Trip Date: November 7, 2018
Find this SpotThis was another in a series of retirement party trips; this one being for Tommy Two Tone. Tom was already back in his home town of San Luis Obispo so we wanted to camp somewhere sort of in between us and him. It was fun to search for options, although there were not that many choices. We decided upon Pinnacles and I was happy to get another crack at a clear and definitive sighting of a Condor. I had only been to the park once before, then a Monument, with Keir on our way home from some other trip. We had lunch in the day use area and grabbed a snack at the store. That was the extent of my knowledge and experience, so I was hopeful to add something substantial to that.
The road through Pinnacles does not exist, so you have to enter from the East or the West. I have only come from the East, off Highway 25, which is a gift worth the drive all on its own. A huge swath of ol’ Californy; swaths of grasslands and oak studded hillsides it is a glimpse into the way back machine. The weather was a bit iffy with rain and cold at home and the potential for very cold at the Park. The real catch was they were not allowing fires even in the park campground, which is ridiculous, fire danger or not, a prime example of government overreach!
No water, no wenches, no firewater, and no fire. What fucking good is the government?
The group camp was no nature preserve to be sure, more like a gravel parking lot between two paved roads, but it had a humongous Live oak, many tables, and a nice open grassy area. This being Thursday, there weren’t any other folks around, which made everything else much less impactful. The boys were gathering and with only food and drink to warm our souls, we gorged on the offerings. The stars were quite spectacular for seemingly being in the middle of the State, but that was just it, we were in the middle; below the bay area and even its new perimeter having grown like a crack fueled rash. And we were well above LA and the whole southern California inflammation. We were well West of the Central Valley outbreak and the Central Coast and 101 corridor has remainder relatively reaction free. Best see it before the resistance is lost.
Without fire, all our food had to be precooked and just reheated on the stoves or eaten cold. I know we did not want for food or drink. Although I would have traded fire for my first born (sorry Haley), it was nice to have the darkness right on top of us to enjoy the clear starry skies to its max, and I didn’t miss a few less breaths of smoke either. We seemed to huddle in a tight group to make the most of the herd, but that may have just been me. I resisted a gummy, but that did not prevent me and Rhino from seeing quite a colorful streak of light that lasted way too long, went way too fast, and did not seem to care much for the laws of physics. It was definitely a “did you see that” moment. Oh the boys do seem to attract the wild and woolly.
The night was ass cold, freezing water bottles causing much more stiffness around camp than usual. We sort of gathered around the fire pit anyway, as if seeking warmth from fires of the past. We stared longingly at the hillside across the road as the sun ever so slowly made its way down to each bush and shrub, blade of grass and finally the road. We were like zombies waddling out onto the road to get the first rays of warmth on us. Thankfully, the sun was warm and we heated up incredibly fast and with some coffee and a few laughs were looking forward to the day at hand.
Thus far we had seen many turkeys and ravens, but not a single Condor, despite efforts to turn both of the former into the latter. We decided to take a hike up into the Bear Gulch cave towards the peaks that separated the East side of the park from the West. On our way up, we picked up a lone hiker who was on our tail much of the way, but rather than just passing us, he would take other side trails up a bit and then back down, to sort of kill time and extend his hike. At one narrow gap through a jumble of rocks, he caught up to us and we struck up a conversation. The movie “Free Solo” about Alex Honnold’s free climb of El Capitan in Yosemite was much talked about and here we were in a rock climbing Mecca, albeit more of a beginner’s rock hounding realm. Nonetheless, this guy had done some extensive climbing, and knew people and places and was quite a personable interesting dude. I know it made us old dudes feel good to have a young stud’s attention for a bit.
The hike was very cool and we were through the rocky cave-like area in no time so it was decided to head up top to what was supposed to be Bear Gulch reservoir. A very good decision indeed as this was a very beautiful body of water surrounded by cool rocks and greenery around the edges. The weather was too cool to swim, but I still was tempted. Fortunately, the surroundings were very steep down to the water, so there was no safe way to get down to see just how cold it was. We had a nice break and a beverage or two to celebrate our discovery, and headed back down to see the days new arrivals in camp.
We passed some real nice folks on the way back through the cave section and they suggested we take the other fork of the trail back. This fork traversed the opposite side of the canyon we had hiked up. It provided more long distance vistas and the ability to look back over the hillside we had hiked under on the way up. It was a great option to really give us a better feel for the area. The ravens let us know we were almost back at the parking lot, having circumnavigated Bear Gulch; a very good hike indeed.
When we got back to camp, the entire contingent had arrived. There was much celebration. Ken and Steve returned from their jaunt shortly thereafter and we exchanged tall tales from our excursions. Food and beverage were consumed to ward off the cold. We also had to ward off Jeff from returning to the caves that night as he was pestering people to go with him. Fortunately none shared his passion. It was great to hang with Jeff and to see him just being one of the boys. It had been a long time since I have camped with him or even spent any amount of time, so it was a great time together.
I took a short walkabout with Rhino, or perhaps it was Ken, past the bathrooms and down to a sandy field below it where a group of kids had been running about. I wasn’t sure if it was some kind of game or if there was some organization or point to it, or just kids running amuck, but it was great fun. Much laughing and screaming and singing and kid chaos. Now it was empty and quiet and calm and cold as hell. I am sure it was hopeful the kids would return again to fill it with so much energy, but for now it had to do with a couple old guys musing profound thoughts as they strolled across the field with as little energy as possible.
Apparently while we were gone on our hike, a ranger came up to some of the guys in camp to tell them that I had to move my tent because it was outside of the camp boundaries. Seeing no such boundary, I warded off his invitation as well, seeing no reason at all to go through all that trouble for no apparent benefit. Our Eastern boundary had been populated with a small group, but they were at the far end of the parking lot, and with no fire, they were early to bed. I was too for that matter as the intelligent conversation just wasn’t enough to keep me warm. Although I wasn’t too concerned that I would be rousted by the federales in the middle of the night, I did imagine a scenario similar to Bodie were I would have to move in the freezing cold to satisfy some schmuck with a uniform and inflated sense of authority. Be that as it may be, I retired to my illegal bed and slept very well.
The morning cold was again searing to the skin. The zombies wandered about to keep movement possible, staring at the sunlight creeping so slowly down the hillside, setting out towards the first rays of sunshine to help the coffee melt away to frost. Many stoves made much coffee so my innards were thawed. Finally the sun crossed the road and entered camp and there was much rejoicing. It didn’t last long. This day must have been Scout Sunday as 4, 5, 6 groups of scouts had arrived in robust fashion. I think even the turkeys were afraid. Their arrival was definitely the gong notification that it was time for us to go. I am sure seeing a few old guys with their pants around the ankles huddled in the bushes would be nothing new to them (isn’t there a badge for that?), but all those uniforms were cramping our style.
It was sad to see guys drive off down the road, the party being over. It also was sort of a significant end for me. Not only was Tom retiring, as several had already done, but Tom was moving back down to San Luis Obispo, so he was the first to be leaving town. It had a more definitive end-feel to the occasion. With the scouts on every flank, we headed down the road to the visitor center/snack bar. It had the feel of a Costco parking lot. There was no place to park; people were crossing back and forth across the road all over the place; there was a huge line of people waiting for the shuttle bus; horns were honking, people were yelling in foreign languages, it was just madness.
I can’t remember what Bill had wanted in there, but I was much relieved when he appeared from the store and we remounted our trusty steeds and got on down the trail. Wow, what a difference. I guess it is people’s tendency to group/crowd together. It certainly is natural for folks to want to go where parks have been established and beautiful, rare, endangered things have been preserved, but golly, parks and nature take on a different feel when there are hoards of people. They seem to lose some of the “specialness” when you could easily imagine these places being so crowded with cars and exhaust, and noise, and energy. Places are being loved to death. Organizations are definitely roping people together into fewer places, not so much to preserve places from being trampled, but for budgetary reasons.
It seems like our approach of giving up seeing places in their peak seasons, when the flowers bloom, the falls, creeks, and lakes are full, wildlife is plentiful, is well worth being there without so many people. We still didn’t even spot one shadow of a Condor, but had to share our experience with bus loads of morans. I still prefer going to places that have fewer people, or possibly no people, and seeing what’s there, enjoying it for being it, and not having to deal with others; having peace and quiet, being able to go here or there without interruption or interference, without badges and uniforms. Sometimes you have to deal, but if you don’t want to, there are plenty of spectacular places with views, vistas, clean air, the gift of solitude, and the rarity of leaving the masses behind. Even for a day or a night, not seeing another human is a gift.
On down 146 to 25, which for some reason is called the “Airline Highway”, I began to unwind from the congestion at the park. I decided to leave it all behind and take Panoche Road out of Paicines, East to Little Panoche and eventually I-5. This stretch of Panoche road is spectacular. Rarely are there other vehicles on it. It is rough, twisty, turny, bumpy, but with the right music at the right speed, it is a magical mystery tour. Old California at its best. I was sorely tempted to get a beverage at the Panoche Inn in Llanada, but I was ready to be home. I-5 is certainly not a mellow end to any trip, but at least it gets you there quick. We will do our best not to miss Tom, but to keep planning trips so that we see him regularly, as with the rest of the boys.
Find this SpotPinnacles National Park Photo Gallery
