Sunday 8/13/17
There are four entrances to Lassen Volcanic National Park. I booked the room in Susanville only because it’s the closest town to the northeastern entrance and east of the park. Unlike the last time I visited, I wouldn’t be making the drive staring into the morning sun. Life lesson learned.
Upon arrival in the park the day before, I discovered Hwy 36 had some long delays west of the park due to construction. So, as an added bonus, I missed all that.
The day was going to be a long one, so I was up and out around 6:30A. Breakfast was a Cliff Bar and a coffee as I drove out of Susanville. On the outskirts of town I picked up Hwy 44 for the thirty mile drive to the park entrance. The turnoff was well marked and the six miles of gravel road to the trailhead was a breeze, albeit a dusty one.
I supplemented my Cliff Bar with an apple and started down the trail. The first 1.3 miles was along a path of fine black gravel. No surprise considered the lava field alongside the trail. The lava field ends as you’d expect with the base of the volcano.
This one erupted sometime in the 1600’s. There’s a trail up one side and down the other. And yes it’s as steep as it looks. In addition, it’s all loose volcanic rocks, so it’s slow going.
How steep you ask? That's the trail in the foreground. In the background is Lassen Peak. I hiked up it's side the last time I was here and enjoyed the challenge of hiking up a snowy mountain trail. I could have revisited that trail, but chose to do something different. As I climbed the side of the cinder cone I had many regrets of my choice. It seemed for every four feet I would slip back one. It made for slow going, but the view from the top was worth it. To make it official, I dusted off my protractor. It's 35 degrees.
I finally made it to the top and was greeted by a rather cool, welcoming breeze. I ditched my trekking poles and pack, dumped the gravel from my boots and just took it all in.
To the south of me was the large lava field I had hiked past. To the west of me was a place they call the Painted Dunes. They're not actually sand dunes. They just look that way. In actuality it's colored gravel.
There was a trail down into the base of the volcano’s cone. I’ve climbed down into a few over the years. Been there, done that. I didn’t climb down into this one. Instead, I pondered which trail to take downwards.
The trail on the back side of the volcano looped around over the painted dunes, so I chose that way down. Thank goodness for the trekking poles. The trail down was just as steep as the one going up. Unlike the loose gravel on the other trail, this was loose stones and it made for an interesting trip down. I was leading with the poles and watching every step of the way.
From the base of the trail I had numerous choices. I chose to hike further south and do the loop trail around Snag Lake. It was a little over a mile to the lake, with the lava field an ever present companion on my left.
This is the northern end of Snag Lake, formed by the lava flow coming to a halt and blocking drainage. It was about a mile to the southern end of the lake. My plan was to reassess my plans at the trail juncture at the base of the lake. I could add another mile and a half to another lake, turn around or hike back along the eastern side of the lake.
The trail around Snag Lake would eventually take be around the southern tip of the lake, At the trail juncture I had the choice to continue and add another two and a half miles to my journey by visiting another lake, or taking the trail that would eventually bring me back to the eastern shore of Snag Lake. I decided to forego the extra lake and continue on the loop.
A quarter of a mile back up the trail, the map indicated a bridge over the stream. It didn’t indicate the bridge being out. I really didn’t need to see this. BY now you know water crossings aren’t exactly my forte. Yeah, I could have hiked in the snow.
So, I shoved my camera inside my pack just in case and scouted my choices. If I crouched down I could still use my poles for extra balance crossing that tree. I could do this. As it turned out, this was just a warm up for the surprise I had much further up the trail.
Back on solid ground again and suddenly feeling much better, I started walking north, back towards the trailhead, seven miles away. The first stretch stayed close to the lakeshore.
At the head of the lake the trail headed inward to some rolling hills through the forest. That's the lava flow and cinder cone from earlier.
The sign at the next trail junction said a mile and a half to the parking lot. Whoo hoo! The celebration turned out to be a little premature. But, the water break was welcome.
With .9 miles to go I came to a sign. If I kept going straight it was 1.4 miles via Bathtub and Coy Lakes. If I went left it was .9 miles via the “Lakeshore Trail.” Well, I could have cross on the conveniently larger downed tree. But, that wall of lava rock came right up to the lakeshore. I didn’t see any trail on the other side and didn’t feel like climbing those rocks.
So, I resigned myself to the extra half mile. My body was already aching at this point, but I had little choice. I did find the sign indicating the stream crossing. Once again there was no bridge, just a tree. Unlike the earlier one, this one was partially rotten and soft underfoot. This was not going to be fun. Plus, there were those knots to step around. Joy. I took it slowly and made it across without incident, though a few chunks of the tree did come off along the way.
Unlike the last crossing, I didn’t get much of an emotional lift from this one, Though the last crossing was met with a park service bridge made from a log sliced lengthwise.
The last half mile of the day was just putting one foot in front of the other and trudging onwards. I didn’t have the energy to even walk down to the lakes. I just took a few shots from the trail and moved on.
Fourteen miles after starting this journey, I finally made it back to the car. I took my boots off and lay across the backseat letting them breathe.
By the time I had worked my way back to Susanville, all I wanted was a hot shower, a light dinner and a cold beer. I knew just the place. I had passed the Pioneer Pub on my way out of town and figured it would be perfect. I wasn’t taking into account that it was Sunday. The only places open near the motel were the fast foot joints and the Mexican place next door. Fortunately, the IGA grocery three doors down had a deli. The chicken sandwich fit the bill.
Coming Up on Day 4
Out of the blue... a subway sign
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