Feather River Day Trip
10-May-06
It all started at the dump. Ok, it wasn't a dump, it's really a transfer station. And it didn't really start there,
either ... it was just the first notable stop of the day. So after getting rid of a bunch of yard debris, some garbage
and recycling (yet still returning heavier by one record turntable), I found it difficult not to follow the Sierra
Buttes Road to its termination by the inevitable deep snow, but with a doublecab plagued by loose cans flopping around
and such, it was easy to talk me into following the prior plans.Our plan for the day, such as it was, mostly involved doing something, but as far as what, exactly, we knew not. Either take the truck up to the Lakes Basin, do some snowshoeing and possibly fishing, take Gold Lake Road over the mountains to the Feather River somewhere around Graeagle for some trout acquisition, morel snatching, and a bit of exploration. Nothing really intense planned ... just a bit of fun.
Well, it turned out that the information given to us yesterday about Gold Lake Road being open was
incomplete. It was opened up by plow ... but only four miles of it. We could get to Sardine Lake, but not Upper Sardine
or Packer Lake. Sardine Lake had worker people working and a "resort snobbish" vibe (probably because of the signs'
upturned noses), so we headed back down to Packer Lake.This is how far we got ... we then enjoyed sitting in the cab listening to the water and the birds, with the cool breeze rippling the warmth of the sun ...
Finally, our mission was clear: Go check out the Feather River! So back down to Bassett's Station we went, up and over Yuba Pass, and had a nice toodling drive through a verdant Sierra Valley.Springtime is definitely one of the better times to see most places, and this was no exception. Very little traffic in either direction, and I was able to meander or zoom as I preferred (or rather, as Bartholomew dictated).
We stopped a few miles south of Graeagle to check a convenient and likely grove and meadow for the elusive morel, but found naught. Bummer. Checked out the Graeagle store for some grub, ale, fishing supplies and fishing tips, and saw a happy hunk hefting a huge heavy handful of trout (one fish, that is, all twenty-two inches of it!) on the front page of the local rag. Got a couple location tips from the clerk, and headed out in the opposite direction to eliminate a couple other cool-looking spots from our list of potential fishing holes.
The primary road I wanted to check out was a turn toward the river down a little road that paralleled a feeder creek, and as I suspected, the road was easily passable but still fun to drive on, but the river access at the end of it left a lot to be desired. I got a chance to annoy a golf course official, since I was poking around on one of those maintenance roads around the golf course and suddenly it turned into more of a golf-cart road instead of a portal to the perfect trout hole. As I was turning around, I noticed that golf guy in his golf cart bearing down on our position on his golf course with intent to ... uh ... intent to castigate. Yep, I saw how hell-bent on castigation he was, so I made the tightest 3-point turn I could, and accelerated smoothly away (pretending I didn't see him, of course) while he hollered: "Hey!" Brian, you know I thought of you ... what a great time it woulda been to slap on the ol' chains and test them for clearance right then and there, but neither Michele nor Bart expressed any desire to be flagellated with an implement of golf.
Our escape made good, we looked around a bit more for a fishing spot, and then gave up and went down near Blairsden
where a nice little system of roads allowed us to access the river in many places. The first little spot we got into
involved a steepish drop into a little creek crossing (no problem), then some experimentation involving an open
differential, relatively skinny tires, and large rounded stones floating on the surface of what seemed to be dry
quicksand. OK ... it was a little hairy for a second or two, but not too bad in the end. (Whew! Not my idea of a fun
place to get stupid-stuck!)
At least I didn't have to use the shovel or comealong ... just moving rocks and sand from underneath tires, and some helpful shoving from Michele. That riverbottom gravel is nasty stuff!
We fished at that spot for a spell, saw some avian action (osprey and duck), but nothing icthyological occurred, and
the mud wasn't pleasant, so we meandered back the way we had come from, drove through Blairsden, and on the way out
of town on the north side of the river, we came to some interesting tracks leading towards the water. These proved
to be quite nice.
Grassy forest trails all the way down to the water, replete with fun little sections of older ruts
and firm mud. With a view of a neat old bridge upriver, and the sound of rapids downriver, it turned into a pleasant
afternoon stop. Again, no fish made themselves known, but we saw a pair of geese, a fat lizard, a perturbed flicker,
and that osprey which must have been following us around.
We were prepared to leave, and were about to head back for the road, when I suddenly decided to play a bit on the old
ruts. Might as well set up the cameras, I thought, so I did ... Michele had one, and the other was placed by the side of
the track on the ground. Had a little fun, made a little video (nothing crazy here, just a bit of fun being had!)
and took off for more fishy climes.After briefly exploring a road which, like many, had a locked gate across it, we were accosted by a guy in a flashy black custom beetle. Lowered, shaved, wrong fenders, chrome pointed engine ... the thing was clean and tight, but I like my mud-and-bug be-splattered Bartholomew a lot better ... at least for the mountains to be sure! Interesting seeing a cat of that ilk in these woods ... hmm.
Our final fishing spot of the day was spent at the bridge near Clio. That was a nice spot! At least the guy who left shortly after we arrived had caught a few, but he had been there all day! This was also the same spot where the local guy landed the 22-incher. A picturesque confluence of the river and a creek was nicely framed upstream by the bridge, and the deep, strongly moving waters of perplexing turbidity formed our focus, as this was where the fish should be! Downstream, to the west, the sun slanted with golden intensity over a river now tired bearing its mantle of solemnity, and allowed its beams to be fractured into scintillating flashes in hypnotic chaos by the chortling rapids. Ok, so it was cool, and we spent a good deal of time there, but to no avail. Was it something I said?
Finally, we set out for home, knowing that we would be stopping at further spots to insure that we weren't passing
any prolifigate morel fruitings, which we did. See any pics of us triumphantly carting off morels? No? Well, don't
rub it in! We also swung up a steep but pretty road (again, gated and locked a half-mile or so up the road), which
was supposed to lead to the Calpine Lookout. We did come to a nice little rocky bluff with a view of Sierra Valley,
but I wouldn't call that a lookout. We'll check back later on that one.
One last morel search/road exploration did we perform, and yes, the Forest Service gate was there, informing us
that we could go no further with wheeled vehicles because they were protecting the water and earth. I guess wheels
are bad, but tractor treads, 18-wheelers, log movers, chainsaws, and diesel spills are all right ... does anyone else
detect a whiff of sarcasm here?
Ya, nice place for a hike! Thanks, guys!I won't go too far into this issue here, but it IS an issue, and I don't think it's getting better on its own. Not a really "up" note to end on, either, so after a couple more pics, I'll describe the drive home so we can all go on with our lives knowing that there remains some hope and beauty ... that is, providing my excessive use of literary crutches doesn't do you in!
The homeward leg of the trip went smoothly and quickly. We saw several alluring roads to add to our list of Things to Do in a Volkswagen, but didn't really have time to do it right, so we'll wait until next time! It is nice to live in an area that has so much diversity so close to home. The roads to be explored and natural wonders to be discovered are boundless in their number, and it is a source of constant fascination to watch the seasons wrap their effects around the land like an ever-shifting cloak of wonder as the years pass.
Perhaps someday we might catch a trout, and have a morel or two to saute' on the side!
10-May-06Feather River Day Trip
Participants:
-Bartholomew
-Gene Cornelius
-Michele Cornelius
-Redworms (deceased)
Gene Cornelius
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