything the two of us needed for two nights of camping out. We were as space conscious as we could be and mindful of weight and balance issues, but we got the ice chest, one plastic container of kitchen stuff, briquettes, two small camp chairs, two tents, two sleeping pads, two tarps, five sleeping bags, two card tables, and two containers of water – a 2.5 gallon jug of store-bought drinking water and a 7 gallon jug of hose water (you can drink this, but it is mostly for washing, cooking, and dousing the fire when we leave). The only stuff we couldn’t get in the canoe was the firewood we brought, but judging from what we could see of the area we were headed for, we could probably scrounge wood, or possibly return to the truck to get it later if need be.
I was ecstatic and Haley was relieved I think that it was as quick and easy as it was. It was maybe noon and we were paddling across the lake; calm, blue, quiet, simple. Some clouds were building in the East, but otherwise the weather and elements in general were just about perfect. The West shore on our left side (as we headed North-ish) was a steep forested slope right down to the water’s edge – not a place to camp. In front of us, kind of the Northwest corner of the lake was the dam and a large group of people were camped back in there. The majority of the lake stretched out to the Northeast. With both campgrounds side-by-side on the South shore, and having camped on that side on the prior trip, we figured we wanted to find a place on the North-northeast shore to get the feeling of boat camping, away from people, and with a little peace and quiet on the 4th of July weekend.
As are so many things, distance and work sometimes constitute a double-edged sword. I was mentally prepared to paddle about half an hour to find a good camping spot that was far enough away from people. I didn’t mind the thought of paddling for a bit; to get a tiny feel of being self-propelled and pushing our boat through the water, to pretend we were early explorers or residents, to get a little bit of a work out and feel like we had earned our spot. However, I also was dually prepared to do less of the real work and more imagining if that was how it turned out.
Lo and behold, as we passed the dam and rounded the bend to the left/Northeast that allowed us to see the length of the lake off the bow (boat people – that’s the front, right?) before us, the shoreline just to the left (boat people – is that starboard or the other side?) looked mighty appealing. Seemingly out of the wind (which in the Sierra’s comes predominantly out of the West), East-facing (which I love – both to avoid the late afternoon heat and to get the sunrise/early sun), high enough above the current water line (in most of the Sierra reservoirs, you need to be aware of the potential for fluctuating water levels), and enough flat spots for tables, tents, and such. We pulled over to check it out and in no time, called it home.
The big Mountain Juniper in our camp near the water’s edge would shade our central kitchen area. There was a good spot for Haley’s big tent, although it was near the fire ring and the kitchen area, it was in the middle of our site so she would be comfortable. I set up my tent about 50’ away among the massive expanses of granite, a few granite boulders and a few small, scraggly but probably very old Lodgepole Pines. We unloaded the canoe in about 10 minutes – the beauty of containerizing your load, being organized, and doing good preparation work. We kind of had things laid out where we wanted it and were just about beside ourselves – giddy at having found such a great spot so easily in such a small amount of time. This called for a celebratory beverage.
After sitting on the rocks for a few minutes with absolute joy splattered all over our faces, we figured we might as well go back to the truck and get the wood. The trees were fairly plentiful around us, but most of them were 3 feet tall and super spindly – the result of living at 6400’ elevation in the Sierra’s and growing out of cracks of massive solid granite plates. I love these trees, so mangled and gnarly – almost a bonsai effect from the outrageous wind, snowpack, long winters, and short growing seasons. They are beautiful in their tenacious quest for longevity. They did not provide much dead or downed material to burn, and the larger trees tucked away out of the extreme weather down in the ravines, bogs, and meadows were a bit too far away to lug wood, so off we went.
Empty and light, the canoe was moving fairly swiftly through the water. It was great to be paddling with my daughter, in unison, cohesive, uniform, coordinated, efficient… Such joy. In no time, we were coasting into the shore and walking up the road to the truck. We grabbed the entire garbage can full of firewood, laid it down mid-ship (not quite in the hold because I don’t think a canoe has a “hold”), and headed back with our cargo. With our newfound confidence and enthusiasm, we headed straight across the lake, out over the open water, having lost the sense that we should hug the coastline or be cautious any longer.
In just a few minutes, we were back in camp, happy to find the site not to have been invaded by campers, sunbathers, boy scouts, or hikers. We were feeling a bit close to the masses, especially since we had just gone over and back in a few minutes – the body of water between us did not seem enough anymore. We “secured the perimeter” by leaving a chair, clothes line, jug of water on the outer edges of our space and set up camp to clearly establish occupancy, all but assured that we were good for the weekend. After an hour or so, the tents were up, bags and sleeping gear and clothes inside the tents; table, stove, lantern, utensils, etc. set up in the kitchen; wood, briquettes, grill, ax over by the fire pit; clothes line, water, washing and cleaning gear in the bathroom area. After another celebratory libation, we got to the task of preparing for a hike or a boat ride in the afternoon, and making ready so that we were prepared for the evening upon our return. It was a great feeling.
We agreed to explore just a little in the afternoon and save larger expeditions for tomorrow, our one full day. These mid/higher elevation lakes and reservoirs throughout the Sierra’s are known to get windy just about every afternoon although typically calm in the mornings and nights. We figured today, already almost afternoon, we would just wander about on foot. We would get in the boat tomorrow morning, working around the biggest scheduling consideration, and then see what tomorrow afternoon brought. We were ready to head out.
I am still at the extreme beginner level with my new digital camera, the Pentax K-01, but I am learning ever so slowly. I took a few minutes to fool around with it while Haley packed up some snacks and water. We clambered over the solid granite slabs that formed our peninsula home, towards the low-lying meadows and more heavily forested areas behind us to the West. As we scrambled along towards the dam, we found a beautiful pond – or small lake, just covered with lilies. It was a couple hundred feet across and seemed to fill a lot of nooks and crannies on its edges. It was shallow, with all the lilies in the middle and grasses and sedges along the fingers that reached out onto the granite. This large pond and all the creeks, inlets and flows between and among the granite slabs made us realize our peninsula was really an island – this was even cooler. We had to pick our way around the ponds, basins, and pools, hopping and jumping across to the little trickles of water that connected them like the chain of a beaded necklace, scootching under fallen trees and branches, stopping frequently to gaze and wonder.
Down in the wet areas, the trees were pretty good size – flat ground, lots of moisture and down low – protected from the wind. Some of the trees, almost all Lodgepole Pine, were 30” – 36” in diameter. These were scattered among a few Mountain Juniper and the granite slabs and wet areas. It was a very strange combination of landscapes, like we were in a “Lord of the Rings” movie, but easy going, great exploring and no Orcs! Before long, and not having travelled very far, we heard voices, then more voices and pretty soon lots of singing or chanting or some such thing. We clearly had gone too far.
It sounded like a big group of men and/or boys; maybe a Boy Scout thing or an Altar Boy thing, but whatever it was, we needed not to see any of it or get any closer. It wasn’t scary; it was just a tad creepy and whoever they were and whatever they were doing, we wanted no part of it. We did an about face and with a bit of pace in our steps, we headed East. This led us to a solid granite ledge overlooking either another lily pond or another long finger of the same lily pond we first saw on the backside of the dam. This place was pretty magical. We followed the ledge back to a somewhat familiar spot all the while gazing down to the water, taking in the reflections, the shades and shadows of light, the diversity of aquatic and riparian plant life, the lusciousness and richness of life. This was one of the most enchanted places I have ever been.
We were both feeling pretty special. Everything was great. I was happy because back at camp it was cocktail hour and time to start preparing for dinner. But, I really wanted to take a dip and rinse off and cool down from our exhaustive march. The lake temperature was just about perfect. It took a little effort to get into the water, a little courage to submerge the sensitive bits, but it felt so good. It was especially enjoyable for me because the bottom of the lake was the granite ledge that extended out below the water. There was very little sediment on the bottom, so as you moved around in the water, you didn’t stir up a big muck wave. This made the water all the more clean and refreshing. The test for me is always will I stay in the water once I get in or do I just quickly dip, splash about, and then flee the cold. I almost never put my head under water – both to prevent an ice-cream head freeze and to avoid the ear infections. I love to swim around if I can stand the cold, but this water wasn’t even cold – it was just a perfectly renewing dip.
Now, it was definitely cocktail and cooking hour. It was funny that we hauled all this wood to the camp site and we weren’t going to BBQ anything for dinner and it was pretty bloody warm for a fire. Haley has been a vegetarian for several years until recently, perhaps Father’s Day, when she began eating seafood again. I had prepared an excellent vegetable brew, all from my garden at home ahead of time, something I almost never do for camping trips. One of the great joys of camping for me is to light a fire and prepare some coals, and cook outside on a grill. I love that, so I rarely cook stuff ahead of time, but this being July and all, I thought we’d better play it safe. I bought some shrimps to sauté in butter, wine, and herbs on the gas stove while we heated up the vegetables. The shrimps were absolutely the best I have ever had and we ate so many that we were full and hardly touched the vegetables, but that was OK, they would keep for the morrow.
The usual evening breeze had picked up and cooled the air considerably. It was great to be a tad cool, not just so we had an excuse for a fire, but it cooled us down from all the adventures of the day. The cloud cover also made for a spectacular sunset. The weather predictions included a fair amount of wind and a pretty good chance of thunder storms the first night but more stable weather to follow. But the conditions remained phenomenal. There were tremendous thunderheads off to the East rising thousands of feet into the deep blue sky, but they were really far away and didn’t manufacture any weather, for us anyway.
Staring into the sky with a full stomach, thinking about the 4th of July’s of past and present, radiating from the day and being together just screamed for a camp fire. On the other side of Haley’s massive tent, nearer to the water, was the fire ring. From the fire ring, we had a 220 degree view of the lake, including the shore in front of the campgrounds, which appeared side-by-side from our perspective. Once we got the fire started and got settled, the evening entertainment began; however, our seating was poor. Because we were in the canoe, I didn’t bring the full size camp chairs. (I won’t say the good chairs because I have yet to find one of those). We brought these stadium chairs that didn’t have legs that you needed to balance on rather than lean back comfortably in or push down on the front of the chair with your legs so you could lean back – not real relaxing.
I tried caving in and then sitting upon the plastic garbage can that we brought the wood in, but that was awkward. I sat in the seats of the canoe for a while which are very comfortable for paddling, but not exactly a good resting position and more importantly, way too far away from the fire. Then I rounded up enough energy to roll a stump from the water’s edge that was perfectly smooth on top – a great sitting stump for the fire and fireworks show. Oh the simple pleasures.
We were astounded by how many fireworks there were. There had been many signs warning about the fire danger and reminding everyone that “ALL fireworks were illegal”. But apparently a lot of people missed all of those signs. The shore was aglow with sparklers of many colors; firecrackers exploded on all sides of the lake. One particular campsite along the lake had a huge arsenal – their show lasted a good 45 minutes with all kinds of fireworks. It was beautiful in the darkness, and the reflection across the lake was surreal. Was this all supposed to be happening? Definitely not, but we were super glad it was.
After most of the fireworks died down, we were ready for bed. I am an early to bed early to rise type of guy. I think Haley is generally a little later to bed and a lot later to rise, but this had been a huge day of goodness, and a good night’s sleep was definitely in order. And boy did it come. The nighttime temperatures were perfect. Cool enough to be warm in your bag, yet not at all cold. I always put the rain fly on my tent, especially in the mountains as you can have a thunder shower or a storm come up at just about any time. But, I left both the front and back flaps open to let the air pass through and it made for a fantastic night’s sleep.
The morning brought a great sunrise, although the sun rose a fair piece away from where I thought it would crest the mountains to the East. I had a bet with another early bird which peak the sun would rise behind and it won. I paid my worm debt and we both enjoyed the warmth and light. The water was perfectly calm and smooth, a deep and bright blue. No sound, no motion, just a sweet scent to the air – it was like a Grape Nuts commercial. I got the coffee brewing and had a little nip of the bottle before I trudged off t0 find a spot of soil amidst the granite to dig in. I am glad I left when I did because my search took more time than was allotted. I hobbled up and over the high ground of our peninsula and into a little grove of Lodgepole that offered some soil. It was not a moment too soon as I felt the movement that has been felt by my species for thousands of years. I had a great view of the Lily pond and I was hoping the campers in the site a couple peninsula’s away didn’t have a view of me – but it was way too late for such concern.
By the time I got back to camp, the kettle was hot and coffee was quickly in brew. I went back to my granite perch above the inlet and watched the morning unfold. Bright omniscient sunlight drove off the glow of dawn and morning had come. Small plumes of smoke rose from scattered fires around the lake. The smoke hugged the water and skimmed the surface like a creature from another dimension stretching and exorcising the stiffness of a good night’s rest. The birds were flitting about and chirping here and there, teasing each other into making another bet with me. The ducks were on the move and eventually the geese. A boat hit the water and although the paddles dipped below the surface of the water and dripped from one and then the other, it was unclear whether the boat was on water or in the air – water and sky indistinguishable.
Haley stirred earlier than I thought she would. The zipper breaking the air like it was unzipping the sky. Out she came, ruffled and sleepy and beautiful. She was only semi-conscious – barely enough to navigate a quick potty squat barely out of sight and sound – and back in she went. That moment was exactly what this trip was about; being with my daughter, being safe and comfortable with and around her, enjoying each other’s company in an easy and effortless way. I refilled my cup, repositioned on my rocky perch and settled back into the morning.
I’ve never been one for breakfast, and my little birdy daughter just doesn’t eat much at all, so after a quick breakfast, we began to pack up for the day. We had decided to canoe in the morning before the breeze picked up, and then maybe hike somewhere in the afternoon. We brought plenty of water, lunch, snacks, camera, etc. with us in the boat. We shoved off easily and soon were on our way, gently and easily moving across the water. We passed the huge camp that was next to us, but still several hundred feet away. We passed another section of the artificial dam – a disappointing reminder that this wasn’t a natural lake. We passed several kayaks parked in a group on the shore – assuming this was another camp although we could not see any signs of a camp, smell a morning fire, or hear anything.
On the other side of the lake we could see a few people here and there, but they were remarkably scarce for the 4th of July weekend. Soon we were in a far corner of the lake. The scenery was spectacular – granite ledges, scattered Lodgepole and a few massive Mountain Juniper, with their red/orange fibrous bark, massive trunks, and short stubby canopy. Many of the small inlets and bays around the lake we filled with grasses and reeds and others were full of pine cones, seeds, and pollen that turned the surface yellow. It was very quiet, calm, and still, as no humans were down this end of the lake; although occasionally, a faint voice would be carried the length of the lake on a gentle current.
As we followed along the shore, a number of larger inlets appeared. We followed one until it clearly became more creek than lake. Up we went, narrower and narrower until we barely had enough room to turn around. We had to hold the brush out of way and duck under branches that reached out to catch the light. Back out to the main body of water, we turned up the next passage and the next, exploring each one as much or as little as we liked. We passed over thick grass that concealed the water; through narrow passages between boulders, and skimmed across sandy bottoms in spots not quite deep enough. Into a large bay that led to a smaller bay, which turned into an inlet and finally a creek; we went up into the passage as far as we could, until we could almost touch both sides with outstretched hands. Secluded, shaded, and cool; this was lunch.
We busted out our grub – rolls, cheese, tomatoes, beers, hummus, and granola (and a little roast beast for me). As it turned out, we were fairly close, probably as close as we could get in the boat, to a massive dark monolith we look at from our camp site. It was intriguing because it was so dark- completely different from the light gray of the surrounding granite. We had considered heading inland from the boat to try to scale the rock, or as much of it as was possible/realistic for us, but as we consumed our lunch and sank lower and lower in our seats, and relaxed more and more in the beautiful forested setting with the little brook babbling towards the lake, we found our energy low and the get up and go had already gone.
Besides, there was a breeze already and I was concerned that the breeze might turn into something significant by the time we returned from hiking to the mountain, then part way up the mountain, and then back. All in all we hadn’t paddled long or far, and the direct route back would be much shorter, but the thought of fighting waves, and being concerned about tipping, and worrying Haley, and dealing with all that type of energy did not fit with how mellow the trip thus far had been, so the adventurous return was scrapped for a leisurely paddle along the rest of the shore and then back across the open water while it was still enjoyable and comfortable.
Not attempting the ascent of the monolith, we still wanted to take a hike and had plenty of time to go. I was getting very interested in the body of water that was now understood to be very nearly behind us – Utica Reservoir. I had no recollection of it from the first trip out here, but we caught glimpses of it from our walkabout the day before. Back at camp, I took a little dip to rinse off and had a beverage to celebrate our safe and sane boating excursion, and soon we were preparing for the hike portion of the day to explore Utica Reservoir and points West. We packed fairly lightly, estimating the round trip would be less than 5 miles. We would have Utica to our right side (North) and the road to Utica to the left (West wait – I mean South) and there was no way to miss that or cross it, so I felt confident we wouldn’t get lost, however, I knew there was no trail, and never having been in that country before, did not know about the terrain, vegetation, geography, cliffs, ledges, wetlands, waterfalls, or other impassable landscapes that may lay before us. It was not until much later that I realized Haley was not considering any of these possibilities and had imagined more of a leisurely stroll along the lake.
Haley had the fanny pack and 2 water bottles. I had my day pack, with compass, map, wind breaker, light pants, TP, medical/emergency bag, matches, hat, sunscreen, bug-juice, pocket knife, a little bit of twine, and one beverage – just for medicinal purposes of course. Off we went heading South – no wait it was West, along the dam, through the people’s camp site that blocked the trail, down the bank a couple hundred feet from Union to Utica. This reservoir is long and narrow, generally lying northeast -southwest, with many inlets and small bays. We were coming from the East along the South shoreline and so once we got down to the water’s edge, we trended Southwest expecting to intersect Forest Route 7N17.
At first, it was real easy going. The shore was wide and flat with very little understory bushes and shrubs, making for easy walking, picking our way slowly and casually. We passed the occasional camp that people, some large groups, some small families, had set up after boating in, just as we had done on Union. It was very calm and peaceful. Soon though, the shore became less flat and less gentle, less wide with more Manzanita, Alder and Willow, and we had to take longer detours away from the water’s edge to get up, around, or over. About an hour in, we came to a sizeable bay and we would have to make a sharp left turn to get around it. This also meant climbing, and a significant rock wall was on the left, so we had to decide if we wanted to try to work our way between the lake and the wall, through the thick brush, or backtrack to get some elevation to get on top of the ledge.
Haley was of the opinion to stay close to the water for the sake of the scenery, but I felt like we needed to get a better idea of what we were in for and I didn’t like the thought of heading down through the brush to the water’s edge for the opportunity of beating and busting our way through really thick brush between the cliff face and the water. I thought backtracking over pretty easy country to gain some elevation and a little perspective would be an easier option, at least an easier first option.
Reluctantly, she agreed with my position and off we went, up and over, boulder hopping, and scrambling up some steep granite faces. Soon, we came out on top of a massive granite field, with the reservoir stretching out long and thin off to our right. There was a spectacular island in the middle of the lake, almost shore to shore – a round disk – rising no more than 10 feet above the lake at the highest point – right in the middle, and maybe 75 feet across – leaving maybe 30 feet of water on either side. It had a perfect ring of trees and a perfect row of canoes and kayaks all lined up side by side. It was an idyllic setting as if painstakingly drawn for a vacation advertisement.
And to our left, we got a pretty good view of a lot more water, meaning we still had a long way to go to get beyond the shoreline before we could imagine intersecting the road. It’s not that we got a late start to the hike, nor were we tired, but it was later than I would have liked it to be, and this was part two of what was turning out to be quite an active day. And, it is different when you are hiking with your children. You feel especially cautious, especially careful, and weigh things a tad more than otherwise. It certainly isn’t a burden – it is a joy, but the responsibility factor is significantly elevated. I had no idea what to expect of the terrain. I knew the direction and the approximate distance, and at worst, we would make an about face and go back the way we came. But, that was a last resort – definitely an option if need be – but a last option. From where we were, it appeared the shore continued to be fairly thick with trees and brush, and having climbed a considerable elevation above the lake, I was reluctant to give up the high ground we had earned.
So we continued to climb, heading more and more Southerly, but keeping the lake in view off to our right. We again came to a wall too high and too steep for us to ascend. We had to get creative. We searched back and forth along the wall for a passage or an assist. All we could find were a few exposed tree roots hanging down and a 2 inch lip in the granite. It would have to do. It was fun to have to work like that and hunt and search and discuss the options and consider the alternatives. I think by then, Haley had a better idea of what we had embarked on –not a leisurely walk around the lake on the shoreline trail, but a boonycrashing, overland, do what needs to be done expedition in a general direction to an unknown destination. She got into it and was loving it. I, on the other hand, was a bit of a wreck.
I knew we had plenty of time, and I knew we were prepared, but you just never know what can happen when you are hiking in remote areas. Twist a knee, step on a bee hive, frighten a snake, trip and tumble down a ledge, slice some skin on the Manzanita – I just didn’t want anything to go wrong, especially now when we really would have to work to get help. And being with my daughter, while she is very smart, very fit, and would not panic or make any situation worse, I still felt an additional amount of concern and apprehension to ensure she would not be injured or put in peril because of her old man.
We were doing great and had several mini successes already, so we just kept picking our way. With each obstacle overcome, my confidence restored, I was more relaxed and Haley probably picked up on that. We would stop when we had a good vista to take in the view and get our bearings and celebrate. It was not too long until we heard a rig and saw dust rise from the road. There was much rejoicing. As I look back now, it was a great adventure and one I will always remember with my daughter. But I was very relieved to find that road, even though it surely meant walking back to Union in the hot sun, getting dusted by every vehicle that drove by.
We kept imagining one of the pickups might stop to ask if we needed a ride, but that didn’t happen. It didn’t matter; we were super happy with our trek and apparent success – so long as we didn’t somehow fail to follow this road back to the intersection with the road to Union and retrace our initial drive in to the reservoir a few days back. Everything appears so different on foot as opposed to driving. Even as I walk in my neighborhood, on streets I drive on just about every day, the perspective and the time you have to look at things makes it seem so different – so much more interesting and detailed and layered. Walking in the woods is no different and all the little bits and particulars we observed and talked about made this last leg of our journey pass by quickly and most enjoyable. After a pit stop at the potty house in the campground, we were hiking along the lakeshore, across the dam, over the high point of our peninsula, and back to our little homestead.
Unfortunately, as is often the case in nature, when you leave your home unattended, it is possible for others to encroach, or set up a little too close for comfort. Because I am sensitive to such things, and often make a considerable effort to put some distance between myself and other people, I was fairly amazed others are not more sensitive to this possibility. It was a tiny bit rude, or at least inconsiderate; unconscious or unaware; or maybe they didn’t think they were close enough to cause a reaction, but they definitely were causing a reaction with me. Haley, on the other hand, crawled in her tent and took a nap.
I figured I could mark my area in the usual way, or I could get naked and slowly, ever so slowly, prance about, or exhaust gas as loudly as possible, or begin to talk loudly about any number of awkward and uncomfortable subjects to no one in particular, but I was tired and I didn’t want to risk repercussions. I figured I would just pour myself a cocktail, roam around on that side of our site, wander up near my tent a few times, and keep looking in their direction. After I had exhausted myself protecting our homeland, I needed to relax and go for a dip. What a relief – absolutely outstanding to cool down, let go, and wash off the day’s perspiration and dust. This was much better than huffing and puffing and trying to protect our patch of turf (or granite such as it was).
In an hour or so, much to my surprise, the people packed up and left – having only intended to be in our space for this brief time. The young boys had finally caught a fish and all were very happy; all was good and right in their world. Once they were gone, things vastly improved in mine. My attention soon turned to cooking and organizing a little bit to make packing up easier in the morning. I didn’t want to think too much about the trip being nearly over, but I also had a few places I wanted to check out tomorrow on our way home, so a good early start would be just fine. But let’s not rush.
We had a lot of consuming to do since it was the second and last night and we had tons of food left. It was definitely cooler than the first night, which was welcome, so I got fire and stove going to heat up the vegetable brew we made the night before, to go along with the plant material hot dogs. I didn’t bother making the pasta as we already had plenty. We stoked up the fire pretty good to try to burn as much wood as we could – having brought it all over here. I was snapping some photos and Haley had a little wine, and the evening was spectacular – me and my girl.
I am not sure if the moon was particularly late getting up that night but its beams were barely pushing over the Eastern range of mountains when I was crawling to my tent. It was just a great great day for father and daughter, and my cup was full and my body weary. It was time for an excellent night’s sleep.
I was up and going early again the next morning, a tad melancholy that the trip was winding down, but still excited about the day ahead. I wanted to check out Spicer Reservoir at the end of the pavement a little farther down the road we came in to Union on; I wanted to head further East on Highway 4 and go up and over Ebbetts Pass, and then make our way home along Highway 89, to 88, to Mormon Emigrant and then finally Highway 50; so I was anxious to get going.
We had a nice morning, hanging out, coffee, laughing about yesterday’s hike, and recalling many little moments of the trip. Little by little we packed up, put away, organized, combined, and eventually had just about everything we could fit into the containers and bins. We still needed to make two trips across the lake but it took no time at all to get over there and unload both times. A new group of campers were just getting to the lake, mostly guys my age, and they were assembling at the water’s edge. We struck up a conversation and soon they were climbing in the back of the truck and hoisting the canoe up top. We of course had a few laughs at each other’s expense, and all was good.
In about 20 minutes we were back on the paved Forest Route 7N01 which brought us in from Highway 4. Turning left, away from Highway 4, towards Spicer, we passed another good dirt road, 7N29Y, which brings you in about 4 miles to Elephant Rock Lake and Summit Lake and 2 trailheads to access the Carson-Iceberg Wilderness. I need to take this road someday and get up to these 2 lakes. But, another trip. In another couple of miles we were at Spicer Lake Campground. There are two massive loops in this campground – maybe 100 sites or so. They are big and spacious and most have privacy and shade. There are campground hosts and a lot of people, but it is a very nice set up.
A mile or so beyond the campground is a massive parking area for the boat ramp. The reservoir itself near the boat ramp and the dam is a large oval open body of water and the wind was working hard on the choppy surface. It is completely surrounded by granite, but in more of a bowl, with less inlets and islands – not nearly as interesting as Union or Utica. However, Spicer needs to be explored for its long finger at the far end – maybe 4 miles of very narrow water stretching back into the mountains. Once you enter the finger, no motor boats are allowed as the surrounding land is all designated wilderness. It looks very intriguing on the map and offers an opportunity for another interesting trip.
After checking things out a little, we headed back to Highway 4 and points East. The ride up Highway 4 is beautiful – many meadows and mountain peaks as you get up near Bear Valley Ski and Summer Resort. Just past Bear Valley, we came to Lake Alpine, a large beautiful mountain lake set at about 7300’. It is very busy and congested in the summer months as it sits right alongside the highway and people are parking and crossing the road like it is a little side street. From this point up to the Pass, both sides of Highway 4 are Wilderness – Mokelumne on the north side and Carson – Iceberg on the South. The highway is always wide enough for 2 cars to pass, but not much wider and there is often no dividing lane stripe down the middle. There are few roads to turn off other than a few trailhead parking areas. The road near the top gets really steep, narrow, and twisty until you finally reach Ebbetts Pass. It is a little disappointing because there is no view – just trees on all sides. But a short walk up a dirt road that is closed to motor vehicles provides the expected vista.
The descent down the East side of Highway 4 is something everyone should experience. It is about as close as one can get to the feel of a Falcon diving in an attack on its prey; although a bit twistier and turnier, the rate of descent is similar. Again, the long distance views are less than expected because you are up a long narrow canyon, one more strange aspect of the rugged and jagged East side of the Sierra’s. There are a number of campgrounds towards the bottom and more and more signs of civilization as you intersect Highway 89 at the bottom. Monitor Pass can be crossed further East by turning right on Highway 89; however, we needed to go straight on through Markleeville to pick up Highway 88. Markleeville is a jewel of a tiny town, especially in the summer, as businesses open up to cater to the explorers, settlers, and wanderers of all sorts. There are enough stores, shops, restaurants, and motels, to offer just about anything one might need. Also, Grover Hot Springs is a great place to visit to camp, soak or both.
Beyond Markleeville is Woodford’s at the intersection of 88 and 89, then Sorenson’s at Hope Valley, then up and over Carson Pass. I was telling Haley many stories about past trips and regaling her with many a tall tale. I am sure she was asleep. Past Silver and Caples Lakes and the Caltrans station beyond which Johnny and his buddies used to camp. Soon, we were turning right onto Mormon Emigrant Road and dropping down into Sly Park and Jenkinson Lake that Haley didn’t know existed even though she was there for two environmental camps in junior high (something about raging hormones she said may have distracted her).
Merging onto US Highway 50 at Pollack Pines pretty much marks the end of trips for me. But this one was a little different. Every minute with my girl still counted as being on our camping trip together and I still appreciated every minute. Once home though, I gave her a spanking and sent her to bed – just like old times.
Find this Spot
Union Reservoir Photo Gallery
