The End of the Sierra?

For the last eight years, I've spent a few days to a week with my Dad at his favorite camp site in the Sierra National Forest. We didn't think this year would be any different as we aligned our schedules and planned menus and hikes to favorite landmarks.

And then, reality.

Turning onto the road that leads to camp, we were stopped in our tracks by a number of fallen trees. This was a surprise - given that we were well into the middle of summer - but not a problem that we thought would be insurmountable. At least, not until we looked beyond the first few down trees to the monsters further along the road.

Could this be the end? We'd better back up a minute...

- - -

I left the house on a Monday morning for the long trek down to a favorite place in the Sierra. The drive would take me through all of Oregon and much of northern California before night fell, and I watched the familiar terrain as I passed by in the Tacoma.

Mt. Shasta was looking splendid with its puffy cloud cap.

Just south of Mt. Shasta - near a little town called Dunsmuir - fire season was in full swing.

After meeting up with Pops, we began the climb out of the central valley and toward cooler elevations. The road was in good condition - much more of it paved than has been in the past - and we made good time as we wound through the charred trunks of the 2020 Creek Fire.

Plenty of pavement made for a smooth ride in the Jeep limo.

Not many trees left living in some places.

Cruising around a corner, I slowed as I noticed Dad's truck stopped in the road a few hundred feet ahead. He was already out with binoculars in hand, so I figured he'd spotted an unusual bird flitting around in the trees. In fact, there was a raptor keeping an eye on us from overhead, but that wasn't why we were blocking the road. Rather, it was the dozens and dozens of butterflies that'd caught his attention.

The vast majority of the flappy beasts were Frittilaries (left). | There were only a couple Swallowtails - definitely looking worse-for-wear (right).

This Red-tailed Hawk was keeping a close eye on all the movement.

From our butterfly stop, it wasn't long before we reached the familiar turn off the main road towards camp. A four-ish mile affair, this is always the point where we cross our fingers and hope that we're not the first to visit for the season. You see, even though this is a place worth keeping under wraps, it's also nice when someone else - usually the USFS or one of their contractors - has done the work to clear any trees that had fallen during the winter. Or, if there are a few trees still down over the road, that a few visitors have begun to create bypasses around the obstacles.

This is also always the point at which Dad pulls to the side of the road to let me go first, "just in case someone needs to use a chainsaw," he says.

Initially, things were looking good. There was an 8" tree across the road that'd obviously been sawed out sometime earlier in the season, and after about 500 feet, there was a bypass around a cluster of 12" trees that were still laying over the road. We definitely weren't the first ones to turn down ▮▮▮▮  for the season!

The bypass was a little rougher than usual, so after spotting the "trail rated" Jeep through the flexier sections, I climbed back in the Tacoma and continued down the trail. Unfortunately, this wouldn't last long.

A quarter mile later, there was no bypass around a pair of 16" trees, and a hundred feet beyond, a 36" monster lay across the road. Uh-oh.

Trouble. With a capital "T" for tree.

Seeing the situation in front of us was worrisome, but given that we were well into summer, there was still a chance that these trees had fallen over the road since the USFS had cleared it as the snow melted, so I suggested that we should fire up the flying camera and have a look at the situation as the road wound its way down to camp.

The news was far from fabulous.

Camp, 3.75 miles further down the road. If you know where camp is, there's a fallen tree immediately next to the fire ring.

There were literally dozens of trees down across the road. We each kept our own count as the drone flew overhead, racking up somewhere between 77 and 96 trees that would need to be cleared. Of those, approximately 10 looked to be monsters - 30" or larger in diameter - that would require a lot of cutting if we were to stand a chance at rolling the rounds off of the road.

At least for the night, it was time for plan B.

Back on the main drag - which isn't very main at all - we continued deeper into the mountains, hoping to find somewhere close to a creek and surrounded by still-living trees that wouldn't fall on us as we slept. After evaluating a few options, we scrapped the "near creek" in favor of "not surrounded by dead trees" and navigated our machines into the flattest spots we could find.

Three wheeling it!

Toyota's keep all four on the ground.

It wasn't our usual spot, but the view was pretty nice!

After setting up camp, we settled in for a bit of grub and a chat under the stars. With no fire ring and plentiful fire restrictions, this trip would be campfire-free, even our propane stove requiring a (free) permit.

Sunset behind Sleeping Bear.

Last of the light on the Eastern Sierra.

The next morning...

As usual, Pops was up bright and early to bird his brains out. With a couple ponds and a Meadow not far away, this turned out to be a pretty good trip from a birding perspective.

A Downy Woodpecker near camp was about all the birding I did.

Eventually, I rolled out of bed too and after a quick call on the Ham radio, Pops was on his way back to camp so we could discuss the plan for the day over a couple bowls of cereal. The question - naturally - was whether we were going to make a go at clearing the road.

As someone unwilling to acknowledge his age - I'm not a year older than 27 - it wasn't really even a question. An hour later the Tacoma was loaded up with chainsaws and other implements to assist in our imminent failure, and we were on our way!

A lot of work, but we are workers.
"Surely, we will be to camp by evening." -Dan
"Right." -Dad

The first couple trees - at a mere 16-inches in diameter - were no problem, my Stihl MS-261 chainsaw and 20" bar enjoying their first meal in nearly five years! Then it was onto the first of the monsters - a 36-inch behemoth that'd stopped us the evening before.

The problem with huge trees - when coupled with short chainsaw bars - is that one must be skilled enough to cut through both sides of the tree in perfect alignment, such that the two cuts will allow a single round to fall from the end, wherein the process can be repeated until the road is cleared.

As I mentioned, the last time I used the Stihl was a handful of years ago, so I was most obviously exactly that "skilled" individual. The right guy for the job.

Please ignore the gross misalignment of the cuts.

After making the first set of cuts, I turned off the saw in order to roll the round out of the way. This task completed, I pulled the cord to get on with the next round, only to find - after several attempts - that the Stihl wouldn't start again!

After a quick conversation, we figured that it must just be hot, so I set the saw in the shade and we began wandering down the road to evaluate the situation at a lower level than the drone was able to do the previous afternoon. As we went, we cleared some 20 trees ranging in 5- to 14-inches in diameter over the next mile of road, pausing our efforts as we ran into two big ones that seemed like they'd be impossible to clear and equally impossible to bypass... at least, for the don't-scratch-the-paint "Jeep."

With no other option, we tucked tail and returned to the Tacoma.

Hot and sweaty from the meaningless work we'd done to clear the road, our next stop was a nice little pool where we could clean up.

Over the next few days...

Knowing that making it to camp - since only our usual camp is worth of the name "camp" - was now out of the question, we resolved ourselves to enjoying the next few days in the spot we'd found with a view. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and plenty of relaxation were the name of the game. It was beautiful - perhaps even a nicer view than normal - but a little boring, since so many traditions have developed in our usual location.

Our Sleeping Bear view from an angle we don't usually see.

I sent the flying camera in search of ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ , since it was invisible from our spot on the hill.

The surroundings.

Fire ravaged land.

Jagged peaks leading to locations known to many more people than our little slice of paradise.

We considered - and accomplished - a few small walks around camp, getting our bearings and exploring this new spot to see if it might be somewhere we would want to return in the future. Ultimately, while beautiful, we decided that figuring a way back to our normal location should be a top priority.

A no effort too large endeavor.

And then, to keep our efforts to a minimum, we flew the drone to check out an old mine site nearby.

Winters are tough on roofs around here.

Looks habitable. Maybe that's where we should stay!

On the way out...

Eventually - as always happens - our time at ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮  came to an end. As we packed up camp and put away the tent, the bulk of our conversation remained focused on future access to our usual spot. Who might be contacted to ask about USFS clearing efforts; possible solutions involving TacomaWorld - or some other club-like group - getting together for a trail run.

As off-road as this limo will ever see.

It takes about an hour to drive out of this bit of the Sierra, and along the way, we were lucky enough to see a couple USFS trucks approaching. In the international sign of "I'd like to chat," we stopped and rolled down our windows, eventually also exiting our vehicles as the conversation progressed. It turns out that - given the unprecedented and uncalled for cuts to federal government resources by the current administration - these guys were the entire road crew for the Sierra National Forest. Two guys. More than 2,000 square miles. Damn.

We spent 20 minutes or so talking to Aldo, and he gave us the rundown on the work they were doing and a possible timeline for clearing the road down to camp. He also related a few more resources that might be able to help if the USFS got caught up with other priorities, a great example of the helpfulness that we've always encountered with the good folks who work for the USFS, NPS, and BLM.

After plentiful thanks - both for the information as well as the work he and his buddy were doing to clear the roads - we parted ways and resumed our descent to the Central Valley. There, a lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant was waiting before a long drive home.

A parting shot. (Holy lack of ground clearance, Jeepers!)

Hopefully next year will be back to normal!

 

See More Trips with Pops