I arrived in the Hunting Hollow
parking lot
just after 9a. This park entrance is new
in the last year or so, a nice addition to the Coyote Creek entrance a few miles
further north along the road to Gilroy Hot Springs.
A sign near the trailhead
indicates that the San Juan Batista Historical Trail runs through here. Here was a
guy way ahead of his time -- in the last quarter of the 18th century, he took his
troops for a hike up and down California. While he could have chosen the easier routes
along the mission roads (approximately where US101 is), he chose to march through
some of the more remote areas of the Diablo Range. Why? Maybe he was looking for
valuable mineral deposits, or maybe he just thought it would be fun. I don't think
his exact route is known, so it's been difficult to recreate this part of his
journey. There were a half dozen cars in
the lot and a few people milling about when I arrived, but I saw no one on the trail
the whole day. The trail into Hunting Hollow is a dirt road that lazily crosses
the streambed
several times in the first mile. The water level was low even though the
last rains were but a week ago, and crossing the streams presented no problems.
I headed left up the
Lyman Willson Ridge
Road after the first mile. As most trails in
Henry Coe go, this one climbs the ridge in a direct line, climbing over a thousand
feet in a mile. Right from the start the I found
the flowers both abundant and
spectacular (one could easily argue this to be redundant). It had rained little in
March, but early April showers in the past week gave the flowers a huge boost, and
they were quite impressive. Never in several dozen previous trips had I seen so
many flowers as I would today (which might explain why I spent so much time
photographing them).
Before reaching the top of the ridge I took a right on The Bowl Road which
took me to Willson Camp (or Ranch, depending on your map), three miles from the
trailhead.
Willson Camp is the site of the Willson Ranch which used to be the center for a large
ranch in this part of the park.
Several abandoned buildings
still stand among equally
abandoned trailers and
stables. A few
rotting mattresses
can be found in two of the bedrooms, some
kitchen fixtures still
in the main room. Light switches are still on
some walls, but all the electricity, gas, and plumbing have been disconnected since
it was made part of the park. A jar of Folger's Crystals left in the kitchen spoke
of campers not long gone, still using the house as a refuge. While the house left
much to be desired, the
view from the back porch
was to die for. In it's prime, one can easily imagine this was quite a ranch site.
I headed up the Wagon Road out of Willson Camp, and soon after turned right on Vasquez
Road. This road is seldom used, and much of the graded road is being reclaimed by
the vegetation. The road follows a ridge eastward, crossing the summits of two other
bumps along the road, Vasquez and Rock Springs Peaks. The
gently curving tops were
carpeted in grass and
wildflowers, studded with
oaks and pine. Somewhere up here I
started looking for Burra Burra Peak. It's not one of the taller peaks in the park,
and is rather non-descript. I think it's draw is more for it's remoteness than
anything special. It's location puts it just about
in the center of the Diablo Range. In any case, I mis-identified the peak, thinking
it was
another one further
away (the true peaks was closer and to the left of this one).
The road turns northeast, then north, as the ridge drops down to the Canada de la
Dormida, a small creek that cuts deep canyons in the hills here. Many sections of
the road along here were covered in
yellow flowers, looking much
like the 
Yellow Brick
Road. I descended over a thousand feet to the bottom of
the creek, and
turned left to follow the road,
barely descernable. In less than 50 yards I lost the trail altogether, and pondered
where I was supposed to go from this point. My map (yes, I had one) isn't too clear
on this, showing the trail continuing north up a ridge just past a side stream that
comes in from the north as well. I had seen the trail running up the ridge on my way
down to the creek, but in among the trees here, it was impossible to see the road
clearly. I wandered down a few beaten paths a short way before deciding I was just
adding to the illusion of a trail in these locations. I then decided to head
cross-country straight up to the ridge I believed the trail to be on. After climbing
150 feet up, dodging poison oak as I went, I happened to look back to see the trail
clearly rising up from the side stream. Darn. I headed back down, making a beeline
for the trail, but found myself on some steep, loose hillside 30 feet above the creek.
The trail was on the other side. I inched down slowly, hoping my tennis shoes would
grip enough to keep me from going into a slide which would probably end in the creek.
While not likely a serious fall, I would be subjected to a gauntlet through the
poison oak that seemed to cover this part of the hill, and the results of that would
have been most unpleasant, indeed! I slipped a few times, only a foot or so, trying
to be careful not to clutch the poison oak with my hands. In fact I spent as much
time figuring where I could dig my fingers into the soft earth to arrest a fall as I
did looking for foot placements. Surviving this (my only tough moment all day, entirely
unecessary), I reached the creek and the trail on the other side.
Another steep climb of a thousand feet, and I was soon back up on the higher ridges.
The Vasquez Road ends where it intersects the Center Flats Road, a recently re-graded
road that looked to get more traffic (probably because it offered the better way to
get here from Willson Camp). I was now three hours from the trailhead and figured I
had another hour to go to reach Burra Burra. I had a pleasant hike/run along
the ridge
there that meanders between the Canada de la Dormida and Mississippi Creek, dividing
the two watersheds (I hiked all the uphills, jogging on the flat and downhill
sections). Not realizing how close I was to the peak, I jogged a few minutes
past the turnoff to the summit before realizing my mistake. The trail began to descend
off the ridge towards the Kaiser-Aetna Road and Dowdy Ranch which I could see a few
miles in the distance. I retraced my route and took the turnoff marked only be a bare
signpost (actual signage to come later I supposed). About half a mile from this point,
at 12:45p, I reached the summit, 3 1/2 hours enroute.
The weather had been perfect the whole way, neither too warm or too cold, accompanied
by a pleasant breeze along the ridgelines. In the summit register, I found
Michael Golden's signature
among the most recent entries from two weeks ago. It had been his
description of the hike and his goading that I go climb it, that had provided the
inspiration for today's adventure. Interestingly, it was the second peak in a month
that I climbed that had been climbed by Michael shortly before. Perhaps I am now
chasing his ghost, or perhaps he simply gives enticing accounts of his climbs. :)
The summit is mostly covered in chaparral, the vegetation of choice in the drier
eastern parts of the park. One has to stand on the rocks in the center to view over
the scrub, but
the views are quite nice.
Though mostly washed out in
the midday haze,
they were still enjoyable. Some
photos, a quick snack and
some water, and I was soon on my way back. My jog would get interrupted every few
minutes or so to either photo some more
flowers, or the few
interesting samples of wildlife I came across such
this snake or
the deer I found lazily
napping under the oaks.
I retraced my steps to the Vasquez Road turnoff, and continued west on the Center Flats Road. This turned out to be the better choice by far, as it stays high on the ridges, barely dropping below 2,000 ft, avoiding the drop down, and climb up from the creek below. Somewhere along here I felt a slight prick in my leg, thinking it a bit high above my sock to be a thorn poking me. I got a sneaking suspicion and stopped to confirm a tick had gotten under my pants and started making a meal of my blood. He hadn't dug in too far, so I was able to coax him out by "flicking" him gently in the direction to back him out of there. I had had half a dozen ticks that I had shooed off my pants earlier, so I knew I was in tick territory. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective) I have had a previous tick get to my skin so I knew what it felt like -- not a sharp pain, just a slowly increasing, nagging prick, as if someone held a pencil against your skin and ever so slowly increased the pressure.
After two more miles I reached the Wagon Road, which runs north-south
on the ridge here, and took a pee break. It was a bright, iridescent color, and it
made me laugh thinking how Michael would disapprove. He gives me a hard time for not
drinking enough water on my hikes, and stresses the danger and damage to my body
this can cause. No doubt I should drink more water, and the quart I drank on this
hike was insufficient, but I was never really thirsty, and carrying more water entails
carrying more weight. Michael sweats a great deal more than I, so his water intake
is naturally much higher. As a result I take his lectures with a grain of salt. Still,
it's nice to know he cares. After a mile I came to the junction with the Wasno Road and
was surprised to see the newest, neatest
pit-toilet structure I'd ever
seen. An excellent design, no smell (probably because they've barely been used), solid
masonry, completely out of place here in the boondocks.
Images of excess park funds and administrators scrambling to use them danced through
my head. This thing looked to cost plenty, but seemed so unecessary here. There was
no water and therefore no suitable campsite nearby, so it could only be used by folks who
happened along here. A mile later at the next trail junction, I came across another
of the same outhouse structures. I began to think they might be most convenient to those
on bikes or horses.
I decided I had enough energy to climb up to Willson Peak, the highest elevation on my
route today, at nearly 2,600 feet. A steep trail leads almost directly to the top, where
again I was treated to outstanding
wildflower
displays. The ridge here
is just high enough to allow one to see into the
Coyote Valley and Gilroy areas.
Even through the haze, the
hills as far south as Mt. Carmel in the Ventana Wilderness were visible. It was difficult
to pick out the true summit, as any of three spots looked to be eligible among the rolling
hilltops here. A couple of Geological Survey markers,
one from 1943, showed I
had picked
the right spot. The marker declares the location "La Canada" instead of Willson Peak as
shown on my map. Later I found both names attached to the peak on the 7.5 minute topo.
I followed the Steer Ridge Road down from here, as it makes its way along the western end
of the ridge. The road gives out a short after descending the ridge, replaced by a faint
trail that follows the rest of the way down. A few hundred feet above the creek I spotted
the parking lot below
me, signalling the end of a most excellent hike/run. I returned
at 4:45p, after six and a half hours on the trail. Aside from the little foray into the
steep hillside and poison oak above the second creek (oh, and that nasty tick, too), it
was a most relaxing time, and I thoroughly enjoyed the spring day.