Skyline Hike

Today's Skyline Park hike was pleasant, if not too eventful. The hills are drying up early this year due to practically no rain since the end of January. Some of the California Buckeye trees have already dropped most of their leaves to conserve water. Here are some of the day's highlights:

California Mule Deer.

Chalcedon Checkerspot butterfly. Its larvae feed on Monkey Flower and other plants.

Large meadow on the new extended part of the park on the Teuter Ranch property.

The only prominent flower left, Ithuriel's Spear.

A closer view. Ithuriel's Spear is a member of the lilly family.

California Buckeye blossoms or candles.

Andria and Nick, do you remember this Indian mortar grinding hole we found near the little bridge?

The Poison Oak is already turning red where it is out in the sun.

Not too much left of this deer. I don't know what ate it first, but I did read that an adult mountain lion eats about 50 deer a year and there are an estimated 200 to 400 mountain lions in Napa County. That would be 10,000 to 20,000 deer, but I suppose many of those lions would be cubs and not eating as much as an adult.

Not far away, at the watering trough, was the head. Pollywogs were all over the jawbone and apparently picked it clean.

Well, that does it for today. See you next time.

Monkey Man

In a previous life, roughly 40 years ago, my friend and I bought a Capuchin Monkey from a pet store for $50. This was before laws banning their import, and before I had half a brain. Squeaker, as he came to be called, was a child of about 3 years, and completely wild. For the first few weeks he would shriek, if approached, and give a serious bite if his warning was not heeded. In time, he tamed down, and would ride around on our shoulders or follow us like a pet cat. He lived in a cage in the living room, but would have the run of the room when we were home. He loved to go back and forth on the curtain rod above the front window. Luckily, the duplex was furnished by Goodwill Industries, because the destructiveness of a busy little monkey can be considerable. The folowing pictures were from negatives I recently discovered and developed.

It turns out that Capuchin Monkeys can live for at least 60 years. They mature slowly, like humans, and are very social animals that are active and need attention during daylight hours. All good reasons why they should never be taken from their native groups in the jungle. They are native to South America and have a prehensile tail.

Squeaker and Ginger bonded during a five day road trip in a VW Bug. Squeaker rode on my shoulder while I drove, occasionally wrapping his tail around my eyes making Ralph Nader's dreaded Volkswagon a truly suicidal machine.

Ginger didn't know what to make of the little sub human, but tolerated the monkeying around quite well.

She even allowed for dental hygiene exams.

Two monkeys having a siesta on the front porch.

Squeaker had a special affection for women of all ages. One time he decided to take a tour of the neighborhood by pushing open a screen. I looked up to see him sitting on the fence. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been a problem, but this time he would not come and jump on my shoulder as usual. I followed him around for two hours, even going into strangers' garages. Finally, he went up a skinny cypress tree to the roof of a two story motel. He just sat up there, arms folded on his chest, grinning down at me. After at least an hour of pretending to come down, then going right back up again, I remembered that he had a crush on a pretty young woman who lived next door to us. I went and asked her if she would mind coming down the street to see if Squeaker would come down for her. When she approached the motel, he came down and jumped into her arms. He sensed that I was angry about the situation and refused to get close to me for a few days, even though I would never have tried to reprimand him. There are other stories I could tell, but you get the picture.

On a trip to Monterey, we met the hurdy-gurdy man on Monterey's Fisherman's Wharf. He had two Capuchins and would alternate working them on the wharf taking coins from tourists. The monkeys wore bell bottom pants, caps, and vests. The hurdy-gurdy man said that if we ever needed a home for Squeaker, he would be glad to take him. After about two years we started thinking that Squeaker would be happier living with other monkeys and having the stimulus of being out working the wharf two or three times a week. With mixed feelings we drove him up to his new home which was a large bedroom overlooking Monterey Bay. He had a jungle gym, a TV, and playmates. We knew we had made the right choice. When I asked Mr. Monroe how he could let his monkeys chew up the window sills, he said that they had paid for the house. Apparently, the image of the down and out hurdy-gurdy man is not always true.

I visited Squeaker a year later and he immediately jumped on my head and playfully tugged my hair. Mr. Monroe said that Squeaker had yet to be that friendly to him. Gomez, one of the other monkeys, interrupted the reunion by coming up to me and punched me in the groin.

I visited Monterey Wharf about fifteen years later with Elaine and Mr. Monroe was there with one of his other monkeys. He said that Sqeaker was doing well, but had the day off. He gave me a snapshot (below) of Squeaker at work.

I wonder how Squeaker is today, if he is still alive, working, or retired. This is a very condensed version of life with a monkey. I have stories still engraved into my mind of the ridiculous situations he got into, and his ability to analyze minds. See you next time!

Nick and Bob's Annual Backpacking Trips

For the past four years Nick and I have done a backpacking trip in various high mountains of California. These trips are much more than 6 days on the trail for Dad. They start almost a year in advance pondering new places to go and explore. Then comes the spring gear guide in Backpacker Magazine where I dream about the new lighter, better equipment. I also start priming Nick for the upcoming trip. The trailheads are usually at least 5 hours of driving away, in new parts of the state, which actually seem to be very different states. I forgot to mention the pre trip trip Nick and I make down to REI in Berkeley to stock up on freeze dried food, fuel, and other incidentals. In order not to embarrass myself too much, I take a few long warm-up hikes in addition to the usual 3-4 hour jaunts.

After the trip I can't wait to download the photos and relive the whole thing. A few days on the trail with no outside communication, phones, TV, alcohol, news, puts one into a new state of consciousness. You listen to the water, wind, and birds. You try not to do anything stupid like stumble into a stream and soak your sleeping bag, or let a hot spot on your foot turn into a raging blister. Moleskin is the backpackers best friend.

The following pictures and descriptions should give you a pretty good idea of life on the trail. The pictures below are from last years 6 day trip in the South Warner Wilderness.

Nick and I drove to the far northeast corner of California to the town of Alturas (motto - Where the West Still Lives) where we gorged on our last real food. From there it wa a 45 minute drive up into the South Warner Wilderness.

Day one, with about 38 pounds of gear, starting out at about 6,000 ft. elevation.

This was where we camped out the first night. It would be 3 days before we see the only other people we saw on the trek after the first hour out. That night, Nick woke me up as he noticed the full moon was undergoing a full eclipse. We slept without a tent on this night. The cliff above Patterson Lake here is almost a thousand feet high.

Looking down at the lake from up near the top.

That's Nevada's Black Rock Desert (home to the Burning Man Festival) in the far distance.

The ridge we followed. The base of Eagle Peak, the high point at around 10,000 feet, is at the top of the picture. We circled it on day three.

Water was a little scarce on the west side of the range. The trip was a 38 mile loop that went along the west side of the ridge for the first half and returned on the east side of the ridge. The two sides were remarkably different. The east side was much steeper, had more water, and was more heavily forested. The trail was very faint or non existant in some stretches.

This was a swath of destruction made by an avalanche. You can see where the large tree in the back had been battered by downed trees as they swept by. A large area of its bark is missing.

We were prepared for rain on this night, as thunder clouds had been threatening.

There were many areas of past volcanic activity. I read that these mountains have recently been an area of high interest among geologists. Nick and I puzzled over the variety and beauty of the rocks that were coming off the mountain.

We followed fresh "cat" tracks on the trail for over a mile. They were from either a very large bob cat or a small mountain lion. We had the feeling that it was watching us.

Nick enjoys getting artsy with the camera.

Playing cards on an old bedframe that cowboys or hunters must have packed in long ago.

Hmm. Just where are we, anyways.

A pretty spot on day four.

This must be an awesome waterfall earlier in the summer.

This was the beginning of a rather violent storm we got caught in. The wind was blowing the rain sideways, lightning was going off, and we couldn't find a passable campsite for about two hours.

The sky cleared right before sunset. That night, in dead calm, a large tree came down near our tent. It was terrifying hearing it give way with cracking, rocks tumbling down the mountainside, branches snapping, while being zipped in a mummy bag, inside a zipped tent, inside a zipped rainfly. There was no escape. It sounded like it could have been 50 feet away and must have lasted a full 10 seconds. The next morning we couldn't see it, but we were in a small area that was hard to look around.

We hiked out the next morning and made haste to a folksy restaurant in Alturas. This concludes the glimpse of our 5 days on the trail last August. I can't wait for this year's trip!

Return to Soren's Pond

Well, I'm back. With an unexpected trip to Santa Barbara followed by a reunion in Las Vegas, old Bob hasn't been playing junior naturalist, lately, until yesterday. Yesterday, I was in my glory once again, crawling around in the weeds trying to get a better look at the frogs of Soren's Pond.

As I approached the pond, I could hear the throaty call of large frogs. My pulse quickened.

Like last time, I could never see a frog on the shore because they would dive in before I could get within 50 feet of them. I would hear a squawk just as they hit the water. I stealthily circled the pond, taking about an hour, even crawling on my belly through the weeds in places. Not one sighting! I finally went back to a promising area, made myself small, and waited in a frozen position for about 45 minutes. My patience paid off. One at a time a large frog would rise to the surface far from shore and just hang in the water scoping out his surroundings.

The truth was revealed. These were not the endangerd Red Leg Frogs of Mark Twain legend, but the invader Bull Frogs from east of the Rockies. The two cannot coexist for long, as Bull Frogs devour everything from frogs to birds. Their bodies alone can reach 8 inches in length.

Well, it was time to leave and climb back up to the ridge and eat lunch. I spotted a large racer, I believe, but I was no match for it in the tall grass. As I ate my lunch on the top of the ridge, luxuriating in the sun on a bench with a view, I noticed a small caterpillar on my pack that had a perfect camouflage for living on twigs. I placed it on an oak twig, and it pressed itself flat, rendering itself invisible. Unfortunately, none of my pictures came out in focus, but I will include two anyway.

In the first picture below, the caterpillar is on the last half of the twig's right end.

Here, it is crawling off the twig.

My next stop would be an almost inaccessible part of Marie Creek where I spotted a great number of Yellow Leg Frogs on one occasion two years ago about the same time of the year. Despite a number of returns, I have never seen another one since. Amphibians can seem to disappear for even years at a time until the right conditions return. On this day, I found no frogs in this ravine gaurded by fallen trees, a steep bank, blackberry vines, and nettles.

My adventure was almost over as I returned back to the trailhead on Buckeye Trail. Almost over, because lying on the trail was a beautiful juvenile Gopher Snake. As luck would have it, my camera batteries were now dead, having kept the camera on and ready for almost two hours at Soren's Pond. It was still a nice way to finish a beautiful day in the hills. See you next time!