canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
In part 1 of this blog I shared photos from our hike up through the Bollinger Creek Canyon to Bollinger Ridge in the Las Trampas Regional Wilderness near Danville, California. Part 2 is thankfully more than, "Okay, time to go back down." First we enjoy walking along the ridge for a bit— and visiting a sister peak near it.

Bollinger Ridge Trail, Las Trampas Regional Wilderness (Feb 2024)

From where we crested the top of the ridge after completing our initial climb we enjoyed views across the ridge and to the valleys far below. The photo above shows some of the knobs on the ridge. In the center is Vail Peak. The ridge trail winds around over it from the right. The ridge on the left is actually geologically distinct from the Bollinger Ridge. It's part of a different rock formation called the Corduroy Hills. But it's close enough that we can cross over to its summit, Eagle Peak, on a short spur trail form Vail Peak.

Mt. Diablo seen from Bollinger Ridge, Las Trampas Regional Wilderness (Feb 2024)

From atop Eagle Peak in the Corduroy Hills there's a great view east across the valley to Mount Diablo, one of the most prominent peaks in the SF Bay Area, at 3,849' (1,173 m). In the midground of the photo above are the cities of Danville and San Ramon.

While atop Eagle Peak we didn't see any eagles... though we did see a few hawks and lots of turkey vultures. The vultures were "kettling", circling around in groups following the air currents as they drifted higher and lower looking for food in the area. Food for them, of course, is dead stuff. Vultures are carrion eaters. Sometimes they "kettle" around a hawk or an eagle to mop up the leftovers of whatever it hunts.



After watching the vultures flying around for a while we spotted a few of them taking a break to sun themselves on the rocks. In the video above I jokingly refer to these turkey vultures as "ugly". That's because their bare and bony heads look kind of ghoulish. Those bare flesh heads and wide open nostrils are actually part of their adaptation to being carrion eaters.

After sunning ourselves on the rocks at Eagle Peak for a bit it was time to start heading back down. It was already after 4pm. (Though we'd only started hiking just after 2.)

Descending on the Chamise Trail from Bollinger Ridge, Las Trampas Regional Wilderness (Feb 2024)

For the route down we chose a different path than previous visits here. The photo above shows part of the Chamise Trail. In the past we've looped farther around to the left and come down a fairly steep descent into a stream canyon. Here we enjoyed a less-steep— though by no means easy— descent along the nose of a ridge.

The last bit of the Chamise Trail is steep, Las Trampas Regional Wilderness (Feb 2024)

The last bit of descent especially is fairly steep. At least with the route we took this time we didn't have to climb back up out of the stream canyon to go back down the other side of this hill. We made it back to the trailhead a bit after 5pm, for a good 3-hour outing.

That was later than I planned on but still totally fine. For me the point was to do a thing I enjoy, hiking— and to do the full hike— despite being sick. In beauty I walk.



canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
I didn't expect our hike at Donner Canyon last Sunday to stretch to 3 blogs, but here we are. The hike felt longer than expected, too. Mapping tools said distance was about 5.7 miles with 1,150 feet of elevation gain. I know we're kind of out of shape; partly a consequence of poor weather/conditions most of the past 4 months. The hike really kicked our butts. But we didn't mind (much) because in beauty we walk.

Hiking out of Donner Canyon below Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

I remarked in my previous blogs (part 1, part 2) that while the attraction of this hike is the waterfalls it's also about the canyon itself. The upper canyon has plenty of interesting bits where the trail snakes along the side of steep mountainsides. You can see examples in the pictures above and below.

Hiking out of Donner Canyon below Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

When hiking I always remind myself, "Check your 6." It's a military term meaning to look backwards periodically, as enemies or other threats may approach from behind. In hiking it means to look at where you've come from, not just what's ahead of you. Beauty lies in all directions.

Waterfalls in Donner Canyon below Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

"Check your 6" was key to seeing the two waterfalls in the picture above. Heading in the direction we were walking we could have missed them if we were only focused on putting one foot in front of the other and admiring the vista ahead.

Speaking of the vista ahead...

Hiking out of Donner Canyon below Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

This view down across the town we started in, the cities beyond it, and the northeastern neck of the San Francisco Bay in the distance, can distract you if you're not mindful.

Also, it's like, "Dang, we hiked up from down there?!" It's going to take a lot of putting one foot in front of the other.

Hidden waterfall in Donner Canyon below Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

...But again, don't just put one foot in front of the other. While descending from the high reaches of the canyon on a different trail than we hiked in we spotted a quiet little waterfalls 50' into the forest.

We saw so many little waterfalls on this hike. I'm glad we chose to do it after several weeks of rain. And what a beautiful day for hiking, too. It was 70° (21° C) when we got back to the trailhead at 3pm.


canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
In part 1 of my blog about hiking Donner Canyon I quipped that it's not about hiking the canyon, it's about seeing the waterfalls. Well, there are plenty of little waterfalls to see, but it's also about seeing the canyon.

Hiking on the Donner Creek Falls loop below Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

In the lower reaches the canyon feels about the same a mile in as it does at the beginning, but up here nestled below the peaks fo Mt. Diablo the views change every 2 minutes as the trail winds around the sharp folds of the mountain.

Falls on Donner Creek on the north flank of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

Hidden in some of these sharp folds are those waterfalls. The one in the pic above, for example, really can't be seen until you're almost on top of it. And getting below it? Whew, that'd be a tough one. It would take some technical climbing skills and equipment to get down and back up.

Falls on Donner Creek on the north flank of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

This falls (above) is also in the category of not visible except when you're practically on top of it. Like the previous falls it's in a narrow side canyon. And like I said at the top, hiking this trail isn't just about seeing the falls. Check out this short video showing the view when I swivel to look away from these falls:



Oh, and another falls; this one on the smaller side.

Falls on Donner Creek on the north flank of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2023)

There were so many falls flowing on Sunday when we visited. In the days prior we'd considered a number of different hikes we could take. I'm glad we chose this one!

Update: Keep reading in part 3!


canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
Sunday morning we drove around to the far side of Mt. Diablo, to the town of Clayton on the edge of the SF Bay Area, to hike Donner Canyon. This is a trail that starts in a kind of weird place— in a quiet suburban neighborhood with views of a quarry in the distance. The inauspicious start is quickly left behind as the trail drops into the canyon.

Donner Canyon Trail below Mt. Diablo, California (Feb 2023)

The point of hiking this trail isn't the canyon. The canyon's nice, and once we gain some height farther up there are nice views back across it and to the San Francisco Bay beyond, but really the point of hiking here is to see the waterfalls on Donner Creek higher up in the canyon. The first time we hiked here, umpteen years ago, there was little but the Donner ghosts laughing at us. Would there be water here today? With heavy rains the past 6-7 weeks we figured so.

Once we started the trail we didn't even have to figure on there being water. Donner Creek was flowing down by the entry. We've never seen that before! And the grass was so green in the canyon. And there were spots of mud.

Donner Canyon Trail below Mt. Diablo, California (Feb 2023)

The trail rises for 2 miles gently as it winds deeper into the canyon. We enjoyed the easy grade and the early Spring-like views all around. And speaking of that water....

Donner Canyon Trail below Mt. Diablo, California (Feb 2023)

...Well, the water wasn't always pretty to look at. In some places is formed large patches of mud on the trail. We figured there'd be spots like this so we laced up our boots for the trail and left a change of socks and shoes, plus a towel, in the car. And actually the mud on the trail wasn't as bad as we worried it might be.

One of many small falls on Donner Creek near Mt. Diablo in the wet season (Feb 2023)

Once we got higher up in Donner Canyon we started seeing waterfalls. And wow, there were more than we expected! Many were small, like this pleasant little one in the photo above. But it was special seeing more falls than we expected due to the recent rains.

Extra waterfalls weren't the only surprise on this hike. While I was relaxing with the sight and sound of the falls above, Hawk found something else. She called my attention to it as I climbed up from the falls.



This rock on the side of the trail looks like it's covered with lichen, a fairly common sight. In fact I walked right by it, thinking nothing of it. But Hawk told me to come back and see what that red stuff really is. It's alive!

...Okay, lichen is alive, too; it's a plant. But this red stuff is bugs. It's hundreds and hundreds of ladybugs.

Update: Keep reading in Part 2


canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
Today is Superbowl Sunday. The Superbowl, probably the most-watched event in the US— more than 208 million people in the US watched it last year, vs. a paltry 27.3 million for the State of the Union address earlier this week— engenders all kinds of traditions. Our tradition is not to watch. Bah, humbug! Instead we try to go hiking on Superbowl Sunday.

The weather was great today, with clear skies and forecast high of 65° (about 18° C) around us. All signals were "GO" for hiking! We set off early-ish in the morning. The temperature was still in the 40s but we put the top down on our convertible anyway to enjoy the fresh air, sunshine, and views.

The hills are GREEN! Climbing the Sunol Pass on I-680 (Feb 2023)

On a clear winter day like today everywhere in the SF Bay Area is nice. Even the views from the superhighways are nice. The pic above shows stunning green hillsides in the Sunol Pass as we climb the grade on I-680.

Our destination for the day was Donner Canyon on the north flank of Mt. Diablo. A trail there climbs through a narrowing canyon and loops around past several waterfalls. With all the rain the area has gotten the past 7 weeks we looked forward to seeing good flow.

Donner Canyon, on the northern flank of Mt. Diablo, begins in a suburban subdivision (Feb 2023)

The trail up Donner Canyon begins in a slightly odd place. It's at the end of a road in a suburban neighborhood in the town of Clayton, on the eastern edge of the SF Bay Area. It was a 60 mile drive from our house. And not only is it in a quiet suburban neighborhood full of 5-bedroom houses, there's an open quarry in the distance. Not too scenic!

Fortunately all it takes is a glace to the left, looking up Donner Canyon, to see the beauty of the great outdoors.

Donner Canyon is wide lower down but narrows considerably against the north flank of Mt. Diablo in the distance (Feb 2023)

In the distance, at the left of the frame, is Mt. Diablo's North Peak. The main peak is not visible from here. (It's hidden behind North Peak). For a glance at what North Peak looks like from the other side (and considerably higher) see my blog from hiking the Mt. Diablo peak a year ago.

I'll skip over details of the hike at this point except to say we had a great time and took lots of pictures. I'll share those in a subsequent blog— likely two blogs.

The 5+ mile hike took us a bit longer than we planned. We started hiking at 10:45am and returned to the car at 3pm. By the the temperature was 70° (21° C). Not bad for February! Of course, it was 80° when we went hiking on Superbowl Sunday last year!



canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
Whew, here it is a week later and I'm still catching up on my blog about hiking at Mt. Diablo last Saturday. But with this entry I'm done! ...Done with last Saturday, anyway. There's still hiking on Sunday to write about.... And more will get added to the backlog if/when I go hiking later today. 😅

After hiking a contour trail just below the peak and then scrambling up the last bit to the observation tower at the top we returned to our car and started the drive back down Mt. Diablo. Rather than head home, though, we stopped at Rock City about halfway down the mountain.

Wind Caves on the slopes of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

Rock City is an area where there are numerous short trails to exposed sandstone formations. The one above is part of the Wind Caves. The erosive action of wind and rain scallop out these odd caves in the soft rock. Geologically the process is similar to how the Tafoni Monolith, aka SKULL ROCK, was carved. Here they're still not so metal as to actually name it Skull Rock, but at least unlike Tafoni, which is in the very wealthy town of Woodside, California (hint: Steve Jobs lived there), they didn't name it like it's some Euro-style café that sells espresso and gelato.

Rock City on the slopes of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

One cool thing about Rock City as compared to the Tafoni Monolith is that visitors are allowed to climb on the rocks here. It's like these rocks are the soft and fluffy kind that are safe for kids. ...But seriously, Tafoni is steep and unstable. Here you can kill or at least badly injure yourself if you're stupid, but there are also a bunch of rocks people without technical gear can scramble atop. Plus there are technical climbs. I saw a Search And Rescue team practicing on one of the steep rocks.

canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
The first leg of our hike around the summit of Mt. Diablo was fairly easy. (Read about it in part 1.) We still stopped for frequent breaks— to take pictures. As we turned to scramble up a primitive trail to the peak we stopped a few times to catch our breath... and to take more pictures from the ever changing perspectives the trail offered.

Views from atop Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

There were plenty of long-distance views as we climbed the last bit to the summit. Mt. Diablo's 3,849' (1,173 m) elevation isn't the highest in the Bay Area; peaks like Mt. Hamilton and Mt. St. Helena are a few hundred feet taller. But they're 40-50 miles away in opposite directions. If it were a clearer day we'd be able to see them. People have reported seeing as far as the Sierra Nevada and Mt. Lassen, the very southern end of the Cascade range, over 200 miles away on a clear day. The haze/smog limits visibility to about 15 miles here.

Atop Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

Atop the summit is a lookout tower with a signal light. This visit I learned that the "lighthouse" was not really for ships. It was built for aircraft. In the 1920s there was no electronic navigation. In 1928 a beacon light was erected here. After the attack on Pearl Harbor it was turned off for fear it would guide an enemy in attacking San Francisco. By the time the war was over the light was obsolete; we had radar, among other things, to replace it. Since then the light is only lit once a year, on December 7 as a memorial to those who died in Pearl Harbor.

Views from atop Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

We wrapped up this hike— but not the day of hiking; there's still more to come!— by walking down the paved road from the summit to the lower trailhead we'd parked at. Yes, we could've driven to within steps of the peak; but where's the fun in that? Even the walk down the road was very scenic. In the far-off views above you can see past the East Bay hills, including Las Trampas Ridge, from which we could see Mt. Diablo.


canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
Saturday afternoon we hiked at Mt. Diablo. It was already mid-afternoon by the time we reached the trailhead just below the peak. The late-ish hour was a result of us not leaving home until after lunch and then driving to a more distant park entrance. The unexpected detour was totally worth it.

Although Mt. Diablo is one of the highest peaks in the Bay Area, 3,849' (1,173 m), a paved road goes all the way to the top. We stopped just short of the top, maybe 100-150 vertical feet below it, where there's a trail that loops around the summit. It's one of our favorite hikes in the park. "Favorite" is a relative term, though, as we've only hiked this trail twice before, and once was cut short due to snow. Our one previous full hike up here, we hiked this trail 5 years ago.

Views from near the top of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

We set off going clockwise around the trail below the summit. Views to the north of Mt. Diablo open up almost right away. In the picture above you see Eagle Peak, elev. 2,369'. Beyond it, in the distance, the waterway you see is the Carquinez Straight. Further off to the left (west) it opens into the San Francisco Bay. Off screen to the right (east) is the Delta, where the waters of the mighty Sacramento River and San Joaquin River meet.

North Peak seen from near the top of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

As we work our way clockwise around the summit the views shift to bring North Peak, elev. 3,557', into focus. North Peak is only a few hundred feet shorter than Mt. Diablo. Shorter is shorter, though. That's why North Peak has a dull name and no visit center atop it, just a bunch of commercial antennas.

The view here is to the northeast, out across the Delta. Geographically, this is where the Bay Area gives over to the Central Valley.

Views from near the summit of Mt. Diablo (Feb 2022)

As nice as these views are they also constantly reminded us of the dirt and haze in the air. It was like this last weekend when we hiked in the area. Back then I thought it would blow out to sea as part of California's "breathe in, breathe out" weather pattern. Well, it's still here. And the impact is that from a viewpoint like the one above it's hard to see more than 10-15 miles before things get lost in the haze. On a clearer day, looking east and northeast across the Delta and the Central Valley, you can see 100+ miles from here.

In writing about various peak hikes I've lamented that the one big drawback to hiking to a summit is that you can't really see the mountain you're climbing. The iconic view is under your feet! That's why all the pictures I've shared so far have been views other than Mt. Diablo itself. But here's where taking the trail just below the summit really pays off: we can see the summit!

Mt. Diablo summit towers over the Tri-Valley Area in the distance (Feb 2022)

This is also where we chose to change direction a little bit from our previous visit. Five years ago we continued the loop trail around the summit. You can see it contouring around the left. This weekend we decided to go up over the top, following an unmarked but obvious foot trail up the steep remainder of the slope to the lookout tower at the top. Off in the distance, BTW, is the Tri-Valley Area, home to cities such as Pleasanton, Dublin, Livermore, San Ramon, and Danville.

Updatekeep reading in part 2!

canyonwalker: My old '98 M3 convertible (road trip!)
Saturday afternoon we visited Mt. Diablo State Park for some hiking. Mt. Diablo, at elev. 3,849' (1,173 m), is one of the highest peaks in the San Francisco Bay Area. We did some hiking around the summit, enjoying the views in all directions, and then scrambled around atop some sandstone outcroppings at the Rock City area on the western flank.

Road Trip!

Mt. Diablo is about 40 miles away from us as the crow flies. We'd be able to see it even at that distance except there are lower mountain ridges in the way that block the line of site from the bottom of the valley. It's almost always visible in the distance when we climb any of the mountains in the area.

I mention as the crow flies because the driving distance to the summit is longer, at 55 miles. And the route we drove on Saturday was even longer than that, at 65 miles. Why? Because I made a wrong turn.

Hawk had the directions cued up on her phone as we drove. She fell asleep in the car, though, and I went on autopilot thinking I knew the route. In fact I was thinking of the route to any of various parks and trails around the north side of Mt. Diablo rather than the route to the summit itself. I blew right past the highway exit southwest of the park— to be fair, it is not labeled "Mt. Diablo Summit Next Exit ↗️"— and drove to the city of Walnut Creek northwest of it.

"There are no wrong turns"

I've quipped recently that there are no wrong turns when hiking. Diverging from the intended route can be made an opportunity to find something new and unexpected, something serendipitous. The serendipity here was entering the park via the North Gate Road.

In previous drives to Mt. Diablo's summit we've always come in via the park's south entrance. Along that route there aren't really great views of the park until the last few miles to the top. I'd noted on those drives that near the top there was a fork in from the North Gate road. I was a little curious about it but never drove it because it would have taken us well out of our way. Well, now it was our way. And what a way it was!

Looking up at Mt. Diablo from the North Gate road (Feb 2022)

Unlike the south entrance which leads miles through well-shaded canyons, the north entrance breaks out from the quiet suburbs outside of Walnut Creek onto grass covered hills. From there there are views for miles in all directions— including the peak of Mt. Diablo a few thousand feet straight up. The road winds back and forth across open hillside, climbing one ridge after another, each higher than the one before it, and with the summit almost always in view. Approaching Diablo from this side felt like giving proper tribute to a queen or a sultan.

Updatethe hiking begins! (Continued in next entry)


canyonwalker: My other car is a pair of hiking boots (in beauty I walk)
Yikes, I'm getting backlogged again. Here it is Tuesday and I'm still catching up on blogging about Saturday. On Saturday we hiked at Las Trampas Regional Wilderness near Danville, California. In part 1 (see previous link) I wrote about where the park is and the first leg of the hike. Once we reached the top of the namesake ridge the views changed... though not in the way you might imagine.

Walking Las Trampas Ridge (Feb 2022)

The first thing that happened as we reached the ridgeline of Las Trampas Ridge was... we entered a hardwood forest! Okay, we weren't literally at the ridge top when I shot the picture above; the trail bounds back and forth across both sides of the ridge, sometimes right on the edge of it but much of the time maybe 10-15' below the top. And on the east side of the ridge, just below the top, there are a lot of trees. This made us feel like we were walking through a valley when we were really at 1,700' elevation, hundreds of feet above the actual valley.

As nice as the tree cover and deep green grass were, they were also a bit of a bummer. We climbed this ridge, huffing and puffing all the way up, to see the long distance sights. Where were they? We had to squat and peer through tree branches to see them!

Opportunity came in the form of a nearby ridge. In this case, the Corduroy Hills just east of us.

Las Trampas Ridge, and beyond it Rocky Ridge, seen from Corduroy Hills (Feb 2022)

Crossing over to the Corduroy Hills involved a very steep trail that dropped seeming straight down to a saddle below the two ridges, across the saddle with deep canyons on either side, then up a steep, rough trail to Eagle Peak atop the Corduroy Hills. The picture above shows me looking back at Vail Peak on Las Trampas Ridge, and in the distance Rocky Ridge, from atop Eagle Peak.

Even this perch didn't solve the main problem, though. I'd already had plenty of views to the west. I wanted views to the east. Those came from exploring a bit beyond Eagle Peak.

Continuing on this side trail was an iffy proposition... not because it was a hard trail (the hard part was the scramble to the ridgetop) but because Hawk had opted not go when she saw what a scramble it was. I didn't want to get too far away or stay away too long a time from my partner. Fortunately a) the trail was good once at the ridgetop, so I could cover ground quickly, and b) the view I was looking for was only a few hundred meters away.

Overlooking Mt. Diablo and the cities of Danville and San Ramon (Feb 2022)

Totally by surprise I found this beautiful perch some distance east of Eagle Peak summit. From here you can see the Tri-Valley cities of Danville, San Ramon, Alamo, and other over 1,200' below, as well as Mt. Diablo, one of the Bay Area's highest peaks at elev. 3,849' (1,173 m) in the distance.

You can also see a lot of smog or haze in the sky. We saw this over us while we were driving up i-680 through the large valley in the picture above. At first I worried it was going to be a poor air quality day; then I was jubilant at how clear the air was in Bollinger Canyon. From up here it's obvious how bad the smog/haze is over the Tri-Valley. And up here it clicked. The weather pattern, I mean.

The Bay Area has a summer weather pattern that's kind of like "Breathe in, breathe out." When high pressure over the Pacific pushes air onshore, the Bay Area "breathes in" the cool and clear air. That air passes through the Central Valley beyond, where it heats up. When the high pressure system moves inland, the heated and dirty Central Valley air is "breathed out" across the Bay Area and offshore. The dirty air is literally dirty with dirt, BTW, from all the agriculture in the Central Valley. Of course it's not summer right now; it's February. But we're having summer-like temperatures with it being 81° F (27° C) on Saturday. The "breathe out" part of this breathe in/breathe out pattern is part of why.

Mt. Diablo and the Tri-Valley seen from Corduroy Hills (Feb 2022)

As I made my way back to the main ridge I called out to Hawk to let her know where I was. When we call to each other in the wilderness we don't just shout, though. We use a bird call: a red-tail hawk call. You've almost certainly heard one even if you don't know what it is. Imagine any TV show or movie playing a sound effect that says "You're a long way from anything." You hear that long, raspy screech. Keeeeer! That's the call of a red-tail hawk. That's how we call out to each other.

I found it amusing that while we were calling out to each other, a real red-tail hawk was calling, too. Later on in the hike we saw her take off from a perch as we approached. I don't know if we confused her with our calls, irritated her, both, or neither.

Hiking atop Las Trampas Ridge (Feb 2022)

As much as I've written about this hike up to this point— two blogs worth— we were only about halfway through our hike. And the second half of the hike was... well, this was one of those times where we were in the mode of "put one foot in front of the other." We'd seen so much already we were drunk on the beauty and just focused on the walking. In beauty we walk.

Update: Want to see more of Mt. Diablo? We went hiking there the following weekend!

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