Into the mystic

Every year as the winter descends on the trails I look forward to visit one special place.  I guess you could sort of call it a magical place; a quiet trail hidden away in a canyon among the trees and rocks.  A place where time seems to stand still while I wander the road to take photos.  It may not really be magical but I feel like I do to take a step into the mystic with a hike down the Uvas Canyon Waterfall Loop.

Nestled away near the base of the Santa Cruz mountains Uvas Canyon is a short but spectacular hike along the path of Uvas and Swanson creeks.  From the moment you step out of your car in the parking lot you can hear the water tumble and cascade along the rocks nearby.  The trail is fairly easy to navigate and there are several opportunities to get near the creek bed for photographs.  

And that's what this hike is all about, taking photographs.  Where most of my other hikes are adventures on the trail where I take photographs this day is all about the pictures.  Packing my Canon Eos 40D, a 24-70mm 2.8 zoom, a 10-22mm f 4 zoom and 70-200mm f.4 zoom along with a tripod, electronic cable release, spare batteries and memory cards I hit the trail looking for the perfect waterfall.

Right off the bat I knew I would have plenty of waterfalls to choose from.  I started out across from the parking lot in a little area of the creek thick with branches and dead falls from storms long ago.  It is a part of the trail that few go and I was alone with the rushing waters as I set up my camera.

With the sound of the r]water roaring around me it is easy to lose track of time.  I couldn't tell you if I was in this first spot for 10 minutes or half an hour.  Time really does seem to stand still on the trail standing at the edge of the creek.  With he sound of the water droning in my ears i am oblivious to the world around me.  My world is confined to the live view picture I am composing of the waterfall before me.

Thoughts of work, family growing old and the half a dozen other daily decisions that invade my mind are replaced with simpler thoughts.  Shutter speeds and f stops rule my moment along with thoughts of light and shadow.  It is a slow paced deliberate photography as i judge the image on the screen for content.  Is the water too blurred, are the highlights to bright, is this what I want to say about this moment in time?

I don't think I take as much time crafting an image as i do at the waterfalls.  Over the three miles I hiked I spent five hours taking just over 300 pictures.  I weighed and
debated the merits of some scenes and compositions with myself to a point that I rarely do even on assignment for work.

The sights along the trail can be eerily spectacular too.  Water drops into a pool hidden in the shadows of a steep rock ledge.  A black rock wall glistens as water pours across its jagged edges.  it seems mystical if not medieval in places.  There is always the sound of water crashing the rocks and running the course of creek.  Soon it becomes almost a white noise even blocking out the sound of my breathing.

I could have stayed there the entire day exploring the different falls, watching the water course and pour between branches and stone but I had to leave.  Looking at my photos it seems another time in a place where things move slow enough to see the ebb and flow of the water across the landscape.

I'll have to wait a another year to return to this place and as the rains arrive next year I will know it marks the time to return to this special trail, my own step into the mystic.

The view at 49

I turned 49 today. 

No parties, no balloons, no birthday cake with candles.  It was pretty much just another day like the holidays.  I’m getting dangerously close to that age where a man is supposed to realize there are fewer years ahead than lie behind. As much as I tried to play the day down I thought I needed to make it special for me, so since I had the day off I decided to go for a hike, a long hike.

Whenever I feel I need a special hike I turn to Mount Diablo State Park. The myriad of trails at Diablo offers something for hikers of all skill levels.  I decided my special hike on my birthday would be a trek to the summit. I have made the solo hike to the top a number of times but never in winter.  I usually reserve that hike for late spring or summer.

The route I would take would take me from the Mitchell Canyon Staging Area down Mitchell Canyon Road to Deer Flat.  There I would pick up Deer Flat Road to the Juniper Campground.  The hike would finish with a climb through Juniper Trail to the summit’s lower parking lot where a short stretch of the Trail Through Time would take me to the main summit building at 3,849 feet.

My first two winter hikes this season were muddy adventures and I braced for the worse but I was pleasantly surprised with mostly dry trails all the way up.  Gone were the snow and ice at the higher altitudes that dusted the Diablo peaks in early January. A layer of clouds hung over the mountain as I headed out just after 7:30 a.m.

I was stoked for this hike more than any other in recent memory.  I was up at 4 a.m., in my car heading down Grant Line Road at 5:45 and sitting in front of the locked gate to the Mitchell Canyon parking lot at 10 minutes to 6 a.m.  I wanted on the trail bad and I had time to strap on my hiking boots as I waited for the gate to open.

I set a quick pace, at least for my 49-year old legs could churn.  I made it to the Deer Flat picnic area a little over 3-½ miles from the Mitchell Canyon Road gate and sitting at 2,100 feet in about one hour and twenty-three minutes.  That’s pretty much my time give or take a minute or two.  Being 49 wasn’t slowing me down too much yet.  I had slogged through the switchbacks and survived and now I set my sights on the steep climb up Deer Flat Road.

The mountain was quiet as I trudged ahead.  I couldn’t hear any birds, the wind was still and except for the occasional jogger sprinting by I had the trail to myself.  I cruised to the end of Deer Flat Road and arrived at the campground where the entrance to Juniper Trail is located.  This is always the worst part of the hike for me.  After two hours or so of hiking I am gassed and the last couple of hundred feet seems to be the biggest struggle.  I could feel each of the 49 years slowing me down.

Try and push as hard as I could as I stepped onto the summit parking lot and walked to the visitor center my GPS logged the climb at three hours and six minutes.  I have only broken the three-hour mark once in the dozen of summit climbs I have made.  So things seemed pretty much the same on the trail from 48 to 49 years old.

The view looking out from the summit had a thin cloud deck hovering over the nearby peaks and valleys.  Some might have found the view disappointing but the tapestry the clouds wove through the hillsides was stunning and worth the huffing and puffing up the trail. I spent about a half an hour at the summit to catch my breath before I headed down the mountain retracing my steps.

Arriving at my car I had spent five hours and eighteen minutes making the nearly 14-mile hike up and down the mountain that had me climb nearly 3,900 feet during the hike.  Tired, my feet sore and blistered I sipped a Gatorade as I looked back at my 49 birthday.

It may not have been filled with party revelers, music and dance but my quiet time on the mountain was all I really needed as I turned the pages on another year of my life.  Soon this year will pass and another chapter will begin.  I may not have the opportunity to mark the occasion with a hike but I can always remember it’s the quiet times and seeing those special moments on the trail makes any day of the year something special to celebrate.