smitty77
New member
Date(s) Hiked: June 11, 2005
Trails(s) Hiked: Alpine Garden between Huntington Ravine and Lions Head
Total Distance: 2.4 mi round trip from Auto Road
Difficulty: Easy
Conditions: Cloudy, temp of 58!, buggy, scattered t-storms
Special Required Equipment: Camera, bug spray, rain gear
Trip Report: The attendant at the base of the Auto Road handed us our packet containing our official bumper sticker and gave us the weather conditions on the summit: 58 degrees with a light wind and visibility of 25 to 50 feet. I began thinking "Okay, hopefully the clouds will lift so we can see some flowers." The climb up the road was uneventful as the four wheeled chariot pulled us up the steep grades. Somewhere around the 5 mile mark we entered the clouds but exited them as we crossed the shoulder of the mountain beyond the 6 mile mark. We pulled into a parking area at the end of the Huntington Ravine Trail, just below the 7 mile post, in an area known as "The cow pasture".
Here the conditions were steadily improving so we decided to give our planned hike along the Alpine Garden Trail a shot. The objective was to enjoy the reportedly lush display of alpine flora and then meet up with MtnMagic, SilentCal, and others at the junction of the Alpine Garden and Lions Head trails. We laced up our boots and loaded "Skeezix", our alomost three year old boy, into his child carrier. We started climbing down the upper end of the Huntington Ravine Trail, lowering ourselves into the clouds that filled the ravines on this side of the mountain. As she is not a fan of loose rock and jumbled footing, "Frog" (my wife) cursed me for having stated this hike would be "easy". I coaxed her down the steep section of trail to the junction with the Alpine Garden Trail and told her that from here on "it is like a walk in the park."
After our right hand turn at the junction, we were promptly greeted with a fine display of alpine flowers, sprouting from the grass and moss lodged between the lichen covered rocks. Around every bend in the trail was another arraingement of flowers to behold. Frog and I were amazed that something so dainty and delicate could thrive in such a harsh environment. We continued on as the trail turned into a stream from the melting of the remaining patches of snow on the summit cone above us. We noticed a handful of people enjoying the final runs of the season on plastic sleds on one patch of "white gold".
As we neared the junction with the Lions Head Trail the clouds that were nestled in the ravines began to dissipate, opening up hazy views of Boot Spur and the Wildcat Range. Here I took Skeezix out of the carrier and helped him walk the remaining distance, reaching the Loins Head Trail around 12:40. At this point the sun was making a valiant attempt at breaking through the clouds so we sat down and had a snack as we waited for Magic, Cal, and the others to meet us. We waited for twenty minutes and, not seeing anyone coming up over Lions Head, decided to head back across the Garden as Skeezix was getting anxious to get going and the clouds were beginning to roll back in.
We loaded everything back into the packs, including Skeezix, and started back up the Alpine Garden Trail toward Huntington ravine. The snack must have energized Frog becuase she was speed hiking her way back to the car. In no time we crossed the top of Raymond Cataract where we stopped to take a family photo and put a wind jacket on Skeezix as the breeze seemed to be picking up to a whopping 15 mph. As we continued on I began to feel Skeezix fall asleep behind me, just as the first drops of rain began to fall. "No matter," I thought, "if it holds off for twenty minutes, we're home free." The scattered raindrops were the size of quarters and becoming more numerous. After another five minutes we stopped to fasten the rain hood to the child carrier. We pressed on as the rain came down harder still, quickly wetting us from head to toe as we marched onward toward the trail junction. Just before the junction we encountered a thoroughly soaked couple that had climbed the ravine and were making their way toward Lions Head. I told them it wasn't raining there when I left, which gave them hope that they could hike out of it.
We parted company and turned left at the junction with Frog leading the way. "Three tenths more to go!" I thought. It would prove to be the hardest, most miserable third of a mile I ever endured. Right from the junction the trail pitches steeply toward the sky. The White Mountain Guide states the elevation gain to the Auto Road as 250 ft over the three tenths, but it seems like it all occurs in half of that distance. The rain was coming down hard, the cold gigantic drops pelting us from above. The first two hundred feet of trail quickly sapped all of the strength out of Frog's legs. As she gasped for air, she motioned me to take the lead, saying that it was easier to just blindly follow my footsteps up the rocks. As I summoned what was left of my reserve energy, the 40 pounds of child and gear I was toting seemed to get heavier with every step. Even worse, Frog was having difficulty matching my pace and began falling behind. At one point I turned around and saw her cupping her hands to catch rain to quench her thirst. In the few seconds it took me to verbally offer her the water bottle, her hands were overflowing from the heavy rain. As I waited, I looked back across the Alpine Garden and saw a group of hikers making their way in our direction. Was it our friends? I wasn't waiting in these conditions to find out. Frog told me to go on ahead, and that she would catch up but since most tragedies begin on this mountain with those very words, I told her we would climb together. At this very moment we heard a very loud rumble of thunder, which seemed to activate secret stores of energy in both of us. The rain began to slow for just a moment, and then came down with twice the ferocity as another crack of thunder filled the air. I found it odd that we didn't see lightning but really didn't concern myself with that fact until later on during the drive home. I hammered faster as my legs, and occasionally myself, screamed in pain. "Just beyond that next cairn, and we should see the car" I told Frog. Sure enough as we reached the top of the slope, there it was about two hundred feet away. Here the trail flattens out, and it was flooded ankle deep from the monsoon that was raging above us. We jogged the final stretch, fumbled for the keys to the car, fumbled even more at the straps to release Skeezix from his carrier, and threw everyone and everything inside our little red shelter.
Frog and I were soaked. Head to toe, inside out. Skeezix was only damp thanks to the rain hood that I had never needed yet always brought with us. We drove to the top of the mountain with plans to take refuge inside the summit building while getting a bite to eat. Since the rain wouldn't let up enough for us to exit the car with our dry clothes, we scrapped our plans and started our drive down the road. One would think this was enough excitement for one day, but there is one more tidbit to relate.
Just when you think you had a bad day on the mountain, you realize it's not as bad as it could have been. Somewhere below the six mile mark we encountered a state trooper and an Auto Road maintenance truck stopped at a turn out. Thinking this was odd, I kept descending and noticed some flashing yellow lights on the road below us. As we rounded the turn above the 4 mile mark we saw what all of the fuss was: In the turnout was a fire truck emptying their load of water over the side of the road. Next to it was a wrecker towing the charred remains of an automobile. There was nothing left: no tires, windows, bumpers, grill, headlights, interior, nothing. I couldn't even tell you what make or model it was. We continued down and in about 1/4 mile we saw the charred patch in the middle of the road where the incident occurred. Below this was a solitary line of fluid that stretched for maybe a half mile. It appeared to me that a gas or oil line ruptured on the car while ascending the grade below the halfway mark. There was no large puddle in the road, just the beginning of a line of fliud that ended in an inferno. It looks like the owner tried to limp their way to a turnout but didn't make it. The car became fully engulfed right in the middle of the road. We prayed no one was seriously injured and continued to the bottom, thankful it wasn't us.
It's a trip I'll never forget. Pictures to follow later today.
Smitty
Trails(s) Hiked: Alpine Garden between Huntington Ravine and Lions Head
Total Distance: 2.4 mi round trip from Auto Road
Difficulty: Easy
Conditions: Cloudy, temp of 58!, buggy, scattered t-storms
Special Required Equipment: Camera, bug spray, rain gear
Trip Report: The attendant at the base of the Auto Road handed us our packet containing our official bumper sticker and gave us the weather conditions on the summit: 58 degrees with a light wind and visibility of 25 to 50 feet. I began thinking "Okay, hopefully the clouds will lift so we can see some flowers." The climb up the road was uneventful as the four wheeled chariot pulled us up the steep grades. Somewhere around the 5 mile mark we entered the clouds but exited them as we crossed the shoulder of the mountain beyond the 6 mile mark. We pulled into a parking area at the end of the Huntington Ravine Trail, just below the 7 mile post, in an area known as "The cow pasture".
Here the conditions were steadily improving so we decided to give our planned hike along the Alpine Garden Trail a shot. The objective was to enjoy the reportedly lush display of alpine flora and then meet up with MtnMagic, SilentCal, and others at the junction of the Alpine Garden and Lions Head trails. We laced up our boots and loaded "Skeezix", our alomost three year old boy, into his child carrier. We started climbing down the upper end of the Huntington Ravine Trail, lowering ourselves into the clouds that filled the ravines on this side of the mountain. As she is not a fan of loose rock and jumbled footing, "Frog" (my wife) cursed me for having stated this hike would be "easy". I coaxed her down the steep section of trail to the junction with the Alpine Garden Trail and told her that from here on "it is like a walk in the park."
After our right hand turn at the junction, we were promptly greeted with a fine display of alpine flowers, sprouting from the grass and moss lodged between the lichen covered rocks. Around every bend in the trail was another arraingement of flowers to behold. Frog and I were amazed that something so dainty and delicate could thrive in such a harsh environment. We continued on as the trail turned into a stream from the melting of the remaining patches of snow on the summit cone above us. We noticed a handful of people enjoying the final runs of the season on plastic sleds on one patch of "white gold".
As we neared the junction with the Lions Head Trail the clouds that were nestled in the ravines began to dissipate, opening up hazy views of Boot Spur and the Wildcat Range. Here I took Skeezix out of the carrier and helped him walk the remaining distance, reaching the Loins Head Trail around 12:40. At this point the sun was making a valiant attempt at breaking through the clouds so we sat down and had a snack as we waited for Magic, Cal, and the others to meet us. We waited for twenty minutes and, not seeing anyone coming up over Lions Head, decided to head back across the Garden as Skeezix was getting anxious to get going and the clouds were beginning to roll back in.
We loaded everything back into the packs, including Skeezix, and started back up the Alpine Garden Trail toward Huntington ravine. The snack must have energized Frog becuase she was speed hiking her way back to the car. In no time we crossed the top of Raymond Cataract where we stopped to take a family photo and put a wind jacket on Skeezix as the breeze seemed to be picking up to a whopping 15 mph. As we continued on I began to feel Skeezix fall asleep behind me, just as the first drops of rain began to fall. "No matter," I thought, "if it holds off for twenty minutes, we're home free." The scattered raindrops were the size of quarters and becoming more numerous. After another five minutes we stopped to fasten the rain hood to the child carrier. We pressed on as the rain came down harder still, quickly wetting us from head to toe as we marched onward toward the trail junction. Just before the junction we encountered a thoroughly soaked couple that had climbed the ravine and were making their way toward Lions Head. I told them it wasn't raining there when I left, which gave them hope that they could hike out of it.
We parted company and turned left at the junction with Frog leading the way. "Three tenths more to go!" I thought. It would prove to be the hardest, most miserable third of a mile I ever endured. Right from the junction the trail pitches steeply toward the sky. The White Mountain Guide states the elevation gain to the Auto Road as 250 ft over the three tenths, but it seems like it all occurs in half of that distance. The rain was coming down hard, the cold gigantic drops pelting us from above. The first two hundred feet of trail quickly sapped all of the strength out of Frog's legs. As she gasped for air, she motioned me to take the lead, saying that it was easier to just blindly follow my footsteps up the rocks. As I summoned what was left of my reserve energy, the 40 pounds of child and gear I was toting seemed to get heavier with every step. Even worse, Frog was having difficulty matching my pace and began falling behind. At one point I turned around and saw her cupping her hands to catch rain to quench her thirst. In the few seconds it took me to verbally offer her the water bottle, her hands were overflowing from the heavy rain. As I waited, I looked back across the Alpine Garden and saw a group of hikers making their way in our direction. Was it our friends? I wasn't waiting in these conditions to find out. Frog told me to go on ahead, and that she would catch up but since most tragedies begin on this mountain with those very words, I told her we would climb together. At this very moment we heard a very loud rumble of thunder, which seemed to activate secret stores of energy in both of us. The rain began to slow for just a moment, and then came down with twice the ferocity as another crack of thunder filled the air. I found it odd that we didn't see lightning but really didn't concern myself with that fact until later on during the drive home. I hammered faster as my legs, and occasionally myself, screamed in pain. "Just beyond that next cairn, and we should see the car" I told Frog. Sure enough as we reached the top of the slope, there it was about two hundred feet away. Here the trail flattens out, and it was flooded ankle deep from the monsoon that was raging above us. We jogged the final stretch, fumbled for the keys to the car, fumbled even more at the straps to release Skeezix from his carrier, and threw everyone and everything inside our little red shelter.
Frog and I were soaked. Head to toe, inside out. Skeezix was only damp thanks to the rain hood that I had never needed yet always brought with us. We drove to the top of the mountain with plans to take refuge inside the summit building while getting a bite to eat. Since the rain wouldn't let up enough for us to exit the car with our dry clothes, we scrapped our plans and started our drive down the road. One would think this was enough excitement for one day, but there is one more tidbit to relate.
Just when you think you had a bad day on the mountain, you realize it's not as bad as it could have been. Somewhere below the six mile mark we encountered a state trooper and an Auto Road maintenance truck stopped at a turn out. Thinking this was odd, I kept descending and noticed some flashing yellow lights on the road below us. As we rounded the turn above the 4 mile mark we saw what all of the fuss was: In the turnout was a fire truck emptying their load of water over the side of the road. Next to it was a wrecker towing the charred remains of an automobile. There was nothing left: no tires, windows, bumpers, grill, headlights, interior, nothing. I couldn't even tell you what make or model it was. We continued down and in about 1/4 mile we saw the charred patch in the middle of the road where the incident occurred. Below this was a solitary line of fluid that stretched for maybe a half mile. It appeared to me that a gas or oil line ruptured on the car while ascending the grade below the halfway mark. There was no large puddle in the road, just the beginning of a line of fliud that ended in an inferno. It looks like the owner tried to limp their way to a turnout but didn't make it. The car became fully engulfed right in the middle of the road. We prayed no one was seriously injured and continued to the bottom, thankful it wasn't us.
It's a trip I'll never forget. Pictures to follow later today.
Smitty
