The Window

Ventana Wilderness
Los Padres National Forest


Pat Springs Camp 
Moderate overnight backpack -14.2 miles


(Photo-Lupine in the Spring, not to be missed in the Ventana!)

The Window

The story goes, that at one time a natural rock formation bridged a gap between two peaks in the Ventana Wilderness of central coastal California. The peaks, known as the "Ventana Double Cones," along with the rock bridge arching between them, once formed a window that one could view blue sky through. Hence the name, Ventana, or Spanish for "window." Nobody I know has ever seen it, and one account I came across claimed that the bridge fell some time ago, and only the name "Ventana" is all that is left remaining of the long ago once famous rock phenonmena.

Fall through spring are the only sane times to hike the Ventana due to the extremely hot summers. So, we planned our Ventana trip out of Botcher's Gap to Pat Springs in the spring. I wish I could tell you what the date was exactly...the year was 1990. Some of my readers will wish me to be more exact by the end of my tale, but I think I will leave the date as is.

On the drive to the Ventana from Santa Cruz, we marveled at how close we were to such a beautiful wild area to hike in. Within an hour and a half we were on the trail hiking. Our first span of trail stretched through an immense burned area that had still not begun to regrow. We were saddened by the sight, and later angered even more after coming upon a still smoldering unattended campfire left by campers. It's one thing for nature to perform her "cleansing by fire" routine, quite another for her to be subjected to untimely burnouts caused by careless human visitors. Within a couple of hours though, we passed out of that area and came to a nice ledge with a view and an oak tree to spread our lunch under. Then, once refreshed by lunch, and the incredible views we'd been graced with, we continued our gentle climb. We wound through the forest and over creeks, and finally the trail steepened for a piece that would take us to our camping spot for the night.

At the top, we were on a high meadow that sat nestled at the south side of Devil's Peak. Being just below higher Carmel Peak also, I set off to see if the peak was accessible by footpath. About 20 yards away I came through a small grove of trees to a rocky outcropping. Just as I passed through the curtain of trees into the open I surprised a skunk about fifteen feet to my left. He hightailed it out of there, and I counted my blessings that my normally very alert labrador hadn't noticed his passing. After finishing my exploration, I headed back to the others. The next afternoon we would gaze back at the slopes of this same peak as we worked our way higher and higher, and be thrilled to spot a mountain lion wending it's way around the peak.

In the morning, while packing up to go on, another nature encounter came in the form of a black widow spider nestled underneath my son's sleeping pad! We certainly had luck on our side this trip by not getting skunked or bitten. The lower coastal ranges allow you to hike in times when the higher mountains such as the Sierra Nevada are blanketed in snow, but with skunks and black widows and rattlers and poison oak...things less common in the high mountains, one does have to be a little more vigilant.

Shaking off thoughts of what could have been, we hiked down the ridge we were on, and came out to another lower meadow skirted by an interesting area forested by oaks and pines combined. We hiked through the warm morning and noon, passed by a nice forested campsite and continued to our prize for the night, Pat Springs. The spring was down trail 200 yards or so from the campsites, and there were several campsites to the left of the trail nestled among some shady trees. But, we opted for more solitude and sunshine, and headed a short way past the springs and on up the ridge.

Once up the ridge a ways, we popped out into the open and realized how windy it was above the trees. But, we found a nice ledge a few feet below the ridgeline that was just the right size for a family of four to camp on! It was while leaning back against the cliff enjoying the sun and view that I first spotted it. I wasn't sure I'd really seen it though. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I'd better just see if anybody else could see what I was seeing. So, after prompting, my husband looked too. There it was! I wasn't crazy, and I wasn't imagining it. The Window, The Ventana, the namesake of the wilderness we were traipsing through was not just a legend. It was there in plain view across the valley, directly across from where we sat. I wondered how many people had actually seen it before us. I wondered how many had searched for, and had never found it. I wondered how many had just believed all along that it was only a legend after all, or a piece of nature worn away by time and long gone and missed by all. And finally, I wondered how it was that I had just happened to be lucky enough to be there at that time of year, at that time of day, and in that exact spot to see it. For surely it was visible for only a fleeting moment in time periodically, based on the angle of the sun.

I have never returned to the double cones. Never climbed to the top of them to find the source of "The Window." Never returned to our spot above Pat Springs. But, I think of it from time to time. It was a magical time in a magical place, and the source of yet another magical memory in the backcountry.

All In A Day's Work

Easy Day Hike - Wilder State Park in California. The Old Cove Landing Trail can be combined with the Ohlone Bluff Trail for a 3.75 mile hike one way. Continue to Four Mile Beach for a 10.5 mile round trip hike or ride.

Why don't you join horse patrol with us? It's a great way to give back to the community.   I look at my friend who's saying this to me and am mentally shaking my head.  If she only knew how much I give to the community everyday I work at 911.   But, the idea rolls round and round in my head until finally it takes root a couple of years later and I decide to go for it and ride the trails of my favorite park while in uniform.
Wilder State Park is a wonderful place,  unique and beautiful and really like no place else I've been,  and I call this park home.  So I finally decide to start helping protect this lovely park and help others to enjoy it too while riding the trails in uniform.

What I don't know when I sign on to start helping in this park is that there is an incredible trail normally closed to horses that horse patrolers are allowed to ride.  The Old Cove/Bluff/Ohlone Trail starts at the visitor center parking lot and swings out along Wilder Beach and goes the distance along the bluffs to Four Mile Beach and beyond.  While cruising this gem of a trail,  pelicans fly in formation overhead,  in a V just like ducks.   Seagulls swoop this way and that.  Harbor Seals sun themselves on the low cut cliffs below.  An occasional pod of dolphins frolics in the surf as they cruise by in the cool water below us.  Bunnies and squirrels run this way and that being very very busy out there in this wild place they call home.  And even on the ride to the trailhead if you are an astute observer,  you might see one of the parks long tailed weasels scampering about as we did.

Today, my friend and I rode that trail once again.   Today's ride took us beyond where we'd ridden previously.  Sheer cliff faces,  multihued turquoise waters,  birds dipping,  soaring and flying all about, seals sunning themselves and then taking turns jumping off the rocky point to cool off in the ocean and lovely little yellow wildflowers left of the summer's abundance alternately charmed us and then took our breath away as we cruised along the cliffs of Wilder above the open ocean savoring every minute we were privileged to patrol the land's edge of our enchanting coastline.  All in a day's work for Wilder's Mounted Horse Patrol.

Rattler

Wilder State Park, Wilder Ridge via "Lookout," easy dayhike/horseback ride/bike

I distinctly remember my first encounter with a rattler. I puzzled over the sound of the rattles...and thought I would never hear another school sprinkler without thinking of a rattler as that is precisely what the rattles sounded like.  (Say Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch very rapidly.)   I also won't forget the look of abject terror in the little guy's eyes as he looked up at me after I threw water on him and came ever so close to stepping on him. We both jumped away from each other,  then stopped to look....then both went our own separate ways.    I gained a very different perspective that day about snakes.  I learned they feared.   I learned they really weren't aggressive.   I learned you could be safe if you stopped threatening.

I think all these thoughts crossed through my mind in a second on a ride last week when I was trapped on one side of the trail with my friend on the other side of a rattler who had his rattles sticking straight up in the air warning us with all his might that we'd just better not mess with him.

We were just moseying down the trail on this particular day enjoying some sun we hadn't seen much of lately.   Suddenly there was a scurrying underneath my friend's horse's legs and a big commotion that took me a second to puzzle out.    I saw her look down from her horse just as the rattler stuck his tail in the air and started warning her in no uncertain terms to move on!   She did!   She kept riding and didn't stop til she was 20 feet or so away....meanwhile,  being in the back,  I had stopped dead in my tracks a safe distance back on the trail.   Discussing what to do,  finally our rattling friend solved the issue by lowering his noisy flag and moving off.   I practiced a very nice gait transition...a standstill to a fast trot moving past his last resting spot post haste!

We were all none the less for wear including the snake,  and oddly enough,  neither of our horses could have cared less!   So much for all those horses rearing up and stomping on those evil snakes in the movies!:)

Wilder Summer Morning Ride

Wilder State Park, Englemann's Loop, moderate day hike or ride

Gentle swishing sounds of tall grasses sweeping against our horse's legs and the fog formed cool,  crisp air replace the quiet chatter that has gone on during the earlier part of the morning's ride.   For now,  all has been said,  and we three friends simply enjoy the peace of the morning's ride together as we journey on our faithful mounts soaking up the beauty of the open grasslands we're trekking through.

Storm!

Storm!


12.7 miles round trip, on trail moderate overnighter. Hetch Hetchy, Yosemite National Park.

Huddled down on my sleeping pad by the side of the rock that barely hit my shoulders,  yet desparately trying to crouch lower,  I feel the rain drip slowly down the back of my neck.  The storm rages,  the hail falls bigger and bigger,  and I wonder just how long I can stay in that cramped position.   My thighs burn from squatting, my shoulders and head protest the pummeling of the thumbnail sized hail,  and my thoughts run amuck in fear.

As the storm first approached,  and it’s intensity dictated I find a position of safety,  my eyes hunted frantically for something to hide under,  and it was then I noticed the wasteland the forest around me had become.   Towering firs and pines once majestic in their reach to the sky,  had been stricken down in the primes of their lives, reduced to barren sticks pointing feebly at the now lowering sky.    It was quite obvious to me that these silent sentinels had one by one each been victim to the catastrophic force of lightning storms.    Not finding much confidence after gazing at the landscape around me, nevertheless,  I had to find a safe haven somewhere near at hand.   The trees I knew for sure that could protect me would necessitate a climb up over a barren ridge,  I would not be headed that way soon. Turning back towards another copse of trees,  I realized would also dictate a climb up an exposed ridge. No other options presented themselves but the puny boulder barely shoulder high a few feet away.   So I grabbed my pad to perch on,  tossed my metal tent poles a safe distance away,  and hunkered down next to it to wait out the worst of the storm hurling itself towards me.

Earlier that afternoon I had stood at my car going over a mental checklist to make sure I had everything I had wanted to pack in.    I was quite anxious to begin the hiking season,  and had set out in early May to hike in an area of Yosemite National Park called Hetch Hetchy.   Checklist satisfied,  and finally ready to undertake this solo journey,  I hoisted my pack and headed for the tunnel.    The tunnel is about 500 feet blasted out of the mountain on the eastern side of the dam built to serve the citizens of San Francisco City.   The saunter across the dam and through the tunnel signifies the official start of this trek.    So through the tunnel I went with pack fully loaded,  and finally I stepped out onto the beginning of my trail.

The spotty clouds and sparkly clean air had me looking forward to an idyllic escape into the wilderness. I sauntered leisurely up the trail with camera in hand.   Pictures of beautiful seasonal wildflowers and roaring waterfalls captured my attention and would fill empty spaces on the walls in my house someday.   I passed chameleons and carpets of green lawn and glistening granite polished smooth by the eons of ice and later storms having graced their surfaces.    By the time I got close to the first of the major waterfalls along my way,   I noticed the sparkly fun sky was starting to darken and close around me.   Add to that mildly distressing change,  the roar of the waterfall ahead sounded like a freight train coming around the corner and straight for me!

I rounded the corner and stood gawking at the sight of the falls in front of me.    The falls were in full snow melt,  and they didn’t just drift gently to the ground.   These falls leapt away from the cliff like buffalo being herded to their deaths.   One hundred fireman standing with fire hoses at the top couldn’t have produced the display the snow running out of the mountains that early spring did.   The well made bridge painstakingly crafted at the bottom of the falls to aid travelers across this stream suddenly looked woefully inadequate.    And sure enough,  as I drew slowly closer,  I saw that the bridge in fact was inundated.   At first glance it seemed it would be a near suicidal act to cross it’s once sturdy seeming beams.  Trepidation gripped my soul and made me look frantically for other places to cross this raging water.   Seeing no other choices however,  I resolved to cross!   A study of the terrain below the bridge allowed me to figure should I get swept off,  I would not be plunged into the reservoir below after all,  but could somehow stop my downward plunge by grabbing amidst the rocks that lay between the bridge and the cliff.   So I put on my rain jacket and rain pants,  pulled up the hood over my head cinching it down tight,  and bravely put my foot on the first step of the bridge.

Spray showered over me and water slapped at my legs.   I knew the best approach would be to just plunge headlong across the bridge to the other side,  so that is what I did.   Before I got to the other side though,  water pushed and surged against my thighs and spray drenched my clothes and pack and made me grateful I had not forgotten my rain jacket.   Half way across this recently and solidly constructed bridge built to see travelers safely past these horrendous skyscraper falls,  I looked down to see one railing already knocked out and several bricks washed away.    I stifled the fear that threatened to overwhelm me and pushed on against the force of the water.   After an eternity,  I finally reached the other side and grabbed the pack off my back and let it sink to the ground where I would follow suit.   I splurged on my time with a short rest from my adrenaline pumping ordeal.   I shook the loose water from my clothes and caught my breath.   After a brief rest,  I hefted my pack back onto my shoulders and headed back up the trail.

Confident my biggest hurdle was out of the way,  I looked forward to an uneventful stroll into camp.   I enjoyed the green grasses of spring, and the sporadic seasonal waterways running in every crease and crevice.   Wildflowers were starting to pop up in an unending array of colors,  and the afternoon wore on pleasantly during my stroll south along the reservoir.   I was having such a pleasant walk that it was quite some time before I noticed the sun had evaporated completely while clouds now covered the spaces above me.   Suddenly realizing I needed to hurry to camp and batten down the hatches before the storm hit,   I put away my camera and stepped up my pace.    It was on my approach to the final climb before camp that the storm caught up to me.   The few stray drops that had threatened and laughed at me,  turned suddenly into raging,  pounding and angry hail.   I started hurrying up the hill and was almost to the top when rounding a corner I ran right into a fresh mud slide.   The slide would probably have not even slowed my pace,  but there was the most gigantic car sized boulder sitting smack dab in the middle of the slide blocking the whole trail.   And,  the muddy slick trail traversed a steep hillside.  I stood for a moment wondering how in the world I could get around it when I realized finally the only way around it was over.   Very gently I started to climb.   I slipped in the slick mud and grabbed at the now exposed tree roots in the hillside to keep me from sliding down the hill.    I managed finally to clamber over the top of the boulder and while trying to keep my now muddy hands from sabatoging my clothes,  I hurried once again to the top of the incline and hopefully camp!   A few minutes later a huge sigh of relief slipped past my lips as I reached the top and came out on the flats.   Now looking around for a place to set up my tent and crawl in,  I got a terrible sinking feeling when I saw that not a fraction of a piece of ground was dry.   Not only was the ground saturated with rain,  but every inch of the surface around me was a streaming torrent of water. The storm was much more intense now,  and water was coming out of the sky in much heavier volume than I had realized.  Between the gray skies,  the streaming wet ground and the fear that the falls a couple of hours behind me would be too heavy to cross if I waited til the next day to try,  I turned tail to run back the way I came to try and get back over the bridge before that treacherous crossing trapped me  and kept me away from my family and friends.

Down the hill and over the car sized boulder I went once again,  past the ankle and arm grabbing newly exposed roots I ran.   It was at the bottom of that hill and before the next climb,  that the head pounding hail and slashing lightning finally caught me.    Hail the size of marbles pummeled my head making me sure my scalp was turning into a mass of welts.   Lightning seared the sky,  torturing me with the knowledge that any moment now it would quit playing with me and send a bolt straight at me!    Thunder clapped my ears deafeningly,  and seemingly damaged my ear drums.   Nevertheless,  here is where I had to make my stand.   At this spot is where I saw all the previous lightning storms victims standing with tortured bare outstretched limbs.   Here is where I realized any way out for me would be up exposed ridgelines.   And here,  is where I tossed my metal tent poles away from me,  grabbed my rubber sleeping pad to insulate me from the dangerously wet lightning charged ground,  and hunkered down to wait out the worst of it.

After a few minutes,  my legs were burning from crouching,  and the cold was starting to chill straight through to my bones.   I was more or less dry as I had my rain jacket back on by this time,  but my fleece sweater was tucked safely away inside my pack where it would stay dry,  yet would do me good as I grew more and more chilled by the minute.   Finally in desparation,  I managed to pull out the sweater and exposed myself by pulling off my jacket to put on the sweater and then put the jacket back on again.   This all seemed to take an eternity as I accomplished it all while crouching next to the boulder and trying to keep my head low.   Now I was warmer,  but my legs began to cramp from crouching.  How long could I stay like this?   Lightning continued to strike 360 degrees around me and the bolts were in ones and twos and threes and even sheets all around me.   Eventually though,  the hail started to slack off and become smaller pea sized bullets,  and the thunder and lightning started to distance themselves so that there was actually a delay between the strikes of lightning and the crashing of the thunder.   The fear that had a death grip on my heart gradually started to loosen it’s stranglehold. I was done for the day though and thoughts of camping were long gone.   All I wanted to do now was get back to my car and head for the safety of the low lying valley!   Finally I picked up my ejected tent poles and shoving them back under my pack flap,  I headed back up the trail retracing the steps I had made only hours earlier.   Though it seemed like days,  I made record time back to the tunnel, the dam and the parking lot.   Not even the falls and their staggering amount of water stopped me.    When a bit later I reached the civilization of a pay phone,  I stopped to call my honey and let him know my change in plans.   It was at this point that Gary told me this storm was so violent that it had produced tornados…one of which had torn the roof off of a nearby barn.   Hearing this news,  I stopped trying to lick my wounds so hard and contented myself with the knowledge that I had just done two days worth of miles in one day through hail,  lightning and mudslides…and lived to tell the tale!

There is a reason I chose this hike...my tale not doing it justice!   Check your weather forecast and head out to view two of Yosemite's premier falls,  Wapama and Tueeulala Falls along the way to Rancheria Falls.   Not many places as beautiful as this are available in the spring to hikers,  when the high country lays under snow.   But,  Hetch Hetchy displays it's magical waterfalls and colorful wildflowers early in the spring...don't miss them!