Leaving the safety and marine layer ("June Gloom") of Capitola Boat Club and Maritime Museum, Annie and I went inland in search of mountain vistas, hikes to alpine lakes, and the possibility of hot springs. We found all three at the end of a windy, one lane, pot-holed road deep in the Central Sierra. The 20 mile approach, not for the faint of heart, traversed a 9,200' pass, and down what at times felt like a goat path with not enough room for two vehicles to pass when meeting head on.
At the end of the road, someone with a sense of humor had placed a traffic sign "End of Freeway." We parked the car and proceeded on foot to a 1930's stone cabin, our accommodation on the banks of the wild San Joaquin River. The San Joaquin was running high, fast, and cold with snow melt, and the nearby campgrounds were flooded.
A half mile hike from the stone cabin, across a 1930's bridge, was a meadow and mountain side with a dozen or more hot springs. There were no signs, so it took a bit of exploration. One hot pool at the end of a rock scramble was big enough to swim in. Another, surrounded by wild roses, had a sunset view northward to the snowy Sierra Crest as far as 20 mile distant Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak, both mountaineering ascents of my youth.
Annie likes to swim, and with the San Joaquin running too wild for an icy dip, we hiked 1.5 miles up a rocky path to discover an alpine lake that is thermally heated to 75 degrees and does not freeze in winter. We shared the lake with hungry trout, who seemed to like tortilla chips and would go into a finned frenzy when something edible was tossed their direction.
All the while on our mountain expedition we were off the grid. On our return I was surprised to learn all hell had broken loose with the SSS. How do you explain SSS Staff Commodore Hedgehog, on a night, motor/sail, 30 mile delivery from Half Moon Bay to Alameda on his O-29 HEDGEHOG, being sighted riding a hook and ladder fire truck at 3 a.m. on the streets of San Francisco?
WTF, Good Sir?
PS: Good luck to the LongPackers starting this afternoon, sailing 200 miles west southwest from SF Bay and return in 20-30 knots of breeze and 6-9 foot seas. A serving of wet, wild, and woolly coming up.
At the end of the road, someone with a sense of humor had placed a traffic sign "End of Freeway." We parked the car and proceeded on foot to a 1930's stone cabin, our accommodation on the banks of the wild San Joaquin River. The San Joaquin was running high, fast, and cold with snow melt, and the nearby campgrounds were flooded.
A half mile hike from the stone cabin, across a 1930's bridge, was a meadow and mountain side with a dozen or more hot springs. There were no signs, so it took a bit of exploration. One hot pool at the end of a rock scramble was big enough to swim in. Another, surrounded by wild roses, had a sunset view northward to the snowy Sierra Crest as far as 20 mile distant Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak, both mountaineering ascents of my youth.
Annie likes to swim, and with the San Joaquin running too wild for an icy dip, we hiked 1.5 miles up a rocky path to discover an alpine lake that is thermally heated to 75 degrees and does not freeze in winter. We shared the lake with hungry trout, who seemed to like tortilla chips and would go into a finned frenzy when something edible was tossed their direction.
All the while on our mountain expedition we were off the grid. On our return I was surprised to learn all hell had broken loose with the SSS. How do you explain SSS Staff Commodore Hedgehog, on a night, motor/sail, 30 mile delivery from Half Moon Bay to Alameda on his O-29 HEDGEHOG, being sighted riding a hook and ladder fire truck at 3 a.m. on the streets of San Francisco?
WTF, Good Sir?
PS: Good luck to the LongPackers starting this afternoon, sailing 200 miles west southwest from SF Bay and return in 20-30 knots of breeze and 6-9 foot seas. A serving of wet, wild, and woolly coming up.
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