We posted part 1 & 2 of this same video months and months ago from Thomas & I's hike into the Grand Canyon. We're proud to present the full version here with a lot of new edits and modifications since those first two versions! We hope to make many more videos out of our upcoming adventures, so check it out and give us your feedback and suggestions, and make sure to follow TentTalk & Kb Films!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
A Grand Canyon Winter Adventure - The Chronicle
A Grand Canyon Winter Adventure
The Chronicle
Written by: Thomas Berry
Edited by: Kaard Bombe
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I left Phoenix around nine in the morning, throwing my pack and boots in the back of my Jeep. Already late, I had a stop at Target and then a good three hours of driving ahead of me to make it up to the park by twelve. At Target I grabbed an insulating layer jacket on sale for thirty-five bucks, then changed into my long johns and snow pants in the parking lot, slipping my wool socks over the thin polyester of the white base layer before pulling my boots tightly over the socks. Fifteen minutes later I was heading north on the I-17, mentally as well as physically unprepared for the four days to come.
The drive to the rim was a long one. Nearly two hours down the I-17 and the scenery had transformed into something only out of winter. Desert became snow. The highway became ice. Even my Jeep had changed in line with the weather, its engine shivering and coughing through the cold. As my knuckles turned pale gripping the steering wheel, I thought not of home or family or school behind me, but of the dark clouds covering the earth ahead, and the fog pouring down from space, changing the wilderness to white.
The highway was becoming less and less visible, but I continued at a constant speed of 80mph, following a couple of cars whose taillights stayed visible through the thick white clouds. I was not accustomed to the new foliage around me; I’d never lived anywhere near a dense forest, let alone driving through one in a snowstorm. There were moments along that stretch of highway, as Camp Verde passed by through cracked windows, and the forest became really thick, that I irresponsibly lost sight of what I was doing. The rooftops of the roadside cabins, layered neatly in snow, had my head turning from the road; the occasional antlered buck I’d pass had me pausing to consider pulling over. The patches of asphalt that looked a little darker than the rest had me easing on the clutch and pushing the breaks. Flagstaff seemed so far away that I began to wonder if I’d strayed off the path at some point, as if I’d taken some exit that pushed me further into the woods on some forgotten highway without gas or cars to entertain the setting. Thoughts like that had me imagine breaking down in the cold. Surely, a thumb could not take a weary traveler home from here.
Really, I began to think I was exaggerating the glory of the trip. After all I only lived three and half-hours away from the Grand Canyon. When I met my roommate, Kaard Bombe, some five months back, the planning for the trip had been simple enough. A quick drive to the south rim on Tuesday with one night spent in the snow and three nights spent inside the canyon, all with time to make it home around 12 on Saturday for my family’s early Christmas. The itinerary we had laid out with our requested backcountry permit read it plainly. Now, five months and nearly 700 dollars later, I was actually following through on my first backpacking trip.
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As I pulled into the town just outside of the Grand Canyon, I passed by a hotel I remember staying at as a kid, when I had first seen the great hole in the ground. Back then, when I was nine or ten, I was overwhelmed by the Canyon. It left me feeling the same as I did when I looked at the ocean, or a perfectly immaculate night sky; something too big to be so seemingly close. After that I hadn’t been back to the Canyon. This time, nearly nine years later, I was by myself.
Foolishly, I had let Kaard do most of the research when it came to our trip. He had told me to bring a twenty and I’d be cool to get into the park. When I finally rolled up to the entrance, however, I saw that the price was twenty-five dollars, with a white piece of printer paper comically taped over the sign that read, “ATM down.” Marching on, I pulled forward and explained my predicament to the woman inside the kiosk. The answer was a straight, “No.”
I pulled over in front of the gates as Kaard followed some two hours behind. Thirty minutes later it had started to snow, the small flakes floating down onto my windshield. Fed up, I got out and walked to the next kiosk over to explain the situation to someone else. I was greeted by a middle aged woman, younger than the first, who told me her boss would throw a fit if he saw me walking through the snow, and to pull up to her window. She tried my debit card, but after it proved to still be broken, she handed me a map and waved me in free, stating it “wasn’t my fault the damn machine was broken anyway.” Sweet.
From there I drove to the visitor’s center parking lot and parked and stretched my legs. It was cold, but with my base, insulating, and shell layer on, I not only looked like I was going snowboarding, I was warm. I tried calling Kaard twice, but to my joy, the signal was too weak. I’d have to wait.
All around the parking lot were people from places I’d never been. Sharp Mandarin drifted by, muttered by hunched bodies, shivering and gloveless. Some Dutch girls, all three of them blonde, were having a snowball fight near the bathrooms. I stood against my jeep and breathed in the cold, clean air. There was just something about that air, fresh and rejuvenating. After almost thirty minutes of waiting for a call or a sight of Kaard’s black car, I decided I deserved a nap. I woke up an hour later to my cell phone ringing and Kaard telling me he was by the backcountry office.
What followed was a prime example of my special ability in getting lost. After one ranger told me to hit a right and drive two miles west I pointed the jeep in that direction, only to end up in the parking lot of a Chase bank and a grocery store. From there I attempted to circle back around to the main road, only to end up the parking lot of Mather Campground. The rangers there directed me back to the center road with directions for the backcountry area, only for me to somehow end up back in the grocery store parking lot. Frustrated, I studied the map and somehow ended up by a set of train tracks, which were mercifully right by the backcountry office. Kaard had already purchased our permit, and had me jump right back into the jeep to follow him to our campground. I didn’t even bother to remember the different turns we took.
We pulled up to a vacant spot with a long driveway, and plenty of snow. First, we decided to set up the tent. The trip was to be filmed for a mini-documentary (Kaard was a professional videographer and I was learning to be one as well) so we set his GoPro on a tripod to do a time lapse of the tent being set up. To our surprise, however, one of the two major support poles that held the tent up had snapped, its nylon string ripped somewhere inside the many subdivisions of tubes. After fuming for a good 30 minutes, Kaard (this being his tent) decided to MacGyver it and simply sit the poles inside each other, carefully maneuvering them to lock in place even without the nylon. By sheer luck, we managed to stick the poles together in a way that stuck firmly enough into the ground to hold. It didn’t bode well that the tent, our one and only well traveled and well used tent, would have to be jerry rigged every night for the rest of the trip.
The tent fiasco over, we loaded into my jeep, taking with us, collectively, some five thousand dollars worth of camera gear, to film and take pictures from the rim. First, we stopped by the Bright Angel Lodge to set up a time lapse of clouds as they rolled over the Canyon. This was the same place I had looked out as a child, and the feeling hadn’t left. Kaard recalled his last trip to the canyon, where after spending the night at the lodge, he woke up to the ground covered in over 6 inches of snow. Being a born and raised Southern Californian, he hurriedly shook his parents awake before sprinting outside. Much to his Dad’s disbelief, there it was, the snow covered ground and black skies a 180-degree reversal from the bright and sunny day before. This memorable eleventh birthday trip was one of the many adventure stories he told me, each one making me more and more jealous.
Looking back across the canyon to the North Rim, the lines of snow grew thicker as they approached the canyon rim. Through the camera lens, the canyon looked so vast and far that it almost appeared as a backdrop to some movie set, with only what was directly in the foreground truly there. The rolling storm clouds blew through, intermittently pelting us with snow and driving wind. We waited out the timelapse for nearly an hour before loading up the jeep and driving westward, stopping at trail view overlook and taking more pictures for nearly 30 minutes. Next was Powell point, but before we even got there, three elk the size of horses bolted across the road in front of us. Startled, I quickly parked the car some fifty yards away before sprinting behind Kaard towards the roadside to grab a few photos of the animals. For my first time seeing anything like them in person, it was unbelievable. They didn’t stray further than ten feet from us, allowing us to take a hundred photos, all from closer positions. The elk wouldn’t be our last encounter with animals throughout the trip.
After Mohave Point, we drove to Hopi Point. The sun was setting and Kaard wanted to shoot a bit of the sun coming in over the Canyon, as well as the snowstorm that had hit us on the way there that was slowly arriving. We stayed at Hopi utill just about dark, as small snowflakes began to fall once again. The sunset looked as if the heavens had picked a particular patch of the canyon to shed a spotlight on, somewhere at the far west side of the North Rim. As absorbed as we were by the beauty of the Canyon, it was time to go. Quickly, we drove to the grocery store and shelled out fourteen dollars for a spare can of propane (out of fear that my own smaller can wouldn’t last). Elatedly, we found a pack of nylon string for our fledgling tent poles. Inside the store the Yak Tracks, chains I had over my boots, slipped across the tile; I nearly lost my footing twice. It was another reminder that I didn’t come here to be inside, as much as I might have wanted to be that night.
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Kaard directed me back to our campsite in the dark, but when we arrived we found the tent missing, and a hulking black shape wavering in its place. Being such an experienced outdoorsman, my first thought was that it must be a bear. Not sure what to do and paralyzed by fear, we stayed in the jeep until we realized that the wavering shape was actually our tent, still staked halfway in the ground. The wind had gotten underneath the rain cover and had uprooted the entire thing, the lack of nylon again rearing its ugly head. For the next hour, we used our head lamps to search the area to find our base layer for the tent, re-stake the entire thing, as well as fill it with our packs ensure it wouldn’t go anywhere.
By the time we were done, hot food sounded so good that I emptied out my pack for my stove and Kaard quickly grabbed two cans of soup from his car. As the wind whistled around us, we huddled around the picnic table, attempting to light the stove. After several tries, it appeared that we were at a loss. I suggested that we open the back of my jeep, sit cross-legged with the windows cracked, and try and light the stove there. At no time did I think that filling a vehicle with propane as well as a source of fire was a bad idea, and even when we did we figured the resulting bowl of hot soup was definitely worth the risk. The next hour was spent huddled in the back of my jeep, clicking the small button that would surely bring us warmth and food, only for it to produce nothing but a fickle flame, quickly burning out. Kaard decided to call it a night, and as I left everything in the back jeep, I couldn’t help but worry for the next three nights in the canyon, in which we were to rely on that very same stove. We feasted on protein bars, cookies, Wheat Thins and Cheese-Its that night. After I snuggled into my sub zero sleeping bag, I grew warm, and felt confident to skin down to my base layers, snuggling into the polyester of my mummy bag. Soon sleep came. I dreamt of bears.
I woke around six in the morning, after only a few hours of sleep, unbelievably cold. Fumbling in the dark I reached for my snow pants and my jacket, and stiffly pulled them over my body. I unzipped my sleeping bag and threw on my boots without lacing them, then tumbled out of the tent, stepping on Kaard’s feet in the process. I bolted in the direction of some trees to pee. It was probably the coldest I’d ever been. The lighting around me was an eerie blue. When I came fully to my senses I saw that the tent had been surrounded by a foot of snow. My jeep and Kaard’s Rav4 were completely white, with icicles hanging from their undercarriages.
I climbed back inside the tent, back into the warmth of my sleeping bag, meaning to soon wake Kaard and begin our journey. Instead, I fell asleep, only to be woken up by Kaard nearly three hours later. Around nine-thirty we began to pack the tent and stuff our gear into our backpacks. The game plan was to leave a majority of our possessions inside our vehicles and pack everything even tighter in the backcountry parking lot. We would find that we did not know how to pack light and minimalize. We brought too much and carried a lot of unnecessary weight, overestimating both our appetites and strength. After all, it was our very first real trip.
Before heading out, I attempted one last go at the stove. After filling the small pot-like cup with ice, I attempted to light it. On the second click, a strong flame burst underneath, and I left the ice to boil. Of course it worked today, but I was less upset about missing a real meal last night and more excited that we would likely be able to cook food for the rest of the trip. We set up another time lapse of breaking down camp in the snow, the process nearly taking us another 30 minutes. Once I had the pot of water to a boil I poured it over my windshield, which was covered in nearly a half-inch of thin ice and a few inches of soft snow. To my surprise, the water did little but make a small few holes in the ice, an enormous let down from my plan of defrosting the windshield in one go. I grabbed a spare sock to wipe off both of our windows, and we drove to the backcountry office.
In the parking lot, I finished stuffing my pack as tight as it could go. Kaard uploaded the footage that he had taken so far to his laptop to preserve memory for inside the canyon as he charged our Canon 7D batteries with his nine-volt adaptor. After gleefully dealing with some credit card issues with his bank, we texted our parents as we left the last bit of phone service, and began the walk to the Bright Angel trail head.
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Right away I could tell I had my pack on incorrectly. It was a 75-liter Osprey Aether, and it was grinding against my hips. With some 60lbs on my back, and us already behind schedule, I moved on without saying anything, hoping the problem would correct itself.
We rounded a corner and walked past the Kolb brothers’ studio, stepping up to the trailhead. There, a mother, her three children, and their grandparents asked to take photos with the “real” hikers. We gladly obliged, and they snapped the first photo of us together, smiling and excited to head down.
The hike down didn’t seem too hard. We trudged through the thick snow that was still left on the trail from the storm of the night before, our Yak Tracks giving us grip. Hikers blazed past us with hiking poles; they looked tired, much too tired. We would stop every hundred feet or so to take a picture or to film a bit, the entire landscape became increasingly overwhelming. It was on the hike down that I learned a pretty common phrase you might hear on a Grand Canyon trail, “You’re almost there.” We didn’t learn the sardonic irony of that phrase until our hike back out.
There was an old woman who asked us to warn a group of Asian tourists that they shouldn’t head all the way down. There were two men, one nearly jogging up the trail as the other called to him to stop for water. We even passed a couple celebrating the husband’s 60th birthday. Surely if they could do it, we could without a problem.
At what seemed like 200 feet below the three-mile marker my toes began to stiffen from constantly hitting the front of my boots. We were tired, thirsty, and had been hiking down hill for nearly 4 or 5 hours now. I increasingly began to worry that there was no way in hell I could make it out of the canyon Saturday morning by 12. Kaard shared my worry. We decided we’d talk with a park ranger and see if we could have our itinerary changed so that instead of sleeping at Bright Angel campground our last night, we could return to Indian Garden, where were staying that current night. We agreed to see what tomorrow had in store for us before deciding. Soon enough, we crossed into Indian Garden.
We made camp at a spot a little ways down the trail. I spent 30 minutes fixing the tent poles as Kaard went and filled our water bottles. Once everything was unloaded I began cooking on the picnic table, boiling Ramen in my stove. Soon enough a park ranger stopped in and checked us over, as well as our itinerary. He showed us how we had covered, in big bold white paint, a sign on the table that warned to not cook on the picnic tables. We’d learn the reason for this rule soon enough, but for now we had to move our ramen feast to the dirt floor. It seemed even colder on the ground as the sun slipped behind the canyon wall and the creeping shadow covered us, bringing with it an even colder wind.
Soon enough the sky turned dark, and Kaard and I crawled into our sleeping bags. Just before I began to fall asleep I decided it was a perfect time to do some night photography. I climbed out into the not-so-cold air and fumbled as I set up my tripod in the dark. With a 15mm fisheye lens on my 7D, I set my ISO to 1600 and my aperture to 2.8 with a 30 second shutter speed and waited. The photos that the camera yielded were incredible. Suddenly an already speckled sky became an infinity of stars. There in my screen played back a wall of the Canyon, red and orange, lit up by the light of the stars like daylight. One picture revealed a streak to be a shooting star. Another caught a small fire lit by a group next several spots down the trail (even though fires were prohibited on the canyon floor.) I called Kaard outside but he decided to stay inside the sleeping bag, so instead I had him turn on our lantern and dangle it inside the tent. The picture result ended up being the best photo from the trip. Here was a portrait shot, with a tent glowing blue, a wooden post looking crisp and clear, a desert background rising to the wall of the canyon, and above the canyon a horizon of stars with the Milky Way splitting through. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, and frankly, it looked staged. After waking Kaard to show him the photo he was shocked, promising to join me the next night. Sensing his jealousy of such a great shot, I climbed inside my sleeping bag, keeping my warm pants on, and quickly fell happily asleep.
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The next morning Kaard got up before dawn to set up a time lapse of the very same cliff I had taken photos of in the night. I got up a couple hours later and began making oatmeal for the both of us, this time with stove properly on the ground. It was a great breakfast, and we were quickly packed and prepared to head to Bright Angel campground until we noticed the Asian group camped next to us, panicking. Laying on their picnic table was a stove nearly three times the size of mine, surrounding it was a small fire, quickly getting bigger, accompanied by frantic Mandarin and a growing crowd of spectators. As Kaard put it, we did the most American thing possible: stood and watched. However, the fire soon began to take nearly a quarter of the table, and we sprung into action, grabbing our water bottles and sprinting to douse the fire. As we expected, it was a propane fire, and it spurned back to life as quickly as we had seemingly put it out. Thinking on his feet, Kaard dumped the last full water bottle directly onto the stove and yelled at the man speaking broken English to turn the switch off. Reaching in through the momentarily suppressed flames, he turned it quickly, shutting off the propane valve. I sighed a breath of relief, as did everyone else. We told them not to cook on the table and not to use matches around an area that much propane had been released, and after filling up our water bottles we were quickly on our way.
Nearly twenty minutes later we were stopped again down the trail in some brush, with myself digging into my backpack for my telephoto lens. There, only fifteen down the trail were 4 deer, all of them female. We spent the next half hour following them through the brush snapping dozens of photos. After one had stepped onto the trail, seemingly posing for us, we called it a success and continued onward.
This part of the trail was by far my favorite. We followed a creek that would break open into mini waterfalls and ponds that ensued in jutting boulders painted with the reds oranges and golds, colors so vibrant I was sure that if I touched them I might come away with dripping fingers. Nature, with the best attempt to not be cliché (I do often try that dance called poetry from time to time) bled through the seems of the Grand Canyon. More than just desert, color came alive through water and red rock that seemed to sustain more life than ever. It was on this stretch of trail that I truly lost myself in the canyon. Here, I had no worries, and had forgotten entirely of home. We hiked on.
When we came to our first set of switchbacks going down, we realized that there wouldn’t be any point of trail that could actually flatten out. The hike to Bright Angel would be a chaotic mess of nearly rolling downhill. I regretted not buying poles. A few hikers passed by, making good time on their way up to the rim. At one point, a caravan of mules with riders walked beside us. I thought of how taking the mule down was cheating your body of the physical connection it got through the hike. The next day, I’d be regretting that statement. Hours passed and we seemed no closer to the center of the canyon. Every time a corner was near to rounding I was convinced I’d see the Colorado. Every time I was greeted by another valley. Finally, we turned a corner and I caught a glimpse of the river, obscured by the height of the cliff I was on. Maybe 30 minutes after that, the trail began upward, and we soon learned the luxury of the mule.
(Some background should be put forth here before continuing. Kaard and I were 18 at the time of this hike. We’d spent the last five months preparing for the trip by mostly forgetting that we had even ordered a permit for it. The food at our Arizona State dorm had consisted of pizza or a cheeseburger every night with a side of fried veggies and some water or tea. After getting a job at a news station, I had spent a majority of the semester sitting. As the trip neared, the most I did to plan was buy my gear and do little research. For two young men supposedly in the best shape of their lives, we were in terrible condition.)
After restarting our trek after a quick lunch break, we were stopped, completely out of breath. Complaining from both sides began quickly. The wind had picked up too in the depths of the canyon, prompting us both to put back on the layers we had gleefully shed a few hours back. Kaard, however, proved to lead the way, with my following closely behind. My neck began to cramp from staring at me feet. My glutes felt as if they had stretched. Most of all, my calves were red-brick-and-mortar, and my heart seemed to be making its way up my throat. As we hiked upward and onward, the massive Colorado river stretched much wider than I had imagined, and I could only pretend to feel the chill of its icy breath. I had definitely underestimated today’s trip. I had pictured a straight and smooth trail to the river where a wooden bridge would bend up and over to the other side that would end in a nice campground. What I found, instead, was a trail alongside cliffs some 300 feet above the river, hiking up, rather than down. It was then that we saw the bridge, and only then did I really take anything in at all.
The Silver Bridge is a suspension bridge that stretches across a wide part of the Colorado, and for my own intensive purposes, the heart of the river. This magnificent steel goliath gave us a renewed sense of hope, and sure enough, at the other end, I could make out the roofs of buildings, and assumedly, Bright Angel campground.
Taking out our cameras, we filmed each other walking across. Kaard grabbed the railings and literally swayed the suspension bridge, even if it only moved inches at best. Needless to say this was not a good idea, as the torrent of water below suggested a quick end to our trip if we entered it. The steel grates of the bridge didn’t help any, as looking down revealed a thin separation between our feet and the rushing water. At the middle of the bridged we stopped, took photos, and took a moment to appreciate the sound of water below us, this creation by man underneath our feet holding us up. We had made it, this far anyway, and camp was ahead. Off of the bridge a sign read its name. It also revealed that men had carried cable by hand to build it. Again, I was astonished by the power of mankind. At one point, Native Americans lived throughout the canyon. At another, a pipeline was built to bring water to an increasingly bigger amount of tourists. And now, men had hauled god knows how many pounds of cable and steel down to depths of the canyon to construct this bridge we had walked across. I silently thanked all of them.
Just as we began to hike around a bend that would lead us to our campsite, I saw the unfortunate sign of something I knew would prevent us from getting there any sooner: more deer. Sure enough, I found myself alongside Kaard, snapping dozens of photos, this time at a buck leading his heard. His antlers were symmetrical and at least a foot and half out. With him were a baby deer and a doe, while the others stayed around us, eating. After living in the city for as long as we had, we had forgotten about things as simple as deer, and, subsequently, used our cameras like rosaries capturing sacred prayers of nature instilled in moments filled with a deer eating leaves like a cow chewing cud. The deer were unflappable, treating us not as enemies but as mere nuisances. Looking up from their grazing, they would look at us, seemingly trying to decide if they were annoyed or equally curious at our presence, before looking away at the next patch of grass. After forty minutes of photographs, I convinced Kaard to leave, it was time to get our campsite.
After restarting our trek after a quick lunch break, we were stopped, completely out of breath. Complaining from both sides began quickly. The wind had picked up too in the depths of the canyon, prompting us both to put back on the layers we had gleefully shed a few hours back. Kaard, however, proved to lead the way, with my following closely behind. My neck began to cramp from staring at me feet. My glutes felt as if they had stretched. Most of all, my calves were red-brick-and-mortar, and my heart seemed to be making its way up my throat. As we hiked upward and onward, the massive Colorado river stretched much wider than I had imagined, and I could only pretend to feel the chill of its icy breath. I had definitely underestimated today’s trip. I had pictured a straight and smooth trail to the river where a wooden bridge would bend up and over to the other side that would end in a nice campground. What I found, instead, was a trail alongside cliffs some 300 feet above the river, hiking up, rather than down. It was then that we saw the bridge, and only then did I really take anything in at all.
The Silver Bridge is a suspension bridge that stretches across a wide part of the Colorado, and for my own intensive purposes, the heart of the river. This magnificent steel goliath gave us a renewed sense of hope, and sure enough, at the other end, I could make out the roofs of buildings, and assumedly, Bright Angel campground.
Taking out our cameras, we filmed each other walking across. Kaard grabbed the railings and literally swayed the suspension bridge, even if it only moved inches at best. Needless to say this was not a good idea, as the torrent of water below suggested a quick end to our trip if we entered it. The steel grates of the bridge didn’t help any, as looking down revealed a thin separation between our feet and the rushing water. At the middle of the bridged we stopped, took photos, and took a moment to appreciate the sound of water below us, this creation by man underneath our feet holding us up. We had made it, this far anyway, and camp was ahead. Off of the bridge a sign read its name. It also revealed that men had carried cable by hand to build it. Again, I was astonished by the power of mankind. At one point, Native Americans lived throughout the canyon. At another, a pipeline was built to bring water to an increasingly bigger amount of tourists. And now, men had hauled god knows how many pounds of cable and steel down to depths of the canyon to construct this bridge we had walked across. I silently thanked all of them.
Just as we began to hike around a bend that would lead us to our campsite, I saw the unfortunate sign of something I knew would prevent us from getting there any sooner: more deer. Sure enough, I found myself alongside Kaard, snapping dozens of photos, this time at a buck leading his heard. His antlers were symmetrical and at least a foot and half out. With him were a baby deer and a doe, while the others stayed around us, eating. After living in the city for as long as we had, we had forgotten about things as simple as deer, and, subsequently, used our cameras like rosaries capturing sacred prayers of nature instilled in moments filled with a deer eating leaves like a cow chewing cud. The deer were unflappable, treating us not as enemies but as mere nuisances. Looking up from their grazing, they would look at us, seemingly trying to decide if they were annoyed or equally curious at our presence, before looking away at the next patch of grass. After forty minutes of photographs, I convinced Kaard to leave, it was time to get our campsite.
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We set up the tent we turned on our phones, looking up to smile at the same time. No bars. No service. No possible way for anyone to call us or to text us. No status updating, no tweeting, nothing. As journalism majors, a huge part of our lives was spent connected to the news of the world, and for once, we had no idea what was going on outside of the canyon walls. No girlfriends, no parents, no news from Syria or D.C. The world was at peace.
We decided to go to the ranger’s office by Phantom Ranch to have our itinerary changed, so we left our camp and hiked upwards. I had pictured Phantom Ranch as a fancier campsite with stables. Instead, I found a town.
I left Kaard in the ranger station after having waited 20 minutes with no response and continued up the trail toward Phantom Ranch. It was amazing what I found. Packed away into this little valley were dozens of cabins, all with glass windows and curtains drawn like a vacation spot. There were bathrooms, perfect trails with wooden fence like handrails, trees that stretched up into the canyon, and most noteworthy, a thatched canteen in the center of it all. I stepped into the canteen and found a room with tables, heat, full fountain drink machines, beer, supplies and food. The woman behind the counter greeted me and explained the hours that it operated, and I told her I’d gladly be coming back when they re-opened at ten that night.
The ranger suggested that changed our plan entirely. Rather than heading back to the Indian Garden campsite, we should simply leave in the morning on Friday, and take the South Kaibab route. I was more than happy with the idea, as it would guarantee me getting home in time for my family Christmas, not to mention leaving me a night to sleep before the festivities. Kaard was satisfied too, and we headed back to camp to cook some of the dried food bags I had bought at REI and rest a bit before we headed to the canteen. Kaard wanted to head outside around 10 and do a time lapse of the night sky moving over the canyon, so we decided to nap as well.
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Waking up some hours later I put my headlamp on and led the way up to the canteen. Inside we found some twenty people all situated around different tables, drinking wine and playing board games. I ordered a glass of lemonade and an apple and Kaard got a bagel and hot coco. To my surprise, again, the lemonade was some of the best I had ever had.
We began to discuss our game plan for the next morning when a twenty something backpacker with a small beard and glasses asked if we wouldn’t mind sharing a conversation. In an English accent, he introduced himself as Christian. Even more surprising than great lemonade was the story we heard from him at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
Christian had been nomadically traveling the past thirteen years. The majority of his life had been spent on a yacht working as a crew hand, a job he had landed fatefully one day while walking through a harbor somewhere on the west coast. He had been everywhere from New York to New Zealand, and had spent a great deal of time backpacking along the way. His parents were separated but he was heading home to a town just outside of Cambridge to stay with his brother for the new years. He loathed Christmas, and seemed way happier to spend the season trekking through the Grand Canyon. We talked about college and American society and discussed politics and things like gun control. He fascinated us with stories of travel, and seemed happy after telling us he had just decided to settle down. At the end of the night, Kaard left him a business card with contact information if he might not want to eat Christmas dinner at a hostel, and rather, Kaard’s home in Flagstaff.
Of all the things that we had experienced on our trip, this was the last thing we saw coming. The beauty of backpacking is that it puts everyone on the same playing field. No matter rich or poor, old or young, the trail treats you the same. We are all humans, our class differences stripped away by the cold rock surrounding us. Like each layer of colored sediment, we all have our own stories, seen our own reality, lived our own lives. Converging in this one place, we were all similar, all descendants of this great rock labyrinth. The kinship that can be experienced in a campsite or canteen at the bottom of a huge hole in the ground could never be duplicated, and in its beautiful uniqueness we stayed trapped. The night couldn’t last long enough, the stories of Christian and the overheard conversations from the Canadians next to use and the kids behind us melting into one beautiful stew. As we rose to leave, we all understood the beauty of the moment, yet were keenly aware we wouldn’t have this experience again until the next trip. This reality was more uplifting than sobering.
Along with our newfound friendship, we left the Canteen carrying our tripods and cameras, and picked a spot in the darkness. We sat for the next two hours bonding over word games and stories from high school, timing out each fifteen second exposure as the moonlight creped up the canyon wall. The night sky was a lustrous ceiling of dots of light that seemed to stretch forever. My camera took each photo like a jealous eye stealing the night from the earth. Walking back to our campsite, the trip seemed to culminate in the darkness alongside a creek bed under a starry sky with a sense of comradeship and achievement. When I fell asleep that night I knew the trip had been a success.
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The next morning, Christian stopped by the campsite to wish us luck on our hike out. We wished him a happy new year, and packed our belongings away. Crossing the Black Bridge of the South Kaibab over the Colorado, I thought how in only a matter of eight hours or so, I’d be in my jeep heading home. When we came out the other end of the tunnel, however, we found hell waiting before us.
What stretched upward and onward forever into heaven was this trail that did not stop but merely provided in switchback upon switchback of steep narrow trail. I pushed up, following Kaard, forever moving my feet in front each other, forever thinking my next step would be my last as I could not possibly make it out of this Canyon lest it by carried by the wings of some great bird… or maybe a helicopter.
After a half hour of hiking and minute stops every 100 feet to struggle to grab a breath and hope that our legs would stop shaking, the bridge was only a small strip below us, with the river merely a trickle. We hiked under the shadow of the canyon, covered in sweat and chilled by a strong wind. We hiked against the steep path of the canyon, our legs becoming swollen and numb. We hiked up and out of the canyon, hungry and tired and irritable. But the more we hiked, the less we seemed to travel.
Hikers 20 years our senior strode passed us like they were on a Sunday stroll, hiking up into the sky and over the next ridge. Every time we left one canyon we entered another, never hitting a moment where the path would leave our legs some breath. The steps were awkwardly positioned, the wood planks holding the trail on the side of the canyon wall spaced just far enough apart that two steps were required in between each one. We hiked hours and hours and hours, dawn turning into a harsh midday sun. How people did this in the summer I couldn’t imagine. Through every switchback and every corkscrew, we followed the trail. Some seven hours later, I collapsed at a station that marked a mile and a quarter from the rim. This hike had yielded us some of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, but I was done. I was dead from my toes to my ears. We drank water, ate protein, and pressed on. At the last wall of switchbacks I was frozen. I had my gloves stashed deep in my pack with my beanie. My fingers were white and my nose was red. I pushed forward ahead of Kaard with his encouragement of a Wendy’s burger awaiting us. Three times my boots, without their Yak Tracks on, slid frictionless on the ice. I hiked on, faster, seeing the top. Our gps on our phones told us we were close, Ohh Ahh point seeming like it was right at the trailhead.
One wall of switchbacks remained. As good as we felt for seeing the end, our bodies were limp with fatigue. The evening hikers streamed by us, many starting from even further inside the canyon than we had. The sunset cast a warm, glowing orange tint onto the canyon wall above us, a stark reminder that the temperature was dropping further. As it always seems, the last half mile was the longest of the trip. Staggering through the oxygen thin air, the last part of the trail lay before us. Our fifth wind kicked in. As we climbed out, the pain left my body, and we high fived with a congratulatory, “We did it.”
We did do it. We set a goal for ourselves and accomplished it.
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The shuttle bus seemed to take forever to get to the trailhead. We took the time to call our parents, letting them know that we would be home a day sooner than expected. Each call was met with the expected joy. As we sat in the bus looking through photos from the trip, it began to set in. My legs were sore and tired and I was warming up to the heater, but I thought only of the bed at home. I snoozed off momentarily before being awakened at the next stop by the mechanic voice from the bus’s dash.
Out of the window the bottom of the sky met the rim of the canyon, and before me lay the blood red gash of an Arizonan sunset. The pain in my legs could not shield my eyes, and I knew it had all been more than worth it.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
The Grand Canyon: A Winter Adventure
A Grand Canyon Winter Adventure - Preview
Last December, we headed out on a backpacking trip into the depths of the Grand Canyon during the heart of winter. Not only did hiking out remind us of how woefully out of shape we are, well, let's just say it was also just a tad colder than we expected.
Our itinerary was pretty simple. We stayed our first night at the rim at the Mather Campground (review coming soon). After surviving a snowstorm that dropped six inches of snow on us overnight, we descended the icy Bright Angel trail to our first night's stop, Indian Garden Campground. We also put out a stove fire for a group of fellow (and clueless) hikers in the site next to us. Don't keep your propane tank's valve open for 5 minutes while trying to light it kids.
After taking a copious amount of deer pictures when we ran into a small herd along the trail, we slogged the rest of the way down to Phantom Ranch and Bright Angel Campground, where we spent our second night. We ran into even more deer (this will become obvious once you see the film), as well as spending some time exploring the surrounding area and the South Kaibab's Black Suspension Bridge. Dinner at the Phantom Ranch Canteen topped off our last night in the canyon (and yes, the lemonade there is worth the hefty price tag).
I mentioned we were out of shape right? The elevation gain of 4,780ft. over the length of the South Kaibab trail on the way out was just a tad more difficult than we expected. Hiking up a 22% grade at parts didn't help matters either. Nor did the thinning air as we kept climbing. Or the switchbacks by Skelton Point - those were horrible. The last switchbacks at the trailhead were possibly the worst, but with a Wendy's triple cheeseburger as motivation, we made it.
I did mention we were pretty out of shape, didn't I?
It wouldn't have been a true TentTalk trip without bringing along the cameras. We shot our short film, a cross documentary-narrative-experimental-travel-montage-music video, on two Canon 7D's and one GoPro HD Hero 2. Although you can't see it online because of festival regulations, the preview is above.
Check back soon to see a few more pictures of the trip, reviews of the corridor trail campgrounds (Indian Garden and Bright Angel), as well as the full film! We'll also be heading out on a few more adventures as spring is upcoming, most notably Joshua Tree in early March, as well as uploading a whole bucket-load of reviews from our fall adventures in 2012!
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| A Grand Canyon Winter Adventure, coming soon! |
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Serrano Campground - Big Bear Lake
Serrano Campground is a beautiful year-round campground nestled right by the shore of Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino National Forrest. Run by California Land Management, Serrano is only 10 minutes away from (the city of) Big Bear Lake and 15 from The Village at Big Bear. This is one of the few campsites that remains open year round, and is a very popular destination for its proximity to the water and the East Drive Boat Launch, as well as the trailhead of the popular Cougar Crest Trailhead. Check out the Vlog below to check out a running video compilation of our stay!
As you can see in the video, Serrano is designed in harmony with the pine trees and has very spacious sites. It has 98 tent sites and 30 full hookup sites. There is a 2-day minimum stay on weekends, 3 days if it's a holiday weekend. It's $28 per night for just a single site, with a $5 charge for an extra car. A double site is $56; check the map below for the few double sites throughout the campground. For a hook up site for an RV, it's $38, where an RV and tow vehicle or truck and 5th wheel/trailer is considered one vehicle. There is a dump station within the campground. Overflow parking is available on North Shore Lane. The campground is split basically half and half between the sites with hook-ups and normal tent sites. In our opinion, the tent sites are far better than the RV hookups: further from the highway, under the tall pine trees, and more spacious. Reservations can be made 6 months to the day in advance, and there are definitely weekends where you will need to reserve your site this far in advance (think 4th of July, Labor Day, and major Big Bear events like the upcoming film festival). Even during weekdays in the summer be prepared to reserve in advance unless you're open to reserving different campsites on different nights. Firewood can be purchased from either the hosts or the front office for $7.
The campground is split into 4 separate loops; Summer Wind, Strawberry, Lake View, and Evening Star. The best sites are located in Lake View and Evening Star, except if you're in an RV and Snowberry is your only option. The best sites are #6, 100, 116, 122, 130, 131, and 132. Besides #6, all of these sites are in the last two loops, where the pine trees begin. Theres very few actual bad sites. Try to avoid 111, which is small, right next to the bathroom, and doesn't have shade. Also, be aware that sites #16-24 are right below North Shore Drive (Highway 39). There's usually not much traffic at night, but it's more pleasant without the noise of cars driving by. The map above cuts off the rest of North Shore Lane, which continues west past campsites 112/113, 114, and 115. There's very light traffic, with access to the Big Bear Shores RV Resort and a general store at the end, but those sites are still very close to the road.
What this map also misses is the complex network of trails that wind their way around the north shore of Big Bear Lake. Near the campground entrance is a confluence of the Alpine Pedal Path and the Cougar Crest Trailhead, where you can choose to take a stroll (or bike ride) north through the Meadows Edge Day Use Area (more on that later) or begin your stroll to the Big Bear Discovery Center (the new nature and information building), or hike up the Cougar Crest Trail. The Alpine Pedal path continues East all the way until the Stanfield Cutoff, and also runs West to the town of Fawnskin; a great way to access the lake or just enjoy the scenery. Even if you don't bring a bike, the walk down the Alpine path brings you right along the edge of the lake. Unlike the south side of Big Bear Lake, where almost all lakeside property is private and developed, the north shore is devoted to public access and is mostly managed by the forrest service. The Cougar Crest Trail is one of the most popular hikes of Big Bear, and for good reason. Although it is only about 5 1/2 miles roundtrip, there is some serious altitude gain until you reach the summit of Bertha Peak at 8,200 feet. If you want to read more about Big Bear Hikes, we typed out the official Forrest Service guide at the bottom of our review.
We stayed in site 100, one of the sites we recommend. Like the other sites we picked, it had a decent amount of privacy, has copious amounts of shade, and was also more than large enough for our needs. Personally, we loved the feel of camping among the pines as well. There was also abundant water pumps around, about 1 for every 2-3 campsites. If you decide to wash your dishes in one, beware that it is not allowed by the management since the soap pollutes the drainage systems (the water is ground filtered again, and not sent to treatment). Obviously it is not very convenient to wash dishes in the bathroom sinks, which we guess is the alternative. We were also right by the bathrooms, which happened to be a pleasant surprise. The bathrooms were kept very clean, had sinks and paper towels, and also had electrical outlets, where one very popular guy had set up a USB charging hub to charge over 6 phones at once. There are also showers available. Each loop of the campground has its own bathroom building, so there usually isn't a ridiculous line, even in the morning.
Although there is a small general store right down North Shore Lane, most people prefer to stock up at the Big Bear Lake grocery stores. For even lazier people (like us after a long hike), there are many restaurants near the Stanfield Cutoff as well, although nothing beats taking the extra 10 minutes to drive into Big Bear Village to enjoy the shopping and ice cream shops. We decided to grab pizza from Red Barron Pizza for our second night (we did cook some awesome bean and cheese quesadillas the first night, so we deserved a break from cooking and dishes), which was awesome - if you're looking for good Big Bear pizza that's the place. Serrano isn't the closest, but the stores are easy to find and are only a few minutes away. There are also some stores in Fawnskin, but not on the scale of the chain groceries back in Big Bear. Fawnskin is more the place for a more local fare, such as cafes and small stores.
The most pleasant surprise about Serrano was really how close to the lake we were, and that we had access to it as well. Without even venturing down the Alpine Pedal Path, we discovered a short path through the grass to the shore, where you could wade into the lake for a great view of the solar observatory. The Meadows Edge Day Use Area entrance is directly across from the entrance to the campground, only a short stroll from your campsite. If you're looking for a good spot to picnic, this place can't be beat. Don't be fooled by the photo below - this place was pretty busy on a Wednesday morning - just imagine a Saturday morning. There are a few spots like the one in the picture, close to the parking lot and bathrooms, in the shade, and within a stone's throw of the water. There were also multiple paths that wound their way throughout the pine trees to explore. More picnic tables were located further away from the water in a more wooded setting as well. You need to buy an adventure pass to park in the Day Use Area, which are sold at the campground and the Discovery Center. If you want to launch boats, you have to travel further East on Highway 38 to reach the boat landing.
If you couldn't tell, we really enjoyed our stay at Serrano, and are planning on going back to Big Bear in the near future. It's hard to beat the location of Big Bear, both the lake and city itself as well as the proximity to LA. The beautiful hikes combined with the endless opportunities of the lake make an abundance of activities for both energetic outdoor adventurers and overworked vacationers looking for an escape. Reservations can be made at Recreation.gov or by calling 877-444-6777. The campsite numbers are 909-866-8550 or 909-866-8021. We also included a map of the area below for your reference, and continue reading to explore the Big Bear Valley Hiking Guide below! As always, let us know if we missed anything or if you have your own observations of your recent trip to Serrano, we'd love to hear about it!
The Alpine Pedal Path - Very Easy - 3/12 Miles - Travels along the edge of Big Bear Lake from the Solar Observatory west of the Serrano Campground to the Stanfield Cutoff. It is not flat, but its ups and downs are fairly gentle. Part of this path branches off at the entrance to the Serrano campground to pass under Highway 38 to connect with the Cougar Crest Trail and reach the Big Bear Discovery Center.
The Woodland Trail (1E23) - Easy - 1 1/2 Mile Loop - This path starts and ends at the trailhead off Highway 38, only .2 miles west of the Stanfield Cutoff. It is an imperative trail with 20 posted markers, ideal for families with small children or anyone looking for an easy and educational day away from the shops of the Big Bear Village. Pamphlets are available at the trailhead. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Champion Lodgepole Pine Trail (1W11) - Easy - .6 Miles Round Trip
Bluff Mesa Trail (1W16) - Easy - .8 Miles Round Trip
These companion paths are located on the south side of Big Bear Lake. After driving up Mill Creek Road (Forrest Road 2N10) for 4 1/2 miles, make a right on Forrest Road 2N11, where after a mile you will find the trailhead of the Champion Lodgepole Pine Trail. The .3 mile trail ends at the Champion Lodgepole Pine, one of the largest Lodgepole Pine trees in California. From here, the Bluff Mesa Trail begins, which ends at the popular Bluff Mesa Group Campground .4 miles away. No bicycles are allowed, and visitors are asked to stay on all trails to not disturb the beautiful meadows alongside, which are full of wildflowers in the spring. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Castle Rock Trail (1W03) - Moderate to Difficult - 2.5 Miles Round Trip - The most popular trail in all of Big Bear begins shorty before the Dam on Highway 18 (1.1 miles east of the dam to be exact). The only parking available is 50 yards east of the trailhead alongside the highway, and as you can image, it fills quickly. The elevation gain is what makes this trail difficult, despite only being 2.5 miles roundtrip. After climbing over 500 feet in less than a mile and a half, you will reach the popular granite rock outcropping, where most will stop and enjoy a picnic lunch. The more adventurous types will test their rock climbing skills by clawing their way up to the top of the rocks, where the view of the lake is wonderful. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Pineknot Trail (1E01) - Moderate to Difficult - 6 Miles Round Trip - This trail begins at the Aspen Glen Picnic Area and runs south until reaching aptly named Grand View Point at 7,784ft. Serious hikers can make this trip in 3-4 hours, but most will plan on spending some time at the summit with a picnic lunch while enjoying the view. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Gray's Peak Trail (1W06) - Moderate to Difficult - 7 Miles Round Trip
Hanna Flat Trail (1W05) - Moderate - 9 Miles Round Trip
This trailhead is located on the west side of Highway 38, .6 miles west of Fawnskin, across from the Grout Bay Picnic Area (this trailhead is in the center of a blad eagle wintering habitat area and is closed to all public use from Novemeber 1 to April 1). The trail will merge with forrest road 2N04X after a half mile, where it will then join forrest road 2N70. Go straight, not left, and continue to the beginning of Gray's Peak Trail. From there, it is about 2 3/4 miles to the top of Gray's Peak. The trail fades as you get to within 1/4 miles of the summit, and gets increasingly more difficult as you will have to navigate buckthorn and figure ways over and around boulders. The trail to Hanna Flat begins 50 yards past the Gray's Peak Trail sign on the right and continues for 4 miles to the Hanna Flat Campground.
Cougar Crest Trail (1E22) - Moderate to Difficult - 4 1/2 - 5 Miles Round Trip
Cougar Crest is one of the most popular and well maintained trails in the Big Bear area. It starts .6 miles west of the Big Bear Discovery Center (across highway 38 from the Serrano Campground), where you can park for free until 6pm. In the first mile there is only a gentle uphill increase, but in the 2nd mile you will begin to pick up serious altitude. The Cougar Crest Trail ends at the Pacific Crest Trail, where most will continue to the east (right) on a dirt maintenance road for a half mile to the summit of Bertha Peak, 8201 feet, and home to a large amount of transmitting equipment at the top. From here, you are treated to a 360 degree view of the Bear Valley, Holcomb Valley, and even the Mojave Desert.
As you can see in the video, Serrano is designed in harmony with the pine trees and has very spacious sites. It has 98 tent sites and 30 full hookup sites. There is a 2-day minimum stay on weekends, 3 days if it's a holiday weekend. It's $28 per night for just a single site, with a $5 charge for an extra car. A double site is $56; check the map below for the few double sites throughout the campground. For a hook up site for an RV, it's $38, where an RV and tow vehicle or truck and 5th wheel/trailer is considered one vehicle. There is a dump station within the campground. Overflow parking is available on North Shore Lane. The campground is split basically half and half between the sites with hook-ups and normal tent sites. In our opinion, the tent sites are far better than the RV hookups: further from the highway, under the tall pine trees, and more spacious. Reservations can be made 6 months to the day in advance, and there are definitely weekends where you will need to reserve your site this far in advance (think 4th of July, Labor Day, and major Big Bear events like the upcoming film festival). Even during weekdays in the summer be prepared to reserve in advance unless you're open to reserving different campsites on different nights. Firewood can be purchased from either the hosts or the front office for $7.
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| Serrano Campground Map |
What this map also misses is the complex network of trails that wind their way around the north shore of Big Bear Lake. Near the campground entrance is a confluence of the Alpine Pedal Path and the Cougar Crest Trailhead, where you can choose to take a stroll (or bike ride) north through the Meadows Edge Day Use Area (more on that later) or begin your stroll to the Big Bear Discovery Center (the new nature and information building), or hike up the Cougar Crest Trail. The Alpine Pedal path continues East all the way until the Stanfield Cutoff, and also runs West to the town of Fawnskin; a great way to access the lake or just enjoy the scenery. Even if you don't bring a bike, the walk down the Alpine path brings you right along the edge of the lake. Unlike the south side of Big Bear Lake, where almost all lakeside property is private and developed, the north shore is devoted to public access and is mostly managed by the forrest service. The Cougar Crest Trail is one of the most popular hikes of Big Bear, and for good reason. Although it is only about 5 1/2 miles roundtrip, there is some serious altitude gain until you reach the summit of Bertha Peak at 8,200 feet. If you want to read more about Big Bear Hikes, we typed out the official Forrest Service guide at the bottom of our review.
We stayed in site 100, one of the sites we recommend. Like the other sites we picked, it had a decent amount of privacy, has copious amounts of shade, and was also more than large enough for our needs. Personally, we loved the feel of camping among the pines as well. There was also abundant water pumps around, about 1 for every 2-3 campsites. If you decide to wash your dishes in one, beware that it is not allowed by the management since the soap pollutes the drainage systems (the water is ground filtered again, and not sent to treatment). Obviously it is not very convenient to wash dishes in the bathroom sinks, which we guess is the alternative. We were also right by the bathrooms, which happened to be a pleasant surprise. The bathrooms were kept very clean, had sinks and paper towels, and also had electrical outlets, where one very popular guy had set up a USB charging hub to charge over 6 phones at once. There are also showers available. Each loop of the campground has its own bathroom building, so there usually isn't a ridiculous line, even in the morning.
Although there is a small general store right down North Shore Lane, most people prefer to stock up at the Big Bear Lake grocery stores. For even lazier people (like us after a long hike), there are many restaurants near the Stanfield Cutoff as well, although nothing beats taking the extra 10 minutes to drive into Big Bear Village to enjoy the shopping and ice cream shops. We decided to grab pizza from Red Barron Pizza for our second night (we did cook some awesome bean and cheese quesadillas the first night, so we deserved a break from cooking and dishes), which was awesome - if you're looking for good Big Bear pizza that's the place. Serrano isn't the closest, but the stores are easy to find and are only a few minutes away. There are also some stores in Fawnskin, but not on the scale of the chain groceries back in Big Bear. Fawnskin is more the place for a more local fare, such as cafes and small stores.
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| Our tent set up at Site 100 |
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| The best spot for a picnic at The Meadows Edge Day Use Area |
Big Bear Valley Hiking Guide
The Alpine Pedal Path - Very Easy - 3/12 Miles - Travels along the edge of Big Bear Lake from the Solar Observatory west of the Serrano Campground to the Stanfield Cutoff. It is not flat, but its ups and downs are fairly gentle. Part of this path branches off at the entrance to the Serrano campground to pass under Highway 38 to connect with the Cougar Crest Trail and reach the Big Bear Discovery Center.
The Woodland Trail (1E23) - Easy - 1 1/2 Mile Loop - This path starts and ends at the trailhead off Highway 38, only .2 miles west of the Stanfield Cutoff. It is an imperative trail with 20 posted markers, ideal for families with small children or anyone looking for an easy and educational day away from the shops of the Big Bear Village. Pamphlets are available at the trailhead. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Champion Lodgepole Pine Trail (1W11) - Easy - .6 Miles Round Trip
Bluff Mesa Trail (1W16) - Easy - .8 Miles Round Trip
These companion paths are located on the south side of Big Bear Lake. After driving up Mill Creek Road (Forrest Road 2N10) for 4 1/2 miles, make a right on Forrest Road 2N11, where after a mile you will find the trailhead of the Champion Lodgepole Pine Trail. The .3 mile trail ends at the Champion Lodgepole Pine, one of the largest Lodgepole Pine trees in California. From here, the Bluff Mesa Trail begins, which ends at the popular Bluff Mesa Group Campground .4 miles away. No bicycles are allowed, and visitors are asked to stay on all trails to not disturb the beautiful meadows alongside, which are full of wildflowers in the spring. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Castle Rock Trail (1W03) - Moderate to Difficult - 2.5 Miles Round Trip - The most popular trail in all of Big Bear begins shorty before the Dam on Highway 18 (1.1 miles east of the dam to be exact). The only parking available is 50 yards east of the trailhead alongside the highway, and as you can image, it fills quickly. The elevation gain is what makes this trail difficult, despite only being 2.5 miles roundtrip. After climbing over 500 feet in less than a mile and a half, you will reach the popular granite rock outcropping, where most will stop and enjoy a picnic lunch. The more adventurous types will test their rock climbing skills by clawing their way up to the top of the rocks, where the view of the lake is wonderful. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Pineknot Trail (1E01) - Moderate to Difficult - 6 Miles Round Trip - This trail begins at the Aspen Glen Picnic Area and runs south until reaching aptly named Grand View Point at 7,784ft. Serious hikers can make this trip in 3-4 hours, but most will plan on spending some time at the summit with a picnic lunch while enjoying the view. An Adventure Pass is required for parking.
Gray's Peak Trail (1W06) - Moderate to Difficult - 7 Miles Round Trip
Hanna Flat Trail (1W05) - Moderate - 9 Miles Round Trip
This trailhead is located on the west side of Highway 38, .6 miles west of Fawnskin, across from the Grout Bay Picnic Area (this trailhead is in the center of a blad eagle wintering habitat area and is closed to all public use from Novemeber 1 to April 1). The trail will merge with forrest road 2N04X after a half mile, where it will then join forrest road 2N70. Go straight, not left, and continue to the beginning of Gray's Peak Trail. From there, it is about 2 3/4 miles to the top of Gray's Peak. The trail fades as you get to within 1/4 miles of the summit, and gets increasingly more difficult as you will have to navigate buckthorn and figure ways over and around boulders. The trail to Hanna Flat begins 50 yards past the Gray's Peak Trail sign on the right and continues for 4 miles to the Hanna Flat Campground.
Cougar Crest Trail (1E22) - Moderate to Difficult - 4 1/2 - 5 Miles Round Trip
Cougar Crest is one of the most popular and well maintained trails in the Big Bear area. It starts .6 miles west of the Big Bear Discovery Center (across highway 38 from the Serrano Campground), where you can park for free until 6pm. In the first mile there is only a gentle uphill increase, but in the 2nd mile you will begin to pick up serious altitude. The Cougar Crest Trail ends at the Pacific Crest Trail, where most will continue to the east (right) on a dirt maintenance road for a half mile to the summit of Bertha Peak, 8201 feet, and home to a large amount of transmitting equipment at the top. From here, you are treated to a 360 degree view of the Bear Valley, Holcomb Valley, and even the Mojave Desert.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Paso Picacho Campground - Lake Cuyamaca S.P.
If you've been following us recently, you know our affection for Lake Cuyamaca State Park, and it was only a natural decision for us to go back and visit for a second time. As you may know, there are two campgrounds within the state park boundaries: Green Valley and Paso Picacho.
This post is about our experience at Paso Picacho Campground, the larger of the two campgrounds within the park. Green Valley, the smaller, southernmost campground, is not reviewed in this post. You can see the review of Green Valley Here.
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| Rancho Cuyamaca (Cuyamaca Rancho in native Spanish), a state park gem |
Paso Picacho is a large campsite, with 85 sites spread out over 5 loops: Manzanita (C1), Live Oak (C2), Ceder (C3), Coulter (C4), and Cypress (C5). Two group campgrounds are also available, as well as day use parking, an RV dump station, a day use picnic area, and a Cal Fire Station. The day use parking area is designed to be used for hikers accessing the four main trails that leave the campground - 1) Azalea Glen Loop Trail, 2) Look Out Fire Road (to the top of Cuyamaca Peak), 3) Stonewall Peak Trail (more on that later), and 4) Cold Stream Trail (to the Visitor Center). Branching off of those main trails are ones that lead you south to the Green Valley Campground, east to the Los Vaqueros Group Horse Campground, and north to the Stonewall Mine. As you can imagine, the day use area gets packed during the summer, as Piso Picacho serves basically as the hub for excursions into the rest of the park, another reason in favor of camping here! If you're not staying the night at either Piso Picacho or Green Valley, be prepared to fork over an $8 day use parking fee.
Piso Picacho (as well as Green Valley) are open on the reservation system from spring to fall. Each campsite is equipped with a picnic table and fire ring, although for you RV folks there are no sites with hookups. Firewood can be purchased from the campground hosts for $8, who are located at at site 42 (the location and price may have changed since we last visited - if in doubt, ask a Ranger or explore the main campground road; the hosts are usually pretty easy to spot!). Any additional vehicles above the included one car are $8 apiece, with a usual limit of no more than 3 cars per campsite. Also, there is a limit of 8 people per campsite (keep reading for the good adjacent sites to book together if you have a larger group). If you're bringing your dog, you're in luck, they are allowed, but are only permitted to hang around the campgrounds, picnic areas, and paved roads (which includes the Cuyamaca Peak Fire Road). They cannot be left unattended.
As for all state parks, reservations can be made at Reserve America. Remember to choose a site at Piso Picacho, as listings for both Green Valley and Piso Picacho come up on the Cuyamaca camping list. To read more about the park itself, check out the State Park Page. If you'd like to see more detailed versions of the maps included below, follow this link. This park also receives support in part through
a nonprofit organization, the Cuyamaca Rancho State Park Interpretive Association.
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| Paso Picacho Campground Map |
Our favorite sites at Piso Picacho are 9, 30, 40, 41, 49, and 58. If you're going with a larger group, consider booking two adjacent sites such as 47 & 48 and 83 & 84. Remember, these are just our personal favorites: sites that have a good blend of shade, privacy, and usability. In our opinion, there is not one bad campsite there, but we would also try to avoid the sites right by the two trailheads within the campground: 78 and 85. Also, 13 & 71 are right next to the showers, while the Azalea Loop Trail passes right behind site 1.
Piso Picacho is open on the reservation system from spring to fall, with reservations not required in the off months. If you do choose to come in the wintertime, be prepared for snow. Although rare, Piso Picacho does sit above 5,000 feet in elevation. Each campsite is equipped with a picnic table and fire ring, although for you RV folks there are no sites with hookups. Any additional vehicles above the included one car are $8 apiece, with a usual limit of no more than 2 cars per campsite. Also, there is a limit of 8 people per campsite. If you're bringing your dog, you're in luck as they are allowed, but are only permitted to hang around the campgrounds, picnic areas, and paved roads, and cannot be left unattended. There is a 14 day stay limit while in season (March-November), which expands to 30 days in the winter offseason. Seniors, you can get $2 off your campsite fee if you're 62 and older, and 1/2 off with ADA (with vehicle placard or CA Parks ADA Access Card). Remember to check in if you come late! As with almost all sites, the gates reamin open after hours, you just have to make sure you come back in the morning to check in. Remember, Reserve America lists all of the Cuyamaca Campsites in one listing. MAKE SURE TO CHOOSE THE APPROPRIATE CAMPGROUND. Make sure the campsite starts with P0 (indicating Paso Picacho) and also includes the word "Paso" in the description.
Piso Picacho is open on the reservation system from spring to fall, with reservations not required in the off months. If you do choose to come in the wintertime, be prepared for snow. Although rare, Piso Picacho does sit above 5,000 feet in elevation. Each campsite is equipped with a picnic table and fire ring, although for you RV folks there are no sites with hookups. Any additional vehicles above the included one car are $8 apiece, with a usual limit of no more than 2 cars per campsite. Also, there is a limit of 8 people per campsite. If you're bringing your dog, you're in luck as they are allowed, but are only permitted to hang around the campgrounds, picnic areas, and paved roads, and cannot be left unattended. There is a 14 day stay limit while in season (March-November), which expands to 30 days in the winter offseason. Seniors, you can get $2 off your campsite fee if you're 62 and older, and 1/2 off with ADA (with vehicle placard or CA Parks ADA Access Card). Remember to check in if you come late! As with almost all sites, the gates reamin open after hours, you just have to make sure you come back in the morning to check in. Remember, Reserve America lists all of the Cuyamaca Campsites in one listing. MAKE SURE TO CHOOSE THE APPROPRIATE CAMPGROUND. Make sure the campsite starts with P0 (indicating Paso Picacho) and also includes the word "Paso" in the description.
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| Our site, #9, was half shaded, half exposed, giving us the perfect shade during the day while letting us gave up into the stars while sitting around the campfire at night |
Something unique to Piso Picacho is the availability of cabins. As you can see on the map above, there are 5 cabins sprinkled throughout the campsite, with cabins 3 & 4 right next to one another. The names of the cabins are listed on the left side of the map, with their numbers corresponding to their location on the campsite loops. There's also a 'Nature Den' cabin, a space rented out to different groups throughout the year. Often times, larger families will reserve the 3 & 4 cabins together, and cabin 1 is bordering the fire road without any shade. I have never stayed in a cabin like the ones at Cuyamaca, and predictably they're extremely hard to get a reservation for, but if you're sick of pitching a tent for the night, they're a cool alternative to look into.
Before you read any further and get excited about a future trip, please make sure you have a reservation made. In peak season, from April to October, reservations are needed weeks in advance, especially for the weekends. The proximity to San Diego, although great for travel time, is also your worst enemy - everyone knows about this park and this campsite, and most people who come once will come back. Also, Piso Picacho is a favorite of the San Diego college kids; SDSU, USD, and CUSD are all within short driving distance of the park. Although the Rangers are strict on noise, don't be surprised if you're kept up late at night if you're staying over the weekend.
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| This picture is looking west over the campground (the grove of trees on the right), while the Cuyamaca Peak Fire Road winds its way up the middle towards the top of Cuyamaca Peak after originating from Highway 79 |
On a different note - if you're weary about returning to Cuyamaca after the Cedar Fire, don't be. Although the fire ravaged the park, the fire crews were miraculously able to save the campsite itself, and all of the original trees within the campsite were saved. Save one or two sites in the Manzanita loop, all campsites are mostly shaded underneath the trees. In the picture above, you can see the difference. The grove of trees to the right is the campground, while all of the trees behind it leading up to Cuyamaca Peak were charred. Although the forrest of 10 years ago is gone, there is plentiful new growth as a new ecosystem is emerging and thriving. Just bring a little extra sunscreen and a hat, as most trails lack shade.
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| Admiring the view south, looking towards the Visitor Center and Green Valley Campground from Stonewall Peak Trail. Vegetation has filled in nicely, but you can also see the grey skeletons of many roasted trees still adorning the hillsides throughout the park. Below, the steps leading up to the peak and the trail with Stonewall in the background. |
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| The view north from the very top of Stonewall Peak. On the left, Highway 79 snakes down from Piso Picacho and winds around the lake and the small village of Cuyamaca on its way to Julian. |
Overall, we really enjoyed our weekend at Piso Picacho, even more so than our stay at Green Valley. You can't go wrong with either site at Rancho Cuyamaca, as each campground has its distinct advantages. However, considering the shortened driving distance to Julian, the access to the trailheads of the two most popular hikes in the entire park, the relatively short 10 minute drive to the falls at Green Valley, and the beautiful shaded campsites, we would have to give the edge to Piso Picacho. Of course, all of those advantages mean that you will have more competition to get a campsite, so make sure to plan ahead and reserve a spot, especially during the peak season and weekends. Make reservations by calling (760)765-3020 or visiting Reserve America, while inquiries to the Park can be sent to cuyamaca@parks.ca.gov. Let us know about your stay or ask us a question in the comments!
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