The Merced River Trail

The knees of the old hills were spread with green chenille quilts. Far above them stretched a pale blue and gauzy sky.

Here I was, tromping along a trail built by gold miners in 1849, giddy with the sight of wildflowers and a rushing river below me.  However, back in 1849 the energy and industry of a few thousand gold seekers was phenomenal, unparalleled.  But, it was short lived; I saw their water flume lying in heaps and tatters as I hiked, and all but the flat road they engineered in ruins.

The miners built things in rugged mountains that were home to magnificent rampaging rivers, landslides, blizzards, summer drought and stinging insects.  They constructed difficult things like railroad tracks and beds, bridges, flumes, pumping stations, diversion canals and trestles.  They tore all through the mountains and hills, digging, blasting and dredging like madmen, all driven crazy by the lure of gold.  Those men were tough, determined, and persisted with ridiculously primitive tools and equipment.

I saw a different kind of gold today -- nature's gold -- millions of flowers that sometimes looked like a delicate organza film on the towering hillsides but up close became clouds of petite petals on waving stems.  Probably the thousands of forty-niners back then noticed flowers in lush spring blooms similar to today's, but I would bet they didn't pay them much attention unless they were homesick for a sweetheart or wife they'd left back in New England.

The Merced River Trail is a popular trail easily accessible by the public.  It follows the railroad bed that was built in gold rush days where a fat little single-gauge train ran.  Across the rushing stream, on the opposite bank, traces of the old flume built by the men back in the day are still visible but lie in ruins; nature has torn it all apart with rockslides, wind and snow storms.

Cloaked on both flanks by wildflowers and dramatic rock outcroppings, it was a challenge to keep eyes on the trail at times.  The trail is mostly flat and ranges from single-lane road to narrow hiking trail, with no drinking water or toilet facilities available along its length.  Access to the trail is reached after driving or mountain biking along a dirt road that connects with the Briceburg Visitors Center on Hwy 140, 15 miles east of Mariposa.  We walked from the beginning of the trail to the confluence of the main stream with its tributary, The North Fork, a round-trip walk of about five miles.

The gold rush exploded along the Merced in 1849 and for a few years afterward, but it died just as quickly.  Hobby miners try their luck at panning still, but when faced with wildflowers in such abundance as I saw today, I felt far luckier than the men back in the gold rush and didn't do nearly the work to enjoy my riches.

Yosemite for a Day

From Mariposa, the road climbs to just below 3,000 ft at Midpine Grade and then descends immediately down and around many curves and bends to the deep and narrow confines of the Merced River and its tributary, the South Fork of the Merced.  It's rugged terrain, steeply pitched, prone to giant burns in dry years; the worst on record just two years ago burned for two or three weeks and scorched thousands of acres.

We had an opportunity to tour a spectacular private home overlooking the South Fork.  It sits far above the stream like an eagle in its aerie, affording a view of the backcountry that was just amazing.  The slopes leading down to the river were strewn with vivid orange poppies, mustard, composites and the oddly named blue dick.  Redbud trees, dressed in a deep lavender, accented the road edge and digger pines that look ghostly and pale amid scrub and blue oak-covered embankments above the river dominated views in every direction in lower altitudes.  The home is very unusual in design for the area, with almost no 90-degree angles, a seamless use of indoor and outdoor space, but is off limits to public view.  There is a very beautiful hiking trail that begins at Savage Trading Post and heads up along a steep flank above the South Fork for five miles.  Beginning now and lasting for the next two months, this trail is one of the top ten in the country for spectacular beauty and wildflower viewing.  Highly recommended by our hosts, but not possible this trip.  Maybe next time.

After a warm good-bye, we piled into the car and drove up to Yosemite National Park where we spent the rest of the day admiring Bridalveil Falls, Yosemite Falls, the Ahwahnee Lodge  (a wonderful treat for the eyes and tongue), The Ansel Adams Gallery and points along the way.  At this point, the Merced River is not at full spring run-off, but the major falls are all bounding white, and easy to see.  The meadows and trees ares till brown and dry; no buds or green in evidence just yet.

This was the first somewhat busy day in the park for the year - the beginning of Spring Break - so the favorite tourist photo-op sites were thronged with visitors but nothing compared to summer weekends.  I noticed hundreds of jagged broken branches on oaks and pines, downed wood lying all around in jumbled heaps; it's all damage sustained after a heavy wet snowfall in January that was just too much for overloaded branches.

After a full day of walking, we were footsore and tired.  With our "dogs" barking and appetites starting to speak up again, we said good-bye to the jewel of the Sierra and drove quietly back to Mariposa for dinner and a good night's rest.

Mariposa Stopover

Back in the saddle again, on my way to Yosemite National Park to celebrate my birthday.  Stopping off in Mariposa in the Sierra Foothills on Hwy 140, it's a soft day showered with wildflowers.  Spring is just over the horizon, swelling up from the warming soil and flowing to the tips of the now-gray and dormant trees.  I've gotten a glimpse of the high Sierra in the hazy distance, cloaked in white snow and towering above everything else, regal, abiding.

Mariposa is a bustling but small community, conservative in attitude and political orientation.  It's one of the gateway towns that supplies the national park with workers and supplies.  This will be a brief trip to the park, but any visit is memorable no matter what time of the year.  The pleasant mix of showers and sun all this late winter is urging the buds in the oaks and chaparral in the hills.   I'll have to go up over the next grade and down another to get to the Merced River, which should be in full flow at this time, and I'm getting excited to see it.