Conquering Vertigo

Rutting, again

Imagine the worst road you've ever traveled. Was it unpaved, rocky, steep, precarious, one-lane? (If you've never driven a really bad road, imagine one of those Jeep or Hummer commercials where an improbably shiny vehicle bounces up and over a mountain top as the driver drinks Mountain Dew.)

With your mental picture firmly fixed, magnify the "worse-ness" of it exponentially -- maybe to the tenth power. Welcome to the canyons along the North Fork of the American River.

I have traveled rough roads, from Ethiopia to Texas, but Saturday's journey from Weimar, California (the western edge of the Sierra Nevadas) down to the North Fork of the American River may have been the rockiest of all. It is not so much a road as a narrow collection of ruts formed by rain, erosion and a tiny, crazed bull-dozer.

Ricky gave me a book -- "Best Hikes with Dogs, Northern California edition" -- that featured a hike through part of the American River canyon and up to Codfish Falls. We spent the weekend in the general area, and were enthused to have the opportunity to try the hike. It is an off-leash area for well-behaved canines, and Bryn behaved beautifully. What a happy hound, leaping from rock to rock, scaling canyon walls, climbing down to the river for a drink and then racing back up to the trail.

The man and I were pretty happy, too. Gorgeous day, gorgeous scenery, and just enough of a challenge to give us a work-out, without punishing us.

The guidebook had warned us that the road through the National Wilderness Area could be treacherous. And it was, deeply rutted, narrow, cut out of the canyon wall. One lane of huge rocks, deep holes and blind curves, snaking down to the river below.

Our Nissan Pathfinder will have been in service 15 years this coming September. A rear-wheel drive manual transmission, we treat her as if she were a combination race car and 4-wheel drive dune buggy, and some how she thrives. But we drove this road in first gear, braking and praying the whole way.

Two things kept us going -- one, the promise of an excellent hike; two, the Toyota Prius that started down ahead of us.

We kept looking at each other as we bumped up, down and sideways -- "A Prius?!?" No doubt great cars, but not known for their ground clearance or off-road prowess.

Richard was driving, his customary brio tempered by the awe-full awfulness of this road. And each time we reached a seemingly impassable point, the Prius kept us going.

Finally, the road flattened out alongside the river, near two trailheads and a lovely ancient one-lane bridge crossing to the other side. A half-dozen old SUVs and pick-ups were parked on the canyon lip overlooking the slight drop to the river. We parked between the Prius and the bridge, and stepped out to greet the couple in the little hybrid.

"Helluva road," said the Prius' driver, laughing, climbing out from behind the wheel.

"We kept thinking, if the Prius can make it, so can we!" I replied, shaking his hand.

We enjoyed a marvelous hike. Late spring-time turning to hot summer, the wildflowers still blooming, the rivers and creeks still carrying snow run-off.

After the hike (and successfully navigating the climb back up the mountain) we went to a winery and had a picnic. A friendly group of visitors introduced themselves to us as "wine sluts," but that is for another blog.

posted by Woman In Love @ 6:32 AM