History is an amazing great thing.
If you don’t know a specific detail, you can always just make something
up.
- Carl Rove did not say
this, however...
Hiking buddy Joe once told me that
State Route 88 from Jackson to the Nevada State line was one of the prettiest
roads anywhere. It had been some
time, so a revisit to the area was in order. After breakfast at Mel and Faye’s in Jackson, I rolled east
on 88. The BMW seemed eager to
climb the gradual ascent through oak studded hills, into the mixed pine belt,
then Ponderosa pine, then lodgepole, and up into the glazed and beautiful
granite county. This would be one
of those days the late Robert Goulet crooned about. Thirty miles on, I recalled that my goal was a leisurely
ride, stopping here and there for photographs.
East of the Mormon Emigrant Trail
intersect, Shot Rock rest area offers stunning, panoramic views of the
Sierra. A quarter mile trail leads
to a rock barricade perfect for rest and reflection. The sky is deep blue and the air sweet enough to drink. Down from the vantage point, glacial
polish tells of the power of ice to scour clean the ancient topsoil of the
region. Huge granite boulders rest
on broad flat plains where they were deposited once that ice melted away. Erratics, they are called – and they
are not named after those who drive on Interstate 80 in the Sacramento area.
The power of ice is further on display as one passes a huge
specimen of granite that appears to have been cleaved in half. Only ages of water gathering, freezing,
expanding, melting and repeating could have produced this split. And only in the last few moments of its
existence, a bit of what appears to be pine mat Manzanita has gained foothold.
Up 88 a few ticks, the road courses
past Silver Lake and Caples Lake, two early day examples of man harnessing the
river by inundating a meadow. Now
the shallow water washes over the lake’s decomposing granite floor. Tiny tempests kick the surface into a
minor flurry. Back in the day,
you’da probably sipped this water in its raw form. No more. Still,
camping seems glorious here. A
kayak or a canoe on a moonlit night would be perfect.
Secluded off the highway rests the
Woods Lake Recreation Area. I’ve
camped here several times. If on a
multi-day trip, this spot might command two nights.
Woods Lake is an alpine body surrounded by peaks soaring a
thousand or more feet above. Snow
still clings to their protected flanks and the water feeding the pond is cold
enough to shatter teeth.
A marvelous hike loops south, east and then north past
Winnemucca and Round Top Lakes.
Each is a delightful pool – a few thousand years short of becoming a
meadow – positioned on the higher ground.
Early July is only early spring in these parts and a carnival of
wildflowers frolic in the afternoon breeze alongside the trail. A bonus on this hike is passing an
up-until-quite-recently-active hard rock mine. Look for the Model A engine with a flat belt pulley
fashioned on its drive shaft and pointed toward a hole in the ground.
State Route 88 gracefully climbs
over Kit Carson Pass. Here, the
Pacific Crest Trail crosses. There
is parking and a manned informational kiosk.
Like a seven minute waltz that only
lasts three, the descent into Hope Valley doesn’t last quite long enough. Unlike the gradual rise from Jackson to
the summit, the trip down is abrupt and the road is painstakingly engineered
into pinkish rock variants that no longer seem like granite. As the route begins to level out, one
of the most photographed, sketched and/or water colored cabins on the planet
comes into view on the left. Built
decades ago, it appears rustic and romantic prompting thoughts of wouldn’t that be a great place to have. Maybe with Maureen O’Hara.
Although now, nearly completely screened by willows I stop
for my perfunctory picture and discover that the forty acres upon which it sits
in on the market. Immediately I call
my wife on the cell phone, which amazingly has coverage here. She just laughs. It is then that I realize I don’t have Maureen
O’Hara’s number on my speed dial.
Hope Valley is a year round Mecca for hikers, mountain
bikers, fisher people enjoying the Carson River, and XC enthusiasts. Sorenson’s is the hub. North from here is the crush of South
Lake Tahoe. South finds us in Markleeville,
the state’s smallest county seat.
East takes us to Woodfords, my final stop on this crossing.
Back to making up history: That’s what I must have been doing
when, back in the late 70s and early 80s, I taught my fourth graders about the
perils the Pony Express endured while crossing the Sierra near Donner
Pass. So, when I took a break
yesterday at the Woodfords Store, I was surprised to find (or had forgotten)
that the frontage road is called “Old Pony Express Trail.”
Just outside the outpost, an ancient apple tree hangs over a
pair of picnic tables where I would enjoy a Payday bar and a bottle of
Calistoga water. Across the road
rests a plaque correcting my story.
As I spat out some candy wrapper that had stuck to the caramel, I
wondered how many other facts I’d told my delicate nine-year-olds that were
forty miles south of the truth.
Shot of the Day: Industrious red beetles work over a
piece of thistle or meadow cabbage of some sort in Hope Valley. Click on the photo to enlarge.
Today’s Route: From CA 49 in Jackson, head east on CA
88 over Carson Pass and into Nevada.
© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press
A million five. I knew readers would want to know.
ReplyDeleteI have enjoyed that road many times. Unfortunately, during my "Black Period" (that's w/o motorcycles). I will need to get down that way and do it the correct way, on two wheels!
ReplyDelete