AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

wow you didn't take the nice spot on the other side of the creek in the trees. Thats the best one.

 

We had our choice of spots. I know you like the other one in the trees, but I like the one over in the meadow. Nostalgia of my first time there maybe? Of Mike's @Digiratus "grilling" of you know who, perhaps? Or maybe it's just that...



*** taken in the MEADOW!!!

 

Dan doesn't like camping in the trees. Since there was no cliff edge to park on, the open meadow was perfect.

 

man you get out a lot. wish i could freeze time and do more but all in time.

 

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‘You know, just your standard, 40” long extension’


My stepfather had a 48” extension just for bell housings and transmissions. Priceless…..​

 

Burgess Jct to Montana - Grand Finale - WYBDR 8
Part of the Wyoming Backcountry Discovery Route (Jul 2022) trip.

Unlike most stages of the Wyoming BDR that were between 100 - 150 miles, the final stage was a mere 43. Surely, we thought, we'll be done in an hour or two tops. Naturally, we were mistaken.

Already remote - starting from the junction of WY-14 and WY-14A - crossing the highway immediately landed us on gravel roads where we wondered aloud what we'd do once we reached the end of the route. It was a bit of a mystery given a few salient points:

1. Ending where it did, the BDR technically terminated at a border between Wyoming and the Crow Indian Reservation, which I supposed was technically in Montana... or perhaps it was another nation entirely; we simply weren't sure.
2. Prior to embarking on the whole adventure, I'd saved directions - from Google Maps - that would get us to the beginning and from the end of the BDR, home. These directions definitely continued north through the reservation - but we all know what happens when you blindly follow Google Maps.
3. The WYBDR organizers suggested that we'd be turning around at the border with "Montana" and working our way back to WY-14A.

Just a few minutes into Stage 8, Twin Buttes was aglow out the windshield.​

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Still in the Bighorn Mountains, the same spectacular views from Stage 7 stretched to the horizon.​

In the end, we realized that we had plenty of fuel and that it wouldn't really matter from a "how do we get home" standpoint, so we set our sights on more immediate issue: somewhere to eat lunch. We wanted something with a view, and a bit of wind to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and before long a nice wide spot in the road offered just such an opportunity, plus some.

There, a few hundred feet further up the ridge, was a cairn. Not just any cairn, this was a 12-foot tall behemoth, and we both knew that we were going to check it out before any sandwiches were made.

@mrs.turbodb thinks this was a Basque sheepherder's cairn. Anyone know for certain?​

Naturally - after reaching the top and admiring the handywork - we glassed the surrounding hillsides for nearby markers, discovering none. And so, still wondering what we'd stumbled upon - it was so tall, after all - we headed back down to the truck for some tasty tuna sandwiches, potato chips, and a Cosmic Crisp apple. And then, we were on our way.

We'd follow only three roads over the course of the afternoon, the first being NF-15 and the last being NF-11. Like the connection between them on NF-143, each wound their way through the Bighorns, first leading us west - away from the highest peaks, then north to the edge of Wyoming. Along the way, we stopped frequently, these mountains packed with surprises, each of which warranted investigation or amazement.

Wait, what?​

This cabin - in the USFS style, though we weren't sure if it was a private inholding - sure did have a nice spot on the edge of the meadow, high in the Bighorns.​

Nicely appointed.​

Eventually, we turned of NF-15 and onto NF-143, a splendid little two-track that traced its way along one ridge after another, through mint green meadows and fields of snow hanging on to the last few weeks of existence. Combined with cotton ball clouds in the sky, there was no part of the trail where we made slower progress.

This was the beginning of a one-mile section of trail that took us 30 minutes to travel.​

I always love seeing a trail disappear into the distance.​

On reaching NF-11, the first thing that caught our attention - though, I must admit that we'd seen it along the entire route - were all the RV trailers that'd been left nestled into nooks and crannies of the forest. There were dozens - perhaps hundreds - that were squirreled away. Were they reserving a camp site for later in the summer? A home base for hunting should a tag come through? We had no idea, but with each passing mile one thing was obvious: trailers per acre were on the rise.

I always wondered where the parking lots full of RVs go.


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The second thing that caught our eye was a barrier that'd been pushed to the side of the road. It seemed like it was a bit out of date - by perhaps 3-5 days - but we'd have no way of knowing for sure until we made our way around it to give the remainder of the route a try. It was time for our final push to the border!

Challenge accepted.​

Soon, we were once again working our way along ridgelines.​

Green goblins, cheering us on.​

We spotted an arch, though we could never get close enough to explore.​

In the distance, Montana.​

And then, with little fanfare, and certainly less signage than we've ever seen at the end of a BDR route, we reached the end. Wyoming's border - with the Crow Indian Reservation - was marked by an unassuming barbed wire fence and a hastily placed sign.

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The road continued to the north but seemed rarely - if ever - travelled; understandable given that permission must be obtained to continue through the reservation.

End of the road.​

One happy traveler.​

Contemplating our achievement for a few moments, it was time to go. We knew that the answer to the question we'd had at the start of this final stage of the Wyoming BDR had been answered - we wouldn't be continuing north. Rather, we'd be turning around and retracing our path to WY-14A, where we'd make our way out of the Bighorns.

Headed south, the way we'd come.​

Even on our return trip, new sights caught our eye. Mushroom rock.​

By every measure, the Wyoming Backcountry Discovery Route had delivered. Smiles on our faces, the discussion immediately turned to our favorites: our favorite stage of the route, our favorite single experience on the trip, our favorite BDR to date.

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One thing was unquestionably true: we needed to come back to Wyoming.

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Bonus Chapter: Plus a Little More

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Headed toward home on WY-14A, we travelled less than a mile before diving off the side of the road to a nearby attraction that we weren't even sure we'd be allowed to see: Medicine Wheel. Still, with our fingers crossed, we made our way up Medicine Mountain and soon found ourselves in a parking lot, just more than 1.5 miles from the sacred Native American Indian site.

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There, some USFS employees were just heading out for the evening, but told us that we could walk to Medicine Wheel, as long as we were respectful of the site - staying outside the fenced area, respecting the offerings left in the area, and as always, staying on the trail. Excited, we thanked them for the info and set off toward the site.

As we hiked along the ridge towards Medicine Wheel, we could see our earlier route to the Wyoming border, high up in the Bighorn Mountains.​

Medicine Mountain is now home to a radome, in addition to Medicine Wheel.
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Several of the prehistoric trails that led through the Big Horn Mountains intersect here. The first people using these trails may have entered the area as long as 10,000 years ago! Over time, possibly due to rising temperatures and a decrease in moisture, the buffalo-centered plains people interacted with the hunters and gatherers of the mountains, sharing this trail system. The trail you are now following was the main access to the Medicine Wheel for these Ancient Americans.

Today, Native American Indian people and cultures from around the world still cross paths here. Native American Indians, representing 81 different tribes, still utilize this ancient trail to practice their traditional ceremonies. Some traditional people prepare themselves for over a year for their journey to the Medicine Wheel.​

What is left of Medicine Wheel, with 28 spokes radiating from the center.​

Offerings, left by Native American Indians, can be seen along the fence, within the Medicine Wheel, and dotted around the landscape of this sacred place.
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The Medicine Wheel is about seventy-five feet in diameter and has twenty-eight spokes. The origin of the wheel, made of limestone slabs and boulders, is not clear. Present-day Indians have no known legends or traditions to explain its background, but the pattern and orientation imply that the builders were sun worshipers.

George B. Grinnell, an expert on the Cheyenne culture, pointed out similarities between the Medicine Wheel and the Cheyenne medicine lodge, and other experts on native American culture also suggest the wheel resembles the Northern Cheyenne Sun Dance lodge. A buffalo skull found facing east in 1902 suggests a connection with the Sun Dance, but the wheel could be merely a marker for important ceremonies.

A piece of wood recovered from the walls of the west cairn provided a tree ring date of 1760. The hub consists of a circular stone mound, about three feet high, from which the spokes radiate, possibly representing the days of the lunar month. Around the edge of the wheel, at different distances from the center, are six "medicine teepees" to symbolize the planets. In the 1930, the teepee on the east side was higher than the others and nearly square, and its

openings were on the north side, whereas all the other openings faced the hub. The teepees may have been shelters for the chiefs or medicine men during worship, and once there were large excavations under them. Now they appear only as small rock mounds. (Roadside History of Wyoming)​

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After spending some time at the wheel, we headed back and began the long trip home. We'd stop along the way for fuel and food, and once - outside of Pipestone, MT, - to camp. Coincidentally, that camp site ended up being at a place called Ringing Rocks, and we couldn't help but check them out when we awoke the following morning.

A sign posted at Ringing Rocks warns visitors that they will no longer ring if they are removed from this location. The sign does not lie.

https://www.youtube.com/embed/MogF7WZv2X0

Wow. The science behind this is sort of cool, but if you ignore it, the experience is even cooler.
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Packing up the tent, we pulled the bedding - pretty gross after more than a week with two bodies and some of the hottest nights we've had in a long time - and put on a clean change of clothes. We had a 12-hour drive in front of us to reach the comforts of home, but we were already discussing how we could get back to Wyoming!

 

I wish we had enough vacation time to do this kind of travel more often. Someday.

 

Someday, I'd like to camp in a creek as well. Preferably when there is no risk flash flooding. And a creek with no mosquitoes around.

That's the attitude! I was in the "all in time"/"someday" boat just 5 years ago (almost to the day, according to @mrs.turbodb). Once that time came, it's been amazing!

LOL, I had no idea there was such a thing!

 

It's always in the back of your mind that you won't get lost if all you have to do is backtrack the way you came. Until you do it, you never realize how different things look when you're traveling backwards.

Great ending to the tour.

 

What a Great Route - WYBDR Epilogue
Part of the Wyoming Backcountry Discovery Route (Jul 2022) trip.

The Wyoming Backcountry Discovery route is our 6th BDR in as many years. Through the running of each one, @mrs.turbodb and I are - as you can imagine - regularly comparing the current BDR to the past ones. Starting last year, with the New Mexico BDR, I finally started writing some of these down, and of course - I now feel obligated to carry on that tradition into the future.

I like to think of it - a little bit - as a Rig Review for the BDR route.

TL;DR - The Wyoming BDR blew our socks off. Before leaving, we were worried that it didn't go to some of the places we'd expected it to go, but the route through the Sierra Madre, Medicine Bow, Wind River, and Bighorn Mountains was spectacular. Even the connecting stages had highlights that were joyously unexpected. Perhaps the only stage we'd not recommend is the Stage X Red Desert loop, which was a bit... boring. To date, this is now our favorite BDR.

With that summary, let's get into the details!

The Roads

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The mix of roads for the WYBDR was nice. As expected, nothing along the route was difficult for a high clearance 4WD vehicle, given a driver with a bit of experience. Many of the roads were high-speed graded gravel, with a few rocky-and-bumpy trails thrown in. We quite enjoyed the variety, as @mrs.turbodb isn't a huge fan of bumps, but we both recognize that the bumpy roads often lead to less populated experiences.

There was certainly pavement along the route - but I wouldn't say it was overwhelming. Something in the 10-15% range, usually around small towns where the target audience (dual sport cyclists) would be looking for food and lodging.

The Scenery/Landscape

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As I've alluded to above, the scenery was fantastic. Right from the get-go, the climb into the Sierra Madre kicked off this route that brought excitement at every turn. For the first several days, our time in the Medicine Bow Mountains (and specifically the Snowy Range, where we took the time to enjoy the high lakes and hike to the top of the 12,000' Medicine Bow Peak) was the best part of the trip. Travelling across the state from east-to-west and then back again, the high desert and red rocks reminded us of Utah. And then, stage 7 and 8 brought two full stages in the Bighorn Mountains. These rivaled our time in the Snowy Range, especially given all the wildflowers blooming across the high meadows.

The best time of year to do this trip? In my opinion there are two:

• As soon as the route is passable. This is - essentially - spring, even though it likely occurs in late June or early July. Everything will be so green, and the wildflowers will be in full bloom. It's seriously like driving through nature's garden.
• During the fall, when the aspens are changing color. Several stages along the route pass through aspen groves, and each of the mountain ranges have numerous aspen along the trail as well as in groves visible from the route. These will be spectacular as they shimmer in the fall breeze. You'll have to time it perfectly to catch the leaves before they fall, but you're sure to be rewarded.

Highlights
For us, the highlights of the trip were many - too many to list, really. Here are some of our favorites, numbered but in no particular order:

1. The Snowy Range (stage 2). Just driving through was spectacular, but stopping at several lakes for lunch and a hike to the top (Medicine Bow Peak) was my favorite thing of the entire trip. Camping in the Snowy Range was great, because it meant seeing the area in both the afternoon/evening light, as well as the early morning when we awoke.
   
   
   
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2. Going for a dip in Alcova Reservoir (stage 3). This was a lucky side-effect of a re-route that we took, but it was such a refreshing activity given the 90+ °F temperatures, that I'd recommend it to anyone. There was ample parking at the lakeside, and the water temperatures were pleasantly mild.
   
   
   
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3. The entirety of Stage 7 and Stage 8 in the Bighorn Mountains. The roads here were some of the most scenic of the entire journey. Rising and falling along ridgelines, and visible into the distance as they wound through the green grassy meadows, they provided constant - and yet everchanging - views of the snowy Bighorn peaks. Even if you aren't doing the entire BDR, these sections are worth enjoying.
   
   
   
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4. Wildlife. This will change from year to year and place to place, but always be on the lookout - we very much enjoyed seeing moose, pronghorn, deer, marmots, pika, wild horses, and numerous flying creatures over the course of the trip.
   
   
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Lowlights
The only thing we didn't think was "worth it" was the Stage X - Red Desert portion of the trip. This isn't technically part of the WYBDR, it's one of the new, shorter, loop-style routes that the BDR organization is putting together so they can release more routes more often. To us, it was pretty monotonous, and definitely didn't have the same wow factor as the rest of the BDR.

There are two main attractions of this loop - according to the good folks at the BDR org - the Red Desert badlands that you can see from Delaney Rim, and Adobe Town. For us:

• The badlands were cool, but we've seen significantly cooler ones on several other trips. Anza Borrego probably has the best badlands we've ever encountered, at Fonts Point.
• Adobe Town is more "hoodoos" and badlands," except that you drive through them. They are neat and all, but again, Anza Borrego is better, as are a lot of places in Utah, like Canyonlands National Park, where you can drive through similar terrain that's on a completely different level of awesome.

Things We Might Have Enjoyed
We finished the route in six days, having planned 8-10. Had we known we'd be done so quickly, we might have taken things a bit more slowly in a few areas:

1. A stop at a hot springs. There were several just far enough off the trail to make it feel unfeasible on this trip, but the hot springs at Saratoga or a stop over at Thermopolis would have been nice. If we were to repeat this trip, we’d probably either drive out to Saratoga during Stage 2 or over to Thermopolis at the end of the trip.
2. A side-trip to Christina Lake. I've wanted to go for a long time, but we weren't sure about timing, and @mrs.turbodb wasn't a huge fan of the rocky road - this is a slow, high-clearance 4WD road - as we made our way through the Wind River Mountains.

But really, with the Wyoming BDR jumping to the top of our list, I think it's safe to say that this was a huge success!

 

I am sure you will plan to stay at multiple "creek with no mosquito" camp sites on your next adventure though Colorado.

Here are three that I visited last September.
Lincoln Gulch Campground, south of Aspen (9,600 ft) along Lincoln creek,
Chalk Lake campground (8700 ft) along Chalk creek,
and Dinner Station Campground (9650 ft) along the Taylor River:

 

Hard Times at Poker Flat - Plumas 1
Part of the Plumas National Forest Discovery Trail (Jul 2022) trip.

For much of my childhood, summers were spent in the Plumas National Forest. I have such fond memories of waking up in our favorite campground, earning Junior Ranger patches, and fishing in creeks recently stocked with so many fish that the stream bed was obscured by wriggling tails.

And yet, when out exploring as an adult, I've spent almost no time in the Sierra, much less the Plumas National Forest. So, it was with great anticipation that we set out to wind our way through on the Plumas National Forest Backcountry Discovery Trail. Like a BDR, we figured this would be a great way to get a lay of the land and see a few interesting spots along the way - hopefully setting the foundation for future trips to the area.

Having headed south on a Monday morning, it was midnight - under a star-filled, moonless sky - when we set up the tent on a hilltop just outside La Porte, California where the first downhill ski race in Plumas County was held in 1858 (according to a plaque we found the next morning). Temperatures were pleasant - in the mid-50's °F - and soon we were snoozing away.

For a random spot in the dark, we had a nice view the following morning.​

Having gotten to bed late, a 5:30am sunrise wasn't in the cards, and we finally shuffled our way out of the tent a little more than two hours later. The trails were calling, and having had huge burritos for dinner, we decided that breakfast could wait.

Less than half a mile from the spur to our hilltop, the welcome sign to La Porte and the beginning of the Plumas National Forest Backcountry Discovery Trail (BDT).​

Heading through town - a sum total of a few hundred feet of pavement - we stopped long enough to investigate a reconstructed gold mining display along main street. Composed of pieces found in the surrounding hills, it was one of the coolest reconstructions I've seen in my explorations. I spent several minutes poking around, while @mrs.turbodb read a bit more about the route in a Plumas NF BDT pamphlet provided by the Forest Service.

A staged display, but still fun to look at and representative of the components of a mine.​

An old monitor. Much of the mining in this region was hydraulic, with entire hillsides washed away with plentiful water.​

At times, drilling and blasting were necessary, but even so, water was used to power the hydraulic drills.​

The Plumas NF BDT travels from south to north for 146 miles of the main route and 71 miles of alternate routes that are best travelled with a 4WD vehicle. Beginning in the town of La Porte, the route winds its way to CA-89 near Lake Almanor or can be extended by continuing onto the Lassen NF BDT.

Split into seven main sections, an optional (out-and-back) eighth section can be added to the beginning in order to reach the southern edge of the Plumas NF at Poker Flat.

La Porte - Poker Flat (Alt.)
Partially because it is out-and-back, but also because it is the most technical segment of the BDT, the route to Poker Flat is considered to be an "optional" section in the BDT guide. I assure you, it is worth spending 4-6 hours on this section of trail. It winds through some fantastic history - and history in the making - along its 32 miles.

Finding our way onto dirt, we covered the first 4.5 miles quickly; the mildly-technical-when-dry-but-sloppy-when-wet section wouldn't come until mile 12. By 9:15am we were at Slate Creek where we got a look at the St. Louis Bridge. Built in 1913, it is thought to be one of the first reinforced concrete bridges in Plumas County, replacing a suspension bridge built in 1865.

While a newer bridge now handles traffic, the St. Louis Bridge still appeared to be in serviceable condition.​

A few hundred feet away, we found the Eureka Tunnel. Bored through a granite ridge in 1868, it enabled miners to sluice the tailings - some 40-50-feet deep - that'd run off of the hydraulic mining operations further upstream.

Eureka Tunnel now empties into a pool that's still connected to Slate Creek.​

Well, we're definitely going to need to check this out more closely.​

@mrs.turbodb was content to "stay out, stay alive," but luckily I was able to convince her to climb the polished, ultra-slick, granite chute to walk through the tunnel with me.​

There've been a few cave-ins over the last 150 years, but the tunnel was in remarkably good shape.​

We spent a good half-hour exploring this first stop along our way, and I realized that if we hoped to cover all the ground I planned for this first day of our adventure, we needed to get a move on. Of course, looking back now, it's clear that looking around was exactly the right thing to be doing - it was the planning that was the problem.

Climbing up and away from Slate Creek, the forest and waterway were looking fine.​

Winding our way east was intriguing. So often, we're used to exploring old mine sites in places like Death Valley National Park, or the high desert of Nevada. There, a lack of rain, snow, and trees tend to help preserve structures and make identification of tailings piles, easy. Here, in the forest, grasses, shrubs, and trees have begun to reclaim the land, but if you know what you're looking for, the evidence of mining is everywhere.

In places, the road dodged massive piles of rocks, all that was left of the hillside which once covered this ground, washed away by monitors.​

More rocks, and the scarred hillside from which they came.​

There are still people working the land to this day, and signs posted everywhere that prohibit prospecting by those without active claims. Gold Fever is alive and well.​

Another couple miles - and another half our - behind us, we found the old St. Louis Cemetery, all that is left of a town that once contained 900 miners and their families from Wales, Portugal, and England.

A stone-lined path ushered us through the forest.​

I very much liked the ground covering, and shape of this headstone.​

A mother and her 25-day-old daughter, who survived only five days once her mom was gone.​

From the St. Louis Cemetery, we covered nearly six miles - the longest, uninterrupted distance so far - before reaching the historic townsite of Howland Flat. Founded in 1850 after gold was discovered in nearby Cold Canyon, its 1,500 people made it one of the larger communities in the area, including several stores, a mix of restaurants and hotels, saloons, a theater, a bakery, and two breweries.

The remains of the original Wells Fargo Express building; the steel door frame of the vault still stands.​

This cabin has been adopted by a more modern crowd, used in the winter for snowmobiling and perhaps year-round for hunting.​

The most interesting aspect of the adopted cabin was that one entire side was clad in old tin cans that'd been unrolled and nailed on as shingles.​

On the edge of a meadow, surrounded by springtime.​

Spring daisies.​

Spring checkerbloom.​

I really liked the shape of the roofline on this collapsed cabin. It won't be many more winters until it's completely on the ground.​

Not far outside the townsite, Howland Flat had a cemetery of its own. Rising on a hillside next to the road, there were more people - or at least headstones - here than we'd seen in St. Louis. Quite a bit of work had gone into restoration as well.

These fences are not original, but are not new, either.​

Maurice M. Moriarty was 63 years old when he died in 1895.​

Daniel McKeever was the oldest headstone we found - 1882.​

Even with all the looking around, we made good time and it was right around 11:00am when we started down the final four miles of the road to Poker Flat. This is the only semi-technical portion of the trail, and while it can probably get sloppy when it's wet, good tires, a careful line, and a (stock) high-clearance 4WD are really all that's needed to get down this trail.

The best kind of sign.​

A relatively smooth - but steeper than it looks - section of the descent. The first vehicle down for the year would likely benefit heavily from a chainsaw. ​

A few places get a little rough and rocky.​

Poker Flat Creek had a good flow, but was not very deep.​

We reached the bottom just before noon, and after poking around Poker Flat - checking out another active mine as well as a few old ruins - we found a little spot in the shade where we could break out the kitchen to make our breakfast... err, lunch.

While @mrs.turbodb piled deli meat into tasty sandwiches, I explored the last remaining cabin ruins on the meadow.​

The only "problem" with lunch at Poker Flat was that I'd planned for us to be eating lunch near Quincy, after completing another couple segments of the BDR. Normally it wouldn't have been any sort of issue at all, but in this case, we'd hoped to meet up with a couple of my aunts and uncles who live in the area. Clearly, that wasn't in the cards, my time-estimation skills failing me yet again.

A slow learner, I figured we'd probably arrive mid-afternoon (spoiler: we wouldn't), as we got everything piled back into the bed of the truck and took off up the rocky road.

We made it about 100 feet or so when I heard it. The hissing sound was unmistakable, and rolling down my window confirmed it - air was leaking out of the driver front tire. Fast!

My first flat on a Cooper ST/Maxx. Or is it? ​

Rolling back down to flat ground, it didn't take long to pull off the hi-lift, jack up the Tacoma, and swap in the spare. And it was then that I noticed what the problem really was: I'd snapped off the valve stem!

The hi-lift really is a great tool, as long as you know how to use it before you get in a situation where you need to use it.​

A freak accident.​

Everything was buttoned back up in less than 20 minutes, and we headed up the trail again. We were lucky enough to get a second chance, but we weren't going to get a third, so I paid careful attention to my line to avoid any possibility of another incident. Of course, there was no incident, and soon we'd put the four-mile climb behind us and were bombing down the relatively smooth Forest Service Road that we'd traversed earlier in the day.

It was a little after 2:00pm when we arrived back at La Porte, ready to kick off the official route.

La Porte - Harrison Flat (Section 1)
Finally starting to admit that we'd be lucky to make it to see my relatives by the end of the day, we started looking for service on our cell phones in order to let them know that we were running a tad late. Naturally, service was non-existent for several more hours, as we continued through the woods.

Having grown up here, I do love the variety and height of forests of the Sierra.​

Our first stop was at Gibsonville - another town from the mid-1800s with a population similar to that of those we'd explored earlier. Like those, only the cemetery remains today, and having seen two already, we opted to skip a detailed investigation in favor of a futile attempt to get back on schedule.

Seriously, I never learn.

Ten miles into the 19 mile section, we stopped at the Sawmill Ridge Warming Hut. There wasn't much to see here, though I'm sure it's a welcome shelter in the winter when fingers are cold and bellies are empty.

You'd think there might be a door...​

If I had to guess, this wood heat stove was made by a local in the 1980s. Should have gone with Feather River Stove Works, if you ask me. ​

At this point - with the track following reasonably good roads - the miles were passing quickly, though photo opportunities seemed to jump out at around every turn. Lakes, peaks, waterfalls, and all manner of views were the reason we'd gotten off schedule, but we continued to stop on a regular basis to soak them all in.

Pilot Lake was looking nice.​

We found a fantastic camp site with a view, if only it'd been time to stop for the day. Only later did we discover that we'd been looking at a Fire Lookout at the top of Pilot Peak, which we could have visited, putting us even further behind schedule.​

This two-level waterfall and sunstar aren't going to last all summer.​

Harrison Flat - Hwy 70 (Section 2)
As we transitioned to the second section of the route, it was a little after 4:00pm. We'd certainly made better time that we had in the morning, but with all the stops for photos, we weren't going to win any awards for efficiency. Also, it was looking like our plan - there's that word again - to complete three-or-maybe-four stages before finding camp for the night was probably unlikely to happen.

After a quick discussion, we decided that the best course of action was to get through one more section and then make a 15-mile detour into Quincy in order to attempt a repair on the valve stem, just in case we needed that tire as a spare later in the trip (spooky foreshadowing). We also got cell service for a few moments and made a call to let my favorite #1 uncle know that we weren't going to be showing up for lunch, but might arrive a bit after dinner.

The views in section 2 continued to impress, but we did a better job of staying focused on our goal.​

We didn't stop as much as we raced through the alpine scenery, eventually transitioning from green forests to a landscape charred by the Cold Fire. It helped - significantly - knowing that the Les Schwab in Quincy closed at 6:00pm, and that we'd probably roll in around 5:50pm if we made really good time.

The Cold Fire was started by lightning. In 15 days, more than 5,500 acres burned. Amid the dead tree trunks, the post-fire regrowth has begun with grasses and shrubs.​

At the edge of the woods, cabins and civilization - among other things :"wink: crept into view.​

Miraculously, we arrived in Quincy at 5:45pm and rolled into the parking lot at Curran Les Schawb Tire Center. Almost before we'd gotten out of the truck, two young dudes came out to greet us, and I gave a brief rundown about the valve stem.

"No problem," they said, "we got this."

Highly recommended. Great Service.​

After pulling the spare off the rear bumper - which we had a fun chat about, as it turns out that one of the guys had an Imperial Jade 1st gen Tacoma parked on the other side of the lot - it wasn't more than a few minutes before they had it re-stemmed and ready to go back into service. And, when I asked what I owed them, the price was perfect... "Don't worry about it." Dang, that's cool!

That's a nice truck you got there!​

Ten minutes later, in time to make dinner in the front yard, we pulled onto the lawn at my uncle's house to big grins and warm welcomes. What with COVID and whatnot, it's been three or four years since we've seen each other, so it was nice to catch up over a dinner eaten outside. We chatted into the evening, eventually setting up the tent when the sun hit the horizon.

I have fond memories of this Jeep, which is the first vehicle I ever drove off-road. The thing my Uncle and I *both* remember most about that day was when I got behind the wheel and he looked over and said, "If I yell at you, I'm not mad. It just means I want to live." ​

Easiest night ever leveling the tent.​

It'd been a long day and we'd made less progress than we'd expected. It was enough to worry us a little bit - we didn't have all that many days to finish the route before we needed to high-tail it home. Plus, I already knew that the next couple of legs would be a challenge. Not because the trails were hard, but because it would pass through what was perhaps my favorite place in the world.

 

Nice T-shirt

Had to chuckle at the Jeep. I have a buddy who lives out toward Graeagle. He just picked up another very similar Jeep for a winter project. He's already got a 59 Willy's that he's done some work to. Even restored an old trailer for it (he collects and sells firewood).

One of my favorite areas. We spent more than a few summers at the Feather River Resort--kinda dumpy by today's standards but the pool and fishing was about all you'd need.

 

Between that and all my CP SLO gear... well, I'm a California boy through and through. Can't wait to move back.

I know the FR Resort well. Have played more golf in Graeagle than I care to admit (and Mt. Huff). Always me and my brother against my Pops and his brother. Until we were about 11-12 (my brother is 2 years younger), they offered that if we got a par, we'd get a car. As soon as one of us got a bogey one year, that offer was suddenly off the table. Once we were... 13-14, the old fogies never won a round. Such fond memories.

 

I wish I could say there was something to move back for. Idk when you were last here but it's not the same. Pretty soon, it will be one giant condo complex.

I suck at golf but I have thought about renting a cabin at the place just for the memories.

 

Everything, Burned - Plumas 2
Part of the Plumas National Forest Discovery Trail (Jul 2022) trip.

As wonderful as it was to be able to stop by and see my uncle on the outskirts of Quincy, neither of us slept very well through the night. It wasn't the temperatures - though they were warm - or the positioning of the Tacoma - which was nice and flat on the lawn; it was the noise. I think our bodies were looking forward to the quiet of sleeping in the forest, and rebelled at the sounds of civilization that echoed, even from this small town.

Knowing we had a lot of ground to cover, we were up before sunrise. As with the previous day - not that it'd helped then - we skipped breakfast for the time being, quietly stowing the tent and pulling out right around 6:00am.

We're not the only ones in the family who like to explore.​

Highway 70 - Red Bridge (Section 3)

While the first section we'd run the previous day - to Poker Flat - had taken significantly longer than expected, the same was not the case for section 3. A stage that the Plumas NF BDT teased as "travel[ing] through mixed coniferous forests and features peek-a-boo glimpses of mountains and waterways," was instead, our introductory tour of the Claremont Fire of 2020. Winding our way through nearly 20 miles of blackened forest, we found ourselves at Red Bridge - the end of the stage - in just under an hour!

Tall trunks reaching for the sky, a harbinger of what was to come through much of the rest of the day.​

The fire hadn't burned along the Middle Fork of the Feather River at Red Bridge, and as the temps began to warm - even this early in the morning - the water looked quite inviting!​

Red Bridge - East Quincy (Section 4)

Thrilled to be making such good time, we didn't linger long at Red Bridge before heading back to dirt and onto the fourth stage of the route. Once again, we found ourselves in burned forest as we meandered our way back towards the place we'd started our day!

Thankfully, though the Claremont Fire had scorched this area as well, the fire had been a bit patchier - sparing a patchwork of trees - so we weren't driving through completely monotonous terrain and before long we'd reached the end of the road, just below the summit of Little Volcano.

A short, steep hike delivered us to the top of this little slice of the world.​

Little Volcano (also known as Limestone Point) is not a volcano at all, but rather a dolomite outcropping.​

After a bit of looking around - and catching our breath - it was back down one mountain, and up towards the next. Ultimately our destination was Claremont Peak, but first we made a stop along the ridge where an old concrete foundation overlooked Quincy. Nestled in American Valley, @mrs.turbodb broke out both breakfast and the binoculars to search for our previous night's camp location as I poked around trying to get a shot of both the foundation and town in the distance.

Breakfast with a view.​

Back on the road, a ragged rock outcropping provided visual interest along a burned section of road.​

The final push up to Claremont Peak.​

The roads in this area have been improved dramatically as a result - I believe - of their use in fighting the Claremont Fire, so while the BDT guide suggested that we might travel at no more than 1MPH through this rocky-with-20%-grade section of trail, we made it without issue in just a few minutes.

Claremont Peak was the site of one of the very first Forest Service lookouts in California when it was completed in June of 1908. By the 1930s, it was no longer used, and no sign of it can be seen today, the site now occupied by a communications tower.​

The views from Claremont Peak were nice, but strikingly similar to those we'd had while we'd eaten breakfast, so after a bit of looking around, and some enjoyment of the wildflowers that covered the hillside, we bombed our way towards the end of the stage - in Quincy.

Finally - it seemed - we were making reasonable time!

East Quincy - Spanish Ranch (Section 5)

The only reason we needed to return to Quincy - a mere three hours after our departure - was to fuel up the Tacoma. There aren't many places along the route that have gas - in fact, Quincy is really the only place - so a stop here after stage 4 will be a necessity for most!

Ultimately, it took us about an hour to make the run into town, fuel up, and trace our trail back to the route - but with our early start, it was still only 10:30am!

Now east of Claremont Peak, we were travelling through what would turn out to be some of the last, unburned forest along the entire route. It was an area that'd been spared from the Claremont Fire in 2020, and from the Dixie Fire in 2021.

The vibrant greens, under a partly-cloudy-but-oh-so-blue-sky, were stunning.​

A third of the way through this section, we came across an outcropping of Serpentine. California's state rock, this green-hued stone contains heavy metals, so there is often less vegetation around it - though areas of serpentine soil are also home to many rare or endangered wildflowers!

Nice and green.​

The contrast between newly exposed and weathered sections of the serpentine.​

​

Gratuitous truck photo. I had my Diode Dynamics SS3 Pro Fog Lights on while we were driving, for visibility to other vehicles, and I just happened to notice the glow as we were out looking at the serpentine.​

Pressing on through the forest, we found ourselves winding through tree tunnels that are so common in our home state of Washington. Naively, we may have even complained about them a little bit, joking that we didn't need to drive a thousand miles for an experience like this. Little did we know how much we'd yearn for the greenery for the remainder of the day.

Umm, OK. S<span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">hare the road with ATVs and... Caddy's?</span>​

Puzzle-bark of a Sugar Pine.​

The sinuous bark of a Cedar.​

Just after 11:15am, we reached the end of the stage at the Spanish Creek Mines where millions of dollars of gold was extracted in the 1850s. Unfortunately, we'd expected these to be actual mines - well, mine ruins - so you can imagine our surprise when it was simply a plaque that commemorated the existence of mines in the area.

To add insult to injury, the largest mine we'd hoped to see had been covered by a county dump. ​

Spanish Ranch - Twain (Section 6)

Finally, we'd reached the section of the route that had us the most excited. Here, we'd pass by a place where I spent many a summer as a kid - playing in a meadow, fishing, helping to build a house, and being subjected to hard labor for - what I know now was - a very good deal for my employer. At the time though, I do have to admit feeling as though I was rich after 12-hours of hot, manual labor.

But first, we had to get there - something that would take us a wee bit longer than we expected.

Our first stop was at Spanish Ranch, where two Mexicans - who we supposed were also technically Spanish at the time - started a horse ranch along the Beckwourth Trail which was later named for them.

Over the years, Spanish Ranch grew and the small community served as the center for pack trains that carried supplies to the outlying mines​

The Beckwourth Trail was part of the California Trail system, and it's always fun to read the quotes of the emigrants who travelled along these routes.​

Less than a quarter mile up the road was the old Spanish Peak - Meadow Valley Lumber Company, that operated from 1916-1964. I think this building must have been used as some sort of kiln for drying timbers.​

After poking around a bit looking for an aerial tramway that had hauled lumber to the mill - but finding nothing - we continued into the mountains, still blissfully unaware that we'd soon find ourselves in the charred remains of the Dixie Fire. It was only as we approached the Bean Hill Mine - an enormous hydraulic mine that covered hundreds of acres of hillside - that the fingers of the fire's edge began to creep across our path.

The sparsity of trees on the colorful tailings - washed from the hillside using hydraulic monitors in the late 1800s - is all that saved them from destruction in the fire.​

A bit of chalk graffiti on an old piece of metal piping.​

More remnants of the piping used to move water where it was needed to blast away the hillside.​

From the Bean Hill Mine, the route almost immediately entered the Dixie Fire burn area. This was a huge bummer, as the next discovery point we planned to visit were the wooden towers of another mill owned by the Meadow Valley Lumber Company. With our fingers crossed, we pushed on - hoping that the fire had spared this historic patch of forest, or that firefighters had been able to save the towers.

With nearly everything burned, our chances to see the 125-year-old tramway towers weren't looking good.​

As we feared, the towers had been reduced to piles of metal bits.​

Bolts - with square nuts - that once held the beams that supported the inch-thick cabling that hauled the lumber.​

A bit disappointed, we continued on our way through the aftermath of the fire.​

The following section is a bit off-topic, for which I apologize in advance. My primary audience for these trips is my family, and we're all familiar with this place, so there are some details and inside jokes that not everyone will get. Still, I want to capture as much as I can, since I'm not sure when I'll be back next.

​

From the hillside above Twain - a place we'd return to in the next few hours, we took a short detour to a nearby valley, and the land on which I'd spent a large percentage of my summers as a kid.

It was clear - even on our way in - that change was afoot. My uncle was always good at forest management - ensuring that undergrowth was cleared and that fire risks were minimized - but lots recent work was evidenced or still in progress, the tree density now just a fraction of what it had been even just a couple years ago. Luckily, however, it had been spared the devastation that came so close!

And that's not all! The main house - which as a child I helped (or perhaps hindered) the construction of - was undergoing major renovations. A new roof, siding. Interior work. Even a brand new dormer on the second floor.

A ping big tree, standing outside the front door as long as I'd ever been here, had been felled recently.​

A completely new dormer!​

And scaffolding all around - for the roof and siding.​

What is this - spray foam insulation in the basement? Talk about luxury!​

Of course, not everything had changed, and everything was still recognizable - for the most part. Here and there, echo's of the past still grace this fabulous place, and I wandered around taking it all in as @mrs.turbodb prepped another set of tasty sandwiches for us to eat under the shade of a familiar pine.

I've always enjoyed the art on the wall. It has even more meaning now, with all the hunting around for petroglyphs that we've done over the last several years.​

A special memorial, standing guard.​

Still waiting, ready for the next game.​

The browns might be a little leafy, but the cup for the first hole is still under there!​

The rest of the course is apparently being remodeled. Perhaps for the introduction of actual greens and fairways. ​

Of course, the current resident - and apparently new owner - has good taste in vehicles.​

After enjoying our meal - and a quick tour of the fabulously full, lush green garden - we retraced the path of our detour and re-joined the BDT as it continued on to the Butterfly Valley Botanical Area. Unfortunately, the Dixie Fire had ravaged this area, though already there were a few survivors on their way back!

Tiger Lilies are always so bright.​

The carnivorous California pitcher plant. This is the reason the botanical area exists.​

Around the botanical area, cleanup work was in full swing, hundreds of burn piles formed up on the ground. The question of their eventual ignition, still up in the air.​

From the botanical area, it was a simple matter of paralleling highway 70 for a handful of miles as it made its way north towards Twain. Devastation all around us, we realized that even in 102°F heat of the afternoon, it was still much cooler than it'd been when the fire came through.

It was pretty cool to drive through this tunnel under the rail grade, it's not often that we stumble on this sort of thing.​

A few minutes later we crossed the North Fork of the Feather River as we entered Twain to complete this section of the BDT.​

Twain - Butt Lake and Highway 89 (Section 7)

Today, the town of Twain consists of a post office, general store, a few homes, and lots of recreational camping facilities. As such, there wasn't much for us, and after a quick photo of the general store, we continued on our way - crossing CA-70 and heading up the ridge opposite the one we'd just descended.

As we switched back and forth up a powerline road, a mirror image of our ascent could be seen across the canyon. PG&E recovery work from the Dixie Fire.​

Reaching the ridgeline, it was near total devastation as far as we could see. One hillside blackened, the other burned bare.​

The entire remainder of the discovery trail would be through burned woods. A hot, dry, dusty afternoon was made even hotter, drier, and dustier given the lack of foliage - a rather unpleasant way to complete what was once a beautiful route.

​

In addition to the heat and dust, smoke from the 2022 Oak Fire was blowing north - a reminder of the dangerous situation facing forests in the west.​

Here and there, a patch of trees survived, and in those short stretches of road, we relished the scenery.​

An hour of the dustiest driving I've ever experienced, we were nearing the end of the stage as we came upon two historic sites. The first - Seneca - was originally known as “North Fork” because it sits on the North Fork Feather River, but the name Seneca was given to the mining district in

the 1800s. Besides very rich placer mines in the area, quartz gold veins were also uncovered, leading to a great deal of mining development.

Today, all that remains of Seneca is a single rock dugout, the rest of the ruins having burned in the fire.​

The second - the Swiss Mine - was owned by the Piazzoni family, Swiss immigrants who took up mining on Owl Creek. The family married into a local Maidu Indian family and maintained the mine and cabin for more than 100 years. Until two years ago, the USFS preserved the cabin in an arrested state of decay, and we were hopeful that we'd find it saved - either in a green patch of forest, or through the efforts of local firefighters.

Alas, the Swiss Mine Cabin is no more.​

A foundation and some scrap metal are all that remain.​

A 170-year-old inscription.​

Already, sweet peas were growing out of the ashes and over the foundation wall. In a few years, it'll be hard to find this place.​

More than a little bummed, we reflected on the fact that much of the BDT was now inside the boundaries of several fires that have recently consumed hundreds of thousands of acres in Plumas NF. As such, many of the discovery points that were so thoughtfully chosen by the planners are no longer what they once were, and even the route between them itself is a dusty tour of tall, blackened trunks.

While the forest will - hopefully - regrow with time, this may be a route that has its best days behind it. Or perhaps - as with other aspects of the ever-changing landscape, the USFS will adapt the route to the new reality, finding a new, compelling adventure through the woods.

For now though, we put it behind us as Butt Reservoir - the end of the route - came into view. We were in search of a camp site, but soon discovered that the entire shoreline was owned by PG&E, and "No Camping" signs had been posted at regular intervals along the water.

With the evening temperatures still in the mid-90s °F, Butt Reservoir looked like a great place for a dip - if only we were allowed to set up camp.​

Instead, we climbed a few miles into the mountains - once again through a charred landscape - until we found a cluster of mostly-still-living trees along a ridge.

As the sun set, we ate dinner and soaked in the skies. I transferred a few photos from the camera to the computer and @mrs.turbodb timed herself at sudoku. Eventually, we climbed into the tent - hoping the temperature would drop enough through the night for us to be comfortable by morning.

Indian Paintbrush at sunset.​

The warm halo of the sun, as the flaming ball begins to release its scorching hold on the landscape.​

By the time we were ready for bed, the pinks and purples that we enjoyed so much were fading.​

With the Plumas NF BDT behind us, we wondered to each other as our eyelids got heavy - would the Lassen NF BDT be more of the same? We wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

 

Man. That was kinda brutal. It's been a few years since I've been that way...

 

Lookout to Lookout - Lassen 1
Part of the Lassen National Forest Discovery Trail (Jul 2022) trip.

Growing up in Northern California, I always thought of "the mountains" as The Sierra. I had no idea at the time that there was another range - one that I'd become familiar with in Washington - The Cascades. With their southern end in the Lassen National Forest, they stretch all the way into Canada.

Conveniently - having recently completed the Plumas National Forest Discovery Trail - we found ourselves at the border between the Plumas NF to the south and the Lassen NF to the north. And so, with a couple days to explore, we made the decision to climb into California's Cascades.

Camped on a ridgeline just south of Lassen NF, we awoke to a beautiful sunrise - made richer by a bit of smoke in otherwise blue skies.​

Unsure how long the route would take, we were up by 6:00am, ready to get an early start to the day.​

We'd camped in a stand of Sugar Pine, their cones more than 12" long.​

After a quick tear-down of camp, we quickly covered the last few miles to a random intersection in the middle of the woods - the edge of the Lassen National Forest.​

As with the Plumas NF BDR, the good folks of the USFS have put together a Lassen National Forest BDT trail guide for this 186-mile* trail. With five sections and 25 discovery points, the route can take 2-5 days depending on how much time is spent making forward progress each day.

* Since many of the discovery points are off the main route, the actual length of the trail is closer to 275-300 miles.

Section 1: Sierra Nevada - A Gathering of Forces

250 miles long and 50 miles wide, the Sierra Nevada tilts up along its eastern edge, exposing its history in huge granite boulders. The first section of the trail would wind its way through the northern reaches of this range, as we made our way toward the much younger Cascades.

Dropping down off the ridge that defined a political line between two forests, we found ourselves driving along Yellow Creek. The temperature here was a good 20°F cooler than it'd been at our higher elevation, and we kicked ourselves for not covering the ground the night before - sleep so much easier when you're not sweating buckets through the night.

Yellow Creek - surrounded by trees singed in the Dixie Fire - was cool and refreshing on a windless morning.​

We pushed on, into Humbug Valley. Used for ceremonial purposes over thousands of years by the Maidu Indians, the valley acquired its current name from miners in the 1840s when their prospecting didn't result in the buckets of gold that were uncovered elsewhere in the region. The valley was eventually acquired by PG&E - for use as a reservoir to feed a hydroelectric plant - but was never developed, as nearby valleys proved to be better suited to the purpose.

PG&E ownership continued until 2019, when the Maidu Indians were given back the land on and around Yellow Creek in Humbug Valley. They run the Yellow Creek campground where we should have camped. (Thanks to Greg for this additional information.)

Until Dixie, this road sported matching fences along each side. Today, only some charcoal remnants and a lack of grass where the fence once stood are all that remains on the left side.​

After the fire, there's not much left to explore in Humbug Valley - both Soda Springs and an old cabin mentioned by the guide, destroyed - so we continued on, the roads allowing for relatively high speeds, towards a spot where the road crossed the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).

There were four hikers at Cold Springs when we showed up at 8:15am, all of them breaking camp and filling their water bottles for what I can only describe as a torturous trek through the hot, dusty landscape over the course of several months. Rather than disturb them, we pulled a few things out of the truck to gain access to our refrigerator and cold milk, and ate breakfast while we waited for them to set out for the day.

Penstemon (Penstemon speciosus) covered the hillsides, with plenty of sun streaming through the charred trees.​

Some enormous trees - centuries old - still stand, for now.​

Cold Springs - a welcome sight for the weary PCT traveler.​

A few miles on, we crossed the PCT once again, this time just under the summit of Humbolt Peak. On a cooler day, we'd probably have made the 1.6 mile trek to the top, but with temperatures already climbing, we decided it was better to simply make our way along the PCT - to explore the old wagon road that was constructed from Chico to Honey Lake in 1863.

From just below Humbolt Peak, we got our first glimpse of Mt. Lassen in the distance.​

It has to be a little depressing when you've come this far (from Mexico), and the sign reminds you that you've still got more than half the trail to go.​

Who needs a pack? This trail is easily done in a morning. ​

Not too far along the PCT, the old wagon road has been supporting modern travelers for more than a century and a half - if you know where to look for it.​

Trekking back to the Tacoma, my first act upon starting the engine was to flip the A/C to full blast. It may not yet have been 9:30am, but the temps were already reaching 90°F and we were getting sticky. Then, with our little cocoon of cooling air, we pushed onward toward the Colby Mountain Fire Lookout.

We always enjoy lookouts - both for the views, but also for the chats with friendly staffers - but when we arrived at the top of Colby Mountain, we were greeted by a "Sorry, Closed Today" sign stretched across the bottom of the stairway. A couple contract fire fighters - their F650 idling nearby - let us know that this was one of the keepers days off, but that we were welcome to walk as far up the stairs as we could get. Naturally, we obliged.

A bit of a bummer to get to a lookout, only to find it empty. Originally built in 1912, it was replaced with the current structure by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in 1934.​

We see you getting closer, Mt. Lassen.​

Section 2: Land of Ishi - Guide of the Yahi Yani Indians

Named for the last survivor of the Yahi Yana Indians, the Ishi Wilderness is a congressionally designated portion of the Lassen NF, set aside to preserve its primitive character and "provide opportunities for solitude." Of course, people have lived here for more than 10,000 years. Most recently, the Yahi Yana Indians called it home for 2,000 years, followed by emigrants in the mid-1800s - rushing west towards the promise of gold in the Sacramento Valley.

Dropping down toward Rush Creek, the foliage thickened.​

Light filtering through the Maple understory.​

We'd cross several rivers through the Land of Ishi, the first being Rush Creek, which wasn't Rushing but was one of the final places we'd see significant burn areas. From here - to our joy and relief - the forests we'd travel seemed unscared by recent fires, allowing us to enjoy a more pleasant and varied terrain as we made our way north.

Rush Creek - colorful in the morning light!​

Not quite yet 11:00am, we were both getting a little hungry and decided that we should start looking for a place to eat lunch. It was hot - again - so shade was a must, with views being desirable-but-not-required. We hoped that McCarthy Point Lookout would fit the bill.

Turns out that we didn't really understand what McCarthy Point Lookout was until we arrived. It is certainly on a point - overlooking a valley - but it is not a fire lookout at all. Rather it is a "room with a view," constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in 1936. While it was used for observation until the mid-1960s, it is now rentable as a place to stay; otherwise, it is locked to visitors.

A nice perch, if you can get it.​

Instead, we continued on, deeper into the Land of Ishi, towards another promising-sounding spot: The Narrows. Again though, it wasn't what it seemed - a narrow canyon with water and shade - but rather a narrow ridge basking in the sun! Here, we didn't find a place to eat, but we did find a memorial to Ishi and a California Trail marker.

It was neat to see a marker for Ishi, who I learned so much about in school as a kid.​

"There is an immense abyss on each side. We could look down thousands of feet, the side of the ridge seeming almost perpendicular." -Charles Glass Gray, Sep. 29, 1849.​

Dropping down off of the ridge - which I will be the first to say was not at all narrow or scary - we rounded a corner with audible gasps escaping both our lips. In front of us, Black Rock rose up out of the valley. The hardened throat of a plug dome volcano, plug of lava is denser than the cone surrounding it, and eventually the cone erodes away entirely.

Black Rock was a sight to behold.​

Just beyond Black Rock we crossed Mill Creek on a cool, curved bridge.​

Mill Creek looked super inviting for a swim in the now-over-100°F temps, but with poison oak lining both sides of the water, we settled for an unimproved campground with a shady table to indulge in some cool sandwiches and way too many - but just the right amount - of potato chips.

Even in the shade, it was hot. As such, we didn't hang around longer than it took to eat lunch and put two jerry cans full of fuel into our quarter-full tank - hoping it'd be enough to get us to the end of the route - opting instead to climb back into the air conditioned cab for the climb out of the canyon.

Up the other side of Mill Creek Canyon we go!​

Travelling the ridges, we caught glimpses - here and there - of Mt. Lassen, getting closer!​

Side Trip: Turner Mountain Loop and Lookout

For the next couple dozen miles, we made quick progress along Ponderosa Way (FS Road 28N29). Originally called the “Ponderosa Way and Truck Trail,” it was one segment of a 700-mile fuel break built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s to limit the spread of catastrophic wildfire across the Cascade and Sierra Nevada ranges. For us, it was a veritable highway leading to the town of Mineral, the end of the stage, and the jumping off point of a side trip to the Turner Mountain Lookout.

To reach Turner Mountain Lookout, we circumnavigated the base of the mountain, driving through blazingly green forests.​

Now that's a tall tower! Sure doesn't look very big though!​

And now we know why the lookout tower is so small - the living quarters of this lookout are located nearby.​

Appears that this lookout hasn't been used for some time, but is still in relatively good condition.​

Brokeoff Mountain and Mt. Lassen were easily visible from the cabin. Perhaps the tower wasn't necessary at all.​

Naturally, I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to climb the 102 stairs to the top of the tower, and - to my surprise - I was able to convince @mrs.turbodb to come as well! (Note: I'm not sure she was happy about that decision once we got about halfway up, and she certainly wasn't happy for the first half of the way down. ) The views from the top - as you'd imagine - were spectacular.

To the right, our home away from home.​

To the left, the primary use of Turner Mountain today.​

And straight ahead, Mt. Lassen.​

Someone was happy to be back nearer the ground.​

Back on firm footing, it was a little after 5:00pm when we arrived - once again - in Mineral. Decades ago - when this route was created - there was fuel here, and the station still sports a price board listing regular grade gas at $1.799. Obviously that was some time ago, and since the Lassen NF BDT doesn't pass through any other towns, it is now a requirement to carry extra fuel onboard - 17 gallons for us - to complete the trail without driving 60 miles into Chico or Chester.

Luckily, having siphoned 11 gallons in at lunch time, and with an additional 6 gallons in reserve, it was looking like we'd have enough to make it the rest of the way - assuming we didn't run into some sort of trouble.

For now, having chosen not to camp at Turner Mountain Lookout since it was still quite hot and the sun wouldn't let up for another four hours, we had a decision to make - continue on to the third leg of the route, or look for somewhere nearby to camp.

Ultimately, I'm not sure we made the right decision. At the same time, I'm not sure we could have done anything differently...

 

Fearless Fred - Lassen 2
Part of the Lassen National Forest Discovery Trail (Jul 2022) trip.

It was just after 5:00pm as we pulled out of Mineral, opting to get started on the third leg of the Lassen National Forest (NF) Backcountry Discovery Trail (BDT), rather than simply finding somewhere nearby to camp. We hoped that somewhere - preferably early in the section - we'd find a nice ridgeline, or spur-road-to-a-ridgeline, where we could set up the tent and deploy the kitchen for the evening.

I suppose we did eventually, but now I'm getting a few hours ahead of myself.

Section 3: The Crossroads - Land of Transformation
It is here where the granitic Sierra Nevada join the volcanic Cascade Range. It is here where two separate trails - each carrying emigrants to the Sacramento Valley - crossed each other’s paths. It is here where the peak for which the forest is named, rises towards the sky.

Lassen Peak wasn’t always the spectacle that it is today. 400,000 - 600,000 years ago, a larger volcano - Mt. Tehama (Brokeoff Mountain) dominated the area. A mere 27,000 years ago, through a series of eruptions of thick pasty lava called dacite, Lassen Peak began to grow. Eventually, after the dome had grown to more than 10,400 feet, the thick lava cooled and plugged its dome - still one of the largest dome volcanos in the world.

As we wound our way into the woods, hoping for elevation that would bring relief from the heat, our discussion was of a hike to Heart Lake. With a bit less than three hours till sunset, we'd need to hustle to complete the 4.5-mile trek with 1,000-feet of elevation gain. Usually, a little hustle isn't a problem. but with temperatures still in the mid-90s °F, it was the promise of Lassen Peak's reflection in the glass-like lake that ultimately got us out of the Tacoma and onto the trail.

A meadow - golden yellow under the evening sun - glowed in a sea of green.​

Dozens of these little guys hopped out of our way as we admired their grassy home.​

Were these larger ones females? (Western Toad)​

Seems like a family of woodpeckers may have struck (insect) gold.​

It's hard to get any sort of scale for this downed tree, but it was enormous. The trees around it have diameters in the 14" range.​

A little more than an hour into our trek, we arrived at Heart Lake. We'd noted one other vehicle at the trailhead, and found a father and his three sons finishing up dinner on the shoreline. Assuring them that we wouldn't bother them for too long, we worked our way to the edge and realized that we'd been duped! There, reflected in the glassy surface of Heart Lake was... not Lassen Peak.

It's a mountain alright. Brokeoff Mountain!​

Even with the misidentification by the USFS in their trail guide, we couldn't complain too much about a view like this!​

After an hour back to the Tacoma, we ultimately found a spot to camp - at a slightly higher elevation - forty minutes or so after the sun went down. There, nestled amongst the trees, we unfurled the tent and donned our bug jackets to make a quick dinner on the tailgate before immediately heading to bed. It was dark, it'd been a full day, we were both pooped.

The Following Morning...

Surrounded by trees - and knowing that we would have enough time to finish the final stages of the route by the end of the day - we didn't get out of bed until 7:08am.

Crazy, right?

Our private little spot at the end of the road.​

Not only was our spot private, but Brokeoff Meadows was nearby. As @mrs.turbodb took care of her morning routine, I wandered over for a glance.

Well then, that's a beautiful meadow; the sun just rising over the ridge and peeking through the clouds.​

Skipping breakfast - at least for now - a side road we'd noticed the night before caught our attention on the way out. Wanting to see where it'd go, we decided to take it; low and behold, it was a shortcut that saved us a couple miles as we returned to the main BDT route, where @mrs.turbodb promptly spotted a California Trail marker along the side of the road near Manzanita Creek.

Mountain Raspberries you say? Where? ​

Section 4: Thousand Lakes - The Wild Woods

Crossing CA-44, it was our rear-view mirrors that had the best view. Behind us, Lassen Peak and Brokeoff Mountain rose in the distance. It was the perfect spot to pull over for the final breakfast of our journey.

Not much snow up there, but still, wow. (Brokeoff Mountain)​

After breakfast, a meadow reminiscent of the one we'd seen the day before. This time though, frogless.​

One of the things that was interesting - and by interesting, I mean lame - about the Lassen NF BDT, was that many (most) of the interesting discovery points were not on the route, but were side trips. Burney Mountain Lookout wasn't even a discovery point, but we could see it perched high on the hilltop from the main route, and we knew we needed to make the 20-mile detour to see it.

Burney Mountain Lookout was just a spec when we saw it the first time through binoculars.​

Up and up we went - through black lava fields - towards the summit.​

We arrived at the summit just before 11:00am, greeted by the keeper - Fred - and his dog. Both were happy to see us, and Fred immediately invited us up to his perch.

Here we are...​

...at the top of the world.​

We spent an enjoyable 20 minutes or more chatting with Fred. Having grown up in the area, as a USFS employee, a forester, and a high school track coach, he pointed out landmarks and interesting artifacts in every direction. He related stories of fires, of other fire lookouts, and most importantly - of his plan to achieve a world-record time for running a marathon as a 75-year-old!

Fred was all decked out in his running gear when we showed up - he was just about to run down - and then back up - the hill around his lookout! Dude is a beast!​

In the distance to the south, some of our final views of Crater Mountain, Lassen Peak, and Brokeoff Mountain through the haze.​

Shadows from the clouds streamed down towards Hat Creek, where we'd be headed shortly.​

Ultimately, we could have spent all day talking to Fred - and he to us - but we didn't want to keep him from his world record, and we still had a few miles to cover before we could put the BDT in our back pocket, so we bid him the best of luck on his run and began our way down the steep, narrow trails.

To the north, Mt. Shasta rose up in the distance. Its height (14,179'), and prominence over the surrounding area, make it look so much larger than Lassen Peak.​

A fun view down the switchbacks of Burney Mountain.​

Despite the name, there are only seven major lakes in the Thousand Lakes Wilderness - though there are many small lakes and ponds, scattered about by receding glaciers. As we wound around the wilderness - there are no roads through it - we'd see exactly zero bodies of water, though a few completely dry lake beds - courtesy of California's record drought - were present along the way.

What we did see were lava flows. Large flows, and remnants of tubes that dropped down 50-100 feet below the predominant elevation. It was hot out, but we had to take a look.

It's hard to tell in this photo, but this flow is a collapsed lava tube, and drops down significantly from the surrounding area.​

Eventually - and with our stomachs reminding us that it was time for lunch - we began the final descent into Hat Creek, a lush valley, seemingly in the middle of nothing.

With the sun peeking through the clouds to illuminate the fields, the valley floor sparkled in front of us.​

Section 5: From Valley to Valley - Emigration in Earnest

The valleys of this region were major thoroughfares for the deluge of emigrants in the 19th century. Using rivers as high-speed transit, these pioneers linked valleys to valleys, intensely focused on finding the quickest route to the bullion of the Sacramento Valley.

Crossing CA-89, we proceeded on pavement for the next five miles or so. I hadn't realized it - though I'd obviously created the route and waypoints at some point - but we were going to visit a radio observatory! Specifically, the first stop on the final segment of our adventure was the Hat Creek Radio Observatory.

As we pulled in, we thought all the dishes were inactive, since they appeared to be pointed at the ground.​

It turns out that the signal is reflected back *up* at the dish from the apparatus in front of it, so all of these dishes were in operation.​

In operation since the 1960s, the newest telescope array will ultimately include 350 dishes, each 20 feet in diameter, and will be one of the most powerful telescope arrays in the world. The large number of dishes provides unprecedented sensitivity for the detection of weak signals from space, including signals generated by extraterrestrial civilizations. The project is a joint effort between the U.C. Berkeley and the SETI Institute (Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence).

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They move!​

Not everything at the installation was operating at peak efficiency. At the end of the road, we heard a tinkling/chiming as a warm breeze blew through the valley. "Guess that one is falling apart," I joked to @mrs.turbodb.

​

Except that it appears to be strangely oriented, it looks ok from a distance. And after discovering that the dishes pointed down were - in fact - working as designed, I chalked up the orientation to my lack of knowledge.​

In fact, this one was falling apart.​

I don't think that mirror should be on the ground.​

For a moment, we considered eating lunch in the shade of a large tree on the grounds of the radio observatory, but given our non-sanctioned parking, we decided to head a little further along the trail in search of less controversial shade.

We found it along the top of the Hat Creek Rim at the hang-gliding launch site.

Looking out over Burney Mountain, I suspect that I've had a favorite #1 uncle who has launched from this point.​

The sandwiches were tasty as ever, and it was 2:30pm when we climbed back into the cab to a welcome blast of cold air. With well-graded roads, it looked as though we'd wrap up the trip in just another hour or so, before we'd air up and begin our sprint north - towards home.

For a final time, in a meadow on top of Hat Creek Rim, we crossed the Pacific Crest Trail. Here, hikers are halfway between Mexico and Canada on their 2,650-mile journey, questioning their sanity and wondering where the closest cheeseburger can be found.

At least, I suppose, the PCT is beautiful.​

In the end, our estimated hour of travel ended up taking only half of that, as we stopped only a few times for photos of this final stage. It was a great way to wrap up a trail that had surprised us both. Far from being a disappointing tour through burned forests, we'd encountered scenery, viewpoints, and people who'd made our two-day adventure one that we'd thoroughly enjoyed. Certainly more than the mule mentioned in this California Trail marker I spotted on the side of the road.

"The mule fell down this morning & afterwards I could not get him along & had to get off & strike him many times before he would start. Finding no grass here, we went on again & found a little grass but no water." -Tiffany Pardon Dexter, Oct 2, 1849​

A red road through golden fields within a green forest.​

Like us, wildlife was hot. This deer spent more than two minutes drinking at this small pond.​

We just happened to notice this marker at the end of the Lassen NF BDT as we were prepping to air up the tires.​

We reached the end of the trail at 3:28pm. Crossing the Union Pacific railway at Little Valley, we pointed the truck towards McAurther - and ultimately, I-5 - for fuel and our two-day trip home.

The trusty transporter, back on pavement.​

Along the way we'd have a bit of excitement: a tire blowing as we plodded our way through Oregon, the second of the trip! As we had the first time, it was quickly replaced - thankfully we'd gotten the valve stem repaired - and we were back on our way.

And I was already looking forward to my next adventure, hopefully to somewhere a little... cooler.

Well, that's no bueno. I don't think it's supposed to look like that.​

​

Also no bueno, we also caught a glimpse of the McKinney Fire, just as it was getting started.​

As you enjoy your travels through the wild woods,
tread lightly and leave no trace,
that wind and water cannot erase.​

 

The Lassen area is stunning. Ravaged by wildfire, it's obviously changed a lot but still worth a visit. So too is a visit to the park.
Lassen Peak last erupted in the 1900's and as you approach the trail leading to the top, you pass through the "devastated area". The trail to the top is worth the effort for the views--they even installed a potty along the trail

Thanks for the great write-up!