I said I would write about the hike to Alamere Falls, and a Scout is trustworthy, so here it is. I should also point out that the addition of another Scout leader, more experience in photography than I, has exculpated me from the lack of photos herein.
We passed the bird sanctuary, and parked when we ran out of road. The weather was grey and chill, but everyone was in high spirits. We started walking north on the Coast Trail, past the picnic tables where less hardy souls might stop. The vistas of the ocean were stunning, and our path lay between a steep above and a steep below. There were several lakes along the Coast Trail, although most remained hidden from view, and those which were visible were small, even by the broad definition of the West. There was an element of track and field in our journey, for the recent deluge had brought down several trees and created stunted versions of the lakes along our path. None were so bad as the time my fellow trekkers discovered the end of a reservoir across our path, but they were big enough to present a dilemma. The haste of youth compelled many to keep a pace that forbade natural observation; the flora and fauna along the way were varied and denizens of mutiple biomes. There was plenty of miner's lettuce.The soup made from it is bland, but at least has less chance of poisoning the ravenous 49er than improperly prepared acorns.
We descended to Wildcat Camp, where we ate our lunch. The weather was still chill and windy. After all had finished their repast, we went down to the beach, or tried to. The path ended in a wide stream, impossible to cross without removal of shoes. Although such an action is one of the hazards of hiking, the temperature did not incline me to do this as a first option. One of the boys, however, leapt down from the collapsed mudbank and sank up to his knees. Others, less eager to cool their legs and feet, discovered the path across a higher and smaller part of the stream using logs: even here, a judicious leap was necessary.
The stroll along the beach to Alamere Falls was refreshing as a change from the usual packed dirt trails. The boys wandered close to the water and suddenly fled (with varying degrees of success) from the inrushing waves. The. Alamere Falls is a mile south of Wildcat Camp. It is forty foot high, and the recents rains had swollen it. The beach was very narrow here, so that the more timid boys had to retreat to the rock shelves below the cliff to remain dry. It reminded me a bit of Henneth Annu^n (although according to past Scouts, I should be in Orthanc, since they cast me as Saruman).
If Alamere Falls was like Henneth Annu^n, then the way up to the top of the falls was truly like the Pass of Gorgoroth (the movie version). The way up was hidden from a casual eye, steep and inconveniently stepped, and it would be inadvisable to look down. I would not recommend a second ascent, but everyone reached the top safely, and none will forget the experience.
The challenge of Alamere Falls, however, was not over. In order to reach the trail, it was necessary to leap across a deep channel, where a careless misstep would result in a twisted ankle at best. Some boys hesitated in their calculations, but eventually everyone made it across. It is sobering to think that this was a normal obstacle for my pioneering ancestors.
The weather worsened, as though the sky gods (and I don't know the name of the Miwok or Ohlone one) had been restraining themeselves until we were all homeward bound. The rain poured down and down, and did not cease. We were all eager to reach the shelter of the cars, but I marvelled at the sight of an ill-prepared trio headed out. One of the trio was carrying a city umbrella and wearing shoes more fit for Temple than trail. His female companion did not look pleased. I feel sure that their lack of preparation will strain their relationship. I was cold by the time we reached the cars, and made a note to protect my core more thoroughly next time.
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