The Sardine Lakes and The Sand Pond

Back into the mountains again, this time with considerably less traffic and incredible wind gusts. Our first stop was a return to the Sardine Lakes, where before we had been greeted by a confusion of cars and wandering families, we now saw only a few hikers. Though on the way out a intrepid older gentlemen greeted us with a "Roads rougher then I remember," as he trundled his way up the path in his truck. Apparently this is permitted, but I cannot recommend it, not only is it extremely narrow, but there are parts that are torn apart by the waters coming downhill, huge half buried rocks followed immediately by huge dips in the grounds. Also doing this kicks up dust for your fellow adventures and scares away any wildlife, take the walk, I say, it's good for you.

The hike can take you six miles up into the Buttes and is mostly uphill, though not steep. We're in relatively good shape so we were not tired by the time we reached Upper Sardine, but as we returned we encouraged a lagging couple whose wife was threatening to turn around, so I suppose if you aren't used to walking this would be a challenge. But we've hiked worse, and want to return to continue the climb up into the mountains, where, on Google Earth,  you can spy Young America Lake nestled in the mountainside.

Lower Sardine Lake, and a view of the Buttes.

September can be windy in California, and today was particularly fierce, with gusts at about twenty-five miles per hour, sometimes fiercer, pushing bodily at me and attempting to lift my tripod. We soldiered on, passing a few others making their way down the mountain.

The sound of tumbling water distracted us, and we found a clear, cool stream bubbling up from the mountainside below the path. The water practically glittered as the early afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, and I contorted myself into interesting shapes so that I could crouch my way into it's tiny path.

We reached Upper Sardine somewhere between half and hour and forty five minutes (with plenty of stops for picture) and found it empty, the winds scouring the basin it sat in. It was rocky and sparse, but the sight of the buttes disappearing into the lake was breathtaking. 

We stayed there for as long as it took for the next people to show up (which was awhile), taking pictures and testing to see just how cold the water was (very). 

Then back down the hillside we went, startling a flock of quail and looking forward to be amidst the sheltering forest once more.

Steller Jays are rarely shy, and are more interested in screaming at you angrily while you walk passed their trees. This one was busy foraging for pine nuts and gave us quiet the little show.

Onward we went, back down the hillside to return to the Sand Ponder Interpretive trail while we waited for Golden Hour to draw near. It was quiet now, no groups of screaming children or shouting fathers, and the light was becoming softer by the minute.

There's a .8 mile loop that you can walk, although we have yet to complete it. We had turned right and taken a path on the southern end of the pond before, which dead ended a few minutes walk down it. This time we turned left and it took us into the woodlands around the pond.

The ferns were all golden in the sunlight, and a small stream wound by to feed into the pond. Some wildflowers still blossomed, and while we didn't see any chipmunks on this particular trail, the forest was alive with the sound of them, scalding each other and hiding their caches for winter.

We continued this way for a little while before deciding the light was getting low enough for us to head over to the Aspen meadow, as we referred to it. I don't believe the area has any official name, and there's no trails out to it, just an old dirt road which you bump along until you can see the trees to you right. That is another set of photos that would make this post very long, so I'll wrap it up and my  next post will be about our windy adventures there. See you then!

Bridgeport in Late Summer

I've been wanting to catch the sunset at Bridgeport, in South Yuba River State Park for some time, so after a visit with my mom and grandma, The Man and I headed down Pleasant Valley Road, off Highway Twenty towards the end of golden hour. The drive isn't terribly long, but the road twists and turns it's way down into the river canyon, and is just long enough to start making you carsick, if you are the kind of person who that happens to (and I am). If you continue, the road will take you to French Corral, one of the first mining camps to spring up along the the San Juan River Channel. There's a Wells Fargo built in 1850 and a few remnants of a once more inhabited town.

We parked off the road and  walked down trail through warm forests of cottonwood and willow and out to the river.

It was quiet, once school starts the activity at the river stills to a normal pace. Crickets, frogs, and late evening birdsong filled the air, Elusive fish vied for insects, sending tiny ripples across the still, deep stretch of the waters.

I set up my tripod and got to work, while The Man explored, and from the distant splash I heard, took a swim. I was trying out a new filter, and got a few images that I thought captured a very nice warm glow.

I think if I had fiddled with the ISO more it would have resulted in a less saturated, golden green color, but I rather liked it, so I took a few shots facing westward at different exposures then made the above composite image. I'm in the process of teaching myself how to do that, so it's not perfect, but I'm still glad I did it.

The sun was sinking fast, but the hills in the east were still saturated in light, with the moon rising beyond. The birds had begun to quiet, only a few distant calls as they settled into their nests and boughs.

We were making our reluctant way out when my husband spotted a single deer, foraging among the rocks a short distance from us. A quick lens change and we settled back in to watch the creature make it's way past us and towards the water.

Heading back out again, we stopped for a moment to speak among an area of low hanging wild grape vines, making the section of trail almost tunnel like. As we stood there, bats began to descend from the branches, swooping down and around us and through the cavern-like path, out into the clearing beyond. They flew so close we could feel the wind from them at times, and one even flew between us, only inches from our faces. We stood quiet still in the moonlit forest and let the colony fly past, then followed them out into the open air and back to our car. 

The next batch of images are ready to go, so hopefully I can get the next post up in less then a week, but I've now probably jinxed myself. I've got a couple opportunities to sell my pictures available, and the novel is always pulling at my brain and distracting me from eating and sleeping. Writing here is an incredible relief, because I don't have to make anything up. Creating a world from the ground up (or from the starstuff of the universe and out) makes my brain feel like a pancake at times, and photography gives me a break from worry over that and my regular work.

Thanks for reading, next post we're back into the mountains for round two with the sand pond and Sardine Lakes, as well as a beautiful visit to an aspen surrounded meadow.

Saying Goodbye to Summer

It's been awhile, between work on my novel, keeping up with my photography, and repeatedly subjecting myself to the restaurant industry, any free time I had was swept up trying to maintain personal relations. Spring and summer flew by in a blur, and with the first rains of the season last night, serious hiking weather is almost upon us. We've made many trips since my last post, and I'd like to share the highlights from those.

We started at Sand Pond Interpretive trail, off the Gold Lakes Highway, a quick little loop that we did not explore much due to the masses of children on one side. As we were there in July, many campers and tourists were there as well, but that didn't stop us from spotting this squirrel having at his pine cone, or some of the boldest frogs I've ever met.

From there, we continued our quest for a quiet adventure, stopping at Snag Lake to take in the sights and see how cold the water was.

The water was cold, too cold for me to be sure, although not everybody.

Finding little to keep us occupied here, we clambered back into the car and headed towards Big Bear and Little Bear lakes, for they have never disappointed us.

Clouds rolled in while we hiked the mile or so out towards towards Big Bear, where we were pleased to find only a few families, and only one child, whose splashes and yells echoed in a lonely way across the lake. A few drops of rain fell as we settled down to take in the view, relaxing upon boulders on the far side of the lake, watching fish snatch at hovering insects.

The hike out was easy and uneventful, possibly because of other hikers who didn't see a need to remain quiet in the woods. The Man and I agreed that it would best if we avoided the mountains during summer vacation. Despite the crowds, the time of year is beautiful, marked by summer showers and an abundance of wild flowers where lower elevations have lost theirs. 

We were also lucky enough to spot a rather grumpy looking Pacific Fisher, turning away from the freeway to trudge back into the woods, and although I didn't have time to grab my camera, I felt very blessed to see one. They are endangered, and it's been a struggle gaining protection for them. And of course, it wouldn't be a ride up into the mountains without at least one chipmunk sighting.

Well there you have it, a new post. There will probably be a flurry of activity before things settle down again, I'd like to make a post every Thursday, and hopefully time will allow. I'd like to begin work on a series inspired by the novel I'm working on, a fantasy adventure inspired by the Californian terrain. I'm also working with Sammie's Friends, a local non profit that provided animal rescue and services to our community. There may be some shelter cat posts, celebrating their new cat house and program. 

Hope you enjoyed! See you soon!