This is the last picture in this post - it's our view to the west overlooking the Klamath River with Mt Ashland in the far distance.Sunday we started at the state line where Hwy 97 crosses into CA. There’s an interesting wayside there with a monument and some history about the border between the two states at mile point 93.
An older 1921 survey monument is a few feet away.
Our plan was to do the 15 miles west to the Klamath River and have Paul pick us up on the old wagon road called Topsy Grade Road. Topsy Grade was engineered in the 1880s and ran from K Falls to Yreka as the only all weather wagon route linking the Klamath basin with Northern California. Unfortunately, our timing and plans fell apart due to our first negative encounter with an individual or land owner in over 200 miles of hiking across properties, climbing fences, gates, corrals, thru refuges, showing up in the middle of the night on rancher’s doorsteps, driving across and into remote ranches and farms, and dealing with a whole host of individuals and businesses along the route.
We started west thru the hills and juniper forests initially along the old railroad track.
Found some initial monuments that dated from 1919 and noticed immediately that the state line here is strays significantly away from the 42d parallel. Mile point 94 was laid in 1981.There are places where it’s a ¼ mile off and counter to along most of the Oregon-Nevada border, California seems to enjoy the benefit of the additional acreage in this area. The actual, surveyed border is north of the 42d – I wonder what they were drinking? The terrain was hilly with fairly thick juniper and pine forests. We encountered our first locals at a point in a valley where their driveway ran along the line and bisected their home site and properties. The son met us in the driveway as we walked up and we introduced ourselves as the father came out. They were very helpful and happy to let us trudge on by their home and thru their forested, rocky pasture. However, they suggested we might want to go around their neighbor to the west a mile or so the other side of the next ridgeline. The father said that they had very little contact with those neighbors and didn’t know them at all other than he believed the rancher operated a martial arts studio in town. We said that we hadn’t encountered anyone that wasn’t friendly and helpful yet, so we’d take our chances especially since the terrain would be challenging at best to circumnavigate their large ranch. We headed on into the forest and rocky ground until getting to the top of the next ridge over looking what we now know to be “Hidden Valley”. Wish I had gotten some better pictures of the valley, but I figured I’d get them looking back from the next ridge as we crossed at a high saddle we could see the state line went thru.
We noted the house and barn and two large pastures with a road bisecting them along the state line and started down the ridge. We were startled to hear gun shots and paused near the top till we could discern that there were two shooters along our planned track shooting at varmints in both north and south directions. It’s not unusual at all for folks such as these to set up on their pickup truck and try to dispatch some of the marmots and ground squirrels that infest their pasture lands. We figured on walking up to them and introducing ourselves since we couldn’t go around without entering their field of fire to the north or south. As we cleared the forest at the base of the ridge we picked up the road and started towards them. The apparent matriarch of the family hailed us from the second deck of a very nice log home before we got within shouting distance of the shooters, so we turned to walk the 75 yards up their driveway to introduce ourselves to her. It was clear from the outset of our conversation we were not going anywhere on their property as far as she was concerned. I tried to be my most diplomatic, after making our introductions and explaining we just wanted to proceed on foot the last ¼ mile across their lands past the folks in the pickup – but she wouldn’t have any of it. When I told her it was the first time in 200 miles of hiking anyone had refused us anything including simply allowing us to walk across their land. She remarked with a small laugh that 200 miles was quite a lot of hiking, but continued to say we needed to follow the road south to their gate and get off their property. Told her we were both public employees, not carrying any firearms and would be out of sight not to return in a mater of minutes if she’d let us pass, but she insisted and so we wheeled around and headed south a half mile to their gate. This is looking back into their valley.
Never did learn their names although I kept hoping the two males would pursue us to talk as they had clearly seen us in our bright yellow and orange. Sadly, I noted a Marine Corps decal on their No Trespassing sign on the ranch’s gate. I’m sure I could have invoked a Semper Fi or something and gotten a more reasonable reception from the males of their clan. The guys didn’t follow us in their truck, however so we plotted an alternate track around their property and over the next ridgeline. This took us several extra miles out of the way and I backtracked a couple of times to shuttle our car a few miles further west as the day wore on. Once we felt we were within striking distance of the Klamath River we parked it for good in the forest on an old logging road at the line. We did manage to confuse ourselves on which side of the 42d we should be on a couple of times. The plan had been to text Paul with an ETA in the bottom of the canyon before we stepped off the rim and down the 1000 foot descent to the river and Topsy Grade Road. After the un-neighborly folks were 7-8 miles behind us we were crossing a fairly open and flat forest which made the traveling pretty fun.
Passed some old homestead sites, meadows, and small streams.
Interesting places where the fence had been built and rebuilt several times over probably the last 6-7 decades including many places such as the picture where trees had grown around the barb wire.
At about 11 miles in at mp 104 we started down towards the river and had to cross a steep canyon at a junction of two streams before they dropped off below.
Used a log to cross the side stream easier than the first one. I slipped off a rock and wet my socks in the first stream crossing. The views into the Klamath River canyon were beautiful, but we were running out of daylight and I started calling Paul.
I had good service and texted him we were looking at a 7PM show on the road below as we skirted to the west along the high canyon wall initially.
The grades were steep and we were encounter a little more brush and oaks at this point, so I later texted Paul it would be closer to 7:30 which he acknowledged.
Dwane struck a pose on the way down.
It was slow going along the steep hill side until we found a finger with a little less slope to start down. We could see Mt Ashland to the west as we descended into the canyon (1st Pic in this post at top).
We noted the house and barn and two large pastures with a road bisecting them along the state line and started down the ridge. We were startled to hear gun shots and paused near the top till we could discern that there were two shooters along our planned track shooting at varmints in both north and south directions. It’s not unusual at all for folks such as these to set up on their pickup truck and try to dispatch some of the marmots and ground squirrels that infest their pasture lands. We figured on walking up to them and introducing ourselves since we couldn’t go around without entering their field of fire to the north or south. As we cleared the forest at the base of the ridge we picked up the road and started towards them. The apparent matriarch of the family hailed us from the second deck of a very nice log home before we got within shouting distance of the shooters, so we turned to walk the 75 yards up their driveway to introduce ourselves to her. It was clear from the outset of our conversation we were not going anywhere on their property as far as she was concerned. I tried to be my most diplomatic, after making our introductions and explaining we just wanted to proceed on foot the last ¼ mile across their lands past the folks in the pickup – but she wouldn’t have any of it. When I told her it was the first time in 200 miles of hiking anyone had refused us anything including simply allowing us to walk across their land. She remarked with a small laugh that 200 miles was quite a lot of hiking, but continued to say we needed to follow the road south to their gate and get off their property. Told her we were both public employees, not carrying any firearms and would be out of sight not to return in a mater of minutes if she’d let us pass, but she insisted and so we wheeled around and headed south a half mile to their gate. This is looking back into their valley.
Never did learn their names although I kept hoping the two males would pursue us to talk as they had clearly seen us in our bright yellow and orange. Sadly, I noted a Marine Corps decal on their No Trespassing sign on the ranch’s gate. I’m sure I could have invoked a Semper Fi or something and gotten a more reasonable reception from the males of their clan. The guys didn’t follow us in their truck, however so we plotted an alternate track around their property and over the next ridgeline. This took us several extra miles out of the way and I backtracked a couple of times to shuttle our car a few miles further west as the day wore on. Once we felt we were within striking distance of the Klamath River we parked it for good in the forest on an old logging road at the line. We did manage to confuse ourselves on which side of the 42d we should be on a couple of times. The plan had been to text Paul with an ETA in the bottom of the canyon before we stepped off the rim and down the 1000 foot descent to the river and Topsy Grade Road. After the un-neighborly folks were 7-8 miles behind us we were crossing a fairly open and flat forest which made the traveling pretty fun.
Passed some old homestead sites, meadows, and small streams.
Interesting places where the fence had been built and rebuilt several times over probably the last 6-7 decades including many places such as the picture where trees had grown around the barb wire.
At about 11 miles in at mp 104 we started down towards the river and had to cross a steep canyon at a junction of two streams before they dropped off below.
Used a log to cross the side stream easier than the first one. I slipped off a rock and wet my socks in the first stream crossing. The views into the Klamath River canyon were beautiful, but we were running out of daylight and I started calling Paul.
I had good service and texted him we were looking at a 7PM show on the road below as we skirted to the west along the high canyon wall initially.
The grades were steep and we were encounter a little more brush and oaks at this point, so I later texted Paul it would be closer to 7:30 which he acknowledged.
Dwane struck a pose on the way down.
It was slow going along the steep hill side until we found a finger with a little less slope to start down. We could see Mt Ashland to the west as we descended into the canyon (1st Pic in this post at top).PLAN C: Shortly after hitting the bottom of the canyon and Topsy Road right at 7:25PM Paul called us with bad news as we were resting our feet and contemplating having traveled 20+ miles to get credit for 15. Paul was blocked at the top of the Topsy Grade and couldn’t get past a large mud hole covering 75 yards of the roadway. We had a quick conference and determined we had no other choice but to walk to him. It was now sundown as we started up what we figured was a 3 plus mile hike up the historic road and side hill cut to the top of the canyon that we had just descended into with so much difficulty. We passed a herd of perhaps 20 deer in a meadow as darkness set in and we trudged on. Probably about 9:30 we passed through a side hill cut that is an engineering feat in and of itself as it was constructed in the 1880s. I can’t imagine wagons rolling up the grade and along the ledge and thru the side cut into a basalt rock cliff. We noted several abandoned cars that had been deposited over the cliff along the grade and remained wedged in trees a few hundred feet below the road bed before the light gave out. As we crested the top near a historic stage coach stop called the Topsy Site we oriented our selves at an intersection. To the south perhaps 2 miles was our car a half mile off the road into the woods, but Paul had said his vehicle GPS indicated he was only a short distance from the intersection- so we trudged on to the north in the dark. We had also failed to gas up as intended in the last town we’d gone through while doing all the shuttling, so we were concerned there wouldn’t be a station open when we went back through Doris, CA. After perhaps a mile or so in the dark and calling Paul to have him honk and flash his lights without being able to hear or see him, he conveyed some more bad news. His car GPS now couldn’t decide if he was 1 or 2 miles from the intersection. So, we likely could have just walked the same distance back to our car in the dark. Found him about 2 miles north on the road, loaded up, picked up a can of gas in K Falls, topped his mom’s Explore off, and headed back south on 97 to Doris and back up into the woods to retrieve our car. Managed to first make a wrong turn on the skid roads and waste a half hour, then try a short cut (My bad) and nearly get stuck in the mud before we found our car. We transferred our tired bodies and muddy clothes into the Saturn after adding a gallon of fuel to the tank and headed back to the motel in K Falls. Rolled into the room at 1:30 in the morning with a long tiring day planned next.
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