The Mendocino Coast: Russian Gulch State Park

Although I love to explore Northern California, my budget has limited me to day trips. To overcome this, I invested in a tent in July of 2007, and this was one of my first excursions with it.

I set off Saturday morning without even knowing how to get where I was going. I remembered a previous trip along the north shore of Clear Lake, and seeing signs for US 101 before that, and I figured that route would get me to the Mendocino Coast. So I took I-5 from Sacramento to Williams, then headed off on CA-20.

The drive up I-5, well familiar to me, was monotonous. Many small towns were announced as exits, but I've exited and investigated them in the past, and been disappointed. The Sutter Buttes began to appear on the right-hand side, reminding me of how close I was to Yuba City and Marysville, only they were to the east on the old Highway 99E route, while Intersate 5 follows the old Highway 99W route.

At Williams, everything changed. I left the freeway to follow CA-20, and started heading towards that coastal range that had paralleled my drive north. I've made this part of the drive once before, and had the same exciting experience I had this time. As the distant border to the valley approached, it became more interesting, and more real.

From a distance, it is a solid wall, but as you approach it, you see that it is not impenetrable to the automobile, although much of it is, thus the limited number of roads that wind their way through the coastal range. It is an undulating range of hills, with winding passages that one can climb relatively gradually. It was, both times, typical of a Northern California summer landscape, all golden hills dotted with oak trees.

Soon after passing the Oasis Grill, a place that from the looks of it I have to try some day, I came out at Clear Lake. That means following winding CA-20 along the north edge of CA-20 through resort communities, with variable speed limits, and usually some slow tourist driving in front of me well below that speed limit.

Once past the lake, it's a quick trip to US 101, which is beyond what I had traveled on this path before. I just assumed I would keep heading towards the coast, but found myself merging onto US 101 South, headed towards San Francisco. I took the first exit and for the first time checked a map.

I needed to head up US 101 North to take follow CA 20 West at Willits, so I did. Soon US 101 ended as a freeway, and turned into a two-lane highway. In Willits I saw one of the vintage motel signs I love to find, only I had already seen it before on Flickr, so my excitement was tempered. I still stopped to photograph it. Willits also has one of those lovely banner neon signs declaring the town's identity. Willits is apparently the "Gateway to the Redwoods." From my experience, that is accurate enough.

Heading west on CA 20, I came upon a winding stretch of road that caused me to ride the brakes often. The road twists back and forth through Jackson Demonstration State Forest, with towering coast redwoods casting everything at ground level into cool darkness. What is a demonstration forest? I have no idea.

Coming out of the Redwoods I approached CA 1, the Shoreline Highway, just at the southern end of Fort Bragg. I took a quick tour of Fort Bragg and fueled up, both with gasoline and lunch, before heading south along the coast to my destination, Russian Gulch State Park.

The park is named after the gulch and the river of the same name that runs through it out to the Pacific Ocean. There is a nice beach at the river outlet, dramatic coastal views, and acres of redwood forests filled with hiking trails. The highway crosses the gulch on a lovely arched bridge, which the one-lane road to the campground passes under.

I picked out my campsite, paid my $20, and set up my tent. Then I put on my hiking boots and headed off in the direction of the Fern Canyon Trailhead, but before I reached it, I saw the trailhead for North Trail. Checking the map I got from the front kiosk, I saw that this slightly longer trail meets up with Fern Canyon Trail and the Waterfall Loop trail that was my objective, so I started out on it, immediately climbing up switchbacks.

I set out at 3:00 and wasn't sure what the total distance was on this hike, so I was anxious to hike quickly so as to get back before it got dark, although I did have my new Gizmo headlamp with me. So I pushed myself, only stopping to photograph a mushroom. There were many mushrooms.



After the initial climb, the trail was flat, passing through the redwood forest. Redwood forests are always lovely, and if you haven't ever been in one, it would be reason enough to go. But I've hiked in them a number of times, and I had never visited the dramatic Mendocino coast before this trip. So as I reached junctions with other trails, I would check my map and my watch, and try to determine if I could get back in time to make it to the ocean by sunset.

After a long stretch of flat trail, I started descending, gradually at first, then more steeply. I could see the Fern Canyon Trail below--it is wide and paved. I reached the junction with it and the Waterfall Loop Trail, where there are bicycle racks and a picnic table. Bicycles are allowed on the Fern Canyon Trail, but not on the the Waterfall Loop Trail.

The sign showed one direction to the waterfall at 2.3 miles, and the other at .7 miles, so I took the short way. The trail involved a little more climbing, and was a bit sketchy for the non-hiker at points, with slick areas next to a steep drop-off, and some spots that had been eroded away entirely that I had to carefully pick my way around.



The waterfall was all that I could hope for, and was flowing nicely. I set up to take photos of it with my Gorillapod. It was much too dark in the redwood forest near sunset for a handheld shot. As I was shooting, a couple arrived with a tripod and a nice DSLR camera, and another couple soon arrived as well. I got to take a photo of the first couple with that DSLR.



I headed back the way I had come, the short way, rather than taking the loop. Once back at the junction, I took Fern Canyon Trail, which was signed as being a mile shorter than North Trail. It was also totally flat and paved, and I made good time. Such good time, in fact, that I made it back to the campground well before sunset.

I made it back early enough that I decided to run down to the town of Mendocino, two miles away, to pick up something to eat for dinner (which I had neglected to do earlier). Back at the park, I headed off to a picnic area I had not visited before to walk along the coast and get some shots as the sun went down. Afterwards I parked back at my campsite.

From there I headed off to a trail marked on the map along the edge of the coastline. I overshot it at first, and instead caught the sunset framed by the Shoreline Highway bridge (the photo at the top of this entry). I headed back and found it, along with a warning about this being mountain lion territory. Normally, I wouldn't be concerned, as I generally hike in the middle of the day. Mountain lions prefer to hunt in the dark, or in dim light, when their sensitive eyes give them a great advantage. That's why my cat tears around my apartment in the middle of the night. But it was dusk already, so the warning was a bit of a concern.



I hiked up a muddy and steep, but short, portion of trail, and crossed under the bridge, where there was graffiti featuring aliens. On the other side I soon came out along the coast with what I believe were cypress trees. I took a few pictures then headed back to camp. Just as I was about to reach the trailhead, I crossed a slick wooden bridge of sorts, and my feet slipped out from under me, by about a foot. My arms shot out so quickly that it hurt and I flailed my arms about, and somehow managed to not fall.

Back at camp in the dark, I chose to eat my sandwich in my car so I could turn on the radio and check on ALCS game 6 between Boston and Cleveland. The sandwich from Harvest Market, a frittata made with pancetta, onions, spinach, basil, sun-dried tomatoes, feta cheese, and garlic aioli, was one of the most delicious things I've ever tasted, although it was too big too finish. And my team was up 10-1 in the third inning, so I was feeling good.

I got even less sleep that night than on my last camping trip. When I was 17 I just threw my sleeping bag on the ground in the open air for a 4-night trip with my friends from high school, and had no trouble sleeping all night. But now my chronic back pain of 6 years makes it difficult to sleep even with a pad under my sleeping bag and a pillow. I'm not giving up, though.

As soon as there was the first hint of light, I headed out to brush my teeth, pack up my things, and disassemble the tent. I couldn't pack the tent away, as it was all wet. This time of year, everything in the park is damp all of the time. I just threw it loosely in the back seat to dry in my greenhouse on wheels, with the windows cracked slightly to let the evaporated moisture out.

I then repeated the two coastal hikes in the park I had made yesterday, only going farther, starting from the picnic area. Although it was light, the sun had still not popped over the horizon. I went out to a fenced-off area. The ground dropped away beyond the fence in a deep into a wide whole in roughly circular shape, at the bottom of which waves were surging in via a tunnel to the sea. An underground cavern had collapsed here, apparently. I'm afraid my photos didn't turn out well, so you'll just have to visit this natural wonder yourself. Walking back, it was a bit disconcerting knowing that there was a tunnel beneath me at some point flowing with water, that will inevitably collapse some day.



As I got back to the point of this small peninsula, I could see out a ways that the light was hitting the very top of the waves. The evening before I had seen the waves beating down ferociously and endlessly on the rocks, wearing them away. That morning it seemed to me that they were using the rocks as a springboard to leap into the air with delight to greet the return of the sun.

I returned to make the hike along the path with the warning about mountain lions, only this time I continued along the other side of the small peninsula back to where the trail closely parallels the highway before reaching a parking lot and heading out again. A couple of portions of trail had been eroded away, one requiring me to drop down and climb back up, and the other that I was able to jump across. From the parking lot I went out on another small peninsula before heading back.

My original plan had been to head to Van Damme State Park and take a longer hike into the redwood forest there, but I decided I would rather see as much of the coast as possible. So I headed down to Mendocino State Park, and walked all along the coast line there. There was only 1 vehicle in 1 of the 3 parking lots when I arrived, but people began arriving in large numbers as I kept walking. The ocean here is filled with large rock outcroppings that the waves beat upon and the birds alight on. There were many natural arches and caves. On the other side, the town of Mendocino was always visible.



From there I headed to Big River State Park, where Big River empties into the ocean. I must have been there close to low tide, as there was a massive beach. Then it was to the beach at Van Damme State Park, where there were many surfers and kayakers apparently getting ready, but none out on the water. Next, an overlook on a public easement. Then Navarro Point Preserve and Scenic Trail. If it feels like I'm rushing, it's because I was. I wanted to see as much as possible, but I also wanted to get home, especially since I was so tired from lack of sleep.



As I was approaching the junction with CA 128, which I planned to take back on the way to Ukiah, US 101, and CA 20, I came down a ridge with a dramatic view of an expansive beach and a river headed towards the ocean. It reminded me very much of Jenner and the Russian River, only without the town perched on the river. Rather than head off immediately on 128, I took a short jaunt over to Navarro Beach, part of Navarro River Redwoods State Park. This is where the Navarro River usually empties out into the Pacific Ocean, but at low tide, it was dammed up by the beach. Presumably the water would eventually build up enough to cross that stretch of sand, if the rising tide didn't breach it first. The other notable thing about this beach was the amount of driftwood. I've never seen anything anywhere approaching that amount of driftwood in my life.

Leaving the beach, I drove through the rest of the park. Like in Jackson Demonstration State Park, the road weaved through a redwood forest, but this time the curves and grades were far more gentle, and I didn't need to use my brakes. The road came out of forest into an agricultural area filled with vineyards and wineries and orchards and pumpkin patches.

On the outskirts of Booneville, I took a left on CA 253 over to Ukiah, a winding road with a stretch of 10% downhill grade. Just south of Ukiah, I got back on US 101, headed north to CA 20, stopped on 20 at Foster's Freeze in Lucerne for chili cheese fries and a shake, then went on to I-5, then south on I-5 to Sacramento, exhausted from the long journey and anxious to sleep on a soft bed.

Tahoe National Forest: Bearcroft Trail

North Fork American River from Elund on Vimeo.

Having just made a trip to my grandmother's, I didn't want to put many miles on my car for my next hike, and I wanted it to be relatively quick, so I could get home with plenty of time to get ready for work the next day. But I still wanted a good workout. Consequently, I proposed to my friend Erik that we hike Bearcroft Trail to the North Fork American River, describing it as a "short, butt-kicking hike."

Only after I picked him and we were headed out on the freeway did I define what I meant by that. From the trailhead to the junction with American River Trail, it's just 2.25 miles of descent. But the total descent is 3240 feet, for an average grade of 28%. I've been hiking progressively more difficult trails down to the American River. I started with Stevens Trail, 4.5 miles long with 1200 feet of descent, then it was Euchre Bar Trail, 1.8 miles long with 2000 feet of descent, then Mumford Bar Trail, 3.25 miles long with 2640 feet of descent.

We exited I-80 in Auburn at the Forest Hill Road exit, and proceeded on Forest Hill Road, crossing the river we were going to visit later on a high bridge, from which there are probably lovely views, if you have a car not so low to the ground as my Chevy Metro. The road passes through the small, old town of Forest Hill before entering Tahoe National Forest, at some point becoming Forest Hill Divide Road. There's nothing but trees and the occasional trailhead along either side of the road, with occasional glimpses through the trees of the deep canyons on either side of the ridge.

We pulled off at the signed turn-off for Bearcroft Trail, where there was a sign with an image of a car and the words "NOT ADVISED." But I think that is just if you drive past the small parking area that we reached immediately and farther along the road. Certainly we had no problem.

The descent does not begin immediately. We hiked along a rough road a short distance to a sign that said "BEARCROFT TRAIL" and pointed left. There appeared to be a trail right next to it, and another farther left. We took the one farther left, which had some other sort of sign on it.

We made a slight ascent to the top of the canyon's edge, then came to a gully where we had our next dilemma. The trail appeared to head across it, but then it wasn't clear trail on the other side. I was marching across it when Erik spotted a cairn down the gully. So we headed that way and found the trail. Other than the fact that pine needles and fallen leaves covered much of the trail, we had no problem following the trail after that.

Soon we began the descent, which was, as expected, steep. I've climbed many steep sections of trail, but never one so continuously steep. Most steep portions of trail I have been on have been rocky, like an irregular stairway. This one was just a vicious slope, like the world's most dangerous wheelchair ramp. We exchanged several jokes about the difficulty of the task ahead of us.

The trail is in heavy forest, with only occasional glimpses of the wall on the other side of the canyon, which to my inexperienced eyes, seemed to be composed of volcanic rock. That would explain how the river cut such a deep canyon through the area, and why it was so heavily forested, as opposed to the far more resistant granitic terrain of the Desolation Wilderness or Yosemite National Park.

About half way down, we reached a small open, rocky area with dramatic views of the canyon. Soon after we reached an area with water trickling down, filled with ferns and littered with the yellow leaves of deciduous trees. Meanwhile, I was working up quite a sweat. I've never sweat like that hiking downhill in the shade before.

Eventually we got to the point that we could see water flowing below, and shortly after that a bridge. We took the water to be the North Fork American River, and the bridge to be one crossing it. We were suprised that such a substantial bridge was built in such a remote and difficult-to-access location.

Then we reached a sign, indicating that we had reached the American River Trail. Following my hiking book's advice, we headed to the left, down past a nice camping area to the river. Down at the river, we found a dramatic sight, where the river was slowly carving it's way through granite, leaving rounded granite walls rising up on both sides of the river, and a couple of small waterfalls. Upstream from that, the river was broad, wide, and shallow, with an island of rocks in the middle, and many rocks protuding above the water's surface, but it all narrowed down to a chute with about a 10-foot drop at this resistant granite outcropping. On the other side of the canyon, a dark, porous volcanic wall loomed high above us. I would have like to have taken a photo that capture it all, but I would have needed a fish-eye lens for that.

I stopped on that granite to eat. When Erik joined me I mentioned that I hoped the plant right next to me was not poison oak. There's a lot of poison oak along the American River, and I got rashes twice last winter hiking in the area. But I don't know how to identify it. It comes in many different looks, and from the descriptions I have read, most plants look like poison oak to me.

Erik was very interested in the rock formations downstream, and crawled out on a precipitous point to see more of them. I was interested in a tiny waterfall in front of me, and the larger roaring one partially out of sight above it. Because it was out of sight, I started my working my way upstream to try to find a place to rock hop to the island, and then see if I couldn't rock hop to the other side of the river to get a better view of it.

I found a lot of places where it was very close to being safe to go across, but none I felt truly comfortable with. I started back as Erik was heading my way, and explained my purpose. He started helping me, and we soon found a reasonable candidate for a crossing. To make it easier, I found a good stick for support.


The Big Climb from tspauld on Vimeo.

Erik started across first, as I shot a movie of him. But he stopped at a difficult point, and I stopped shooting. To add to the difficulty of this crossing, our knees were a bit shaky from that relentless descent. He eventually made it across, and threw the stick back to me, although it didn't quite make it. I crawled out on some rocks to retrieve it, and started my way across. The only difficult part was where Erik had paused, where I had to stand on one slippery rock, use the stick in fast flowing water for support, and step over to another rock.

Once on the island, I started upstream along the other side of it, finding much the same situation: plenty of places where it seemed possible to cross, but it would be more of a challenge than I cared for. Finally, at the beginning of the island I saw that the river was really broad and shallow, and I could walk across without ever going ever stepping in water more than an inch deep, and my hiking boots have a waterproof Gore-Tex liner, so I crossed that way. Erik followed me, crossing in leather boots that were not waterproof, but only getting his feet slightly wet.

Once on the other side, it was not simple. We had to work our way back downstream through the brush and across rocky terrain. Walking through the brush I remarked to myself that I was sure to get poison oak now.

Eventually we go back to the dramatic chute where the wide, lazy, and meandering river is forced into a narrow, rushing, and violent flow. I set up to take shots of the waterfall, but the conditions were difficult. It was all in shade, while the rock right next to it, and in the view of the camera, was in direct sunlight.

Erik wanted to work his way down to the water's edge. I told him to go ahead, but I wasn't going to, because we had so much work ahead of us to get back. He decided to skip it too. I suggested that rather than rock hop, we go up to where that bridge was and cross there. Erik wanted to cross closer to where we were at, but I said that we had already checked this area from the other side, and it wasn't going to look any better from this side.

But starting upstream, I too had the urge to try and cross where we were at. It was so temptingly close to being crossable. I found a good spot, and threw in a large rock to make it easier to cross, although neither of us ended up using that rock. Erik went first, using the stick we had used before, and another one I found for extra support. I followed him and found it surprisingly easy to cross over to the island.

Then we went back to the same spot where we had crossed to the island the first time. I went first this time. Rather than stepping onto that slippery rock, I decided to just jump up onto the large boulder beyond it. Although I had both sticks, I didn't end up using either one. I threw them back to Erik, and he crossed, using both sticks, and taking my hand as he stepped on that slippery rock. Neither of us shot any video on this crossing.

We went up back to the trail, hiked to the junction, and then went a bit farther to that bridge. I got to it first, and shouted back to Erik, although he didn't hear what I said. As he came up on it, I repeated it: "It's a good thing we crossed where we did, because this bridge doesn't cross the river." It spanned a dry river bed where a seasonal creek must be a raging torrent in the spring, but where there was not a drop of water that day. Had we followed my initial impulse, we would have had to hike all the way upstream, and then return downstream to cross where we ended up crossing anyhow.

We headed back to the junction and began that 3240-foot ascent. At first, I did a great job of pacing myself. But eventually I started to push myself. I was doing fine on the average grade, but every once in a while I hit a much steeper portion, at the end of which I would have to pause and catch my breath and wait for my heart to stop racing and return to a more normal pulse.

At the wet area with ferns, I saw a banana slug crossing the trail. I got down on the ground to take a photo, but by the time I got set up, the slug was going behind a leaf. When I removed the leaf, the slug went into defensive mode, and pulled its eyes and antennae in. I waited for them to cautiously come back out again.

On and on, the slow climb continued. At the clearing I estimate is about half way up, I stopped to sit and look at the view and watch the patterns of shadows of the clouds on the canyon wall on the opposite side of the river, and wait for Erik to catch up.

Returning to the trail, I stopped at the top of one of the steepest stretches to shoot a video of Erik coming up it. He huffed and puffed appropriately, but with my camera pointing down, you can't tell in the video how steep this portion was. It looks like he is laboring over slight incline, but believe me, this was one of the toughest portions of a difficult trail.


The Big Climb from tspauld on Vimeo.

With that out of the way, it was just a matter of plodding on, eagerly awaiting the signs that we were getting close to where we started.

I don't know about Erik, but I was intensely sore for a few days, and could still feel it after 6 days, making it my most intense climb to date. I can't wait to top it.