Date: Wed, 1 Feb 1995 09:41:41 -0800
From: Granville Pool
Subject: Mendo Forest Recon Pt3

Ahem,

Well, now, what to do?  Actually, in Part 2, I neglected to mention that we 
had earlier stopped at the foot of the Sylar Springs trail to consider the 
time and what we would do when we got to Bartlett Springs.  Would we turn 
toward Highway 20 (and home) or on to Letts Lake.  Or maybe out to Highway 
20 via the longer route over Hough Ridge and around the Indian Valley 
Reservoir.  As you will see when you join us in April, there are so many 
alluring possibilities...

Just as we were about to move on again, out of the mouth of the Sylar 
Springs trail came a full-sized Ford pickup-load of yahoos, right out of 
Deliverance with a couple of good ol' boys in front and a couple more (armed 
with shotguns, casually pointed up into the drizzle), and, of course, the 
requisite "b'ar dawg" in the back.  Hanging off the front bumper was a 
hitch-mount winch, you know, the kind that you carry in the back until you 
need it.  Appartently they needed it to reduce their approach angle to about 
20 degrees.  

So when we couldn't cross the creek, we started speculating about that 
trail.  Could we?  Should we?  Of course we knew we shouldn't; although we 
told ourselves it was not too late, it was.  In our hearts we knew it.  Was 
it hard to talk everyone into trying it?  No.  The opinion was unanimous, 
"If those yehus could make it, so could we.  A cooler head (was that you, 
Walt?) suggested that, before we turned our tracks onto that trail, we 
examine their tracks to determine whether they had simply come from 
somewhere or come and gone.  We examined the tracks for some time and 
discussed it some more finally someone (Vance?) reasoned, hey, we could go 
check it out faster than discussing it.  Silly, huh?  But now you know how 
we managed concensus of eleven brilliant minds...

Up the trail we went.  Challenging but no problem for such stalwarts as we!  
Big ol' waterbars, ruts, down trees, lots of brush.  Eventually, Vance (now 
in the lead), Jory, and I ground to a halt.  What happened to the rest of 
them.  Vance on the CB (gotta get me another one before the Scouting Outing 
II).  Trouble in paradise; Jim was not making it up the hill.  Aw, come on, 
Jim, you CAN do it.  He did, once he found low box (just pull the red handle 
back, old boy).  

We all moved ahead again but soon stopped once more.  This time, it was the 
views that stopped us.  Now, there were some fine views earlier but you 
gotta look hard for ones like this.  We were atop a ridge which was open 
meadow, with sweeping views in all directions for many, many miles.  Wow.  
This is what we came here for!  Considering how we had often been completely 
in the clouds, it seems remarkable that now, when we were up so high, the 
view was clear for miles.  On our right, we could see down to Wild Bill 
Place, from whence we had come, now quite far distant.  To the left, miles 
away and maybe a couple thousand feet below, was a deep valley with a most 
impressive waterfall.  Must go there next time!

Wait, stop.  Melanie just brought me an envelope from OVLR.  Whoa, Dixon, 
thanks!  It's the newletter that I have heard so much about.  O.K., O.K., 
I'll finish this, THEN open it.  Grumble, grumble, grumble... 

Oh, back to the ridge.  You have to come and see it, really.  Actually, part 
of what stopped us was that Vance's engine had lately been running on about 
two cylinders, apparently moisture in the distributor (we'd gone through a 
*couple* of puddles).  He got it running well enough, we all got some fotos, 
and grudgingly continued on.

The trail started falling off fairly rapidly and the scenery changing 
dramatically, from scattered pine stands and meadows to chemise brush.  The 
soil was different, too, more clay but also more rocks.  As the trail 
started to really drop off, Vance suddenly halted again.  I thought more 
ignition trouble and went to investigate.  No.  Having started to slide 
sideways and get squirrelly as the slope became quite steep, he was having 
second thoughts about continuing.

By now it was nearly 4:00 P.M., I think.  The decision should really have 
been instant:  Turn back.  Not us.  Vance, Holly, Jory, and I (is that 
right) walked (and slid) all the way to the bottom of the grade, maybe a 
quarter mile or less. Yes, there was yet another creek at the bottom but one 
we could easily cross.  The trail beyond the creek looked alright, as far as 
we could see.  But the steep downslope was quite rutted, had sizeable rocks 
sticking out (with our oil pans as targets), and other unsavory obstacles.  
Well, we could surely get down it but could we get back up it?  What if, as 
we by now realized was more than likely, we'd get stopped somewhere farther 
along?  Oh, we probably could all climb it O.K. but someone said he'd sooner 
spend the night than climb THAT in the dark.  Too right.

Enough, I said.  Hard as it is to accept that we have to go back the same 
way we came in, that's what we must do.  And so we did.  Now, you'd figure 
that if we came all that way with no serious problems, we could just as 
easily go back, right?  Wrong.

Mud bath in the dark, in Part 4.

Granville Pool, Redwood Valley, CA "Road-I-Land-Rovers"

P.S. This message was delayed because of problems with the mail host at 
Pacific Internet.  Sorry for this and for any mail that's getting bounced 
back to you.  Apparently my mail is going to be iffy for about a week, 
Pacific waiting for a new disk, unless he can get a backup in there for the 
interim.  

If you have trouble sending me mail, please send it to my alternate e-mail 
address:  Granville_Pool@RedwoodFN.org  

Thanks,  Gran