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!