Rain...Rain...go away

Winter has officially arrived in San Francisco this weekend.

Today is one of those stormy days where you are happy that you can stay inside out of the wind and the rain, endlessly beating on the windows and doors, where you light a fire in the fireplace at noon and sip on hot soup while snuggled under a large blanket. That is, unless you are like me and were planning on going Christmas shopping today and yesterday for your "local" friends and family, and now are finding yourself totally &^%$ unless you either go out in this Rainstorm from Another Time or pay stupidly high shipping costs.

Feliz Navidad.

OTBP *almost* went hiking in November. And then everyone, including a guilty Mr. HIker Jane, bailed at the last minute and Ms. Hiker Jane spent the day doing laundry and unpacking. There were high hopes for a hike in December, but Hiker Jane was feeling a bit gun shy after everyone bailing, and even more so, overwhelmed by the holidays. And if today's weather is any indicator of how things are going to be in the Bay Area this Winter, it looks like we will once again be shutting down until March. That said, rain down here means "snow up there," and by up there I mean Tahoe, and damnit if I'm not going to actually make it to the mountains this Winter. OTBP may not hike, but we just may ski.

Mr. Hiker Jane and I have a pair of friends, wonderful down to earth awesome people who also happened to make a butt-load of money in the Dot.com Days and live what I love to call, "This is So Not My Life." In addition to a beautiful "house" down in Atherton, they have a gorgeous "log cabin" in Tahoe and they usually go up there for the New Year. We haven't made it for the last two years and are really hoping that they are putting together a trek this year. Last year the heavy snow closed down the highway up to Tahoe, and this year I am determined to make *some* kind of pilgrimage up there even if we have to go by reindeer.

"Say, Hiker Jane, what does any of this have to do with your last hike?"

Nothing.

Except that I did finally manage to get Therese's pictures of our last hike back in...October?
Anyway, I thought I would at least post these since it doesn't look like OTBP is going to making it out for a while.

Enjoy.
And truly, Happy Holidays to all.
Especially Tiny Tim.



Mr. and Ms. Hiker Jane. Aw.


Therese in her Sexy Big Eyed Shades and Hiker Jane


An attempt at an Arty McArt shot of the wild


Mr. Hiker Jane and Therese on a Photo-Op Bridge


A shot of Tired Hiker Jane's twisted silhouette


"I saw mommy kissing Sa-nta Claus..." Caught!

Two for One Special

To start, this is now the second time that I've started writing this post. So the two-for-the-price-of-one title is going even further than you might think. After years of using web applications you would think I would know to "save early and save often," but damnit if I didn't just lose a 60% done entry. Poop. Poop on Blogger.

Where was I? I believe I started out by doing an "excuse me for not updating" tap dance that involved explaining why I've been trapped under something heavy (metaphorically speaking) for the last few months. Off The Beaten Path has managed to go on several hikes over the last two months, I was only able to manage go on the hike itself -- and not write about it afterwards.

Today the tides have turned in your favor, gentle virtual hiking readers. OTBP was supposed to have a hike today, but I didn't manage to suggest the idea until Friday night since I've been sick. My laziness and the fact that it is raining today means the hike has been postponed. I figured I might as well take the time originally slotted to *go* hiking and simply *write* about hiking instead.

Plus, there is a 49'ers game on and Mr. Hiker Jane is dominating our television set. He is down there dancing like an oversized toddler with each first down gained and so on. He looks particularly silly since he is wearing a 49'er ski hat that he's owned since he was about eight. When I told him that he looked like he just got off the short school bus I was shoo'ed from the room.

So. Hiking. Where were we...

September 4th: Redwood Regional Park

What I can hardly get over is the fact that I decided to go hiking less than two weeks before our moving day. I don't think I even had started packing in earnest, and looking back at how the end of September actually went down, this was a bad move indeed. Oh wait. Hello. Nothing to do with hiking, I know. But you see, ever since I've moved all I care about is the inside of my house and what I need to buy to make it prettier, so if I start on a tangent about window treatments I advise you to just go with it.

Okay, so this was a few months ago, but I'm pretty sure that it was a nice day and...ur...nice.. I'm sure there was the strong smell of California sage that makes my eyes roll back into my head with happiness and triggers this desire to rid myself of my worldly possessions and live off the land. Then I get hungry and this desire goes away when I remember that I can't forage for food and have a real fondness for burritos.

At least I have a couple of pictures to save this moment...



Here is Mike. Mike has a map. Read Mike read. Read the map and tell us where the &^%$ to go! Okay, so Mike has a special place in my heart since he is probably the most prepared hiker that has come out with us on our hikes. I thought I was savvy since I'd download the trail notes to my Treo, but Mike brings actual maps and studies things like "elevation" and "good routes" and stuff like that which can make a hike so much more pleasant.

The added bonus is that Mike is both a teacher and a masseur, so that he can rub your shoulders when you collapse in agony into a mess of Adiantum pedatum. Excellent.



Here is Therese. Therese wears pants. Strut Therese strut. Therese went shopping before our last expedition and purchased some nifty hiking pants that let you zip off the pant legs when you get too warm. She is modeling the "tweener" look, for that person on the trail that can't decide if they are too hot or too cold. She was also bitching about the fact that children sized hiking clothes (which is what she has to buy) come in only powder blue or pink. I shed a single tear for her wee-ness and told her to deal -- that and that she looked cute in powder blue.

I don't remember much that happened until lunch. We hiked. Uphill, probably. I'm sure we talked about all sorts of amazing things, and even possibly solved the mysteries of the universe, and then promptly forgot to write them down on a napkin. We did eventually reach the summit and I have a few shots:



Aww. How cute in the powder blue. How mighty his map.



This is the view. Again, I will apologize (only a little) for the crappy resolution of these pictures. I've given up on thinking I will actually bring a real digital camera, but since I always have my Treo on hand, this ensure that at least I have something.


Ah. Hiker Jane. So funny. Actually I was bored since everyone else had gone to find the Little Girl's Room and Little Boy's Room tree and I was stuck waiting...having found my own tree earlier.

After lunch we hiked back down the canyon and then back up it again to the parking lot. The only thing I remember from this stretch was that at one point we were walking along, three abreast, chatting on and on, when suddenly....I jumped and screamed (while leaping, mind you) over a big blackish snake sunning itself in the middle of the trail. The other two laughed at me and I was forced to beat them with sticks. No. But I have to give myself some mad props for having quick reflexes.

I'm not really afraid of snakes, though I remain somewhat scarred to this day with the memory of sitting on our back porch in Maryland, watching my mother doing some gardening around a flower bed around a tall oak tree, when there was crack and snap and all of the sudden this large black snake (and a branch) fell out of the tree and around my mother's *neck*. Ugh. I mean, AGH! Gah. Fft. I *shudder* each time I think of it.

The last thing I remember from our hike is that some inner tendon of mine started freaking out on the last leg of the trip, and that Mike graciously shared his Goldfish crackers on the ride back to San Francisco. Good times.

October 16th: Mount Tam

Well, this hike didn't happen that long ago, but I'm still sketchy on the blow by blow details. Unfortunately I also don't have many (crappy) pictures since Therese brought her Treo -- the 650 series which laughs at my 600 series -- and the camera is just leagues better. However, she sent all of the pictures to Mr. Hiker Jane, and since Mr. Hiker Jane is still downstairs doing the 49'er shuffle, those pictures will remain buried in his e-mail for quite some time. Once I do get my little greasy paws on them, however, I will update this *facinating* entry with them.

To start I know that all of us were car sick. And by all of us I mean Therese, Mr. Hiker Jane (who made a guest appearance), and myself. Getting to Mount Tam means driving on the very curvy Highway 1 to Stinson Beach and simply typing those words makes me feel a little queasy.

The night before the hike we were at a birthday party with a bunch of people we thought we could lure out with us in the morning. However, that was also the night of the de Young Museum's grand re-opening party and thousands of our hippie Burning Man brethren went in throngs to dance in the parking lot and chat about art and baby bok choy. Upon hearing that there was three hour line to get in, Rich and I decided to head on home after the birthday party. Stupid hippies. Kidding. Well, kinda.

We began hiking and I knew it was going to be a doozy of hike because my knees started yelping before we'd even gone the first mile. It was steep and very warm. There was just switch-back after switch-back, and while you could occasionally glance over your shoulder and see glimmers of Stinson beach below, it was mostly a great deal of walking and grunting. I do have one picture of myself and Mr. Hiker Jane, and we look like two piles of sweaty gym socks.



Given that Therese and Mr. Hiker Jane and myself have known each other for a while, I'm sure that the conversation ran the gamut. Perhaps we even offended the local wildlife with our off-color remarks, since I'm pretty sure we offended one set of hikers when they heard me loudly arguing why it should be okay for women to use the expression, "rub one out." Mr. Hiker Jane insists that it is very wrong indeed. I'd recap our discussion in more detail, but Hiker Jane's Mom does occasionally read this site.

When we got to the top (and halfway point) of Steep Ravine Trail, we collapsed. It was an amazing view since you could see all the way to Twin Peaks in San Francisco, over thirty miles away. Or something. It looks very far off and impressive and I love it when the Bay Area sheds its foggy coat for a moment and allows you to see all of her shimmering here and there. Therese and I were to tired to lift our Treos to take a picture, so just imagine a glorious 360 degree view of the Bay Area and you get the picture.

When we looked at our trail notes and realized that we'd only gone three miles of a 7.5 mile trek, we opted to simply turn around and walk down hill to our starting point. On the way we discouraged everyone who looked equally exhausted. Especially this one group of kids who looked like they were sharing a single 8-ounce water bottle between 8 people. We'd each polished off close to 64-ounces each and told them in no uncertain terms that sudden death would take them if they continued. Actually, our exact words were closer to it is really far away and it is hot and don't your friends look tired? They nodded and I'm not sure if they turned around. Thinking back we should have invited them down the hill for some ice cream, since that was where we were headed.

After we made it back to the car we started looking for a place to get some delicious cold sweetness. We found this one place who wisely just had a huge ice cream cone sign outside. I stopped the car so fast we almost got whiplash. While it is sad that I remember my ice cream (vanilla with peanut butter and chocolate double scoop in a waffle cone) more vividly than the hike itself, sorry to say that is simply how I am wired. Therese had a root beer float. Fine. Years of food lust have done this to me, people.

The drive home was extra silent. I think there was one feisty discussion about native vs. non-native plants in California and I geeked out in the car talking about these frogs that have taken over a pond in Golden Gate park, and Therese wisely fell asleep.

Winter is coming to the Bay Area and with it a slight weather change. It will go from cold and foggy, to colder and foggier with rain. The rain will start to keep most of us slovenly types indoors, but we are hoping to get at least one more hike in before the holidays. There will be a timely write-up. I hope.

Until then, happy trails...

Stars and Stripes: Memorial Park

Well, as you may have guessed, we didn't quite make it out to the wilderness in June. I tried to set-up a hike for the second weekend in June, since the first weekend was Mr. and Mrs. Hiker Jane's 1st Annual Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza, and basically no one could show up the second weekend except for Hiker Jane. Given that Hiker Jane is a lazy and sloth-like creature unless she has hiking buddies, she didn't do anything at all on that Sunday except for waltz around her apartment in her hiking boots taking very deep breaths of slightly stale morning air.

On the bright side, scheduling a hike for July became helplessly easy since all Hiker Jane needed to do was resend the last announcement with a new date. Surprisingly, there were many people who were in town on the long weekend and OTBP had it's largest group yet this season -- a full six hikers.

Now, Hiker Jane has often said that she is content if even ONE other person commits since if even ONE person commits, it means HIker Jane will get her ass out of bed on Sunday morning and go out and enjoy some damn nature. So, when a full five other people showed up, you can imagine her excitement and damn if she wasn't almost at Muddy's coffee shop exactly on time to coordinate cars and whatnot.

After designating a Boy Car and a Girl Car, because deep down inside Hiker Jane likes pulling out the seventh grade dance rule sometimes, and a quick stop at Safeway to pick up Mr. Hiker Jane and some sandwiches, our crew was off and away to Memorial Park in San Mateo.

We drove for a long time.
And then we drove some more.
We thought we were there.
And then we weren't.

Eventually Therese offered that even if we didn't hike much, that she was surely enjoying this very nice Sunday drive, what with all these nice trees on all sides. Hiker Jane arched her eyebrow and peered into the rear view mirror, and quite luckily the final turn was almost upon us...three miles later. The Boy Car stopped next to Hiker Jane's All Girl Car. "Hey, nice drive," offered Mr. Hiker Jane full of vim, vigor and sarcasm. Hiker Jane's eyebrow arched, yet again.

Eventually all six of us got on the trail. This wasn't before all of us spent ten minutes looking at a map and tried to find the trail we were taking. Hiker Jane took control of the situation and marched over to the Ranger Booth and asked, "Excuse me Smoky, where do we find the Pomor....the Pom...um...the Main Trail." The man stared at Hiker Jane as if she was Queen Bimbo from the Land of Blondia. Gently he took the map and then...flipped it over. "AH!," exclaimed Hiker Jane. "Can I borrow your highlighter so that I can mark our route?" Ranger Rick handed Hiker Jane the highlighter, which she then proceeded to pull, and pull, and....damn was that cap on tight. "The other end," offered Ranger Rick, "the yellow cap doesn't come off." "AH!," exclaimed Hiker Jane. Ranger Rick took a few steps back just in case her ignorance was catching. Later I'm sure he said a silent prayer that we either (a) make it back in one piece or (b) that Hiker Jane get eaten by a mountain lion so that she could not reproduce.

After a series of ass kicking hikes, the Memorial Park Trail was delightfully easier. Well, at least for the girls. The three of us sped on ahead for the first few legs of the trail. Now, it is POSSIBLE that the boys just naturally let girls wander pass since it is an excellent angle to observe them, but I'd rather think it was because we were in far, far better shape and had on spiffy hiking boots.

The seventh grade dance split continued for a little while, but eventually we all fell in step with one another. It was at this exact moment that Hiker Jane discovered she needed to pee. Hiker Jane let everyone pass, except for one speedy chica, Jill, and then proceeded to find a special grassy spot not over run with Poison Oak. Somehow, and she is not sure exactly how, she managed to lose her sunglasses in the process. She put them down with her pack and the trusty (and highlighted) map, and yet when she picked them up again, the sunglasses were gone. If Jill had chosen that moment to tell Hiker Jane that an invisible deer who was sensitive to light had STOLEN her sunglasses, she would have instantly believed her. Instead Hiker Jane spent a good ten minutes wandering around looking for her sunglasses, to no avail.

Finally Jill and Hiker Jane power hiked back up to meet with the others. After several more legs, there was some panting in the back. A boy was struggling. He claimed "calf trouble" and asked for a break. We paused briefly while the men stroked each other's egos about how challenging the trail was and so on. The girls nodded empathetically, at least, on the outside. Girls rule. Ahem.

The notion of lunch was suggested and we set off again to find a better place to stop. Eventually we got to the Memorial Park Money Shot...which sadly Hiker Jane didn't take a picture of because she...well, forgot. Perhaps needless to say, it was gorgeous and made the last few miles of incline well worth the view. We all sat down and ate our respective sandwiches and nuts. One of the boys had a sack of oranges which he shared. He rules.

After about twenty minutes we heard voices. Someone else was coming up the trail. Hiker Jane had renewed hope that someone had seen her sunglasses, or perhaps wrestled them off a deer. In the trio coming up the trail, the first two said they hadn't seen anything. The third, a young woman, was wearing headphones and didn't answer at all. While it was quick, Hiker Jane did notice that it looked like she had the missing sunglasses tucked into her tank top. Hiker Jane almost pursued her, but it was then offered (as she started to turn), "What are you going to do? Ask her for a receipt?" Good point. Instead Hiker Jane decide to write this off as monetary karma. Sunglasses, like umbrellas, tend to float in and out of ones life. Perhaps the next pair I find will be much nicer. I hoping for Chanel.

It was at this time that a Moment happened. The boy who was complaining about calf pain whipped out his pack of cigarettes, and started to make the motions of lighting up. "I'll be careful," he said with the cigarette dangling from his lips. "Uh,...hmm," said Hiker Jane. Eventually Environmentalist Hiker Jane took over. "You know, it is high fire season for the parks right now since it is so dry. I really don't think it is a good idea. Especially since the wind could carry the ashes." Calf Pain Boy was not pleased, but eventually relented, tossing his match on the ground. "Uh...hmmm," said Hiker Jane. "Don't worry," said Calf Pain Boy, "it won't light." Hiker Jane was not so sure, but was also hearing a chant of Girl Scouts in her head going, "Leave No Trace! Leave No Trace!" Hiker Jane then proceeded to say, "Uh....hmmm." and then spent ten minutes scouring the ground for the match. Believe it or not, Hiker Jane was successful. She may not have been able to find her *&^%$ sunglasses which are twenty times larger than a match, but she managed to find a white headed match with a brown stem in a bunch of wheat colored tall grass. Go figure.

In any case, this Moment is causing Hiker Jane to do two things. Maybe three.
1. Develop the OTBP ten Hiker Jane Hiking guideline-like-things.
2. Tell people about those guidelines
3. Brush and floss at least twice a day.

Number three is unrelated, but still important.

The rest of the hike continued, and Hiker Jane went back to checking out the flowers and hang with the Girl Car crew. Mr. Hiker Jane later commented that, "How was someone supposed to know they shouldn't smoke on the trail. There aren't any signs." Hiker Jane arched her eyebrow at that one and suggested that given that "open flames" are prohibited, then one would hope that one would glean that perhaps it wasn't the worlds greatest idea. There was no further comment.

After lunch there was a quick decline back down to the beginning of the trail. So quick that Hiker Jane wished we'd taken the longer route since it seemed that on the trail map, things would take longer. Once down on the ground Calf Pain Boy apologized and showed me a small cigarette butt that he had tucked in his pack, claiming that he had once been a Boy Scout. Groovy. All was then sunshine and rainbows, but Item #1 is still forthcoming.

All in all, the lesson learned this past hike is that sometimes we need things spelled out for us. Ranger Rick was so kind to do that with Hiker Jane, and Hiker Jane will it for others in the future.

Once the hike was over did Hiker Jane remember her trusty Treo.
Here are some gratuitous "After" shots.



Mr. Hiker Jane (a.k.a. Rich) with boys in background.



Orange Boy (a.k.a. Mike) foreground, C.P.B. (a.k.a. Tony) background



The Girl Car: Therese, Jill, and Hiker Jane

Wet n' Wild: San Pedro Valley

Given how much fun Donner Falls was last month, and well, since Jen had gone through the trouble of forwarding a whole host of other Wonderful Winter Waterfall hikes we decided....what the hell, shoot for two! And yes, shut-up I do know it is Spring, but you must realize that this is the Bay Area the land of few discernible "seasons" and the home of my favorite mythical quote from Mark Twain, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." So a Winter hike in the middle of San Francisco Spring is just plain perfect. It was made even more perfect since it decided to rain.

All was still in Hiker Jane's snug little flat in Bernal Heights. Mr. Hiker Jane was busily canceling his morning outdoor plans, while Hiker Jane gritted her teeth, filled her Nalgene bottles and declared loudly to her bedroom, "We. Are. GOING!" There was a flurry of phone calls, and some delays, but in the end three brave nature loving souls met at Muddy's Coffee shop on 24th and Valencia to kick off our monthly hike.

Meta Moment:
Hiker Jane has lived in San Francisco for close to ten years and can count on one hand the number of times she has "randomly" run into Online Journaler folk, a bred of people to which Ms. Hiker Jane once belonged. Twice in the last six months it has been the divine Ms. Evany, who at this last occurrence, grinned and exclaimed that lately "she's everywhere I want to be." True enough.

Our little trio discussed our options. We could bail and head to Oscento and soak in hot tubs for several hours, forgetting our hike all together, or we could drive South to see how bad it was raining down there and either (a) hike or (b) come back to Oscento. In the end we decided to head South.

"Wahoo!" squealed Hiker Jane, and whipped out her Treo to take some crappy pictures to commemorate the event.

"Ack! No moisturizer! That thing whites me out!," were the random howls back as Hiker Jane clicked. Here are the results:




When we arrived in Pacifica and the San Pedro Valley Trail, it was still raining. Well. It was still raining off and on. We looked at one another as rain started pattering down our heads. "Lets go," Hiker Jane declared, and headed straight to the bathroom. Then we headed to the entrance booth to pay the park entrance fee. "Shouldn't we get half off because it's raining?" Then Hiker Jane headed to her car so that she could read her license plate number, because she never &^%$ remembers it, then she went back entrance booth to finish the form, then back to the car to put in the little "We paid, honest" stub on her dashboard, and then we hit the trail.

The rain started coming down harder and we plodded on. About half a mile up the trail we saw a fat banana slug making its way across the floor. Lorelei dared someone to lick it. We gave her a look. After a few more moments passed, we stepped...carefully...over the banana slug and continued on. If you've never seen a banana slug, I'm sorry, I have no pictures since it was raining and the Treo is sensitive at all, but I did find this one online. They look exactly like that except they are usually smoking something and eating M&Ms.

After about another mile we reached the waterfall summit.
Here it is....



Can you see a waterfall? If so, good for you...please tell me how you managed to spot it. That said it is actually in there somewhere, and it was extremely beautiful, and hummingbirds came out of their nests and danced around us like fairies while we marveled at the waterfall's beauty. No really, they did. I tried to take a picture of the hummingbirds too, but if the Treo couldn't manage a @#$% waterfall, you can imagine how my bird pictures came out?

So instead I decided to take a picture of something closer. A lovely Manzanita Tree, which I kept on making new names for because I couldn't remember what it was called. It became the Montecarlo tree, the Monticello tree, and the Montazuma's Revenge Part III tree, depending on my mood.



I also got some pictures of some other exotic wildlife, Lorelei and Therese eating some well deserved chocolate. MMMM. There were hazelnuts in there.




We hung out at the top of the trail for a while. What shocked me most is that in about ten minutes someone actually joined us. It was a mother and her brood: two children and Dad. She was wearing a pair of white sneakers and carried an umbrella. Her husband, a beer. I'm guessing there was a conversation earlier that day that ended something like this...

"I don't care if it IS friggin' raining, it is MOTHER'S DAY and I AM THE MOTHER and goddamnit we are going for a NICE. WALK!!!!!"

I really wanted to take their picture, but that would have been a bit too obvious.

We decided to continue up the trail for a while and about twenty minutes later decided to have lunch. It was tasty indeed with plenty of chocolate to follow all of the healthy dried fruit and nuts and bread we had lugged with us. Unfortunately, we didn't eat the orange that Therese brought and it decided to nestle into my right hip like bowling ball and I cursed it the entire trek down. Okay, so really like fifty feet before I whipped my pack off and found it a new home.

It was while we lunched that we saw someone else on the trail. One of those damn sprightly sixty-five year olds who was jogging down the trail soaking wet, and wielding two hiking poles like an animated human ant. Curse him. We said something rude like, "Hello" and "Have a nice day" as he passed.

After lunch, we continued upward for ten minutes before Hiker Jane's crew started saying things like, "We're wet and cold," and we made the decision to turn around and hike down the mountain. Hiker Jane had the brilliant hippie notion to make the hike down hill a walking meditation and requested that we not talk. "You aren't going to talk for two miles?," Lorelei commented raising her eyebrow. "Yes," I declared, "and if I break that promise you can pinch me."

Two minutes later Hiker Jane yelped as her ass was pinched. The rest of the hike down included random sign language, obscene hand gestures, laughing, the declaration that laughing did not count as talking so you are NOT allowed to pinch my ass, and a good deal of ass pinching.

In short order we made it into the car and back to the city. There was talk of going to Oscento, but Hiker Jane was falling asleep at the wheel, so after dropping Therese off, she headed home. Lorelei managed to sneak home with her and babied the very babyish Hiker Jane with spicy black bean soup and leftover cheese, after Hiker Jane sneezed her way through a hot bath.

Ms. Lorelei then headed back to Oaktown while Hiker Jane waited for the return of Mr. Hiker Jane, who returned bearing "Goood Fricken Chicken" the best take-out chicken ever, after sitting through thirteen rainy innings at the Giants game and getting pooped on by a diarrhetic seagull. Whoever said that was "good luck" was just trying to make someone feel better about getting crapped on. And didn't have to do that person's laundry.

But the chicken was damn tasty.

Take a memo, Ms. Smith...

Dear O.T.B.P. fans,
Usually our hikes are scheduled for the first Sunday of each month, except when Hiker Jane can't make it work with her schedule. Please take note that the first Sundays of the months of May, June,...AND August are all bad hiking days for Hiker Jane. So. Many. WEDDINGS!

Therefore, please be aware of the following upcoming hike dates.

Sunday, May 8th, [12PM ~ 4PM @ TBD]
Sunday, June 12th, [12PM ~ 4PM @ TBD]
Sunday, July 3rd, [12PM ~ 4PM @ TBD] <--- I know this is 4th o' July weekend, but I'm not going anywhere, so if folks are in town, we'll hike!
Sunday, August, 14th [12PM ~ 4PM @ TBD]

Please make a note of it in your calendars, Palm Pilots, or just a random slip of paper.

65+ club: Donner Falls

If those you on the OTBP list remember, we had a request for a waterfall hike about a month ago. And given the amount of rain we've been getting lately, that first weekend in April was the perfect time to go. So...we did.

Sunday morning rolled around and your fearless Hiker Jane had overslept, despite compensating for Daylight Savings time, and dashed over to Muddy's to pick up Therese muttering, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," over and over again into her cell phone.

Once we were on our way we got to Mount Diablo in excellent time. We eventually managed to find parking since it seems that everyone AND their mother was out hiking that day.

Despite the fact that it was gloriously sunny, it was still windy and rather brisk, so we added some layers. Hiker Jane was forced to pull out her emergency jacket from the trunk of her car, a "classic" nylon number from the GAP circa 1989 in vivid purple. Mrow. Luckily, as all OTBP people know, we don't go in for "looks" on our hikes.

The trail started out deliciously flat, with just a slight incline.
And then...then it wasn't so flat. In fact it became downright steep.
And then Hiker Jane started to feel like a big ol' outta shape wimp.

Her feelings were only augmented as she saw sprightly 55 year olds briskly pass by (going the opposite direction) having already gotten up early, had their Ensure, and gone out for a quick jog up the mountain. They waved happily.

"Bastards,"muttered Hiker Jane to Therese who patiently waited for her ahead on the trial.

After several more serious upward climbs we decided to break for lunch. It felt a bit early, but once we sat down, Hiker Jane realized that she was very, very hungry. And man, what a difference some GORP can make! After eating we both felt like NEW WOMEN with EXTRA STRENGTH and the ABILITY TO CONCUR MOUNT DIABLO! So...we did.

Plus we also saw a threesome of thirty-somethings that looked as winded as, well...let's be honest...as Hiker Jane, so her ego was relieved and all was well again.

Once we got onto the second leg of the trail, Falls Loop, which (duh) is where you could see all the waterfalls, Hiker Jane felt inspired to take some pictures. Unfortunately all she had with her was her cellphone, so pardon the lack of crispness.

First she took a picture of the rocks, hoping to express the massive elevation jump. Do you see flat? No.
There is also the top of Therese's head in the picture, and you can see the winded thirty-somethings behind her.



Then she took a picture of Therese.


Along the way we were seeing all these beautiful wildflowers.




And these were Therese's favorite; they looked a bit like chili-peppers.


Unfortunately, none of the glorious-needing-a-wide-angle shots of the bigger waterfalls came out, but here are few shots of some of the many waterfalls we crossed.





Soon after all of this, Hiker Jane and Therese ran into a scary man carrying a huge pair of pruning sheers.

Now, this wouldn't have bothered Hiker Jane so much if he was a Park Ranger in some overly tight khaki shorts, or had on a t-shirt that said something like, Mount Diablo Volunteer...or at least a button. Instead he just looked like some average Joe who had taken it upon himself to prune the trail, and since we passed him going in the opposite direction, we got to see his handiwork allllllll the way down the mountain.

Hiker Jane didn't get a good feeling about him. Something about that slightly wild pruning feverish look in his eyes.
Hiker Jane got a new burst of energy as she past and both she and Therese hurried downhill.

Finally we were back at the trailhead, and the car, and Hiker Jane could take off her 80's jacket and her boots and comfortably slide into some Birks and back into the car.

And we did it not a moment too soon since 10 minutes into our drive home it started to rain...and then pour. About 15 minutes into the drive Therese turned to Hiker Jane and said, "Hey Eleanor, didn't you need to take a left or something onto a street that gets us to the freeway?"

"Oh. &^%#!"

One half hour, two gas stations, and a food mart trip to get provisions of pizza flavored Pringles (Hiker Jane was bummed they didn't have Sour Cream and Onion...or even plain! Bastards.) and a candy bar for the ride home we did find our way back to the freeway.

Hiker Jane also vowed for the fifteenth time this rainy season that she would get new windshield wipers for her car. (Update: this still hasn't happened).

In the end, Hiker Jane and Therese got home in one (albeit somewhat damp) piece, and then showered and ran over to a cool house party with hippies singing and strumming their guitars, spontaneous theatrics and other stuff that has nothing to do with hiking or waterfalls.

But it was a great night.
And a great hike.

Is this thing on?

Testing...testing...attention all crunchy types!

In an effort to further the exposure of the "Off The Beaten Path" hiking group, I've decided to create a little blog so that I can post about upcoming hikes, as well as past hikes.

And hey...maybe even a couple of incriminating pictures of people with...flowers.