la chanson de ma vie: Wintertime on Grasshopper

Ribbons of sunlight are woven between the trees, yet little warmth reaches the ground. We huddle close for a group photo, clearly overdressed for our day. It seems I'm physically incapable of dressing properly for early morning adventures. I want to retain the warmth of my cozy bed and so I keep piling on the layers until it feels the same. This is the main reason I'm toting around a larger pack: to store the excessive amount of clothing I'm sure to shed before we're to the top.

Rachel C. photo.

Our day begins with a steep uphill. There's never a gradual warmup when it comes to Grasshopper. An unrelenting fifteen to twenty-five percent grade begins immediately. To my surprise, it takes several miles before I shed my first layer. Maybe I did do something right this time?

For being a lifelong local, it's surprising that Rachel has been to the top only once. It's a grueling fourteen mile hike, but she's never been afraid of mileage. After months of describing the breathtaking view to the top, I finally convinced her to go in January. It was wet and cold. The views were nonexistent. I didn't think she'd want to go again in the wintertime and risk all that climbing for more clouds. But today was finally the day. The crisp winter day promised few clouds and sunshine.

The view on our visit in January.

After Lanore heard that we were going on an adventure without her, she asked her boss about taking the day off, then called in for a work sub. I love it!

The three of us climb through the never-ending forest, made of small groves of upland redwood trees scattered throughout a mountainside of tan oak. Since all three of us are nursing sore spots, we took the mileage slowly and visit along the way, talking about holiday plans.

One thing I like about winter in the park is how different it sounds. One would expect winter to be quiet, as if the land were sleeping, but not here. Winter in this area is loud. Rushing streams pour from every gully, every little dip in the land. Summertime sees no rain, so the land slurps the water in through huge gulps in the winter to make up for it. The year round streams are few, swelling into great rivers and change from clear to gray as massive amounts of silt travel downstream.

My tummy begins to rumble about a mile from the top. I must not be alone because our conversation has turned to favorite local restaurants. We share our lists and make notes of places we haven't tried, but apparently should.

The canopy grows shorter and as we pass through a break in the trees, we receive the first sunshine of the day! Yippee! Soon the lookout tower comes into view. Rachel spots it first and is surprised by how far away it is visible. The panoramic views are a treat to us all.

No matter how many times I come up here (my fifth this year?), I never tire of it. Today, we can spot the weather radar on a hilltop thirty miles away and can almost make out the ocean, again thirty miles away, but in another direction.

We huddle next to the tower to avoid the wind, pulling out snacks as we settle in. Each of us has brought something different and by the time everything is set out, we've got quite the spread. I brought an Epic Bar and some of the homemade Seven Layer Bars my mom sent me. Lanore has cheese and crackers. Rachel brought salted edamame. Summit snacks always taste the best. It must be the views that season them so well!

Snacktime! Rachel C. photo.

After we've devoured our feast, we head back down the way we came. To warm up a bit, we begin jogging. Three miles down the mountain and we're warmed up again and at a trail junction. We debate adding a couple miles by taking the longer, more scenic route back. Just as the words leave my lips, they're nodding in agreement. It never takes much arm twisting with these two ladies.

The trail descends at a very gentle grade as it weaves back and forth down the mountainside. I love watching the forest change as the trail gets closer to the flats. The forest transitions back to redwoods, small ones at first, until it is entirely comprised of old growth trees. The canopy towering some three hundred feet over us, the forest floor is once again dark and cold. Just as a chill sets in, we are back at the car, where warm booties, snacks, and the car heater await.