Joe Orman's Hiking Club Trip Reports

October 13-14, 1984 - Topock Gorge Canoe Trip

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear at Park Moabi campground on the Colorado River as 18 HACK PACKERS roused themselves for the exciting day ahead. Far from snowy high peaks, the Colorado Desert near Needles was providing perfect weather for the weekend. A chill of adventure awakened the group as we met instructor Chuck Reynolds, who was to act as guide on the first HACK PACKERS canoe trip!

Chuck is a friendly and knowledgeable canoeist who leads river trips regularly. His choice of Topock Gorge this month was excellent in terms of weather, scenery, and ease of navigation for a beginning group. Soon we had shuttled our cars 15 miles downriver to our ending point, loaded all of our gear into the spacious two-person canoes, and pushed off into the river to try out our newly-learned paddling skills. After some beginning difficulties in getting the stubborn craft to go straight, we all got the hang of it and headed down the broad and beautiful Colorado River.

As it slowly winds through the Lake Havasu National Wildlife Refuge, the Colorado brings a vivid contrast of greenery against the stark desert cliffs. We glided through tranquil lagoons, lazed on sunny sandbars, and swam in invigorating chilly water. Everywhere there was life: from the fish slipping silently through the depths, to the rustle of waterfowl skimming the surface, to the roar of powerboats bringing more hurried visitors. We gazed upon ancient petroglyphs, knowing that the Indians who hunted in the gorge must also have appreciated its beauty. And we jumped off tall rocks into the river just for the fun of it. Our 10 miles for the day too quickly done, we made dinner while the sun set behind a lagoon and one by one the distant mountains were darkened. Two gourmets even brought Haagen Dazs ice cream packed in dry ice! Walking away from the campfire that night, we saw the universe in all its glory, a truly awesome spectacle unimagined by those insulated in the faraway city.

Up early Sunday and out on the river. After scurrying up sand dunes and exploring reed marshes, we felt the ending of our journey all too soon as midday approached. At Castle Rock, a towering desert monolith, our cars and civilization awaited us. Some of us drove the short distance to Lake Havasu City to admire London Bridge, like this river a stranger to the desert. We toasted our adventures over a restaurant dinner, and made the unspoken vow of all good trips: this is a place to which we shall someday return.

January 12-13, 1985 - Mojave PCT Backpack

Leaders: Joe Orman and Rick Scott

Trip report by Joe Orman and Rick Scott

Our Pacific Crest Trail trip began at the Flying Witch Ranch, where five Hack Packers met the matron of the Los Angeles Aqueduct, "Cuckoo Grandma" Davidson. After admiring her highly-decorated outhouse, we located the nearby trailhead and the first of the hatchways that would supply us with water on our desert trek. For the next 8 miles, we battled a strong headwind that did not calm until we reached camp. While three hikers set up camp, the other two lowered a pot on a rope through a hatchway into the underground river. In the middle of the barren desert, it seems strange to lift a metal lid and see millions of gallons of water rushing by. To guard against contamination, we purified the water with a 0.4-micron First Need filter. We warded off the high-desert chill with a crackling campfire. First we tried to burn Joshua tree wood, but it would only smoke, so we switched to creosote bush for a hot, clean flame. Meanwhile, the Milky Way blazed with thousands of stars.

Sunday morning was still as we arose and found our water bottles were half-frozen! With ten miles left to go, we hit the trail, which resembles a sand-swept sidewalk flanked by dirt roads. As we passed vertical pipes at intervals along the route, we tried to estimate their spacing to mark our progress. Joshua trees pointed the way, as they did for the Mormon travelers who named them. Clear desert air provided unblocked views of distant snow-covered ranges, the San Gabriels and San Bernardinos as well as the close Tehachapis. Although uncharacteristic of the PCT, this desert stretch offers a unique encounter with the desert.

March 9-10, 1985 - Caving I Class

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Thirteen Hack Packers participated in the introductory spelunking course, enjoying a weekend of caving. Our guides to the underworld were Bill and Margaret Maher, professional instructors for Square One Adventures of Long Beach.

Our trip began at Pisgah Crater, a large volcanic cone located 42 miles east of Barstow on the south side of I-40. Thousands of years ago, molten lava had flowed out of the crater, covering the plain. Today, the cone itself is being gradually removed by a landscaping gravel company. We hiked out onto the flows Saturday morning, and found dozens of tunnels to explore, in various states of collapse. Some are large enough to walk through freely, while one passage in Glove Cave was so tight we had to exhale to squeeze through! By mid-afternoon, we had had enough of lava tubes and torn coveralls, and we hiked back to our cars.

That evening, 70 miles further east along I-40, we came to the Providence Mountains State Recreation Area. High on the rugged and isolated mountainside, we gathered around the campfire for caving stories. At sunrise the next morning, the group was greeted by gorgeous views across the desert and by an inquisitive roadrunner. Soon Joe was dangling helplessly from the Visitor Center, being mock-rescued by Gabe Papp in a demonstration of the technical equipment used in vertical caving. After everyone got a chance at ascending the ropes, we gathered for a tour of the Mitchell Caverns. Supervising Ranger Terry Brown led us through the beautiful El Pakiva and Tecopa rooms, explaining the history and geology of the area. Descriptions cannot convey the loveliness of the limestone formations, including stately columns, clinging stalactites, and sinuous drapery. We were awed by the sight of bizarre and delicate helictites, "cave popcorn," and "lily pads"--all formed out of limestone by the action of water, gravity, and time. We squirmed into another tight crawlway (named the "telephone booth") and gazed into the depths of great pits. One room was special for Bill and Margaret, because their wedding ceremony had been performed there only three weeks before! We finally returned to the surface, squinting in the bright sunlight. Newly appreciative of the beauty to be found both above and below ground, we watched cloud shadows race across far-distant mountain ranges.

March 30, 1985 - First Hack Packers Bike Hike

Leaders: Joe Orman and Rick Scott

Trip report by Joe Orman

On the shores of destiny, the valiant five embraced their hardy velocipedes that they might serenely ascend to their loftiest aspiration.
        (Translation: Five Hack Packers met at Quail Lake in the Western Antelope Valley for the first club bicycle ride.)
Away, then! Up ancient empty streets, the sing of spokes resounded through pastoral copse and over sun-dappled, rock-ribbed verdanture.
        (We pedalled up the old Ridge route, then down the Pine Canyon Road to Three Points.)
Concavity upon convexity, the very earth itself assailed the gravity-bound wheelers, who replied with much straining of thigh and gasping of lung!
        (The ride was hilly.)
Then the long bright curve of space described a subtle change from potential to kinetic--we arrived at the lowliest ribbon of life itself.
        (The road dropped to the aqueduct on the valley floor.)
Ere the aluminated eclipse of mighty Sol, we weary wanderers imbibed and masticated with joyous abandon.
        (We stopped for lunch at a shaded rest point.)
We experienced extreme ocular delight at sylvan glades of spectrally explosive, tumescently bounteous botany.
        (We saw poppies in bloom.)
As Odysseus had before them, or as a Phoenix reborn, the five returned humbly to their place of origin.
        (The aqueduct bike trail returned us to the parking lot.)
Ask not for whom the wheel rolls--it rolls for thee.
        (Please join us on our next ride.)

[Quiz: Can you spot the literary references to Bob Dylan, Conrad Aiken, Homer, and John Donne?]

April 6-7, 1985 - Davis Dam - Needles Canoe Trip

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Eleven Hack Packers met at Sportsmen Park on the Nevada-Arizona border for the second bi-annual Hack Packers canoe trip. We were part of a larger group led by professional guide Chuck Reynolds. Saturday morning, after completing a car shuttle to Needles, and packing the large, two-person canoes, we pushed off into the swift Colorado River. We spent the day drifting, paddling, looking at houses along the shore, and trying to avoid noisy powerboats. We stopped on sandbars to splash cold water on each other and play frisbee. That evening, we made camp on a broad sandy beach. Before dinner, we hiked up a hill behind the camp to see Fort Mojave, ruins from the last century. For dessert, we had a special surprise--three flavors of ice cream packed in dry ice, with an assortment of toppings! As we gathered around the campfire, I read a chapter from Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire.

Sunday brought more paddling and swimming, and another surprise--Diane Serafin presented a cake to birthday boy Mike. After putting ashore at noon and bidding Chuck farewell, we gathered for lunch at a restaurant in Needles. A November trip to Black Canyon (below Hoover Dam) is being planned.

April 20-21, 1985 - Allison Gold Mine Backpack

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Only one other Hack Packer was brave (or foolish?) enough to join me for this weekend trip in the San Gabriels. We started at the East Fork Fire Station, following a fire road along the San Gabriel River. A side trail soon branched off, switchbacking up to a steep ridge almost in the clouds. We followed this ridge to an old, overgrown miner's trail that contours around iron Mountain. As we bushwhacked along this trail, a light rain began that would continue all night. We arrived at the mine late Saturday afternoon and immediately made our shelters to escape the drizzle. While Nancy pitched her tent, I constructed a lean-to from the remains of a collapsed miner's cabin.

The next morning was foggy but without rain, so we briefly explored the ruins of the mine, abandoned in 1942. Ore-car tracks still lead from the tunnel entrance to the stamp mill, hanging like a forgotten sentinel over the remote Allison Gulch. Upstream from the mine, we discovered a lovely 40-foot waterfall surrounded by smooth rock walls. Eager to be out of the cold and dreary weather, we quickly packed and found the steep and treacherous trail to the bottom of the gulch. We boulder-hopped along the tinkling Allison Creek, which eventually empties into the East Fork. Three miles along the East Fork, with many crossings, led us back to the parking lot.

July 20-21, 1985 - San Gorgonio Backpack

Leaders: Joe Orman and Rick Scott

Trip report by Joe Orman

SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAIN HIGH
or, "How I Climbed San Gorgonio Without Oxygen Tanks"

Author's Note: In what I believe is a "first" for the Trail Mix, the following trip report was written on the trail during the actual trip. Thus, the impressions are first-hand, not memories altered by time and distance.

Friday. The clouds rise with the road now, and Gorgonio comes into view for the first time. "Old Greyback," they call it, but it never looked so colorful, rising above the darkening forest into a somber ceiling of clouds, golden in the day's last rays of sunlight. At the Poopout Hill parking lot, a row of deserted cars stands guard over the puddles left by an afternoon rain. Trees glow a surreal shade of gold as we explore the trail as far as the wilderness boundary. There, the bald peak holds the last rays of sunset, which comes through the dewy pine boughs with an almost unearthly light that eludes capture on film.

Saturday. Awakened at dawn by a thundering herd of Boy Scouts. Brought fully awake by a rain of dew from Warren shaking the tent. Fortunately the weather has cleared during the night, and it looks like a beautiful day ahead.

Noon finds us eating lunch at Dollar Lake, so named because it reflects the sun like a silver dollar. Today, however, it is a dark green below solid cloud cover. The weather threatens to repeat yesterday's rain, and I am concerned.

3:30 pm. After a hard haul, we have made camp at Dry Lake View, elevation 10,500 feet. Dry Lake lies 1400 feet below us, seemingly so close, but we will not reach our next water there until tomorrow midday. The afternoon storms have not materialized, thankfully, but it is still very cloudy.

Sunday. The day dawns with an almost perfectly clear sky, but since we are camped on a saddle there will be a cold wind until the sun heats the canyon air behind us. Of the nine in our group, two had mild cases of altitude sickness, but the morning brings adjustment and we are ready for the last two uphill miles to the peak.

We reach the summit easily, for views in all directions impeded only by the smog layer below us. But here at 11,500 feet the sky is clear and blue. After signing the register and taking a group picture, we make good time on the switchbacks down the east side of the mountain. We pass an old plane wreckage, then stop for lunch at Mine Shaft Saddle.

The best spot of the trip is Dry Lake, not quite dry but getting there. Peaceful and beautiful under puffy white clouds in a deep blue sky. From there the trail drops steadily to South Fork Meadows. The last mile to Poopout Hill lasts forever, but finally everybody makes it by mid-afternoon. We had met a ranger on the trail, who told us the Poopout Hill trailhead will be moved down to Jenks Lake Road, adding another 1 1/2 miles of steep hiking to this already difficult effort.

October 19, 1985 - Devil’s Punchbowl

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

This Los Angeles County Park is best described by John W. Robinson in his book, Trails of the Angeles: "The great San Andreas Rift Zone cuts a bee-line swath along the desert side of the San Gabriels. Many interesting geological features lie along this monumental earthquake fault system, but none so strange as the fantastic jumble of whitish rocks known as the Devils Punchbowl. Within this mile-wide depression rise row upon row of weathered sandstone blocks, many of them titled so as to resemble plates standing on edge, others folded and broken like huge slides of fancy pudding...it's almost as if you were in a different world."

Nine Hack Packers entered this world on the club's latest visit to the Punchbowl. After visiting the menagerie of snakes, spiders, mice and bees, we were allowed into the usually-closed visitors' center to see the interesting exhibits of fossils, stuffed animals and mounted insects. Then we began our hike by venturing north into the heart of the Punchbowl, far from the tourist loop trail. With much scrambling and ridge-walking, we covered most of the area shown in the photo. At midday, we dropped into the almost-dry creek bed and lunched in the cool shade of yellow sycamore trees. More boulder-hopping up Punchbowl Canyon brought us to the bottom of the loop trail, which we followed back to the visitors' center. From there we watched a pair of technical climbers inch their way up one of these towering slabs, the skyscrapers of the desert.

April 13, 1986 - Echo Mountain Dayhike

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

More than two years have passed since the Hack Packers last took this historic loop trip in the San Gabriel Mountains. But the ruins of the Mt. Lowe Railway have been waiting for a half a century, and will be there years from now when other hikers decide to make their pilgrimage.

The ruins must have seen many perfect hiking days like this Sunday. From the ridge of Echo Mountain, the crumbling pillars and stately cedars of long-deserted White City stand waiting for the incline car from Altadena far below. The crumbling roadbed still leads around the mountain into the cool pine forest of Millard Canyon, but the echoes of the electric trolley car bell have long since faded. At the end of the line waits Mount Lowe Trail Camp, once the site of hospitable Alpine Tavern. Now it is a hotel only for backpackers, never again to greet a trolley full of riders, never again to shelter visitors within great stone walls. At Inspiration Point, one can only imagine the views offered to the hikers of an earlier age.

Almost gone but hopefully never to be forgotten, Mt. Lowe Railway lives only in the memories of those who were there, and in the minds of those who can still imagine.

January 17-18, 1987 - Medicine Cave Survey and Photo Trip

Leader: Rick Scott

Trip report by Rick Scott, Joe Orman and Pam Davis

Note: Portions of this trip report have been deleted to disguise the location of the cave, to protect it from vandalism.

On Saturday, January 17th, Rick Scott, Joe Orman, Pam Davis, Karen Killion, Jacob Ellens, and Dave Coppedge of the Southern California Grotto went on a trip to Medicine Cave. This small cave is in __________. We had to get special permission from the __________ to enter the cave, since all caves in the area are closed pending a complete inventory. We learned from ________ that the cave has two entrances and how to find them. He showed us a very rough map, made in 1965, that was not complete. There is an unsurveyed passage indicated on the map, which we looked forward to including in our complete survey of the cave.

The name of the cave is derived from the ________ Indians, ___________, who occupied the area into the 19th century. A medicine man's poro, or shepherd's crook, was an important archeological find in the cave. Geologically, the caves of the area follow steeply tilted limestone bedding planes and associated joints. The cave is described in Halliday's Caves of California (1962) as a "short tunnel-like cave" and "the most important of the small caves" in the range.

We headed off for the cave wondering if we were going to be able to find it. After a false search up a small canyon we found the north entrance. The cool air felt good as it was getting hot with our gear on. Upon entering, we decided to take the left passage which was the one previously mapped. This led us through a small, but very nice cave with many stalactites and columns.

Not far from the entrance we were in a small room that had many small shields with flowstone hanging from them. Further into the cave we came up to a flowstone cascade that led to a very small opening at the top. This passage took us into an area with many of the small columns and eventually to the Big Room.

The Big Room, the floor of which is covered with large breakdown, is formed along a joint (as is most of the cave) that extends high into the ceiling of the room. There is a pit at the east side of the room that drops thirteen feet into a passage paralleling the Big Room. Most of this passage is lined with a thick growth of calcite crystals. As we continued in the main cave, we found that the south end of the room splits into two passages. One of these passages leads up and outside, but is too small to follow. The other passage leads down through a small drop into a horizontal passage that heads toward the climb up the south entrance.

After exploring this part of the cave, we headed back toward the north entrance, stopping to eat lunch in the Big Room and taking photographs throughout. While Joe, Pam and Rick were taking pictures, Karen, Jacob and Dave explored the northern part of the cave, which was not on the old map. They came back with tales of large rooms and beautiful formations. They left after this to ______________.

Time was getting late so Pam, Joe and Rick decided to start the survey while exploring the northern part of the cave. This part starts out in a passage about six feet wide but only ten inches high, which soon opens to stooping passage. We were beginning to wonder about large rooms when we finally came to a passage that increased in height, leading us into the first of two large rooms. This room has many stalactites, one about six feet long and four inches in diameter. The western part of this room is low, but contains large groups of stalactites. A flowstone slope continues up to a small room with a false floor. From here the passage drops into the Oval Office, a large oval-shaped room with a high ceiling.

The following day, Joe, Pam and Rick went back to Medicine Cave to survey the southern portion of the cave. We had no trouble finding the entrance this time and spent the entire day surveying. There are several leads in the cave that we did not check out. This cave contains a small but significant variety of stalactites, stalagmites, columns shields, flowstone, and soda straws. The cave floor consists of dirt fill, breakdown, and crystalline rubble. Much of the flowstone is dusty and weathered, indicating extreme age. Formations, while sparse, are largely unvandalized due to the cave's inaccessibility.

January 17, 1988 - Return to Cinder (Cima Cave Trip Report)

Leaders: Rick Scott and Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Having read Russ Harter's description in the March 1986 Explorer of a lava tube near one of the Cima cinder cones, I took a trip to this area of San Bernardino Co. on the weekend of Jan. 16-17, 1988. Accompanying me were fellow SCG'ers Rick Scott and Pam Davis, and our friend Lee Kolinsky. We set out not only to find the tube, but also to see the surrounding East Mojave National Scenic Area before possible National Park status changes the face of the area forever.

Approaching the cinder cone area from the south via Kelbaker Road, we stopped to climb the magnificent 700' Kelso Sand Dunes. From the top of the highest dune, our view encompassed the Providence Mountains (home of Mitchell Caverns) and the broad bulge of Cima Dome far to the north. Continuing north along Kelbaker Road, we arrived at the cinder cone area. We were amazed at the number of cones as well as their symmetric condition.

Using Harter's excellent location map, we followed a rough dirt road directly to Cima Cave, a short lava tube at the base of a low, irregular cinder cone. A short walk brought us to the entrance, and we escaped the increasingly bad weather by descending via a handy metal ladder we found at the main entrance. The cave is a single lava tube less than 300 feet long (mostly walking passage, with several skylights) and took only a few minutes to explore. We found the well-decayed remains of an unknown mammal, and sighted a rat-like animal in the vertically-dug shaft at the uphill end of the tube. There was surprisingly little trash in the cave; we removed a few cans.

Braving driving winds and cold rain, Rick and I climbed to the top of one of the highest cinder cones in the area. We counted at least 25 cones on the Joshua tree-covered plains below. We saw no other evidence of tube formation in the lava flows.

After leaving the cinder cone area, we attempted to take a driving tour of the Cima Come high desert, but were forced by a sudden snow storm to retreat to I-15. On the way back to L.A., we decided to drive along the Mojave River in Afton Canyon, south of Cave Mountain. We explored one of several slot canyons carved out of the 100' high conglomerate cliffs that hug the north side of the dirt road. The canyon quickly narrowed to just a few feet wide, and we enjoyed a caving experience for several hundred feet as the sunlight was lost among the meanders of the chasm far above our heads. We climbed three dry waterfalls, but eventually came to one that was unclimbable. A knotted rope leading to a higher passage gave evidence that the way continued, but not for us that day.

Apparently, these slot canyons are not the "two small shelters in Afton Canyon" which gave Cave Mountain its name, as mentioned in Caves of California. A preponderance of similar canyons in the area warrants further exploration. Nearby Afton Canyon Campground would provide a nice base camp for a future trip.

March 3-4, 1990 - Anza-Borrego Desert Car Camp

Leader: Rick Scott

Trip report by Joe Orman

Does the wind ever stop blowing in this part of the desert? Every time I go to Anza-Borrego to escape the rain, I find clear skies but get wind, wind, and more wind in the bargain. This weekend was no exception, but that didn't keep the people from turning out. The Hack Packers were represented by Mike Madden, Winnfort Myles and myself. Rick Scott came from Phoenix, his brother Jeff came from Los Angeles, and Mud Cave authority Scott Schmitz joined us from San Diego. Everyone brought friends along, so we ended up with 13 trucks, 1 motorcycle, 1 dog, and too many people to count. The photographers had come for the wildflowers, but we were too early in a dry year. They had to settle for the dramatic lenticular clouds that accompanied the wind for the entire weekend.

The need for a four-wheel drive vehicle was confirmed soon after our caravan entered the Carrizo Badlands. One of the trucks had only two-wheel drive, and immediately became stuck in the sand. Yours truly came to the rescue, towing them out in a jiffy, and we were on our way.

Our first stop was the Mud Caves of Arroyo Tapiado. The neophytes in the group scoffed as the veteran cavers donned full caving gear: coveralls, hard hat, knee pads and gloves. By following Big Cave up to the mesa top and Chasm Cave back down, we were able to make a loop trip. In between was E-Ticket Cave, which is worth the price of admission if tight crawlways and multiple levels are your preference. By the time we got out of the cave, it was the veterans who were laughing. These caves are dusty, tight and twisty--everything but muddy. One of those in shorts and t-shirt was Mike Madden, who was greeted by a round of applause as he exited the cave, demonstrating to all that he had the right stuff. After that experience, most people were ready for a break from serious caving. We gathered for lunch in Plunge Pool Cave, an easy walk to the base of a 50-foot underground dry waterfall. The rule in this cave is "lights out," which means each person had to grope their way in, much to the amusement of those whose eyes had already adjusted to the dim light. After lunch, a few people hiked up Cave Canyon, which is bridged by towering arches, remnants of a cave which collapsed long ago. Others just hiked to the top of the surrounding mud hills to get a great view out over the badlands to the distant mountains.

As late afternoon approached, the 4WD rigs continued up-wash and searched in vain for a sheltered campsite. We finally just lined up all the trucks in Arroyo Seco Del Diablo and made the best of it. We even made a small fire in a barbecue grille, but it was difficult to cook in the high wind.

Sunday morning, the first order of the day was negotiating the sandy, one-way "drop-off" into Fish Creek Wash. We then entered Sandstone canyon, which has 100-foot walls just enough apart to permit a truck to pass. Unfortunately, a huge boulder had fallen into the canyon since our last visit, blocking the way to all vehicles except the most determined. So we hiked up a side slot canyon to the ocotillo-studded open desert above. Upon returning to the cars, we found that the owners of the dog had illegally left him off leash. The poor dog had tried so hard to follow his masters up a dry waterfall in the slot canyon that his paws were bloody. Pets do not belong in this wild country!

After lunch, everyone exited the badlands through Split Mountain, split up and headed off for parts unknown. The Arizonans got an early start on their long drive home, while others spoke of hot springs, ghost towns and other diversions that lay along their path back to civilization.

March 9-11, 1990 - Joshua Tree National Monument Car Camp

Leader: Mike Gauthier

Trip report by Joe Orman

Base camp for this year's Joshua Tree car camp was Jumbo Rocks Campground in the central area of the National Monument. Arriving at 3 pm Friday afternoon, Pam and I were able to secure several adjacent campsites. As early arrivers, we were treated to the sight of a coyote shyly visiting the campground. We were joined that evening by Lee Kolinsky, and the three of us enjoyed a campfire program by a ranger at the campground amphitheater. His talk on the human history of the area included the stories of Yucca Man, Willy Boy, and Mr. Coyote & Mr. Bobcat. Mike Gauthier and Mike Madden arrived later at night, completing the Hack Packers group. The night was still and clear, providing an excellent opportunity for moonlight photography of the Joshua Trees for those brave enough to ignore the howls of nearby coyotes.

On Saturday, we split into two groups to pursue quite different activities. While Lee and the two Mikes rode their mountain bikes to the climbing area at Belle Campground, Pam and I took a tour of the old Desert Queen Ranch. The Park Service docent, who led us through the ruins of Bill Keys' pioneer homestead, evidently never tires of telling Bill's story, even though he leads 3 tours a day on weekends. The shootout between Keys and his nemesis Worth Bagley was verbally enacted with such detail that we expected to hear shots ring out at any moment. The harsh desert elements had not conquered Bill, but the law did: after spending years in jail for killing Bagley, Keys returned to his ranch an old man. The story ends when the guide points out a small graveyard where crude headstones mark the final resting place of Bill, his wife, and their children.

Still on the lookout for history, Pam and I took a driving tour of the Gold Park mining district near the town of Twentynine Palms. We finally found our way through a maze of confusing, rough roads to a high, remote valley. Here we found diggins old and new.

Back at Jumbo Rocks that evening, Mike Gauthier complained that for his first-ever climb, he had been talked into doing a 5.9! He evidently survived the harrowing experience, and was soon piling up some of the tons of firewood he had brought. The night had grown chilly, and the fire provided much more than merely a place to cook. Amusement was provided by our neighbors at an adjacent campsite, who looked ready for a night on the town in their fashionable duds -- one was even wearing a suit!

Although we went to bed under clear skies, we were awakened by rain in the middle of the night. This prompted much scurrying about, since I had opted not to use my rainfly, and Mike Madden had not pitched a tent at all! Fortunately for him, Lee had extra room in his tent.

Sunday dawned cold, windy, and with light flurries of snow. After Lee bugged out for a restaurant breakfast, the rest of us decided to brave the weather and try a couple of nature trails. We were delighted by the terrain that the Skull Rock and Hidden Valley trails took us through: picturesque little hollows that provided photo opportunities as well as respite from the wind. The weather steadily improved throughout the morning, however, and by noon the day was beautiful. But the time had come, too soon as it always does, to return to the city.

Over dinner at the Sizzler in Banning, we remarked that now we were the ones who were out of place: in our grubby camping clothes, we were surrounded by people in their Sunday finest. Somehow it didn't bother me a bit -- everyone chooses their own church, and I had spent the whole weekend in mine.

April 7, 1990 - Strawberry Peak Dayhike

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Sometimes we all need to have our faith in humanity affirmed. After seeing so much apathy among our club members for the last few years, it was very gratifying to have so many people show up for my dayhike. Okay, so most of the people were not even club members, but let's not get technical. Was it the amount of publicity involved (Trail Mix listing and a flyer) that brought people out? Or was my chose of hikes too good to pass up? Or is the leader just a popular kinda guy? Whatever the reason, 17 hikers assembled at the Colby Canyon trailhead on the Angeles Crest Highway to challenge the loftiest peak in the front range of the San Gabriels. The mountain would not disappoint us this day.

I began to worry when some of the group had trouble with a simple stream crossing right at the beginning of the hike. How could they handle the entire 7 miles of the hike? I noted that several people had not worn boots as recommended -- how would these people fare on the many rocky scrambles to the peak?

My worries were eased as I heard the giggles on the trail behind me. There were a few complaints along the way ("Are you serious? That peak way up there is the one we're going to?!?"), but overall the mood was jovial. A good group, I thought. The weather was even co-operating, too. If only those clouds would linger a bit longer, our switchbacks up the shadeless chaparral slopes would be "no sweat."

At Josephine Saddle we paused and played a game of "guess which trail we take." The fire road into the shady woods? Nope. The well-maintained trail that gently contours around the mountain? Nope. That faint trail right up a steep, rocky ridge? Yep! Our thighs protested as the promised "1500-foot elevation gain" became reality. The group was slow getting past the boulder climbs along the ridge, but with everyone helping out and sticking together, we all made it to the peak only a bit after the traditional lunchtime of noon.

On the top, we had a great view out over the top of the cloud cover below. Your humble leader demonstrated real spirit by whipping out a "theme" lunch: PBJ with strawberry jam, strawberry fruit rolls, strawberry fruit drink, strawberry wine cooler, and strawberry cookies for dessert. And for the piece de resistance: fresh strawberries for everyone! Do you begin to notice a trend here?

After our all-too-brief break, we got to hike downhill for a change. Another four miles brought us to the car we had left at Red Box Ranger Station. (Special thanks to Winnfort Myles for helping with the car shuttle, as well as driving a carpool and acting as trail sweep.)

The trip ended as many such good trips have in the past: we toasted our success over pizza. As we discussed what had made the hike so enjoyable, everyone agreed that the variety of terrain was a constant delight: from steam-bottomed canyon to open slopes to pine-covered ridge to granite summit. But I only smiled and kept to myself the real reason for such a great trip: the great people who come along to share the experience.

June 21-24, 1990 - Yosemite National Park Backpack

Leader: Stephen Salgaller

Trip report by Joe Orman and Stephen Salgaller

WILL YOSEMITE STILL BE
IN NINETEEN HUNDRED NINETY-THREE?

This year's Yosemite trip started Thursday afternoon when we began the 7-hour drive up Highway 395. Pam Orman and Ben Ono completed our foursome. By bedtime (11 o'clock) we had reached the vicinity of June Lake, so we pulled off on a side road and rolled out the sleeping bags. The stars were clear and the mosquitoes few.

The next morning we continued our drive, stopping for breakfast at Nicely's Restaurant in Lee Vining -- our last restaurant meal for three days! From there, the Tioga Pass Road took us steeply up into Yosemite's spectacular high country. Soon we arrived at the Wilderness Permit booth at Tuolumne Meadow, eager to pick up our permit and hit the trail. We waited for a half-hour while one overworked ranger issued permits to a long line of impatient hikers.

Yosemite celebrates its 100th birthday as a national park in October 1990. (The valley, less than 1% the area of the entire park, was added in 1906.) What is Yosemite like these days? The figures provided by some recent newspaper articles are sobering.

3.4 million visitors a year enter the park in a million vehicles. On some summer and holiday weekends the valley roads are snarled and every parking spot filled. On such weekends, about 7,000 people sleep in a four-square-mile area of the main valley. Campfires and car fumes create a smog that hangs in the valley; last year firewood gathering was banned. Tourists generate 25 tons of garbage and a million gallons of sewage each day. In the valley are dorms, cabins and houses where about 1,300 employees live. It has been said that "There is a veritable town nestled beneath the grandest scenery in America." Due to budget troubles, last year half of the wilderness rangers were cut (they now number 75). Only one ranger is available for evening education programs. The park has 800 miles of trails -- and no trail maintenance budget.

Just what the hell is happening to Yosemite?
Our trail to Cloud's Rest began at a walk-in campground on the shores of Lake Tenaya. On this day, the campground was closed, and we enjoyed the solitude as we took group photos with a magnificent view of the lake and the granite domes beyond. Too quickly, we discovered that the campground did have inhabitants -- mosquitoes! So without further ado, we hit the trail, which was bordered with greenery. The path soon became steep, but we were rewarded by hiking through a few patches of snow on the first day of summer!

Somehow we all made it to a rest stop at a saddle. Soon after, a small trailside lake gave us another rest stop and a place for Joe to take a dip. But the hard part still wasn't over: each of us had to lug a gallon of water for that night's dry camp on the peak. A lovely little stream 2 steep miles before the peak was our last water supply. Ever the "glutton for punishment," Steve carried about 20 pounds of water for part of the way to give the others a break.

As we neared the peak, the sun neared the horizon. The view of the sunset from Cloud's Rest was almost worth the hike up -- almost! That night, we shared the peak with a few other brave souls. Bravest (or most foolish) of all was Steve, who held up a lightning rod in an attempt to detect atmospheric electricity! Steve had also included in his solar-powered backpack a large telescope -- as the sunset faded, we watched the lights come on in Yosemite Valley, far below.

The General Management Plan of 1980 was an ambitious master plan for returning Yosemite to a more natural state. The plan begins: "Yosemite Valley is but a mile wide and seven miles long, yet this tiny place on the face of the planet is a premier masterwork of the natural world. Yosemite is too valuable to use for administration, maintenance, parking, or any commercial services that to not contribute directly to a quality park experience." The goals: remove park housing and offices, and relocate nonessential personnel outside the valley. Reduce lodging facilities and remove "resort-type" facilities. Reduce auto traffic and parking spaces, and eventually ban autos from the valley.

A decade later, the bold plan has been left mostly on paper. Traffic is up. New businesses continue to open. Overnight lodgings have been added instead of torn down. At the once-rustic Ahwahnee Hotel ($170/night, $370 for suites with a view of Glacier Point), the rooms were refurbished last year with TV's, mini-bars and videos. They will soon get air conditioning; they already have tennis courts and a swimming pool. There have been a few good changes: a golf course at the Ahwahnee was torn out, and a recycling center and shuttle bus system now operate in the valley. Bighorn sheep were reintroduced to the high country. But the Reagan Administrations and Congress never put up the money to carry out the most ambitious visions of the plan, which was devised during carter's term. The result has been a storm of protest from conservation groups. In a joint letter, the Wilderness Society, Sierra Club, National Audubon Society and the National Parks and Conservation Association charged the Park Service with failing in its duty to protect Yosemite.

A report from the Park Service last year admitted little has been accomplished. While visitation has increased 29% in the last 10 years, the park's budget has been stagnant. According to the report, visitors want to stay close to their cars and sleep in warm rooms with their own bathrooms. But as Steve Whitney of the Wilderness Society says, "Just because people want Jacuzzis and room service doesn't mean the Park Service has to provide that in the heart of a premiere national park."
Sunrise Saturday was even better than the sunset; the weather was clear and warm, as it would remain the entire weekend. Great views of the backcountry and an easy downhill grade started off our dayhike. We quickly reached the John Muir Trail, which we would follow for an entire half-mile before starting up to Half Dome. At the trail junction, we met a ranger who told us to keep an eye out for two Boy Scouts who had gotten lost the day before. We never saw the boys, but we saw a search helicopter circling most of the weekend.

We continued, up and up. "You gotta be kidding" was no kidding by Steve at his first view of the cable stairs. There was a constant stream of people going up and down the infamous cables to the summit. Everyone did very well, considering we had a 4000-foot drop on one side of the cable! Soon we were at the top, sharing the view with dozens of other hikers -- it was almost a zoo! Far below, it was a zoo too: we watched as cars in the valley circled futily for parking spaces.

The contract for Yosemite's concessions is coming up for renewal in 1993. This monopoly on all park services includes meals, wilderness camps, souvenirs, downhill skiing, ice-skating, bus tours and bike rentals. The current concessionaire, the Yosemite Park & Curry Company (YPCC), only pays 0.75% of its profits as a fee! And YPCC made $85 million last year! The fee is supposed to be renegotiated every five years, but it hasn't been raised since the contract was written in 1963. Worse, the fee does not go to Yosemite or any other national park, so the Park Service has little inventive to get a better deal.

YPCC says that they support restoring Yosemite to a more natural state, but they fought wilderness designation for the high country. And in 1988 they spent $669,000 to market the park. YPCC, a subsidiary of entertainment giant MCA Inc (operator of Universal Studios tour) treats Yosemite more like a mountain resort than a national park. When MCA bought the Curry Company in 1973, they immediately proposed an aerial tram ride from the valley floor to Glacier Point! YPCC denies trying to stall the 1980 plan, but last fall they mailed 95,000 letters to recent hotel customers asking them to write in opposition to cuts in overnight accommodations. And YPCC says the plan's goals are out of date. They want to keep their employees and executives in the valley, where they live in a scenic meadow with a view of Half Dome.

What does this mean to you and me? Lines for permits. Lines of cars in the valley. Incentive for YPCC to build more concessions, such as: a hair salon; a frozen yogurt stand; a pizza shop; a video rental store; a 1-hour photo service.

Is all this really necessary to get a wilderness experience? There is a balance in nature, and there needs to be more of a balance in Yosemite's concession management. What is really needed is: A fair fee for business, all of which is returned to the park for upkeep (6% sounds good; national parks fees average 3% but go as high as 12%). And requirements for YPCC to reduce traffic, smog and garbage. They can start by removing the video rental stand!

Some non-profit groups, including the Wilderness Society, are considering competing for the contract, although many doubt they have the money to seriously challenge MCA. MCA can lower its bid to match any competitor and automatically win the contract! Even if a competitor won, they would have to purchase at market value all of YPCC's facilities. The Inspector General and the Park Service are auditing the handling of the contract; both reviews should be finished later this year.
After peering down Half Dome's 2000-foot sheer face, we weren't so scared of the cable route on our descent. We had all enjoyed the view, and now we all "enjoyed" the mosquitoes as we pumped more water for that night. Then we had to face "Joe's nightmare": in a dream several nights before, Joe had warned Steve that the elevation gain back to our Cloud's Rest campsite (after doing Half Dome) would be a grueling 3000 feet. Joe's nightmare then haunted us by coming true! Tired and almost out of sunlight, we finally reached our camp again. This night we had Cloud's Rest to ourselves. Again, there were lots of stars but everyone was too sleepy to watch them.

What will the future hold for Yosemite? Hopefully something like what Steve Roper describes in Backpacker magazine: "The majority of man-made structures in Yosemite Valley will be dismantled. My utopian New Valley would contain numerous hike-in campgrounds, where open fires and loud music would be actively discouraged. I'd keep just enough buildings for 500 overnight accommodations, all reserved for the elderly and the handicapped. I'd retain a few simple restaurants and a general store. Inconspicuous hiking routes would be established in every section of the valley. Energy-efficient buses would slither along narrow roads.

"I would marvel at the silence. I could walk to the meadows without dodging Winnebagos, without inhaling exhaust fumes. I would see visitors engaging in that nearly forgotten activity: walking. Best of all, I would see people who wanted to be in the valley to worship the place for what it is: a shrine where respectful silence is the natural way to behave."
On Sunday we hiked out. Our first stop after returning to civilization: snacks and souvenirs at the Tuolumne Meadows store. Our second stop? An extra-large pizza with anchovies in Bishop! Our next stop? A two-hour delay in Big Pine due to a roadside brush fire -- time enough to enjoy some frozen yogurt. Boy, that frozen yogurt was good! So was the pizza. Discussing the trip, we found ourselves not wanting to walk so far next time to see Yosemite's beauty. And it would be nice to get our trip photos back right away! Our three days of primitive living gave us a different perspective: maybe the frozen yogurt stand, pizza shop, Winnebagos and photo lab in the valley aren't such a bad idea after all! Or perhaps our thoughts were just confused by our tiredness: we didn't reach our last stop (a hot shower and soft bed) until long after midnight.

[Note: Some of the text in bold was taken from various newspaper articles without attribution.]

November 17-18, 1990 - China Lake Petroglyph Car Camp

Leader: Nancy Jensen (TRW Wilderness Club)

Trip report by Joe Orman

Did you know that HESEA Hiking Club members are welcome to participate in TRW Wilderness Club trips? Pam and I decided to take TRW up on the offer by joining them on this car camp. We met the enthusiastic group of 25 and their leader, Nancy Jensen, Saturday morning at the Maturango Museum in Ridgecrest.

After browsing through the displays, gift shop and art gallery at this small natural history museum, we drove north on Highway 395 to Fossil Falls, a region of volcanic cliffs worn smooth by the draining of ancient Lake Owens. There we were met by BLM Archeologist Joan Oxendine, who gave us a 2-hour interpreted hike to several of the prehistoric Indian sites in the area. We saw the ruins of the rock houses the migrant hunter-gatherers lived in, obsidian chips from their tool-making, and a few simple petroglyphs. Unfortunately we also saw vandalism where treasure-hunters had dug pits, disturbing the archeological evidence and erasing valuable clues to the past.

After leaving Fossil Falls, we headed for camp at Red Rock Canyon State Park. Dinner that evening was pot luck, with chili, wine and chocolate cake predominating. I handed out several copies of the Trail Mix and invited everyone to join our trips. Long into the night, giant-size shadows were cast on the cliffs by the firelight and the sound of song and laughter rose into the clear desert night.

The next morning, we returned to the Maturango Museum, which for over 20 years has been leading tours to the petroglyphs of China Lake Naval Weapons center. First, we were treated to a briefing and slide presentation on the rock art of the Coso Mountains, where archeologists have catalogued over 20,000 designs that are as much as 12,000 years old. Our appetites whetted for adventure, we crammed 50 people (our group and 25 others) into 15 cars, since the Navy limits the number of vehicles on the base. It was a bit too cozy, but a great way to make friends! For the 42-mile drive to the petroglyph area, the museum has prepared a road log that points out geological and historical points of interest along the way. We saw wild horses, mine ruins, and wonderful Joshua tree forests, but unfortunately photography was forbidden outside of the petroglyph area. Just before noon we arrived at the picnic ground which marks the beginning of Little Petroglyph (Renegade) Canyon. After a quick lunch, 4 museum volunteers led us down the wash, which gradually turns into a deep canyon between volcanic cliffs.

Pecked into the rocks along the mile-long canyon, we saw bighorn sheep, human figures, hands, as well as many designs that seemed to be pure abstractions. What is the secret of the petroglyphs? No one knows for sure. Hunting magic, perhaps, or records of rituals long forgotten. Some say they tell stories, some say they are merely graffiti. Even if their meaning has been lost, their beauty has not. Viewing them, we get an appreciation of the great expanse of time that separates us from these ancient people, and the bonds of humanity that forever unite us.

March 30, 1991 - Lower Zuma Canyon Dayhike

Leader: Dana Majewski

Trip report by Joe Orman and Dana Majewski

To get to the start of this hike in the Santa Monica Mountains, we drove up the coast highway to the north side of Santa Monica Bay. A couple of miles up the Kanan-Dume Road brought us to the roadside trailhead. Most of the group (more than a dozen people) arrived a little after 9:30 am. We waited for stragglers, then started up a steep fire road. Two more hikers showed up just as we were starting up the trail, and leader Dana went back down to assist. The hillsides were unusually green since it had rained a couple of days before; after 15 minutes of steep but pleasant hiking we reached the top of the hill. The fire road down the other side turned into a trail and soon brought us to the bottom of the canyon and Zuma Creek. There was much bushwhacking (including poison oak!) and boulder-hopping on our way up the creek. The recent rains also meant that we passed many beautiful waterfalls and cascades. A group of 4 impatient hikers went ahead, and got back to the parking lot at about 12:45. Only one waited for us, the others leaving for home.

Meanwhile the main group had stopped for lunch. Again we waited for stragglers before proceeding. Two people (an experienced hiker and a first time hiker) left a few minutes before the rest of the group. After lunch we continued up-canyon, arriving at about 4:30 at the side canyon (Newton Canyon) that would take us back to our cars. There were two routes directly around a waterfall in Newton Canyon, but one was exposed and the other was wet! So we took a steep trail straight up the side of the canyon that eventually led to the paved road. A 1/4-mile walk along the road brought us back to the parking lot, completing our 6-mile loop.

At the cars we found out that we were missing one person. We figured out that the experience hiker had come cross-country directly over a steep hill to the cars, and had driven home without making sure the first time hiker was following. We quickly flagged down a Highway Patrol officer who called the local volunteer search and rescue team. Fortunately our hiker showed up shortly after the first search parties went out. Wet, tired and scared, he told us that after clinging to a cliff and failing to attract our attention, he had eventually climbed back down to the creek and found his way to the road. By this time it was quite dark and we were all tired, but we also felt greatly relieved that our friend was safe.

A few lessons should be learned from this experience:
1. Follow the leader.
2. No one goes home until everyone has completed the hike.
3. Hike with a buddy -- and stay together.
4. Carry your 10 essentials (including map, flashlight and whistle).

A final note: Since leading this hike, Dana has moved out of California. We will miss him and all the great dayhikes he led for the hiking club.

April 12-16, 1991 - Grand Canyon Backpack

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

To begin with, let us get the numbers out of the way. In order to comprehend the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River, people have always tried to reduce it to mere facts: The canyon is 277 miles long and roughly a mile deep. The canyon, or rather the canyon system with its countless side canyons, took perhaps 30 million years to be cut into the Colorado Plateau of northern Arizona. The rocks that are exposed in the inner gorge are about 1.7 billion yeas old, almost half as old as the earth itself. The river is some 40 feet deep and is said to contain a species of fish that grows to 14 feet in length. On this trip, 5 hikers (myself, Pam, Chita, Gloria and Wanda) spent 4 days below the rim. Our trail down, the South Kaibab Trail, is 10 miles.

No matter how one concentrates on the numbers, the reality of the canyon intrudes. For several nights before the trip, I have trouble sleeping. I realize that this is only one trip of many, and many before have been much more difficult, but still irrational fears arise. What will we find there? Do we have any place there, or will we only be swallowed up by the uncaring void?

My first glimpse into the canyon comes through the trees while shuttling a car from one trailhead to the other. It is not reassuring. Again, the mind retreats into a protective illusion: the canyon, the sky, the distant buttes--all appear as a painted backdrop. Nothing could possibly be so immense, therefore it must not be real. Soon, the last water bottle is filled, the last pack strap cinched down and the time to begin the hike has come. The ritual of photos at the trail sign is prolonged as long as possible, then the first steps must be taken. Out of the trees, onto the rim, out into a yawning chasm. Why is it that the first steps of a long walk always carry such uncertainty? I am reassured by having friends along to share those steps, and after a few paces the old comfortable rhythm of walking returns.

The cliché of canyon hiking is that it is the opposite of mountain hiking: one makes the descent first, when one is deceptively fresh, and saves the grueling uphill for last, when the body is least willing to confront it. As long as one realizes this and plans for it, the situation affords a rare chance to get gradually acclimated to the trail. Indeed, one is tempted to hike too quickly, as if the real rewards of the trip were at the bottom and not along the way down. But today is a day for contemplation, and we stop several times to rest and read about the rocks, the desert, and the river.

As we move down into the space and the silence of the canyon, we are moving backwards in time by immense leaps. We are also moving into warmer climate zones; as we descend, we remove layer after layer of clothing. At our rest stop of the Tonto Plateau, a huge tableland suspended between rim and river, we wonder if perhaps we have been too hasty in judging the weather: a cool breeze seems to be bringing a rain storm from down-canyon. But we soon appreciate how far we have come down into the earth when we see the sheets of rain evaporating far above our heads. At the appropriately named Tipoff, we come abruptly to the final edge and make our steeply switchbacking descent into the inner gorge. It is here that we first glimpse the river, still far below, brown with silt. As darkness of our fist day approaches, we reach the river and cross the Kaibab suspension bridge, impatient to make camp.

The next day provides more opportunity for reflection, appreciation, and an attempt at comprehension. We will spend the whole day in or near Bright Angel Campground, which sits beneath the cottonwoods along the creek of the same name. As we walk up Bright Angel Creek to Phantom Ranch, the South Rim with its traces of snow comes into view. Midday finds us sunning on the beach, where we are greeted by Dave Perkins, who is dayhiking the canyon with two of his buddies. They confirm snow on the rim the previous night; it seems like news from another world. Here at the river, the canyon limits our view and reveals only its inner gorge. Too soon Dave and company depart, for they must regain the South Rim before dark. Not long after, Chita, Gloria, and Wanda also make their way across the Silver Bridge, having decided to leave a day earlier than us. After the last of our friends cross the bridge and depart, Pam and I are left alone at the bottom of the canyon.

The next morning we hoist our own packs and begin our journey out. After crossing the Silver Bridge, the trail follows the river down for a while to the junction with Pipe Creek. This stretch of trail must be unbearably hot in the summer; we are sweating even in mid-April. The trail follows Pipe Creek up to the Devils Corkscrew, an exposed set of switchbacks that is also hot but not as bad as its name suggests. We reach our camp, Indian Gardens, early enough in the day to drop packs and dayhike out to Plateau Point for a bird's-eye view of the river and the trail we just came up. Indian Gardens is an oasis of greenery half way to the rim, and we are thankful we did not attempt the entire hike out in one day; the South Rim still towers far above our heads. That evening, after sunlight has faded from the canyon walls, we are visited by a herd of deer browsing through the campground.

We see another herd of deer (or the same?) along the trail above Indian Gardens the next morning. In the early hours we hike in the shade of the side canyon formed by Bright Angel Fault; in a fortunate equalization of temperatures, the sun begins to hit us as we rise into the cooler air near the rim. So the hiking is pleasant, if somewhat slow. Resthouses built at intervals mark our progress back to civilization; at each there are more casual hikers who have dared to venture below the rim. They gawk at our backpacks, and the numbers surround us once more: how many nights did you camp down there? How many miles did you walk? The silence and the space of the canyon fall away as we step out onto the rim into a busy parking lot at Bright Angel Lodge where our car awaits.

Looking back into the canyon, we no longer see just a painted backdrop. In its endless ridges and great empty spaces, we no longer see merely a postcard view. Having walked there, we can appreciate the truly grand scale of this canyon. We may not fully comprehend it, but our senses have expanded enough to make us aware of its great mystery. We feel the passing of time, breathe in the immensity of empty space, hear the quiet. These are the things we take home with us.

May 3-5, 1991 - Valley of Fire Car Camp

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

A flash flood was the last thing Pam and I expected at Valley of Fire State Park. This part of the Nevada desert is usually bone dry, and our main concern had been that this late spring weekend might be a little bit on the hot side. But when we arrived Thursday afternoon, we saw that dark thunderclouds had parked themselves right over Valley of Fire and were unleashing their fury. The roadsides became instant rivers, red with silt from the colorful sandstone plateaus above. Of all the times for it to rain, did it have to happen the weekend of our car camp? Luckily, the storm was so localized that our group campsite on the western side of the park was spared the brunt of the storm. We only had a few more sprinkles that evening as we waited for the rest of our group to straggle in.

The next morning we were greeted by clear skies that would remain the rest of the weekend. A head count revealed that 20 people had made the 6-hour drive. Amazingly, 4 were veterans of the Hack Packers Valley of Fire Car Camp in 1985: myself, Lee Kolinsky, Rachel Blachly, and Rick Scott. This time, Rick was coming from Phoenix with a couple of friends and his new bride Susan, having gotten hitched on March 23rd. Another special guest was Neal Tober of the TRW Wilderness Club.

After breakfast we stopped by the newly-remodeled visitor center for a look at the exhibits. Then we were off to Mouse's Tank, a deep natural pool in the rocks, where we started a 5-mile dayhike. From there we followed a slot canyon down through towering red sandstone bluffs, over boulders and down dry waterfalls. Some of the climbing was a challenge, but everyone made it with only a minimum of complaining. The bravery award goes to the dog who had to be lowered down the worst drop-off in a daypack at the end of a rope! To cap off the hike we were lucky enough to see a desert tortoise, which are usually not seen in the heat of the day and rarely seen at all. As soon as we arrived at the cars we had left at the Cabins Picnic Area, everyone forgot their gripes ("too hot! too steep! too sandy! too far!") and agreed that it was a good hike after all.

Back at the campsite that evening we enjoyed snacks and wine while waiting for dinner time. Dinner was pot luck deluxe: hot dogs roasted over the fire and a huge pot of beans. I was about to grumble about the lack of dessert when I was surprised by a chorus of "Happy Birthday To You" followed by a huge cake and several cartons of ice cream! (I shared it with everyone, in case you're wondering). Thanks to Lee and Rick for transporting the cake and ice cream, respectively. Not only did they keep it cold, but they kept it secret as well -- all under the direction of a mysterious lady named Pam!

After Sunday morning's breakfast we said our goodbyes. Some people headed for Las Vegas, while others wanted to explore more of the park. A few of us jumped on our mountain bikes and rode along an old dirt road to an area called White Domes. This particular road has long been closed to motorized vehicles, and no wonder -- it was so sandy and washed out that we ended up walking much of the way. The blazing sun didn't help -- it was a little bit late in the season for a 7-mile bike ride in the desert.

I'm glad that everyone who came on the trip had a fun time. As for myself, it was one of the best birthdays I've had. Good friends, beautiful scenery, and my all-time favorite dayhike ... what more could you ask for?

July 21, 1991 - Mt. Baden-Powell Dayhike

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

If you want to hike Mt. Baden-Powell, I recommend starting from Dawson Saddle on the Angeles Crest Highway like we did on this hike. This is a slightly longer route than the usual up-and-back from Vincent Gap, but it is easier because Dawson Saddle is 1300 feet higher to start with. The total hike is about 8.5 miles with 2000 feet elevation gain, most of it along the Pacific Crest Trail.

Nine people and one golden retriever hit the trail at 10:20 am. (Just for the record, it took 1 hour and 45 minutes to drive from the R2 rainbow to Dawson Saddle; average speed on the Angeles Crest Highway is about 40 mph). Since we were running a bit late, we decided to skip the side trip to Throop Peak. By noon we were at Mt. Burnham (which, like Throop, is a high point on the ridge leading to Baden-Powell), so we stopped there for lunch. A little more ridge-walking (accompanied by excellent bird's-eye views of the Devils Punchbowl far below) brought us to the summit of Mt. Baden-Powell. This 9399-foot peak was named after the founder of the Boy Scouts; at the top we found not only the Boy Scout monument, but a troop of backpacking Scouts as well!

As we relaxed and enjoyed the view from the peak (the temperature was perfect and it was a fairly clear day), a glider soared very close around us, trying to catch updrafts. After identifying every peak in the surrounding San Gabriel Mountains, we started on the 40 switchbacks down the mountain. One the way we passed more scouts doing trail maintenance. We also passed a group of mountain bikers who were having a tough time making it up the steep trail! We had a tough enough time identifying the trees along the trail: limber, lodgepole, Jeffrey and sugar pines, incense cedar and white fir. At 4:30 we reached the newly-paved parking lot at Vincent Gap, where we had left a couple of cars. To get home, we continued driving up Angeles Crest Highway through Wrightwood to I-15. On the way, we stopped for some well-deserved pizza and beer. It had been a long day, but a very good one.

September 14, 1991 - Mt. Waterman Dayhike

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

To all those who woke up early Saturday, looked out their windows at the overcast skies and decided to stay in bed, all I can say is "you missed a good one!" Eleven Hack Packers did make the effort and were rewarded by clear skies as the Angeles Crest Highway took them into the San Gabriel Mountains, high above the L.A. drizzle. From Buckhorn trailhead, the Waterman trail contours gently up the east side of the mountain, to a ridge overlooking the rugged San Gabriel Wilderness to the south. Following the ridge upward, we soon came onto the broad summit area of Mt. Waterman, where the biggest challenge is figuring out which boulder pile is the very highest point! This accomplished, we paused for the obligatory group photos and register-signing. Luckily we had the peak to ourselves -- a Sierra Club peak-bagging group that had passed us earlier had apparently moved on to the notorious Twin Peaks. At this point, I turned a deaf ear on those who wanted lunch on the peak. Actually, we put it to a vote but the results were the same: we had to put another mile behind us before lunch.

After lunch we still had about 6 miles to cover, so we got right to it. On the switchbacks down from the peak, I paused and pointed down into the woods -- bighorn sheep! The bighorns in this small herd were the first that I have ever seen in the San Gabriels -- a rare treat that really "made' the trip for me.

The last four miles of trail were essentially level, making a long traverse around the south side of the mountain. Okay, I admit there was a little bit of uphill that I had forgotten in the seven years since I last did the hike! Compensating for the unexpected uphill stretches were some unexpectedly grassy meadows, full of ferns and flowers. Late in the afternoon, as the clouds below were replaced by smog that gradually ascended toward us, we found ourselves hiking through bizarre formations of granite boulders. We even saw a person sitting atop one reading. Was this all merely a demented product of our overly-tired imaginations? Apparently not, since we soon arrived at trail's end (a road junction called Three Points) and the hard reality of the car we had left there earlier. While the drivers went to retrieve the other cars, the rest of the group enjoyed the cold sodas generously provided by their humble leader.

It had been a long day (eight hours on the trail), and those who had earlier complained that a hike of only 9 1/2 miles and 1400 feet gain should be rated "moderate" agreed that "moderately strenuous" was an accurate rating after all.

September 25, 1996 - South Mountain Evening Hike

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

It is a perfect evening for a hike. The crowd in the Pima Canyon parking lot thins out as the sun sets, but we six have just arrived. I swing my pack up onto my back and pause to admire the full moon rising. I gaze also at the city lights below, and think of all the poor souls trapped in heir houses, hypnotized by the blue flicker of their television screens. "Get out," I want to shout at them, "Get out and breathe this fine air, watch the sky instead!"

The dirt road is easy going as I push my kids in a baby-jogger. The only hazard is a few late bikers who are in a hurry to get home. In the fading sunlight and the growing moonlight, ordinary objects such as rocks and cactus assume mysterious forms on the hillsides around us.

At the Rockhouse at the end of the dirt road, we find no one as usual. I have often wondered why such a fine resting spot goes unused. This is the perfect hour, as the light of day has faded and the night sky is revealed. The tin roof of this stone cabin is long gone, making this a perfect spot to sit and observe the stars in their silent procession overhead. Despite the glare of the moon, we find Comet Hale-Bopp in our binoculars and look forward to next spring, when it will be much more than a mere faint smudge. We also find Mr. Scorpion, living in the cracks of the Rockhouse. That may be part of the solution to the mystery; perhaps folks do not like to share quarters with a scorpion, even for a short time.

Night has completely fallen as we make the return hike, but the moon is so bright we don't even need our flashlights. If we were here 24 hours later, our guiding light would be dimmed by a total lunar eclipse. As it is, we are escorted back to our cars at the now-deserted parking lot by the bright smile of the Man in the Moon.

October 10 & 24, 1996 - South Mountain Evening Hikes

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

I have been pleasantly surprised by the large turn-out for these two hikes, the latest in a continuing series of hikes at Phoenix South Mountain Park. At least a half-dozen Motorola Trailblazers join me each night; including family and friends, about 15 people make the trek to the rockhouse.

From the Pima canyon parking lot, the hike along the dirt road is easy, but it seems a little less "easy" each time. Is it just my imagination, or is someone making the grade of the toad a little steeper each time I return? It couldn't be the fact that I'm getting a little older and more out of shape, could it?

During our break at the Rockhouse, looking for comet Hale-Bopp through binoculars is the main activity. People are disappointed because they cannot find it, or are unimpressed when they do. Just wait, folks, it will be an awesome sight next spring........I promise.

On the return hike I dawdle and get a bit behind the rest of the group. Suddenly I find myself walking down a dirt road, alone, in the dark. I am reminded of a story I read many years ago about a man walking several miles down a road in pitch blackness, while a noise in the darkness behind him got closer and closer....but that was just a story. There are no unexplained noises here, just the peaceful desert -- all the same I hurry and have soon caught up with the others. Almost before we realize it, we are back to the parking lot, our waiting vehicles, and civilization.

November 21, 1996 - South Mountain Evening Mystery Hike

Leader: Joe Orman

Trip report by Joe Orman

Everyone needs a change from the routine now and then. The regular evening hikes to the rockhouse are supposed to be just such a break in the middle of the work week, but were becoming routine in themselves. Since trails branch off in several directions from the Pima Canyon parking lot, I realized I could choose a new, secret destination while meeting at the usual spot. For this hike, I chose the trail that heads north across Pima Wash, over a saddle and around the eastern-most hill in South Mountain Park. This trail is called "Pima East Loop" on the park map, "Loop Two" on the trail signs.

On the north side of the loop we came to a cluster of fire pits surrounded by benches. Nearby, other benches with a beautiful view of the lights of Phoenix provided a great spot for our rest break. Below in the city, we could hear the dull roar of distant cars -- people hurrying to their important destinations, never suspecting that this peaceful desert area is so close.

The moon, correctly identified by one budding astronomer in our group as a "waxing gibbous moon," provided enough light for hiking in spite of clouds. On the way back to the parking lot, we took a shortcut across the golf course. The automatic sprinklers were the biggest hazard we encountered on this hike! Afterwards, we celebrated our adventure with generous helpings at a local ice cream shoppe.