What happens at a trail work day?

A year or two ago a Sierra Club friend of mine suggested I might like to join him on an East Bay Regional Parks trail work day. The promise of a free lunch was enticing so I agreed. I've now participated in several trail work projects and each one has been very enjoyable, though one or two would have been more pleasant had the weather been a bit cooler! And so I found myself waking up at 7:00am on Saturday morning to head to Crockett Hills Regional Park for the Bay Area Ridge Trail Service day sponsored by REI. I chose to volunteer at Crockett Hills because it was a place in the East Bay Regional Park District I had never been to before. Not all the workdays I participate in have the level of involvement from REI that this one did, but the event is pretty much the same. If you've ever thought about joining in a trail work day but wanted to first know more about what it entails read on!

After getting just a little lost I arrived at Crockett Hills around 8:30am. REI was sponsoring this particular workday so there was an REI tent where all volunteers had to sign both an REI waiver and an East Bay Regional Park District (EBRPD) waiver form. I also filled out an all important raffle ticket with high hopes of winning a backpack. After completing the registration I grabbed some coffee and pastries while waiting for the rest of the volunteers to arrive. While waiting I chatted with a few friends I knew from past work days and met a few new people as well.

Once the expected volunteers were assembled the Bay Area Ridge Trail Council, EBRPD and REI all gave a few words of thanks. An EBRPD employee then described the different projects of the day - clearing thistle, installing new fenceposts, and trail restoration. He also introduced the tools we would be using and said a few words on their safe use. The volunteers divided into groups according to which project we each wished to work on, I chose trail restoration in order to see more of the park.

Past trail restoration projects I have participated in at the EBRPD, involves smoothing out trails torn up by winter rains and cows, obliterating shortcut trails or as in this case more clearly defining a new trail. In all these cases the work involved is similar, rough ground needs to be hacked out and graded using two tools - the McLeod and the Pulaski. The McLeod is a long handled tool with a large hoe like blade on and a tined blade like a heavy duty rake on the other. The Pulaski combines an axe and adze in one. It's strong head can be used to dig through very hard, dry soil.

At Crockett Hills the group working on trail restoration piled into a van and an EB Parks employee drove us and our tools up to the section of the park we would be working on. We got out of the van high on a grassy hill overlooking the Carquinez Strait. For this trail we would work mostly with the McLeod though a few Pulaski's were available for areas the dirt was particularly hard. I pulled on my gloves, picked up my McLeod and headed over to the trail area. The EB Parks employees explained that the grassy track we could see cutting across through the hillside was a fairly new trail. Over the winter little use and wet weather would cause the grass to grow up and the trail would likely disappear into the overgrown hillside. So our job was to scrape away the grassy surface of the trail to expose the bare ground underneath, converting the green path into a recognizable brown trail. The group of about a dozen spread out along the trail a couple arm widths apart and went to work.

Little by little as I hacked away at the ground with the hoe side of the McCleod blade the ground appeared underneath the grass. The tined side of the blade was then used to rake away grass and smooth out the train. The ground was hard but not impossible to dig through having been softened a little bit by the fall rains. The progress was slow going at first but seemed to progress quicker as the morning went on. Trail work days provide lots of opportunity to converse with the people working next to you. Most of the people who participate are outdoor enthusiasts, I enjoy talking with the other volunteers and almost always learn about new hiking places in the Bay Area and beyond. Though scraping the ground with a McLeod is hard work the time passes pleasantly with good company, and fantastic views. Everyone works at their own space, as soon as I finished one spot I moved down to the end of the line to start again. After a few hours, looking back across the hillside to where we started I could clearly see a defined trail marking our group's efforts.

We had restored the trail most of the way around the side of a hill and almost all the way to the trail junction when the EB Parks leader said it was almost noon and time to head back for lunch. When our group arrived back at the Crockett Hills staging area lunch was laid out for us - Chipotle Burritos! EB Parks, the Bay Area Ridge Trail and REI again thanked all the volunteers and raffled off a few backpacks (I'm still hoping to win one day). Each volunteer also received a shirt from REI.

After lunch it was time to say goodbye and depart for the drive home. I always enjoy the trail work days. As a frequent user of local trails I like contributing my time to help keep the parks maintained. The hard work is good exercise and gives a sense of accomplishment at the end of the morning. Through work days I have also visited parks that I had never been to before and now want to go back to. Winter rains are on their way, this year's trail projects are over. Check the EB Parks website for the 2011 work schedule. I hope to see you there!

One Foggy Saturday

I have been hiking with the SF Bay chapter of the Sierra Club for a few years now. When I first moved to California I hardly knew anyone and didn't have a lot to do on the weekends. I started hiking with the Sierra Singles section of the club and usually still do because I didn't want to spend all day with people talking about their spouses and kids. The Sierra Singles is a nice group of people, not a place to pick up guys is usually the comment made, but a good group to join on a hike for a day. I've been showing up for hikes long enough now that I recognize some of the regular hikers and have become friends with a few. It's nice to arrive for a hike, see a few familiar faces and be able to catch up with people for a few hours and meet new hikers too. So last Saturday morning I woke up at 7:30 and headed out to pick up a friend in Berkeley for a hike through the Marin Headlands. It's nice to have someone to carpool with for Marin hikes, it makes me much more likely to go.

Saturday morning was cold and damp, I called the hike leader to make sure it was still on and he said they were going. When we arrived at the trailhead just on the Marin side of the Golden Gate bridge it was raining a little, and I was surprised to see twenty people showed up. We were to stop at the Marine Mammal Center so I think the proposition of seeing sea lions brought people out. This hike was listed under the Hiking Section of the club which generally means a brisk pace and not a lot of dallying about, unlike Sierra Singles which is more of a ten mile social ambling. A few of the other Sierra Singles regulars were there, and though we're all good hikers and generally at the front we soon fell to the back of the pack. I originally thought going on Sierra Club hikes would be a good way to learn some bay area trails. However, I seem to never pay any attention to where we're going as I follow the leader and forget to read the trail signs. If I ever hope to learn the routes I'll have to go with other people who don't know the way.

I don't have a clear idea of where we went on Saturday but we headed up into the fog and eventually came to Black Sands beach. The whole day was foggy with the occasional sprinkle, but pleasantly warm. The fog created a nice sort of isolation, you wouldn't have known there was a city just a short distance away. We hiked on to Rodeo Lagoon and the Marin Headlands Visitor Center, I always appreciate a hike with a decent bathroom stop. From there we went over to the Marine Mammal Center and had lunch before wandering around the exhibits. The Center does a lot of good work for area marine life, though there weren't very many sea lions there on Saturday. They have treated over 1,300 animals this year alone. We were too early for the tour and feeding so didn't get too good a look at the animals that were there. Still it's an interesting and educational place, and the building is LEED certified. Many of the people I hike with are in fields somehow related to the construction industry.

After about an hour at the Marine Mammal Center we made our way back to the trailhead. I imagine that on a clear day there would have been wonderful vistas of the Golden Gate bridge and the coastline which would have led to more stops to admire the view. Though the rain stopped the fog never cleared. So I was quite surprised from a vantage point overlooking the bridge and the bay to see the sun shining brightly on the clear blue water in the middle of the bay.

I was happy enough to get home late afternoon, take a hot bath and enjoy some soup for dinner. All in all not a bad way to spend an unusually wet day in September.

Hiking at Point Reyes

One of the many wonderful things about Point Reyes is that it's so huge there's always some new place too explore. Every area is absolutely gorgeous and there's no entrance or parking fees. I've had the opportunity to go to Point Reyes the last two weekends in a row. Once with some friends to Tomales Point and once to Drakes Head with the Sierra Club.

I sort of wonder if I have been to Tomales Point before, the drive in seemed familiar but it may be that I have been to the nearby beach because I don't remember the hike at all. Tomales Point is at the northern end of the park and sticks out into the water. The big, blue Pacific Ocean on one side, the somewhat calmer Tomales Bay on the other. The trail out to the end of the point is almost 5 miles. This time of year it is covered in yellow lupine and poppies. A pasture on one side of the trail had a good herd of Tule Elk out enjoying the day. Many many were on the trail that day, I suspect they don't all go the full distance since some were starting out quite late. It would be a wonderful place to see the sunset. We picnicked in a sheltered spot on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific. There's maybe no better way to spend a Sunday.

The next weekend I hiked with the Sierra Club to Drakes Head and that was pretty awesome also. The trail we followed to Drakes Head is about 6 miles through lush green fields, and comes out overlooking Drakes Bay and Limantour Beach. Standing above Limantour Beach you can see just how very very long it is. The group spent some time staring down into Drakes Bay looking for Leopard Sharks and Bat Rays but the bay was empty except for a lone seal. We sat for a long while soaking in the beauty of a clear day along the coast. A good hike, great flowers and an incomparable view made for wonderful Saturday.

There is something about listening to the waves crash, feeling the salty wind and gazing out over the vast ocean that is completely relaxing. I should make more of an effort to visit Point Reyes. The drive usually puts me off, this year I've been lucky enough for three visits with other people driving. Which has been a good way to find new driving routes and a great bakery in Point Reyes Station. One of my friends from the midwest recently commented to me that he didn't much care for California until he went to Point Reyes and thinks it's the most beautiful place he's ever been. I tend to agree!

Wildflowers and Waterfalls

At 3,849 feet Mount Diablo looms over the east bay.It's shaded woodlands, grassy slopes and rocky outcroppings always provide for an interesting hike. The mountain's unique position as the northern most point of many plant species range and the southernmost point for many others along withe it's location on the boundary between the Bay Area and Central Valley makes for an incredible diversity of spring wildflowers. Last Saturday I joined my favorite Sierra Club leader and the rest of the group on a trek up Eagle Peak, part of the Mount Diablo Foothills.

The wildflowers were out in force last weekend. Not just one or two here or there but big bunches of milkmaids, indian paintbrush, hounds tongue and many others. The sunny slopes were covered with fields of popcorn flowers, bluedicks, lupine and fiddlenecks. Rock cress perched on the jagged boulders and every now and then a bright orange poppy showed up while indian warriors lend a dark red to a shady nook. And all around the greens of spring showed in every hue in every direction.

Waterfalls were flowing as well. A welcome sight in an area so dry for most of the year. Spring in the bay area doesn't last long - catch it while you can!

The Devil Mountain

At 3,849 ft. Mt. Diablo looms over the East Bay. For several years now I've been hankering for a summit hike. With the Sierra Club I've done several wildflower walks on the side peaks and they're good hikes but something was lacking. This year, having met a few good hikers I was determined to make it to the top. The date was set about a month ago, I offered to drive, I made sandwiches, I cleared out my camera's memory card, I brought a hat, sunscreen, plenty of water. The group convened at the Mitchell Canyon parking lot at approximately 9:00. One of our hikers had been to the summit a few weeks ago, so knew the way.

Everything started off beautifully, a red tailed hawk soared overheard, a mallard slept on the small pond. We headed up the Back Creek trail which follows a small stream shaded by a few trees for the first few miles, then up along Prospector's Gap to the summit. The wildflowers were out in force. I couldn't believe how many types of flowers in large stands we were seeing. Over the past couple years I have made an effort to learn a few of the local wildflowers. Most are not flowers I've seen growing up in the east and look completely unfamiliar. I try to learn a few each spring but generally it is all forgotten by the next spring. Generally on Sierra Club outings the leader knows most of the flowers and I rely on his help for identification. On this hike we had five people who knew very little but were determined to make the attempt to identify what we could. I had a small pocket wildflower folder that proved occasionally helpful. At first I felt like I couldn't remember anything but then as we walked along and saw the same bloom over and over having turned it over in my mind for a while I would suddenly be able to spit out the name. Often I found I could remember taking a picture of the flower and if I had taken it's picture I must have seen it before and heard the name so it must be in my brain somewhere and surprisingly enough if often popped out of my mouth.

One would think with all the wild flower identifying and picture taking it would make for a slow hike and I guess it was sort of. It was steep, steeper than I anticipated, and hot and I who am always in the lead started to fall behind. Being too proud to say stop I'm older and weaker than any of you others I kept plodding along. At some point we stopped at a stupendous vista and had lunch. The North Bay was spread out before us though it was a bit hazy from a large fire on an island the day before. After lunch is about when I started to think I wasn't sure I could make it, but after about another 45 minutes there was the summit. 3,849 feet the highest point around and you could see a long way, though not as far as if it had been a clear day. It was after 2:00 which surprised me I thought we had been making better time than that.

We took the Mitchell Canyon Road down, a broad fire road providing sweeping vistas the whole way. The hillsides were covered in fields of orange poppy's. It was the sort of scene one would paint or take a breathtaking photo of if you had an SLR camera. Unfortunately I was feeling like crap, and with every step I felt worse, like I could hardly move. I don't know if it was the heat or dehydration but it was one of the very few times in my life where I wasn't sure how I would make it back to the car. While one stayed back to walk with me the others would walk ahead and wait. Putting one foot in front of the other a few more hours and finally we were back at the parking lot. I sat down by my car and vomited into the grass. Sick enough that I let someone else drive the Ultimate Driving Machine back home. The flowers, the views, the hikers, the hike were incredible. My relation with Mt. Diablo is now complete, I've been to the top, it was much much harder than I expected but I survived. Next year I plan to do it again - any takers?



Wallflower, bluedick, milkmaid, red maid, indian warrior, indian paintbrush, california poppy, wild cucumber, miner's lettuce, chinese houses, Mt. Diablo fairy lantern, rock cress, camass, baby blue eyes, california buttercup, shooting star, houndstongue, popcorn flower, fiddleneck, owl clover and many others I couldn't identify.

Mt. Diablo Wildflowers

The wildflowers are out in full force at Mt. Diablo. Spring is such a wonderful time, the hills are green and flowers abound. I saw quite a bounty of flowers last weekend while traipsing over Eagle Peak and Twin Peaks on the side of Mt Diablo with the Sierra club, and the season is just beginning! The most amazing part is seeing not just a flower here and there but bunches and bunches of them along the trail, covering the hillsides, popping out of the rocks. Soon the hillsides will all be brown, but for a few weeks the East Bay hills are a canvas of color. There were probably more that I forgot but here's a list: California Poppy, MilkMaid, Bluedick, Baby Blue Eyes, White Baby Blue Eyes, Rock Cress, Wall Flower, Caymas, Wild Cucumber, Indain Paintbrush, Indian Warrior, Larkspur, Delphinium, Mission Bells, Shooting Star, Starflower, Fiddleneck, Houndstongue, Buttercup, Red Maid.

Winter Adventures in Northern CA

On the long list of things to love about living in the Bay Area is that even when it's 70 degrees outside in February you can get to some snow in only 4 hours. Last weekend the kayak guy and I rented some snowshoes at REI (only $16 for three days) and headed north to Lassen Volcanic National Park. Up until a couple of weeks ago I had never heard of Lassen, it's on the eastern side of the northern tip of the Central Valley. The volcano last erupted in 1917, not that long ago and hot sulfur mud pots still bubble up in places. The snow was about 5 feet deep and the piles along the plowed road dwarfed the Ultimate Driving Machine as we climbed up to about 5,000 feet. The air was wonderfully clear and the bright sun and snow contrasted starkly with the dark redwoods and volcanic rock of the peaks. We parked in the designated snow play parking area just inside the Southeast gate, strapped on our snow shoes and headed up the unplowed main park road. At the start we saw a few other cross country skiers and evidence of other snowshoes headed up one of the trails. Not wanting to wander off up the steep hillsides in an area we were unfamiliar with KG and I stuck to the park road which afforded wonderful views. The road though unplowed had been packed down by some sort of Snowcats or other snow vehicles so the snowshoes weren't really necessary but it was a nice walk. After about twenty minutes we came to a trail junction where a large group of older skiers who had stopped to put down their large backpacks and rest. Winter camping is not for me but they looked to be having fun. The road went over a small creek right there and some fumaroles were hissing steam up out of the rocks. After passing the group we were truly alone, no other people could be seen or heard, not even an airplane or a highway. After another hour or so clouds came in and a light snow started to fall. We stopped on a rocky outcrop for some lunch then talked about heading back. Most of the way the slopes on both sides of the road were too steep to even think about taking off cross country. However there was one bend in the road where the land sloped gently down across a field of snow back toward where we had started. So when we got back to a place that looked like a manageable walk we left the road and snowshoed across the snow. This is what snowshoeing really is meant to be, except I think our snowshoes were a bit small for the type of snow and we fell in up to our thighs in the softer spots. Eventually we came to the stream that the road had crossed earlier and saw the piles of snow had made the banks about 10 feet high with no obvious way down or across. After some searching the kayak guy found a trail marker and a bridge piled with snow. The snow at the top of the bridge was only about two feet wide, plenty of room for hiking boots but a bit precarious on snow shoes. We made it safely across then had a long steep climb back up to the parking lot. I was exhausted but also thrilled to have spent a winter day in such a beautiful place. The drive back was long and tiring. For a change of scenery we took the smaller roads through the central valley, stopping in Chico for some coffee and getting back home after dark. Overall a long tiring trip but well worth the drive. It's easy to forget living in warm, sunny California that the snow can be so beautiful, so quiet and so much fun.

Starting Spring

It's the middle of February and incredibly enough that means the start of the spring wildflower season in the Bay Area. Yesterday was a beautiful day for a hike, the sun was shining bright and temperatures in the high 60's. Late morning I met the Sierra Club group at Stinson beach for a hike up the Steep Ravine trail to Pan Toll Ranger station then on to Rock Springs and back down the Coastal and Matt Davis trails. The Steep Ravine is a rather legendary trail in this area and it lives up to the hype. The trail follows a stream bed through a deep, dark, mossy green ravine. Crystal clear water flows down the rocks creating small waterfalls and beautiful pools. It is a steep climb but the cool darkness of the towering redwoods and the babbling brook keep you refreshed as you ascend. The green banks of ferns and moss are quite a contrast to the dry scrubby hillsides along most of the coast. I would almost have preferred to have this part be the last stage of the hike instead of the first to leave the impression of cool serenity at the end of the day.

We emerged from the Steep Ravine at Pan Toll Ranger station where the parking lot was completely full. After a quick stop for lunch we headed off to Rock Springs and again the trail went along a beautiful creek full of cool, clear water though here the trail was not nearly so steep. Eventually we headed back toward the coast and wound our way down the coast trail which clings to the side of a steep drop as it winds its way down to join the Matt Davis trail. The going down seemed to take forever. Though the vast views of the Pacific ocean were a wonderful sight the beach hardly seemed to get any closer with each of the zillion switchbacks. Around 5:00 we arrived back at Stinson Beach absolutely exhausted. The ten mile hike full of up and down is a lot farther than I had walked in a long time.

The spring wildflowers were indeed poking out their heads after the winter rains and week of warm sunshine. Among other which I do not remember we saw giant and pacific trillium, milkmaid, salmonberry, fetch, stick monkey flower, baby blue eyes, fairy bells, fetid adders tongue, california poppy, thimbleberry, strawberry, hounds tongue and the non native forget me not and french broom (generally considered bad plants). Every spring a learn a few of these flowers but forget most of them by the next year. So I resolved to start early this year to get a chance to see them as many times as possible. I was surprised to see so many blooms in February, one of the many advantages of living in California!

Orinda to Oakland on Foot

It's not often you make a fashion faux pas while hiking. But there I was at the Orinda Bart station approaching the hiking group I was to meet when to my horror I saw another woman there with the same shirt I was wearing! I kept my long sleeve top on as long as possible but as we climbed up the first hill the sun came out in force and I had to shed my outer layer to reveal the blue North Face shirt underneath. About once an hour thereafter someone would say "hey you two are wearing the same shirt". Then we would start the explanation, it's a great shirt, it has a side pocket, the material is cool and wicking, it has a collar to keep the sun off, it never looks wrinkled and most importantly it was on sale. Oh and I also have it in pink. It happened to be one of my favorite walks this weekend Orinda Bart to Rockridge Bart led by my favorite Sierra club hike leader. The hike starts out through EBMUD land, over the hills through Tilden Park and comes back to civilization high above the Berkeley campus with tremendous views out over Oakland and the bay. At which point everyone starts pointing out where they live and tries to decipher which highway is which. Somehow everything looks different when you're looking down from above. We then descend down into Berkeley and Oakland finally winding our way to the the Rockridge Bart. Oh how wonderful to be able to leave the car at home!

England Coast to Coast - North Yorkshire Moors

The rain was coming down steadily on the fifth day as we left the warm luxury of Swinton Park. It was still raining hard an hour’s van ride later when Alan abandoned us to the bleakness of Thimbleby Moor. With a smile and a cheerful word from Bill we headed out for the day’s walk over the very wet Arden Moor. I had sort of imagined walking through England in a light drizzle. I come from California, we don’t go out when it rains, and in June it doesn't rain. I brought a rain jacket, it packs up real small and it's windproof but it wasn’t meant for an all day downpour. My boots were made to be lightweight, not waterproof, my pants though quickdrying and stylish were also not meant for walking in the rain. However I had an incredible Barbour hat, which most definitely is made for the rain. That hat saved me, it kept me so completely warm and dry I almost didn’t notice I was completely soaked.

Even in a group it is a solitary experience walking over the moor in the rain. This is what Jane Eyre must have felt like when she fled Thornfield Hall. We saw no one else as foolish as we were, and there was something beautiful about the loneliness. Much of the area we walked through is owned by wealthy landowners who charge tens of thousands of dollars for shooting parties. The shooters set up at stands down the slope while a line of people flush pheasants and grouse out of the brush toward them. The idea being that the shooters guns have to be pointed up, hitting the birds and not the people. During the day many pheasants and grouse flew up before us. Unlike the Ruffed Grouse of the American Northeast the grouse (sp?) we saw did not make a drumming sound with their wings though they were very vocal in trying to distract us from finding their chicks.

From the windy moor we came down into the warmth of the village of Hawnby. The drenched group of walkers stepped out of the rain into the Inn at Hawnby for lunch which included a much needed bowl of soup. The afternoon's walk took us along the river Rye to the Abbey at Rievaulx. The magnificence of such a place is astounding. The arches tower above as you walk among the ruined halls imaging the life of the monks who toiled there. It was all the more spectacular as we were the only visitors at the time and able to take in the serenity without intrusion. One has to wonder how Henry VIII could have destroyed such a place. Due to the rain there are no pictures. Not looking through the lens of a camera allowed me to walk peacefully among the ruins without distraction and in the end I'm glad I wasn't busy taking pictures.

After tea and cake in the café we headed back out on the trail. A few more miles brought us to the town of Helmsley our night’s stopping point. Apparently there is a castle in Helmsley I don't remember seeing it, though I'm not sure how we could have missed it. Helmsley was the largest town we had come through so far, a proper town with shops and a statue in the middle of the large market square. The Black Swan, our home for the night was right on the town square. I really liked this inn, for being in the middle of town it was very quiet and the table at dinner was smaller making it easier to talk to everyone.

Friday mornings there is a market in the Helmsley town square and our day started half an hour later so we could explore it. Unfortunately the torrential downpour took most of the enjoyment out of walking around Helmsley. At 9:30 we climbed into the van and drove to Pickering to board the North Yorkshire Moors Railroad for a steam train ride to Grosmont. While waiting for departure Alan suggested we go up to check out the engine. We went up to the front of the train and Alan asked the men stoking the furnace if I could throw some coals into it. Is she careful the fireman asked? Yes I’m careful (obviously he doesn't know me). All right then. I very excitedly climbed into the engine. The fireman dragged a few chunks of coal from the bin onto the floor and handed me the shovel. I spent the next ten minutes happily stoking coal into the blazing furnace. I never imagined I would be throwing coal into a train engine in Yorkshire; that moment was worth the whole price of the trip. For the ride through the misty moors we returned to a restored coach car and enjoyed a cup of tea. Sticking my head out the window with the wind, rain and steam in my face I was most content to be riding a train and not walking that morning.

About an hour later we disembarked at Grosmont. The speed demon Sir Nigel Gresley was at the platform and the engine let out a torrent of hissing steam as the brakes were released. From Grosmont the path took us along the overflowing River Esk to lunch in Aislaby. The Huntsman sported a very welcoming coal fire by which to warm up and dry out a bit. Fish and chips was the meal of the moment if we wanted to try the English staple, this was the place. Eventually Bill and Alan dragged us away from the cozy room and we headed off on our last stint of walking.

I thought the rain would surely let up in the afternoon, but it didn’t. Headed toward Whitby we trod a pilgrim’s path of flagstones of which there are several laid out like spokes leading to Whitby Abbey. The water poured down the flagstones in a small stream making for a slippery route. Treacherous footing wasn't our only obstacle. We crossed a busy road passed through a gate only to see the field ahead of us had been recently plowed and turned into several acres of deep mud. Bill stopped momentarily and declared we would have to walk around on the road. We headed down a nearby lane and in front of us were two cars stopped before a small lake which had formed across the road. A lady on the other side called across to us “I hope you’ve brought your wellies!” The water was about chest high and rubber boots wouldn’t have helped. After some fruitless consultation with the drivers of the cars Bill led us slowly back up the lane pondering how to get where we needed to be. He soon found a gate nearly hidden in a hedge and went ahead across the field to check that we would indeed be able to get across the stream that was between us and our destination. Very quickly we were back on track.

After cresting a hill, suddenly the North Sea was crashing below us. What a sight after six days of walking across the hills and dales to see the sea. Down a small road, around a bend and we were at Sandsend, our walk complete. Alan had made a sign in stones on the beach “Well Don” he hadn’t time to get the “e” on as we always arrived ahead of schedule! The whole group exuberantly ran down to the water and let the frigid North Sea wash over our already soaked feet. The stormy weather only added to the excitement as the waves behind us crashed up over the roadway and left us only a small stretch of sand on which to have a celebratory cup of champagne. Everyone felt an enormous sense of accomplishment, not just because we had walked so far for so many days but because we had enjoyed the walking and each other every step of the way.

Rather than walk on to Dunsley Hall, the evening’s stopping point, we decided to take a ride into the town of Whitby. Alan dropped us off in the village and always up to a challenge the four walkers climbed the 199 steps to the Whitby Abbey, though without Bill we had to find our own way. The abbey, famous as the inspiration for the setting of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, was closed for the day but high above the sea it was a fitting end for the journey.

Our group had one last dinner together where everyone agreed it had been such an incredibly wonderful experience we couldn’t even begin to put together a speech that would accurately describe our feelings or convey our thanks to the guides. Bill mentioned he was impressed that through all the rain there was not one complaint, and I have to say I was pretty proud of that myself.

The seventh morning began and ended with a melancholy ride to the Darlington train station where we all said goodbye. It was a shock to be back amongst the frenzied pace of civilization. Every moment of the Coast to Coast Walk was absolutely perfect. For a whole week each day I was exhausted, happy, healthy, often wet and I can’t wait to do it again!


England C2C: Prologue; Lake District; Yorkshire Dales
Flickr Set

England Coast to Coast - Yorkshire Dales

Day three of the Coast to Coast Walk we left the spectacular scenery of the Lake District behind and after about an hour’s van ride arrived at Aysgarth in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. The day started with gray skies, cool enough that we donned long sleeves and jackets when heading out. Aysgarth falls was the first stop, a wide flat drop in the River Ure where a battle scene in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves was filmed. Shortly after West Burton and a snack of strawberries bought at a small market, we headed up Penhill and came to the ruin of a Knights Templar Chapel built circa 1200 and unearthed in 1840. There isn't much left of the temple but a few pieces of wall and some extremely small stone coffins. We continued down country lanes and across many fields to the Wensleydale Heifer, a gastro-pub in West Witton well known for seafood, though it’s in the middle of the country. In England you’re never very far from the sea. I gather the gastro pub is a relatively new phenomenon becoming popular as the EU has made it easier for French chefs to bring their skills to other countries.
Though the day continued to be gray, as long as we kept walking it was perfect weather, not too hot not too cold. The fields were filled with pheasants, rabbits, curlews and oystercatchers. The afternoon brought us to Middleham and a very welcome tea stop including scones with cream and jam. After the reviving tea we trod on past the impressive ruin of Middleham Castle. Bill told us the tale of the Middleham Jewel, a 15th century jeweled pendant stumbled upon near the castle by a man metal detecting in 1985. The real thing is in the museum in York but we saw a replica in the village church. Late in the afternoon, after twelve miles of walking our group of weary walkers stepped across a river and came to the night’s stopping point, the Blue Lion in East Witton. This was my favorite little village, just a street of brown stone buildings with a wide green down the middle. At dinner over a very animated argument about the merits of the English Monarchy, we sampled the Wensleydale Cheese of Wallace and Grommit fame. By the end of the day I was worn out, happy and feeling very healthy.

The morning of the fourth day we walked out of the Blue Lion heading up to Witton Moor. As we climbed up the moor the vast patchwork green of the Yorkshire Dales was laid out in all its splendor below us. The grayness of the day only added to the Englishness of the scene and made the varying greens of the fields deep and atmospheric. A word here about walking through England. The walker strolls through field after field filled with sheep, cows, horses etc. Sometimes there’s a gate to go through, and the variation on gate latches is endless. Other times one climbs over a stone or wooden stile built into the stone fences. And so we walked through the Yorkshire Dales pastureland with Bill pointing out different breeds of sheep and cows, explaining methods of building walls, the activities of the mole catcher, the difference between hunting and shooting, and anything else we asked about.

Walking on the moor was a different scene altogether from the woods and fields we walked through the first few days. The goarse and heather grow about knee high, the flat landscape interrupted only by the crisscrossing stone walls and occasional trees. There is a certain loneliness when walking across a moor, no village in sight, no cows, a very few sheep. The heather must be beautiful in full bloom, in spring it’s mostly a dark brown interspersed with green of new growth. Apparently I’m allergic to heather as my legs became bright red from rubbing against the brush. Across the moor we walked down a lane and a cottage along a brook, Sowden Beck, came into view. Though it needed some fixing up and didn’t have electricity it was for rent and I could only dream of the reading, writing and painting I could do if holed up there for a month. At the crest of a hill we came upon a car by the side of the lane. Curiously we looked toward the nearby field and there was an old farmer in English tweed whistling to his dog as the dog performed his duties rounding up the sheep. The concentration and teamwork of man and dog was remarkable and they quickly got the job done. We came off Witton moor into the town of Fearby, where they were expecting us - an American flag was flying high in front of an old stone house. The rain started in the latter part of the morning making our lunch stop, the Black Sheep Brewery in Masham that much more inviting.

The afternoon continued to be rainy off and on, fortunately it was only a short way after lunch to our evening stopover the fairytale palace of Swinton Park. As we approached wet and muddy I had my doubts that this scraggly band of travelers would be welcome in such a magnificent place. When we arrived the Swinton staff immediately made us feel most at home. I was shown to the Ripon room (where else?) and on the way up the stairs was enthusiastically informed that I would surely like the view. And I certainly did. It couldn’t have been a more perfect room for me, a large bay window with a small couch overlooking the river and lawn. Sitting on that couch by the window, sipping a glass of whiskey writing postcards watching the rain pour down I couldn’t imagine a better place to be. I did go sit in the big, comfy, leather chairs in the sitting room for a while and that was not a bad place to be either. Dinner was fantastic and included a delicious tropical pre-dessert before the dessert of raspberries floating in an elderflower jello. After dinner Alan showed me a bit about snooker, which is somewhat like pool on a bigger table with odd rules. Now I understand why the Americans play pool instead.

After a good night’s sleep I woke up early and had a walk about the Swinton Park grounds in the pouring rain. There's nothing like a solitary wet morning walk through the woods - ducks taking off in the mist rising from the lake, a deep dark trail through an old quarry, a world of quiet peace. The place was so welcoming and comfortable, walking around the park I felt like it was built just for me. 9:00am came all too soon and we departed for North Yorkshire Moors National Park.

England C2C: Prologue; Lake District; North Yorkshire Moors
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England Coast to Coast - The Lake District

Our six days of walking across England started near Newby Bridge heading up into the Lake District. The English Lake District is much more mountainous than I imagined providing breathtaking views all day. From a high point we looked back at the Irish Sea, then headed off to picturesque Beacon Tarn. After a couple hours of walking we went over a small pass, since I reached the top first Bill told me I could keep on going follow the trail around the bend, down the hill where I would see Alan and the van with our mid morning snack. I had my doubts as we were in the middle of nowhere but sure enough I kept walking and there was Alan, who had lemon/lime barley water, fruits, nuts and Kendal mint cake for us. He presented us with a lunch menu and after a short break we headed out on the trail again. A couple more miles of walking and we came to the Wilson Arms in Torver, our lunch stop. Most of our lunches were in roadside pubs that seemed to appear out of nowhere and served surprisingly good meals. It was hot enough to sit outside and there was a lot of discussion with the waitress about whether or not the soup could be served with the sandwiches, the upshot of which was that there was no way she was doing anything but bringing the soup first and the sandwiches later. I ended up eating Cumberland sausage because they were out of trout and had a taste of black pudding which was quite edible and changed my mind about black pudding for the better.

In the afternoon we walked by Lake Coniston, known for it’s history as the setting for the world water speed record by Donald Campbell in the Bluebird in the 1960’s and the resulting tragedy. After passing the lake we continued through the town of the same name, where I managed to buy a few postcards. Along the way we passed many stone barns and houses. Bill explained to us that there was a lot of slate in the area providing flat stones for building. After 1750 the slate was less abundant and builders started laying corner stones of the buildings on end. Late in the day we passed what the English call a redundant quarry, which we would call abandoned. The quarry was quite high up and as we descended along the trail we had beautiful views of the valley below including the Three Shires where our day’s walk would end. The pub sits at the intersection of three shires each of which at one time had different drinking laws so the patrons would move from room to room depending on the time of day. We stopped for a half pint before continuing to our hotel the Macdonald Swan in Grasmere.

It is absolutely wonderful to walk 16 miles then arrive at an inn where you’re already checked in and your bags are waiting for you in your room. It is a little bit disconcerting arriving at such hotel exhausted and trying to follow the very complicated directions through the maze of hallways to find your room. Typically we had a little over an hour before we had to be down for dinner. Time I used to make a cup of tea and take a quick bath, which did wonders for restoring fatigued muscles. At 7:15 we gathered in the bar and were presented with menus. Then came the difficult task of choosing from the many sumptuous items offered, I was never disappointed with what I ordered. Dinner was always an interesting time full of challenging discussion. What our small group lacked in raucousness we more than made up for in being interesting. As dessert approached Bill would say “Shall I tell you a little bit about tomorrow?” Of course we all said yes. Bill would launch into a short description of the next day’s walk and answer any questions. After dinner everyone retired to their room happy and exhausted.

The second day started in Grasmere by the church where William Wordsworth is buried, here we encountered several groups of Japanese tourists. We made a short stop by Dove Cottage Wordsworth’s home for a time. Bill explained the poet would take the same route we were walking to Ambleside where there was a post office, when corresponding with Coleridge. A journey that would take pretty much all day to mail a letter. We trod along the coffin route. There was no church in Ambleside so coffins were carried to Grasmere for burial. Along the way are large stones on which to set the coffins down for a moment’s rest.

The day was hot and sticky so we had a somewhat hazy view of Lake Windermere from the lookout point of Jenkyns Crag. We looked down upon the town Windermere where I stayed the night before this whole adventure began. Lunch was at sunny Broadoaks in Troutbeck. It was just as one would imagine an English country home to be; built of stone, covered in greenery, a wood paneled sitting room. The afternoon was much of the same, a bit less picturesque than the first day as we were coming out of the heart of the Lake District. One of the birds Bill identified for me along the way was a small, finch like bird with a red breast which he said was a robin. In my defense the European Robin looks nothing like the American Robin though it does look like the robin you might see in a children’s book illustration.

Walking sixteen mile in a day is good exercise. Walking sixteen miles a day for two days in a row wears out every muscle in your body, not to mention the constant dull ache in your feet (all of which disappears with a long soak in the tub). By the end of the day the other two ladies had opted to get a ride in the van. The other walker and I were set on putting one foot in front of the other and getting to our hotel and a hot bath as fast as possible. When we got to our evening stopover, the Wild Boar near Crook, Bill mentioned that he had never done the last bit quite so quickly before.

England C2C: Prologue; Yorkshire Dales; North Yorkshire Moors
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England Coast to Coast - Prologue

I am still searching for a perfect way to write up the Wayfarers Coast to Coast Walk experience. When I share my pictures with others in person I point things out, they can hear the excitement in my voice and I can to some extent convey just how much fun it all was. But you dear reader have to rely on a very few photos and lot of words. My aim had been to keep this short, but that didn’t happen. The trip was eight days, seven nights which for the purposes of this narrative, I have divided into three parts the Lake District, Yorkshire Dales and North Yorkshire Moors.

As a single traveler it can be a difficult business deciding on how to take a vacation. Somehow I got it into my head that I wanted to walk across England. In April I signed up for the Wayfarers Coast to Coast Walk, as they seemed like a classy group and a company that was truly interested in walking. I didn’t have much idea about what I was getting into, I just wanted to walk across England and luckily picked exactly the right adventure.

The group first met in entirety at the Swan Hotel in Newby Bridge near the southern tip of Lake Windermere. Surprisingly, there were only four walkers: a couple from Rhode Island, a lady from California and myself. We met our Wayfarers guides Bill, walk leader, who would guide us on the trail and Alan, walk manager, who handled all the logistics of hotels, meals, mailing postcards (he even provided the stamps) etc. Bill started off presenting us with a series of maps and a short talk on how things worked. Right away I knew that this trip was going to be fun. We headed off to the first of many excellent dinners where I discovered Sticky Toffee Pudding and one of the walkers discovered just how difficult it is to get a decaf cappuccino in England.

England C2C: Lake District; Yorkshire Dales; N. Yorkshire Moors
Flickr Set

Unexpectedly Interesting

One of the many pleasures of living in the East Bay is when I feel like going for a hike the Sierra Club usually has something to offer. This Saturday I checked the schedule and sure enough a walk through a nearby park, led by one of my favorite leaders was set for the afternoon. I didn't read any of the details of the description, I didn't much care where we went I just wanted to go for a walk. Not many people showed up, which was fine it makes for faster walking. The leader had plotted a mostly shady route, which we were all thankful for. We did break into the sun at the top of a ridge then looked down and in a small valley before there was one of the Sibley Labyrinths. I'd never paid any attention before when I heard mention of these mazes I sort of assumed they were small stone things. And they are, created back in the 80's probably by some ex-hippies. Over the years they've been well trodden, and shored up with additional stones. People leave offerings in the center, there was quite a pile last weekend leftover from summer solstice activities. Our small group walked the labyrinths and those of us who had something in our packs we could leave did so. It was rather peaceful. I think a lot the peacefulness comes from the quiet respect people have in an area which has been marked as spiritual. It was a sort of special moment on an otherwise average but enjoyable hike. You never know what you'll discover when you walk out your door.

Winter's End

There's a short window of time in the Bay Area when the rain stops and before the summer brown when the hills are a glorious green. Every shade of green imaginable and several more fill the landscape. There's nothing better than hiking up to the top of a ridge and drinking it all in.

The Return (Day 5 of a 5 part series)

On the third night in the silicone impregnated nylon shelter there was scant rest for the weary. The wind had picked up that day and grew fiercer during the night. The adventurers hunkered down in their sleeping sacs as the wind howled down the pass hitting the tent with madness. All night the two lay awake feeling one gale blow by just as the next one was building strength.

The day dawned bright but cold. Without a pause for breakfast the travelers broke camp and set out on the trail to leave the mountains behind. Along the way they met others who were on the way to cold adventure. The happy hikers were glad their time in the wilderness had been so isolated. A group on horses was encountered and the man at the end of the string mentioned a silver knife he owned had been lost along the trail and could the pair keep an eye out for it. Along the trail the adventurers came along some grazing llamas, more people, and an ill kept camp the type of which give bears a bad name. The two hardly paused and though they moved quickly the trip out seemed much longer than when they had trod the path three days before. A glint of silver suddenly stuck our heroine’s eye, it was the knife lost by the young cowboy. As promised when the pair finally reached the trailhead she left it at the pack station with a note and hopes that the owner would recover it.The hearty wanderers drove reluctantly out of the mountains with a new sense of just how big those mountains really are. Many stops were made to take photographs and admire the scenery. They traveled back through Yosemite where in the days they were gone veins of yellow started creeping up the rock faces where trees which grew along the streambeds heralded the coming of autumn. The weary souls stopped to admire the grandeur of Yosemite and though they wished to stay the night, there was no room at the inn or anywhere else in the park, as it was a holiday weekend and overrun with visitors.

And so our heroic pair returned, late at night on a Saturday, to a small apartment in the city by the city by the bay from whence they had departed some days before.



Day 1; Day 2; Day 3 ; Day 4;

A Long Day's Journey (Day 4 of a 5 part series)

With grand plans to climb Mt. Langley the voyagers awoke at first light, well rested after a warm uneventful night. The dynamic duo set out on the steep climb to New Army Pass. Things were not well with our heroine who moved at a snails pace but felt things would get better as the day went on and besides they had plenty of time to reach the goal. Her energetic companion urged her on and the two stopped for a quick breakfast at High Lake on the way to New Army Pass. On top of the pass they finally saw to the other side of the ridge that towered above them. The views of the Big Whitney Meadow and surrounding mountains was tremendous. Mt. Langley remained a long way off and so the adventurers started down to Army Pass and the long climb from up to Langley. The trail grew confusing and often the wrong path taken. Our heroine spent all her thoughts on putting one foot in front of another hardly having the wherewithal to string together four words – I lost my hat. Yes the hat was lost, photography forgotten yet they continued on. A beast appeared in sheep-like form on a rock high overhead and the pair gazed in amazement at the creature, which was later determined to be a deer. Near the summit top they left their packs by a boulder to try to reach the top unburdened. A few steps later our heroine could go no more and crawled under a rock for a nap. The wise pair decided it was time to turn around – a few hundred yards from the summit at an altitude over 13,500 ft.



On the descent our heroine became positively giddy with oxygen skipping along the trail, racing back up New Army Pass. However the altitude had finally caught up to her sturdy companion. She urged him onward, step-by-step and finally they were back on top of the pass. They met some kindred spirits on top of New Army Pass and traded tales before continuing on. Our heroes strode wearily back into camp, made a hasty dinner and climbed into the tent to await whatever new terrors the night would throw upon them.

Day 1; Day 2; Day 3 ; Day 5;