Two-Heel Drive

The light at Mission Peak was amazing this afternoon.

In honor of my previous post linking to my first-ever Mission Peak summit, I decided to head up there again this afternoon. Oddly enough, after days and days of storms and other climactic obnoxiousness, the skies cleared up and revealed the absolutely best time to shoot the peak — late in the afternoon, in winter (it’s apt to be too hot and dry the rest of the year). The sun dipping in the western sky does a wonderful job of lighting up the peak’s west face.

Won’t be much need for hiking descriptions — I did the basic Stanford Avenue route to the top, though I did go around to the back side, which yielded excellent views of the snowy high country in the Diablo Range around Rose Peak.

The pix:

Try this in the morning and the background gets all blown out.

You know my thing with trees. I think this one’s alive, though.

I took the back way primarily because I’ve been sitting on my arse too much of late and getting a bit out of shape, and felt a bit too tired to take the direct route to the peak. The view on the back side was very nice.

Even a bit of snow on the shady side of the peak.

More great views from the summit.

The Summit Post, with Mount Diablo far in the distance.

My favorite shot of the day.

Note the date: Jan. 28. Hard to believe how much green there is already.

I’ve passed these rocks dozens of times and never noticed the colors before — mainly because I’d never been this way with this light.

Unwritten rule: cows must be included in Mission Peak photo essays. Well, I guess it’s written now.

That same tree on the way back down.

Nothing profound about this outing, though I am beginning to see why the better photographers often return to the same settings — the more you see of a place, the more you see subtleties missed on previous visits. Even works for a hack like yours truly.

For those who haven’t been reading along since the summer of 2004, here’s a look back at the day I figured out I could be a hiker.

About three-quarters of the way up, I’m starting to tire out. I walk five minutes and my heart is beating like mad, so I have to stop and let it calm back down. My calve muscles have gotten used to the strain but the rest of my body is telling me: stop this nonsense now, dammit.

But I round a bend at the top of a ridge and the sight gives me fresh inspiration: it’s a view of the back side of Mission Peak that I would never have seen if I hadn’t made the climb. Makes me realize why people get hooked on hiking. The view is different up here.

I turn to my right and the summit is in clear view, maybe a quarter-mile away. “You’re almost there,” says a beefy guy who passes me on the way up. Must be my heartbeat is audible to pedestrians.

I’m probably been up there dozens of times since then. It’s like that old greasy spoon you always go back to even when you know there’s 25 better places to eat along the way.

Posted today at www.mercurynews.com

A few hours at Mission Peak Regional Preserve might make you wonder if the United Nations has a West Coast hiking club.

Fremont’s signature peak attracts people from everywhere. I’ve chatted with hikers from India, China, Taiwan, Russia, Mexico and even remote, exotic places like Livermore.

You don’t come to Mission Peak expecting solitude: the parking lot’s like a shopping mall on weekends. You come to meet interesting people and to stand on the summit. There’s no easy (or even moderate) route to the top - it’s nearly 2,200 feet above the trail head - but the view up there is worth every step.

Winter’s the best time to do Mission Peak because a layer of gravel keeps the main trail from turning to muck after it rains.

I don’t go on many hikes that make me glad I’m done and wished I’d chosen wiser, but this was one of them.

I’d hiked Mission Peak Regional preserve from every direction, save one: the parking lot at Ohlone College in Fremont’s Mission district. It has one distinct advantage: a fairly gradual, four-mile route to the summit, vs. the burn-your-legs, straight-up-the-hill-in-2.6 miles route from Stanford Avenue, where most folks go up. Frankly, the more direct route is vastly preferable.

The area around the college is butt ugly with a row of power line towers, the trail up from there is littered with cow crap and and there’s hardly any view of the summit to see you on your way. I usually come home with something nice to say about a hike … to rationalize the exertion, if nothing else, but this was just walking up hill, stepping around cow pies and wishing I was somewhere else.

I did get one fairly interesting picture on the way up. The two boys in this picture, being boys of their age, did find a way to amuse themselves on the way up: They were taking rocks and plopping them in the cow pies, bursting with laughs at the sight of fresh crap going every which way. Ah, to be young and amused with poop.

If you’ve done Mission Peak a few times and have been wondering about parking at Ohlone College, take my word for it: endure finding a spot at the Stanford Avenue entrance and go up with the crowds. At least you’ll have company.

Or follow Steve Sergeant’s favorite route and hike up from Sunol Wilderness. It’s 12 miles, with six all uphill, but at least you’ll feel like you’re in the country.

The scene: Mission Peak summit. I’m looking due west at a layer of clouds — a flat, fluffy white lawn of condensation — at eye level.

The whole valley has been fogged in all morning, and the only way to get out of the fog is to trudge three miles of steep trails to the top of Mission Peak. It’s not exactly a mountain, but bigger than a hill. The 90-minute hike to the summit provides a sweaty, heavy-breathing example of an aerobic workout. It’s a hundred miles from your Stairmaster.

Four years ago I got it into my head to climb Mission Peak. I drove past it every day for three years when I lived in Fremont — it’s the highest hill along the way, and it sits there like a dare. In the summer of 2000, I went to the hill every day for two weeks but never made it more than a quarter of the way up. The paths were too steep and I was too far out of shape. So it never happened.

But since I’ve moved to the hills east of San Jose last month, I’ve been taking morning walks of about 5 miles every day or so, with quite a bit of hillclimbing. Friday morning I walked a mile down the hill and survived the mile back up, which made me wonder if I was ready to take another crack at Mission Peak.

Yesterday morning I gave it a try. It felt like the hardest thing I had ever done. I didn’t take my camera so words will have to suffice.

The trail is dusty but wide — lots of people are coming down as I go up. Moms, dads, kids, teenagers. Without words, they tell me: we made it, so can you.

The first half-mile is the toughest. I’m sweating and my heart is racing within 15 minutes. My lower calve muscles are starting to scream, but I’m used to that. I make it to a rocky outcropping that marked the point where I’d gone the highest before. I pause for a few minutes to catch my breath and realize: wow, I don’t feel worn-out at all. Let’s see how long it lasts.

From here it’s one switchback after another. It amazes me how few of the hikers are caucasians. Asians and Indians (the ones from India) outnumber the white folks by at least three to one. Most are speaking their native languages. Provides a bit of backdrop on why those Brits who went to the Himalayas found Sherpas willing to help them scale Everest. It’s universal: people see a hill, they want to climb it.

The climb is never easy, but I get used to the strain, and rest every 10 minutes or so. About halfway, I look toward the peak and see the cloudy mists passing a field of blue sky. It’s sunny up there, and fogged-in down here. Another motivation. I’m going to need all I can get.

About three-quarters of the way up, I’m starting to tire out. I walk five minutes and my heart is beating like mad, so I have to stop and let it calm back down. My calve muscles have gotten used to the strain but the rest of my body is telling me: stop this nonsense now, dammit.

But I round a bend at the top of a ridge and the sight gives me fresh inspiration: it’s a view of the back side of Mission Peak that I would never have seen if I hadn’t made the climb. Makes me realize why people get hooked on hiking. The view is different up here.

I turn to my right and the summit is in clear view, maybe a quarter-mile away. “You’re almost there,” says a beefy guy who passes me on the way up. Must be my heartbeat is audible to pedestrians.

Here the trail turns really steep and rocky. There’s a guy up ahead of me who has hiked all the way to the top carrying a huge backpack. I’m tempted to ask “does a hundred yards from the summit count?” But I know the answer of a veteran mountaineer, and trudge on.

I’m taking mostly baby steps, picking my way though the rocks, but I’m getting very near the top. The beefy guy is on his way back down, he says, “don’t worry, this is the hardest part,” and I say, “oh, no, the first half-mile is the hardest.” He smiles indulgently and picks his way back down. (Actually this stretch is much harder on the way down because the footing is a lot more treacherous).

When I get to the top I want to scream, “Look, Mom, I made it.” But I’m seriously winded, so I sit on a rock to rest up for the hike down. I start a conversation with the huge-backpack guy, who’s resting, too. He tells me Mission Peak is great training for hiking in the Sierra. He hefted that pack all the way up there for practice. Now that’s a hiker. I’m a hacker by comparison.

After my body recovers from the shock of the ascent, it’s time to head back down. The rocky area near the top requires tiptoeing and stepping with extreme care. I lose my footing once and land on my butt, but luck is with me and nothing is injured. But I’m a lot more careful after that slip.

After I get out of the rough patch, this Indian guy in his late 20s walks up on my left and we start gabbing. He’s a software guy who’s been in the U.S. since the late 1990s. It’s an hour’s walk to the bottom so we have plenty of time to chat. We talk about movies and arranged marriages (he has one, and assures me it’s going really well. “It’s all about learning to make accommodations for the other person,” he says in his Abu accent.) He’s funny and charming with a quick, bright smile.

At the bottom of the hill we shake hands and part ways. “Maybe I’ll see you up here the next time,” I tell him. “Well, it’s a small world,” he says.

(Here’s one guy’s Mission Peak hiking pictures. His route wasn’t exactly the same.) If you’re thinking of hiking in the Bay Area: Mission Peak is a hard slog even for people in good physical condition, but if you’re used to going uphill for a couple miles at a time, it’s really no worse than an invigorating workout.