Two-Heel Drive

This one arrived in today’s e-mail at work in regards to my profile of Joseph D. Grant County Park:

Tom -

Just a quick note to say that you did a good job on the Grant Ranch piece — I have been out there several times and enjoyed it every time.

One note, however — I was out there as a Cal Fire volunteer a couple-three summers ago, and that means I was staying there for several days. Did they tell you about the feral pigs in the stream in front of the old ranch house? Two of us were walking from our comm unit at the park HQ over to the big parking lot where the mess tent was. First surprise was the pigs - they big guys! And ugly, too! And unfriendly, too, I am told.

We escaped from the pigs mostly by ignoring them, and continued on our way. We passed over the little bridge and started across the field. As we did, a bobcat wandered out of the area to our left and crossed our path, maybe ten feet away. He glanced at us, then went on his way.

The really interesting part of it was when he got past us. The CA Department of Corrections sends out inmate fire fighting crews, and they were settled just to our right in the field. The bobcat walked right past all the inmates, never looked at them, just walked on by. The inmates were so quiet, you could have heard the bobcat’s footsteps!

Anyway, it’s a great park, and you can have a picnic there and then go on up the hill to Lick Observatory as well. I am going to suggest to the lady in my life we go up there a couple of weeks from now, just to show it to her based on your write-up.

John Amos

Thanks John. Another feedback note: a 70-year-old guy wrote to tell me my idea of an “easy” hike at Grant — the loop out to Bass Lake — was anything but, at least in his case. The deal is, the “Loop Trail” coming from the Park HQ is a narrow single track that has a fair amount of climb, 500 to 700 feet in my correspondent’s estimation, and is easy to lose track of.

Goes to show one guy’s “easy” hike can be somebody else’s epic trek. The trails at Grant are almost all much more rigorous than the one at Bass Lake, which is why I rated it easy. The words I want to eat: calling it the “flattest” route at the park.

I focused on the park’s ranching heritage.

Often called Grant Ranch in honor of Joseph Grant, who once owned this vast, mountainous tract east of San Jose, the park still has plentiful reminders of its ranching heritage: old windmills, rusty barbed-wire fences, ponds to store drinking water for thirsty bovines.

Most of Grant’s 50-plus miles of trails are dusty roads from the ranching era, many steep enough to convey the advantages of horse-powered travel. The rewards of enduring Grant’s hills include colorful wildflower displays in mid-spring and an entertaining chorus of birdcalls throughout the year.

Click the above link for suggested hikes. Note: My spies tell me flower season is not quite in full swing at Grant. Perhaps in a couple weeks.

It’s good to know the rattlesnakes are out of hibernation. The best way to learn this is from your friendly neighborhood hiking blogger. The worst way is from the tips of their hypodermic fangs.

My way was in the middle: blundering about in an interesting rock formation at Joseph D. Grant County Park, taking one step too many and hearing that just-like-on-TV rattle, looking down and seeing a striped gray viper about a foot from my ankle, slithering off toward a hiding place where he rattled like crazy for another minute or so while my heart fell back down out of my throat after the “holy shit it’s a rattler” realization sank in.

This was my first rattlesnake run-in. I’m glad to have it out of the way, so now I’ll know the difference between what one might sound like and what it does sound like. There are always rattling noises on the trail, but there is only one rattlesnake rattle. Good to know, as they say.

More rattlesnake facts here, which includes these rattlesnake do’s and don’ts:

• First, know that rattlesnakes are not confined to rural areas. They have been found near urban areas, in river or lakeside parks, and at golf courses. Be aware that startled rattlesnakes may not rattle before striking defensively. There are several safety measures that can be taken to reduce the likelihood of startling a rattlesnake.
• Never go barefoot or wear sandals when walking through wild areas. Wear hiking boots.
• When hiking, stick to well-used trails and wear over-the-ankle boots and loose-fitting long pants. Avoid tall grass, weeds and heavy underbrush where snakes may hide during the day.
• Do not step or put your hands where you cannot see, and avoid wandering around in the dark. Step ON logs and rocks, never over them, and be especially careful when climbing rocks or gathering firewood. Check out stumps or logs before sitting down, and shake out sleeping bags before use.
• Never grab “sticks” or “branches” while swimming in lakes and rivers. Rattlesnakes can swim.
• Be careful when stepping over the doorstep as well. Snakes like to crawl along the edge of buildings where they are protected on one side.
• Never hike alone. Always have someone with you who can assist in an emergency.
• Do not handle a freshly killed snake, it can still inject venom.
• Teach children early to respect snakes and to leave them alone. Children are naturally curious and will pick up snakes.

OK, now these public service details have been aired, let’s look at some pictures from Monday’s hike (sorry, no pix of the snake, I was too busy being frozen in fear):

I started out at the Twin Gates Trail Head. Had some nice sky — was hoping for signs that wildflower season had arrived, but didn’t see much up this way. Saw lots of California poppies on the way to the park, though, so they’re out there.

I had to stop by and check out this old truck again. The doors are all bullet-riddled, as if Bonnie and Clyde had made their last stand right here.

I did see a few wildflowers … mostly buttercups, and a few of these purple lovelies (might be a checkerbloom, though I can’t say for sure).

After wandering around on the northeast end of the park, I headed down the road toward Bass Lake, where I wanted to take a few more pictures for a future column about Grant Ranch. There’s a little parking area a mile or so down the road where you can turn in, and crawl over a break in the fence designed to foil mountain bikers, and wander down toward the lake. I saw this rock formation and decided to check it out.

It’s where the rattlesnake and I had our little “hi, how are you” encounter.

How it looks from a distance. It had some tagging and graffiti on the rocks; perhaps cosmic justice will be visited upon the next youthful miscreants who run afoul of the resident rattler.

Bass Lake. Hmm, wonder if it has any bass in it.

With my Bass Lake visit over, I stopped by Grant Lake to see if anything photogenic was happening. If you look real closely at the bottom of this picture, you’ll see a couple Canada geese. I feel no compunction about annoying Canada geese, because they need to be reminded that they are migratory birds and that nice ponds like this one were not put here for their comfort and convenience. Fly on, geese, I say.

One of them obliged when I got a bit too close.

(Incidentally: mad props to Fedak for donating his old camera to the blog.)

Grant Ranch wasn’t much to look at when I got there Sunday morning. All the better because it gave me an excuse to listen.

The bird calls are remarkable when there’s no other distractions beyond the sound of the breeze passing your ears. Peeps, squeaks, caws, quacks and the sky-piercing screams of hawks and their raptor cousins. Lord knows what they were talking about.

Grant can seem huge, empty and unremarkable at first glance. Sure, there nice views of the hills rising around you, but the Diablo Range is flush with such splendor. It’s still too early for spring wildflower season and the hills haven’t quite achieved that green sheen of mid- to late spring.

So it was a good time to just wander some trails I hadn’t done before and see what turned up. After forgetting my camera completely last week, I did bring one this time — the wrong one (well, the older one), alas, but hey, the scenery wasn’t all that photogenic, so not much of a loss.

One kinda cool thing I noticed: for a such a big, dry expanse of open country, there’s quite a bit of water at Grant, thanks to all the stock ponds created when it was a working ranch. I ended up stringing together all the major (and a few minor) ponds for a nice loop of about 8.5-9 miles.

So, hey, let’s look at some pictures.

They call this one Bass Lake. There’s a nice single-track trail up to it from the park ranch house. Picture might’ve been much nicer if the hills were greened up more. From here I headed up the Hotel Trail — uphill for a couple miles, a nice little workout.

I love the oak trees at Grant. They have character.

An interesting snag with holes carved by acorn woodpeckers.

Eagle Lake is way out near the edge of the park. It’s blocked off by barbed wire to keep the people (and the wild pigs) away to let the area rejuvenate itself.

Nice little pond near the junction of the Foothill and Bonhoff trails. If you ever make it out this way, be ready for some supremely steep slopes. Switchbacks are non-existent.

I crossed Mount Hamilton Road at Twin Gates and headed back downhill on the Yerba Buena Trail, where I saw another swell woodpecker tree. There’s a fine single-track loop trail goes from Yerba Buena over to McCreery Lake, which I hadn’t seen on previous trips.

So, yeah, it’s a lake.

Grant Lake, the biggest of the bunch.

I’m thinking mid-March might be the best time to check back in and see how the wildflowers are doing.

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Summer flew the coop while we were wandering around in southern Utah. The weather was cool all week; it was overcast all day Saturday and Sunday dawned much the same.

The breeze felt like October, which was convenient, given that yesterday was the First of the month. The skies said "any blue you see from now till April is a gift." So long, impossibly blue. The hedges and shrubs on the road down the hill into town were turning from green to brown.

So evidence of Autumn’s approach was everywhere, but it didn’t really start out in earnest for me till about 2 p.m. Sunday afternoon.

That’s when the rain started.

It was a gentle rain, sprinkles mostly. I was finishing an 8.5-mile hike at Joseph D. Grant County Park with Mike and Kathy and a couple more FOMFOK regulars. We had trekked high into the hills beyond Grant Lake and returned on the too-steep-for-the-sane Washburn Trail, which tortures your leg muscles on the way up (as I learned on Mother’s Day last spring) and punishes your knee joints on the way down. As Mike put it: he wanted the idea of a difficult hike, but he was less interested in the dusty, heavy-breathing reality of actually walking it.

After the mind-blowing scenery of our recent vacation, returning to the mostly brown nearby hills seemed a bit mundane. I squeezed off a few frames, t though, mostly so I’d have something to post here.

Got some interesting cloud action here — at certain times the sun will try to burn its way through, creating a shimmering effect that makes for fine pictures even on a cloudy day. You just have to be lucky enough to snap the shutter when it happens.

Up the hill we go. For awhile it’s all up, then up some more, and up some more after that. Then it’s all down for a couple miles on one of the steepest stretches of trail in these parts.

So, yeah, there is a bit of autumnal color occurring.

Several mountain bikers passed us on the way uphill but had to wait at this trail junction for one guy in their group to fix a broken chain. I suggested implementing a rule to motivate their travels: if they let the hikers catch up with them, they have to give them a ride. I offered an exception for mechanical failure, but we had an interesting discourse on precisely where you’d place a hiker on one’s mountain bike. I abandoned the proposal altogether after considering the possibility of sailing down one of these hills perched on somebody’s handlebars. (Thought the inevitable bloody crash might be good footage for one of those "Jackass" movies.)

I almost stepped on this juvenile snake — Kathy was convinced it was a baby rattler but I wasn’t so sure. We left him alone before providing him a chance to prove whether he was a hollow-fanged meanie.

The most vivid colors belonged to an impressive stand of poison oak. Makes me itch just looking at it.

Old barn in the distance near the Washburn Trail trailhead. This is about where the rain began. Just an easy mile down Mount Hamilton Road to the parking lot from here.

Rain drops dangle from the top rail of a gate next to the parking lot. It was a nice rain, really; just enough to introduce us to the concept of changing seasons, not enough to oblige us to slog through ankle-deep mud. There’ll be plenty of time for that in the months ahead.

Two years ago I had my inaugural "first day of autumn in the rain" right here at Grant Park. It rained hard all day, making feel slightly ridiculous out there in my rubber poncho for mile after mucky mile. That day sticks in my memory because it made clear to me the necessity of buying all kinds of new gear to deal with hiking in the rain. The folks at REI are most appreciative for this flash of insight.

So it’s Mother’s Day and how’s this for luck: My mom lives 2000 miles away so I’m free to spend the day on the trail.

The Diablo Range (official title of the hills east of San Jose) is still mostly green but summer’s coming on fast, so I felt like getting out in the nearby environs before the sun turns ‘em yellow. I hadn’t been to Joseph D. Grant County Park in over a year so I figured what the heck, let’s check it out.

Grant Lake is the wettest part of the park. The rest of it is bone dry already, except for a couple creeks I crossed. I stopped by the parking lot next to the lake to grab a map; a quick check reminded me that I had never hiked the Washburn Trail, which parallels the northwest corner of the park. The map has only one word describing the trail: "steep." With a fresh night’s sleep and zero miles under your feet, "steep" practically screams "hike me first!"

That’s what I heard, anyway.

For those thinking of trying the Washburn Trail: The most direct route to the trailhead is a mile up the road, so right off the bat you’re walking on pavement; the road isn’t terribly heavily traveled (especially if you start out early in the morning) but you do need to keep an ear out for approaching cars, bicycles and lunatics on absurdly fast motorcycles.

At the trailhead, you turn right and walk down an old ranch road past an old barn; after awhile it goes downhill and crosses a creek. Then the fun begins.

Speaking of fun: here’s what happens when bunches of balloons get launched skyward. Birds try to use them as prophylactics and nature’s delicate balance is tossed a curve.

From here it’s up and up and up and up — about 1400 feet in around two miles. I’ve hiked worse, but it’s a nice little workout. After the first quarter mile it began to dawn on me that it was going to be one hot day of hiking if the first couple miles were working up this big of a sweat. I also realized I was going to need a water stop before the day was up. Good thing I brought my trusty water filter along.

Note the incline of the ground below this tree. How long is this hill anyway?

I forgot to mention: there’ s almost zero shade along this trail.

The one consolation of huffing it up this hill: lots of wispy clouds make for pretty pictures. The trail tops out at about 2900 feet. At least there’s a breeze this far up.

Washburn Trail heads downhill for less than a mile and ends at this post; five miles of hiking so far, and a minimum of three and a half more to get back to the parking lot. But I didn’t come all this way to hike a mere 8.5 miles and go home — what would Mom think? I decided on a bigger loop that entailed turning right on the Canada De Pala Trail and following it for about three miles to the Twin Gates crossing at Mount Hamilton Road, then going another mile and a half to the Hotel Trail and another couple miles back to the Ranch House and back across Mount Hamilton Road and back to the lake and the parking lot, for about 11.5 miles. After the big hill at the beginning, the rest was fairly easy.

A deer watches me watching it.

I’m sure I’ve seen this tree before at the park, but never from this angle.

Clouds do wavy things over Mount Hamilton, the highest hill in the distance.

Along about eight miles or so, it occurred to me that I probably didn’t have a three-mile supply of water.

Fortune smiled on me as I headed down a steep bit of trail and heard water running. I did some bushwhacking and pumped a couple fresh liters of creek water with my water purifier. Nice thing to have along on hot days when you don’t know how much water you’re going to need.

Another fine snag.

I was feeling pretty wilted too after about 10 miles of hiking in the sun.

Poppies and other hardy wildflowers decorate a stretch of the Hotel Trail.

The Ranch House is where Joseph Grant — the son of a dry goods merchant who made it big supplying gear to gold miners — used to entertain guests. The hike’s about over now, just a quarter mile or so back to the parking lot across the road.

There’s a really killer loop hike that essentially tracks the parks borders for about 20 miles. I’ll hold that in reserve for a dry Sunday in February.

It’s the beginning of wildflower season, which draws hikers to the hillsides to gawk at blooms that sprout by happenstance. I joined Mike, Kathy, Joanne & Peggy on Saturday at Joseph D. Grant County Park — soon to be Wildflower Central — on a six-miler across rolling hills that were just beginning to show flashes of color. Kathy promised us that in a few weeks it’ll look like a painting by a French Impressionist (no, that’s not a comedian imitating Jerry Lewis, for all you who missed Art Appreciation 101).

Before we got too far, somebody noticed this old truck rusting away the years at the bottom of a hillside. I had to take a closer look

I love the colors on the doors and fenders … a few Photoshop tricks could make it look like an Impressionist painting, but I’m all about the unvarnished truth. Have to admire the bullet holes in the door, and the caved-in roof. From here it looks like the truck might’ve been rolled over, but it’s more likely that kids climbed up there and jumped on it till it gave way. Well, if I were 10, it’s what I’d have done.

We started seeing flowers as we headed up the trail. Among hikers it’s a sort of sign of coolness to know the names of all these things — when I get energetic I’ll look ‘em up.

The truth is, photographers prefer flowers and plants because the roots keep ‘em from running off, which is what wild animals tend to do.

Nevertheless, taking flower pictures can be a crap shoot — the breeze keeps the petals moving ever so slightly, making it hard to keep ‘em all in focus.

Fog on the hilltops on the mountain range across the way.

A batch of purple cuties.

Sometimes you just take a picture of a clump of stuff and hope you can crop in on something interesting.

The poppies at the park were not terribly numerous, but they were huge.

If our hiking group ever imitates one of those ’70s cartoons and starts a rock ‘n’ roll band, this’ll be our album cover art. Mike took the picture; I converted it to black and white and juiced the contrast to make it all arty-looking.

My reward for spending two chilly days at an outdoor music festival was seven days of sniffles and sneezing. The worst of it was over by Sunday so I went for a little 11-mile solo hike at Joseph D. Grant County Park, which is a few miles south of us, in the same mountain range. It has tons of trails, most of them going up and down hills. My favorite kind.

I walked about five miles in the rain at this park a few weekends back, so the blue skies were a welcome change.

Many hollow-tree-related sights await along the trail. This appears to be where the Keebler elves’ white-trash relatives were living till the landlord evicted them for selling hash brownies.

The punk-rock Keebler elves squatted here till they realized the extension cords for their amplifiers were too short.

I wonder how many bugs, grubs, worms and other low-food-chain creatures it took to eat all the bark off this old tree.

Think "I’m Still Standing," that annoying Elton John song.

I’m fascinated by these clumps of leaves and what (if anything) dwells within.

Last time I was up here, I rested my hat on this post before I noticed all the bird crap. Ick.

Antler Point, the highest point in the park, is atop this hill.

I spotted a coyote about a half-mile up the trail on the way to Antler Point. But no antlers.

Antler Point, which has a wonderful view of the valley when there’s no haze. Which is maybe three days a year. Elevation here is 2990 feet, making it my highest hike to date.

That’s the Mount Hamilton observatory, which has two giant telescopes at the top of the highest peak in the Bay Area.

Joseph Grant was a land baron who had a working cattle ranch on this land; his heirs donated the land to Santa Clara County, which created the park and named it after him. I imagine some of his hired hands put in a good day’s work putting up this fence, which could stand a visit from those Extreme Makeover Home Edition people.

A splash of fall color along the trail.

This is Grant Lake. Which should be titled Grant Pond.

Free parking near the trailhead!