Trail Loops of Weaverville

Daylight was barely creeping into the air when we arrived at the trailhead. Matt had been wanting a trail running binge weekend since May, so what was one more trail run before heading to the coast? I was surprised to note that the air was cool enough that I actually needed a jacket. BWHAHA, Inland Summer, we've finally outsmarted you!

Last fall, Matt ran the Weaver Basin 30K on the trails above this historic mountain town. In everyone's race packets was a trail map. We stowed it away in our binder of trail and road maps, expecting we'd return. The going was a little tedious sorting through a web of unmarked trails. From what I could see on the map, the route we planned was supposed to go up...and up, and up.

So we went up. Fire and logging roads in California are insanely steep. Even a slow march sends my heart rate skyrocketing. They build them without switchbacks and some climb steadily at over a 25% grade, about as steep as their vehicles can handle the gravel roadway. The good thing about starting on an uphill is that you get it over with early on. The bad part about starting on an uphill is that there's no warmup and it feels like my lungs are being squeezed and ripped from my chest. Or it could be the forty linear and two vertical miles I dragged my body through over the past few days.

That's when the sun finally rose high enough in the sky and we crested the ridgeline. Angels sang and my body rejoiced. The views went from muted to vibrant and spectacular. Okay, maybe today would be fun after all.

The trail we had turned onto was a dilapidated access road to a water ditch and gold mine. Matt and I speculated what the raised roadway was used for in the past: train cars? A water pipeline? Service vehicles? Compared to our home on the coast where nature reclaims the land quickly, petrified remnants of a bygone infrastructure remained intact.

Views of the surrounding mountains came into view as we reached our next trail junction. I remembered back to October's race. I had asked the race director to point out the best spectator spot. We made sure to visit the road he had circled on the map. "This spot has spectacular views if you're up for the drive."

It was not disappointing. Panoramic views of Weaverville, Weaver Bally, and Trinity Lake came into view. The sluggish reluctance melted away from my mood. Matt smiled and looked over at me and my silly, euphoric grin, "Mountains look good on you, Honey."

That happy floating feeling soon disappeared as we arrived unexpectedly at the highway. I pulled out the map. Smeared into the sweat stain that managed to soak through a hole in the plastic bag I kept it in, was 0.7 miles, not the 3.7 miles I had originally read. How come I always figure out I took a wrong turn when I'm at the lowest possible point in the trail?

Matt and I reoriented ourselves on the map and of course, realized we were supposed to be halfway up the ridge we'd just dropped down. Grr. Erase happy feeling. Trail running is sometimes like this. It's like cuts and scrapes. It happens. You just have to have the proper bandages to fix it. In our case, that included having solid map reading skills.

I thought back to the night before as we climbed through the trees. I agreed to our early morning adventure after Matt promised both cool temperatures and Burger King. Normally, I'm not a fast food person, but when you've sweat gallons of water out of your body in 100F temps over a few days, all you can think about is salt. Salt salt salt. We just had to make it back to town before they stopped serving breakfast to get that Croissan'wich I had been thinking about all morning. Factoring in our wrong turn, we'd still make it.

Then we made another wrong turn which resembled a trail but was more for winter runoff than foot traffic. It was also missing from our map (we later learned our map was drawn before the trail system was expanded a year ago). We returned to that very familiar spot on the highway, just feet from where we had been two miles and three hundred feet of climbing ago. Matt suggested we give the trail another shot. Nope, nope nope nope nope, I thought to myself with each clap of my trail shoes on the pavement. We're taking the road back. No more going in circles. My hash browns, OJ, and sandwich were waiting for me.

Once confidence in our map was restored, we ventured onto the trail for the final two miles. At least these trails were marked with signs, we reasoned.

The pace quickened as we moved along the flat trail through a grassy area along the creek. We arrived back at the car just before 10AM. I took a quick rinse at the campground and headed for the salt. Breakfast was heavenly. I napped in the car while Matt drove home to the chilly coast. Just as I was beginning to sweat through my pillow, that familiar icy chill filtered through the car. Ahh, home.
------------
I don't like adding bonus miles, so I like to go back and figure out how I made my mistakes so I can learn from it. Here's where we went wrong:

Near top of photo: Musser Hill Rd. and Musser Hill Spur. We thought this would come three miles later than it did and totally missed it. If the map doesn't come waterproof, waterproof it yourself. Your sweaty hands will find a way to get through any little hole in the plastic bag.

Fun loop in center of photo: Our second wrong turn. We were supposed to keep going up to the top of the photo rather than on the trail that wasn't on our map (but you see it on the Garmin one). Note to self: Need new map, or draw this trail on the old one.