Lassen Volcanic National Park

During July Sue and I spent five days driving out to California with our two pampered cats, our two pampered road bikes, and one unpampered kayak. We then spent two wonderful weeks exploring Lassen Volcanic National Park, where our son works as a Park Ranger. Lassen is an amazing place--Yellowstone without the crowds!

Here is a sampling of my cell phone snapshots from the trip.

Three views of Lake Tahoe




Two views of the beach at South Lake Tahoe


Lassen Mt from the Visitors' Center


Lassen Mt from the Bumpass Hell Parking Lot


Distant view of Bumpass Hell fumaroles


Closer view of Bumpass Hell fumaroles


David and Sue standing in front of a snow bank just past Bumpass Hell


Sue and I tried to hike the trail up Brokeoff Mountain but only made it 0.7 mile because the trail kept disappearing into bigger and bigger fields of snow.

The ice bridges seen above and below are, of course, created as the melting snow trickles down the hillside. They can be eerily beautiful and also somewhat treacherous to the unwary hiker who breaks through the thin crust.


Sue and Ellie worked closely together one morning cleaning pine cones from the driveway into our rental cabin.


On a somewhat chilly and windy morning, I rode 7.2 miles uphill to the top of Lassen Pass. The road is a marvel of switchback, gentle grades, and fine engineering.


Many of the switchbacks are grainily shown in the background of this snapshot.


I took this snapshot of myself just after I reach the top of Lassen Pass. As you can see there is snow everywhere--but a bit of the bend in the downhill road is visible just to the right of the top of my head. I got so cold on the fast ride down the mountain that I had to take a half-hour hot shower back at the cabin to warm up again.

On of the best hikes in the park takes one up 700 verticle feet to the top of the perfectly symmetrical Cone Mountain. The mountain was created by volcanic pebbles and dust, blown straight up in a past explosion and settling to create the barren cone. Later, volcanic lava flowed from the base of the mountain and created huge, jagged fields of black volcanic lava. In a somewhat different direction the light volcanic dust settled to create lovely pastel shades of the Painted Dunes seen below:


One of the prettiest walks we took led to Mill Creek Falls. Here is a picture of Sue hiking up the trail with a field of golden Mule Ears to her left and unidentified blue flowers to her right.


The view of the falls was far more spectacular than a cell phone photo can capture, but here goes . . .


Right at the top of the falls, there was a terrific sampling of all the local wildflowers. This one (a Plain Mariposa Lily) was our favorite:


One of final hikes took us to Juniper Lake and Horseshoe Lake on the first day the road into that are was opened. This in Juniper Lake:


I especially liked this cabin on the lakeshore, apparently built largely from local rocks:

Dave and Lisa Kayak the North Fork River

In the third weekend of September, David and Lisa came for a brief visit. Basically, they had three days of fairly steady rain, but they were able to squeeze in a kayak trip down the North Fork River. Below the dam the North Fork is very cold and has become a nationally famous trout-fishing stream, so a float down it always includes a chance to see plenty of decked-out fishermen--often in the process of reeling in a big one. Usually one can also see many fish, a few happy herons, and the occasional bald eagle. This fall there were also plenty of wildflowers in bloom--though their names escape me at the moment. The accompanying snapshot shows David and Lisa as they were about to set out on their float.

While they floated the river, Sue and I biked in the area. We both warmed up on River Road, which runs for four miles along the bank of the White River. It's a very pretty ride--both because of the river with its dramatic bluffs and because a couple of the home-owners are enthusiastic and successful gardeners whose yards are always luxuriant and colorful. Sue stayed below in the flatlands while I completed my ride by climbing Matney Mountain. Matney is one of the best climbs in northern Arkansas--two miles uphill culminating on a ridge that provides lovely expansive views of the Ozark National Forest spread out below. The downhill cruise is fast and fun taking me to the 40 mph range that I try to maintain as my upper limit. Any faster and I start to get very scared.

Because of the plentiful rain, the four of us entertained ourselves playing ping pong on the table that I built from plywood siding salvaged from residing sections of our home in Jonesboro. Note the steady red-eye focus as David gets the ping-pong ball perfectly centered on his paddle.

Ordinary Adventures

Not all memorable adventures require extraordinary effort.

Yesterday afternoon Sue and I decided to cartop our kayaks over to nearby Hand Cove Landing. On the brief drive down the lane, we passed two twin fawns, standing on the road's edge, unperturbed by our presence.

After putting our kayaks in the water, we paddled over to Sandy Island. The shores of Norfork Lake are mainly composed of limestone ledges and rocky strands, but near Hand Cove Landing there are several ample stretches of glistening sand which are capable of sustaining the illusion that one is on a Caribbean Isle. Sandy Island is a great place for a quick swim.

After rounding the island, we paddled along Jordan Cliffs. The ledge at the top stands fifteen or twenty feet above deep water and is often used for diving. At one point a hole in the ledge leads to a twisting cave that descends to an opening slightly above the water line. It's a tight squeeze which I, despite some interest in caving, have never tried.

The composition of the rock along this section of the lake is endlessly fascinating. Much of it is stratified shale which often breaks off--here there is a block of a size to be used in constructing Washington's Monument anew, over there one sees a scattering of thin plates suitable for paving stones, dinner plates, or guillotine blades. Then there are sections of the cliff where fist-sized stones seem cemented together by some natural mortar. Finally, there is a column of twisted rock rising from the water, like something formed from molten lava.

In a cove past the edge of the cliffs, we reached a further unusual geological phenomenon. The rocks here are like gigantic weathered blocks, rounded at the corners, but fitted together like massive paving stones. Some of these stones have been eaten away from below and stand on the backs of others like three-legged turtles. Very strange.

From Jordan we paddled across a narrow bay toward another cove with a sandy beach. As we were nearing the beach a flight of geese--perhaps a dozen in all--glided down, not fifteen feet above us, to skid to a stop on the surface of the reflective waters. Then, no more than five minutes later, a mature bald eagle sailed high overhead.

It was a perfect adventure in our ordinary lives.

Kayaking to the Bluffs

Sometimes the best adventures are also the most routine. My normal kayaking cruise heads across the lake to the Bluffs, follows the bluff line, and then returns back to our bay. During a recent early morning paddle, the fog was just rising from the lake. The sun low in the east, back-lighting it nicely. A slight breeze from the northwest was pushing under the fog and lifting it into dozens of tiny whirlwinds, miniature tornadoes, a lesson in the physics of tornado formation.

Crossing back from the Bluffs, I saw two strange objects in the distance. Ducks? Migrating pelicans (which sometimes do stop during the fall)? No, through my binoculars I could see two deer about half-way across the lake, swimming from the island toward the Bluffs. I paddled over to investigate, and when they saw me, they turned back toward the island. I followed slowly, not wanting to cause them to drown in a panic. When they got close to shore, I sped up until I was just behind the flank of one. They lumbered up onto the shore and vanished in what remains of the mostly flooded island. I paddled slowly to the far end of the island and saw two more deer (perhaps the same two) swimming swiftly toward shore. Upon seeing me they retreated back to the relative safety of the wooded island. Then I went a bit farther and saw a big buck, which was well across the bay and continued on its way, indifferent to my presence.