Mount Gould Sojourn

Would you be brave (or foolish) enough to take a journey with this motley crew?  If so, than follow us on our journey to the top of Mount Gould, which occurred over thirty years ago.  The humble author of this blog is the character on the extreme left, in his more *vibrant* days.  Actually, these fellows turned out in later life to be a veterinarian, a physician, a respected music producer, an architect, and some fellow that I heard was last seen furiously writing blog posts somewhere in the Ozarks ;)

Mount Gould is a moderately high (13005′ elevation) peak in the John Muir Wilderness area of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.  It lies within the bounds of Kings Canyon National Park in California.  The route to the top of Mount Gould takes you from the trail head area in Onion Valley on the eastern flank of the Sierras, through beautiful mountain scenery on your way along the Kearsarge Pinnacles, and ultimately to the craggy peak called Mount Gould.  Here is a photo of our group gathered around the campfire in Onion Valley as we acclimate to the elevation change and prepare for our climb to come.

If you thought that we were huddled by the fire for warmth, you would be wrong.  It turned out that the mosquitoes were extremely pesky that evening, and the only comfort was to cover up from head to toe and stay close to the smokey, sooty fire for protection.  The next day we hiked along the rugged Kearsarge Pinnacles area on our way to the base of the ridge leading up to Mount Gould. 

As we gained elevation and ventured further into the High Sierras, we began to encounter snow on the ground and in the trees.  Finding a spot to set up camp was pretty easy – you certainly didn’t need to worry about where to pitch your tent, as the entire surrounding landscape was blanketed by a soft carpet of snow.  As long as you stay out of any avalanche pathway you are safe and secure.  It is off to bed early in the evening, as we have a strenuous hike awaiting us in the morning.

When we arise early the next morning, we assess the first leg of the hike.

We will begin our ascent by following the ridge you see in the photo above.  We plan to switchback across the snow-covered slope before us, ending up on the crest of the ridge at the far left in the photo above.  From there the plan is to follow the ridge line as much as possible on our way up to Mount Gould.

Here you can see what is involved in this trek.  The climbing is not technical at all, just a slow but steady plodding up the snow covered slope toward the first goal we had set, which was the ridge line above us.  Eventually, we arrived at the top of the ridge, and were greeted by the following sight –  

In this photo you can see Mount Gould, just to the right of center.  We are still quite a distance away from our goal, and we have lots of snow and rock to traverse before we arrive at our intended destination.  It is a test of fortitude and desire more than skill or daring to climb this sort of peak in the winter, but if you plan properly, and stick to your plans, than you will eventually reach the top, as we did here –

That is your humble (and tired) author you see at the top of Mount Gould.  And how did he obtain this picture?  By sending fellow mountaineer Chris up an adjacent rock to snap some photos, as seen here (hiding behind a nasty fingerprint) –

So now we have been successful in our attempt to scale Mount Gould, but the REAL fun is just about to begin.  It has taken us well over 6 hours to make our ascent of Mount Gould, and now we plan to make it back to base camp in less than 1 hour.  And just how do we intend to do this?  By using a technique called the “Glissade”.  The first step in a glissade descent is to don your trusty nylon rain suit.  This will act as a slick surface for your body, which you are soon to propel down the snow-covered slopes as fast as you can, using only your ice axe as a rudder and your ice axe as your brakes (via a technique called an ice-axe arrest).

In this photo you can see the chute that we chose to glissade down the mountain crest.  On the way up, this section might have taken 1-2 hours to climb.  On the way down, thanks to the glissade technique, it took just a few fun and wild minutes.  From this point we can turn around, and now looking down the mountain again, this is what we saw.

All that remained between us and our base camp was this long, steep, snowy section of mountain that was just ideal for a joyous glissade.  We made it back to base camp, tired, a little wet, and very happy campers.  After a good nights sleep, we hiked back down to Onion Valley where we encountered –

 

This post could be considered an update to the previous Flashback Friday post.  Over at Pure Florida there is a surfer guy who expressed an interest in the woody shown in the background of a couple of the pictures I had posted.  Had I known, I would have featured a good photo of the vehicle, so Florida Cracker, this is for you.

This is a 1946 Ford Super Deluxe Woody Station Wagon.  To be more accurate, it is a highly modified 1946 Ford Super Deluxe Woody Station Wagon, unlike what you would have purchased from your local Ford dealer back in 1946. This was one of the finest regularly driven customized woodies I have ever seen.

Prior to the mid 1930’s, wood was a more economical material to use in the fabrication of automobiles than steel.  Many vehicles utilized wood in the chassis framework as a structural component, upon which steel body assemblies would be built.  Eventually, a small number of automobiles began to shed portions of the steel body in favor of all wood exposed body panels.  Besides the material cost considerations, there was another dynamic at work.  Prior to common adaptation of the automobile as our standard mode of transportation, this country traveled by horse-drawn carriage.  As the automobile gained in affordability and popularity, there were many craftsmen skilled in the methods of woodworking used to manufacture the carriages that lost their livelihood.  By transferring their skills to the automobile industry, many regained employment building the wooden body parts for this new breed of vehicle which we now call a woody.

The original derivation of the term station wagon has interesting roots.  Prior to World War 2, there was no such thing as common commercial air travel.  Substantially all long distance travel in America was done by train.  Passengers needed transportation from hotels and private residences to the local train station to embark on their journeys.  Cabbies, or hacks, began to alter regular automobiles by rebuilding and extending the rear trunk sections to hold the large amounts of baggage that was being hauled to the train station.  This is where the term “station wagon” comes from.  They were also referred to as “depot hacks”, but this term did not stick, so we are left with today’s usage of station wagon.

There is much nostalgia regarding the woody as THE wheels for surfers in America.  Contrary to common recollection, the woody was originally chosen by surfers for two simple reasons.  First, they were cheap in the late fifties and early sixties.  While some authentic wood paneled vehicles were produced after WWII (including this 1946 Ford), it was increasingly more economical to produce vehicles entirely from steel.  Since domestic automobile production came to a virtual standstill during the war years, it can be inferred that most woodies were produced prior to 1941.  Therefore, by the late fifties and early sixties, most of the wooden autos still in existence were at least 20 years old.  If you have ever seen an unmaintained woody, you will understand that in 1960, prior to their nostalgia induced popularity, a woody could be purchased for a paltry sum of money.

The second reason that the woody became popular amongst surfers was the space available in the rear to transport their surfboards.  For those familiar with the surf culture, you will know that surfing is a nomadic sport, in the sense that gung-ho surfers are always venturing to different spots seeking the “perfect wave”.  It is not uncommon for a surfer to start his surfing day at one location, and through the course of the day, travel up and down the coast searching for the most challenging wave sets to tackle (and the prettiest surfer girls to flirt with).  The large space in the rear of the woody station wagon was perfectly suited to the task of hauling surfboards.  The flip up tailgates associated with the woodies allow the surfer to quickly throw many boards in the back of the vehicle and travel to the next venue.  It is interesting to note that the second most popular surfer vehicle of the past was the Volkswagen bus, for just the same reasons; they were inexpensive and they could hold many surfboards easily.

It is just a guess, but from my observations along the California coastline during the course of many years, it would seem that very few woodies are still being used by surfers.  The nostalgic popularity of these vehicles has probably made the cost of a classic woody prohibitive to most surfers today.

In the summer of 2000 Retta and I took a road trip to see the old growth redwoods along the northern California coastline.  In this northwestern part of the state there is an abundance of protected lands including Redwood National Park,  Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, Del Norte Coast Redwoods SP, and Jedediah Smith Redwoods SP.  These parks are all managed cooperatively by the National Park Service and the California Department of Parks and Recreation.

One treasure that lies within this region is the  under-visited Prairie Creek Redwood State Park.  Besides the majestic coastal redwoods (the tallest living organism), this park contains two gems.  The first is a place called Fern Canyon, which is a lush, green canyon filled with ferns (aren’t I perceptive?).

Fern Canyon is a beautiful place to spend a morning or afternoon enjoying the ambiance that only a fern canyon can provide.  As an added treat, in order to get to the trail head that takes you into the canyon, you have to drive along a stretch of land called Gold Bluffs Beach, which offers absolutely spectacular vistas of the coast and ocean.  But the real draw for photographers and nature lovers are the elk which inhabit the beach area.

It’s funny how you can travel to a destination in order to see the expected sights, only to find something else entirely unique and unexpected.  This is what happened to us on this particular trip.  As we were driving along the Redwood Highway, we found an unoccupied rest area along a beautiful river. Pulling into the rest area for a some R&R, Retta and I got out our folding chairs and settled in to enjoy a little snack.  Not long after, we noticed a truck parking next to ours.  At the time, our truck was a 2000 Ford, shiny and brand new, looking as if it had just come off the showroom floor (which it had).  The Ford truck which had pulled in beside ours was about a half-century older than our truck, but it looked shinier and newer than ours did!

Before long another vehicle enter the rest area, this time a sparkling Willys.  I believe it was a 1950 Willys Jeepster Phaeton, and it was immaculate.

Being a car-guy at heart, I had to investigate these vehicles.  As I got up from my chair to walk on over to the parking lot, I saw several more vehicles enter the lot, each one more exotic than the last.  I talked to a gentleman who had just jumped out of this set of wheels –

He explained to me that this was a vintage and customized car club out for their monthly weekend excursion.  Part of the rules of the club are that all members (which in this case are the cars, and not the people) must be ambulatory, and that to remain in the club, each vehicle must participate in at least 6 such outings per year, or be put on probation (whatever that entailed).

Before long, the entire lot was filled with all manner of unique and interesting vehicles, most of which I cannot identify with any precision, so I will not attempt to.  But here are some more of them.

You can’t see it in the last picture, but the entire rear of this vehicle (I think a modified business coupe) has been altered to accommodate the massive 20″ wide rear tires!  There were probably about 40 vehicles in total that day, and the best part of it all was that Retta and I were treated to a “personal” car show.  As you may well imagine, each vehicle owner was eager to talk about their buggy, and there were many interesting tales that were told.  Alas, I only wish that I had taken notes, so I could remember all of the details.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way

In the early 1970’s I owned a Toyota Landcruiser (“Toy”) that I came to believe was jinxed.  While this vehicle brought me plenty of pleasure in it’s ability to allow me the freedom to explore rugged terrain, it also had it’s share of tempermental moments.   For instance, once on a trip to Oregon to visit my friends Craig and his lovely wife Linda, the three of us decided to explore a slough off the Willamette river.  Along this slough, there were numerous shallow puddles of standing water that we wound around and motored through.  The shimmering water in the afternoon sunlight was an enchanting sight to behold.  So much so that I lost focus on what I was doing and drove directly into a deep hole filled with water.  Darn jinxed Toy!  “Well, this is no big problem” I thought to myself.  We can just back out of this measly little puddle.  I believe Craig just chuckled to himself as he hopped out of the Landcruiser to snap a picture.  Linda was apparently confident at this point in time, at least as far as I can tell from the picture below:

Putting the transfer case into granny-low gear, I attempted to back the Toy out of the puddle.  We were sitting on a silty surface, however, and the vehicle tires promptly dug themselves into the mud.  Darn jinxed Toy!  “Well, this is no big problem” I thought to myself.  We can just get out the high-lift jack, jack the Toy up very high on the jack, and then push the Toy over to the side, thus putting the tires on a more solid footing.  I believe Craig just chuckled to himself as he hopped into the water to help me along with this scheme.

This incident occurred over thirty years ago, and so my recollection of the exact events that transpired from here on may be a little rusty, but I think it went something like this.  Craig and I spend hours and hours trying out various schemes and methods in our attempt to free the Toy.  I recall Craig doing a lot of chuckling in the process.  I recall myself uttering a few curses.  And I recall that we were totally unsuccessful in freeing the Toy.  I had managed to flood the engine with water however, and now we had no power.  Darn jinxed Toy!  “Well, this is no big problem”  I thought to myself.  Actually, “this is now a problem” is what I really thought!

In this part of Oregon, at least back at that time, logging was in full swing.  Fortunately for me and the Toy, Craig pointed out that there was a saw mill located nearby.  It was now near midnight, and we figured (actually, Craig figured) that if we hurried on over to the mill, we might find someone to help us out of our predicament, as the mill shift change occurred at midnight.  Sure enough, we found a man with a four-wheel drive pickup sporting a winch (not an unusual sight in Oregon) who agreed to help us.  Soon, he and his winch had the Toy back up on solid ground.  This kind and helpful man even towed my now non-operating vehicle to a local service station, where we parked it for the night.

The following morning, Craig gave me a ride to the service station, where I learned from the mechanic that yes, he could drain and flush the engine, transmission, transfer case, front and rear differentials, but that it would be very costly.  Darn jinxed Toy!

The following year, while out exploring in the California desert with some friends, we had a little competition to see whether my Landcruiser F-40 could outperform their Jeep CJ5 over a rugged desert trail.  Up and down the hills and ravines we drove (in a designated ORV area, I should note) pushing our vehicles to the limit.  My Toy performed admirably in this battle of the 4WD’s, that is, up until the very last hill on the trail.  I was so thrilled over the prospect of a good showing amongst my Jeep driving friends that I lost focus once again, and drove over a large rock that I shouldn’t have.  My vehicle became high-centered on a boulder, and I was once again stuck.  Dang rocks!   Darn jinxed Toy!

Later that same summer, I again headed up north, this time to the west coast province of British Columbia, where I was keen to do some hiking.  Along the way, in Washington state, I met a nice couple who were very interested in my Landcruiser.   After much discussion about the pros and cons of owning such a vehicle, we decided to do some day hikes together.  When they learned that I was headed towards the Canadian Rockies, they offered me the use of a cabin they owned in BC.  They told me that they had built a bridge over a river that runs alongside the cabin, and that the hiking from that point was excellent.  I took them up on their offer, and so they proceeded to draw a map directing me to their remote cabin in the woods.  When I arrived at the cabin, this is what I found –

 

Parking the Toy, I investigated this old dilapidated structure.  From inside, you could see rays of daylight streaming through the roof.  There were all manner of creepy-crawlers on the floor and on the walls.  Droppings from vermin was everywhere.  This was not the type of accommodations I had expected, and I refused to stay in such quarters.  Exploring out back, I found what appeared to be some type of old storage structure, or maybe an old hog shed.  Whatever it was, it was clean inside and had a functional roof, so it became the base camp for my hiking.

Even though the cabin that the couple had told me about had not lived up to my expectations, the hiking that was available beginning across their bridge was some of the best I have ever encountered. 

After spending a week hiking and camping out in the hog shed, I decided that it was time to push onward in my journey.  As I loaded up the vehicle with my camping gear, I noticed a large puddle of fluid underneath the front of the Landcruiser.  Getting down on my hands and knees to investigate, I discovered that some critter had chewed through the lower radiator hose, thereby releasing all of the coolant from the radiator.  The vehicle was again non-operational, and I was stuck far from any village or town.  Darn jinxed Toy!  “Well, this is no big problem” I thought to myself.  Having the foresight to pack the always-essential roll of duct tape in the tool box, I proceeded to wrap the damaged hose with tape, fill the radiator with water from the river, and limp on over to the nearest town, where proper repairs were undertaken.

It was not until years later, after I had sold that Landcruiser, that I finally realized what wonderful experiences that Toy had given me.  And looking back, I can now see that I was the cause of most of my travails with that vehicle, not the vehicle itself.  So the lessons learned are A) look to yourself as the cause of your follies, and B) drive a Jeep instead of a Toyota!