"Bridge of the Gods"

The Bridge of the Gods, which separates Oregon and Washington, was featured in the 2014 film 'Wild'. The steel bridge, constructed in 1926, sits beautifully amid the great trees and mountains of the Pacific Northwest. At least to me, the name and location holds an Odinic feel to it... the Norse Gods.... the Great North.


Bridge of the Gods

The Bridge of the Gods is a steel truss cantilever bridge that spans the Columbia River between Cascade Locks, Oregon, and Washington state near North Bonneville. It is approximately 40 miles (64 kilometers) east of Portland, Oregon, and 4 miles (6.4 km) upriver from the Bonneville Dam. It is a toll bridge operated by the Port of Cascade Locks.

The bridge was completed by Wauna Toll Bridge Company and opened in 1926 at a length of 1,127 feet (343 m). The higher river levels resulting from the construction of the Bonneville Dam required the bridge to be further elevated in 1940 and extended to its current length of 1,856 feet (565 m). The Columbia River Bridge Company of Spokane, Washington, acquired ownership of the bridge in 1953 for $735,000. The Port of Cascade Locks Commission now operates the bridge.

The bridge is named after the historic geologic feature also known as Bridge of the Gods.

The Pacific Crest Trail crosses the Columbia River on the Bridge of the Gods, and the lowest elevation of the trail is on this bridge.

View of 'Bridge of the Gods' Columbia river, Oregon/Washington State line

shikharp





Wild - Movie Review

Chris Stuckmann

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Wild (2014 film)

Wild is a 2014 American biographical drama film directed by Jean-Marc Vallée. The screenplay by Nick Hornby is based on Cheryl Strayed's 2012 memoir Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail. The film stars Reese Witherspoon as Strayed, alongside Laura Dern (as Strayed's mother), with Thomas Sadoski, Michiel Huisman and Gaby Hoffmann among several others in supporting roles.


Plot

In June 1995, despite a lack of hiking experience, recent divorcée Cheryl Strayed (Reese Witherspoon) leaves Minneapolis, Minnesota, to hike 1,100 miles of the 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail on a journey of self-discovery and healing.

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Storyline

With the dissolution of her marriage and the death of her mother, Cheryl Strayed has lost all hope. After years of reckless, destructive behavior, she makes a rash decision. With absolutely no experience, driven only by sheer determination, Cheryl hikes more than a thousand miles of the Pacific Crest Trail, alone. Wild powerfully captures the terrors and pleasures of one young woman forging ahead against all odds on a journey that maddens, strengthen, and ultimately heals her.

-- Spencer Higham

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I viewed this movie without any expectations. I'm not going to review the movie, which would be a difficult movie to review for various reasons. I just think that the loosely structured Pacific Crest Trail, as it was portrayed, provided an interesting backdrop for the film and the protagonist's journey and reflection. Just making it to the first stopover was important, and a milestone; and a symbolic milestone for someone starting to rebuild their life. I think the movie created renewed interest in this trail, the book, the Bridge of the Gods, and just for hiking itself.

Last evening at twilight, I went for a short hike. Having not hiked for awhile, I found it healing. I saw an owl flying during the daylight; a scene which I had never observed before. It was actually a light grayish color, different than the dark shadow that we may see at night. A new rustic style fence was constructed along a trail, and I was able to smell the cedar. Sometimes at certain spots, especially with fog obstructing the distance, it can feel momentarily feel like "the edge of forever." It was all a good remedy for a melancholy mood.

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The Eyes of the Wolf

 

In early Spring, while hiking, I observed something that I had never seen before. I saw two coyotes in the wild, approximately 20-25 yards away. Because they didn't seem to be very interested in me, I didn't feel any particular fear. It was more like awe. The first thing I noticed were their eyes, intense and glowing. These two looked quite a bit like wolves. They were surprisingly tall for coyotes, and very fleet in their movement. I think they were looking for brush rabbits, which are plentiful in those foothills.

Coyotes are not harmless. They have been known to drag off children. They should be respected and not taken lightly. Coyotes are native to North America, while DNA studies have shown that wolves are descendants of Eurasian timber wolves who crossed over onto this continent on sheets of ice from both east and west directions, thousands of years ago. They are similar animals, mainly just smaller in size.

Looking into their eyes left an impression on me. I don't feel as comfortable when hiking at twilight, much less after dark. At one point I made direct eye contact with one of them. I saw that wild look in its eyes, perhaps measuring me. If they had attacked, I would have had no defense. I couldn't outrun them. I had no weapon. There were no trees around. A very fearful thought. One interesting thought about many animals, including canines, is that they would be almost entirely harmless if their jaws were muzzled.

While hiking this past Friday evening, very heavy fog rolled in, which made it prematurely dark. Also, it was difficult to see more than thirty yards. After dark, I have often seen "eye shine" at the end of the beam of my flashlight. It never concerned me a lot because I always knew it was either a wildcat, raccoon, skunk, or a possum. Usually foxes keep a healthy distance. The other small animals stay in close range, as long as they can stay hidden.

On this evening, as I entered a wooded area, I started to see eye shine. It had gotten dark and very foggy. As I made my way down the narrow trail, amid heavy brush, I saw the eye shine of three sets of eyes in the dark brush off to the side. I couldn't quite make out the possible size from that distance. I then thought of the coyotes. If they were coyotes, and there were three of them--and if they attacked--again, I would have no defense. I thought about those glowing eyes from the Spring experience.

I was afraid as I passed though that spot. So much so that I purposely made noise. I dragged my feet, made heavy breathing sounds, and a couple of grunts. Sounds consistent with a bear. Not that I thought any animal would think I was a bear, but to project a certain arrogance, as if I was the chief predator. It was a bluff. I was fearful of what possibly could have been three large predators, of which I had no defense.

After I left that narrow trail, and entered a wooded area, I turned off my flashlight for a moment. It was almost complete darkness. Only a small amount of light was visible directly between the treeline along the trail, due to the fog that was illuminated by the urban lights from the distance. Had my flashlight gone dead, the prospect of walking back in the complete darkness would have been terrifying. Sometimes raccoons, skunks, or other small animals don't move right away, and you could walk right into them and be bitten. Stepping on a large snake. Sometimes unusual people wander into the dark woods without carrying a flashlight. Our ancestors feared the night, for good reason. Anyone who is in a remote area at night, should always carry a flashlight so they can, at the very least, signal to another person.

Strangely, about fifteen minutes later as I was near the end of the wooded trail, I saw raccoons on the trail in front of me. They didn't seem too happy to see me. At one point, I was startled by a loud furious growl in the brush right next to me! It had to be two raccoons in a brief skirmish. Occasionally, raccoons display aggressive behavior, even towards people. I like to describe them as "little bears."

Finally, I came upon one large one who was standing up straight in the middle of the road looking at me. At almost three feet tall, perhaps forty pounds, agitated, with large paws and sharp nails, and with powerful jaws... I had to stop! There we were, just standing and starting at each other from about ten yards. The beam of my flashlight on him and his shining eyes. Finally, I started to move forward by dragging my shoes against the ground. After about three steps, he angrily moved off to the side of the trail.

It was almost as if he were making the statement "this is our city!" For all I know, he may have been of chieftain of the clan... or maybe even the matriarch. During the day, while they're asleep, we invade their city; just as during the night, while we sleep, they invade our city. There must be some concept to them that "this is our place, and that is their place."

If I had somehow shrunk down to about three feet tall, I never would have gotten past him alive. At least with raccoons, you can gauge their mood by observing them. As long as you don't startle or corner them, they aren't a threat to a person. They could be a threat to pets. Often at twilight, at approximately that location, I observe raccoons, skunks, and wildcats together on the trail. They just sort've hang out and look at each other. Skunks sometimes walking right next to raccoons or wildcats.

Those woods wouldn't be the same without the "little bears." I keep thinking about the dialogue from the end of the movie 'Jaws'. Remember when they're paddling back to shore, after fighting the shark for days. Brody said "I used to hate the water," and Hooper responded, "I can't imagine why."

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The Panther of Colma Creek II

I had no intention of writing a second part to this, and this goes against my better judgement due to the "high strangeness" of it, but having had another similar type of experience in the same location has coaxed me into it. I have had experiences up there that I wouldn't share in text, but perhaps vocally where I can at least express certain strange encounters better. This general area was once the location of roads and sporadic homes up to I'm guessing about eighty or ninety years ago. Virtually all of the old foundations that had long survived the homes have been torn out now, but some of the paved roads are now walking trails.

There was one well-documented incident where a very troubled young woman committed a totally senseless murder on one of those roads against a male motorist in the 30s I think it was; and another murder took place up there in the 70s, where a male stalker had overheard a young woman discussing the trails that she liked to hike on and had waited for her up there. Being so close to an urban center, there have been some incidents of murder victims being dumped up there over the decades. There has overwhelmingly been positive energy injected into the area, and somehow it all seems to have created an atmosphere of restless spirits and unusual activity. When I say "unusual activity," I don't mean every day; but if you spend time up there, before long you will notice it. It's not an "evil place," but I think its past--good and bad--has opened a type of twilight-doorway.

Recently I began hiking in a somewhat more remote location. Three days ago, after walking along some foothills, I started to walk into the same area of heavy brush where I had spotted the "panther." I had seen him once more around here since I had written about him. It wasn't quite twilight, but the heavy fog had rolled in. This, along with the heavy brush, had made the environment dark and somewhat foreboding-looking. With the brush and dark mist, it created a somewhat eery visual along the trail. Coastal fog here can be really thick, and sometimes you can't see beyond about thirty yards in front of you. As I got close to where I had spotted the large black cat, and I mean the exact spot next to that distinct tree, I saw a black cloaked figure crouched down next to what I assumed to be the "panther."

It was surreal, and naturally I was trying to figure how I should react to it as I got closer. The dark misty atmosphere was darker underneath that tree, but I could still clearly make out the black figures. One strange feature that I noticed was that this cloaked figure was totally "black," even the face and hands. However, the hood probably covered the face and perhaps the cloak and wide sleeves covered the hands; or maybe I just didn't notice the hands, or gloves were being worn. As I got within thirty yards, the figure stood up and was now looking directly at me. It wasn't quite dark enough for a flashlight, but I turned my small flashlight on anyway and aimed it to the ground in front of me to signal to this person. I was wearing a matching light grey sweatsuit, so I don't think I would appear too intimidating. However, a person dressed all in black, with a cloak and hood, walking in a remote area in this dark mist, would probably concern me more than the other way around.

When the figure stood up and looked at me, I only saw a black shadow. The person was relatively small in stature, and suddenly it disappeared along a cross-trail. Subtly, I could see that it was a woman. I immediately felt bad that I had maybe startled her, and broke up her "communion" with the wild cat. While I did feel bad that she felt the need to get away from me, I did want to get a second look at his very mysterious woman. Oddly, as I reached that spot, the cat didn't move. It was a different cat, a large brownish tabby with black stripes, and he just sat there and looked at me. Actually I had seen this particular cat since he was almost a kitten several years ago in a different location, but I'm not positive of that. After a few more yards I looked down the cross-trail and saw her again.

She was moving fast, but not running. Although this main trail led downward into a wooded area, this other trail led immediately to a clearing. I could then see her fairly clearly despite the mist, appearing dark grey against the light grey background. It was surreal seeing her black cloak flow as she quickly walked away, as if she were floating. As I passed down into a wider wooded trail, I hoped that she could return to doing whatever she was doing. I admit, I did look back twice; as her appearance definitely got my attention. Who was she? Was she an older woman... younger? Was she a pagan? Did she live nearby? Mainly, I suppose, I would be curious if she was an adherent to a particular spiritual/earth tradition.

Wild cats aren't easy to approach. At best, I have gained their trust only enough to walk past them without them running away; and even then, that was after coming in contact with them many times prior. Somehow this woman had sufficiently gotten this wild cat's trust, enough to make physical contact it appeared. There seems to be a special connection between a woman and particularly a male cat. Perhaps that location, the unusual tree, was her "church," and the cat was a fellow member. Somehow.. I felt left out.

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The Panther of Colma Creek

So often our lives are safe and managed. Any "mysteries" usually always revolve around people and what we cannot see within our concrete jungles. Occasionally, within these usually safe and managed landscapes of urban sprawl, we see hillsides or open land with just enough trees or brush to allow for some intrigue revolving around non-human intelligence.

Even our daily urban interactions with animals are so safe and managed. Much more often than not, we've made these animals just as soft as we are. Whether as pets, livestock, or animals with a job function; our interactions with them hardly would be anything of a "mystery." If someone lived more of a rural life, or on the edge of a wilderness area, then they may have a different experience.

Some years ago, in one of the Carolinas, rural people started to report a "monster" who was picking off dogs one by one. It was described as some type of large unknown animal. Eventually this animal was caught on a motion-triggered camera as I recall. It was a "Florida panther" who probably had migrated north. East of the Mississippi, mountain lions only exist in Florida, at least as far as any type of viable breeding population. It was interesting that one mountain lion could cause such a stir.

A few years ago in the hills of southern San Mateo County, California--where the elevated neighborhoods meet a sizable wilderness area, and mountain lion sightings are fairly common--a woman hiker had an encounter with one of the lions. I recall that she saw mountain lion kittens, and sure enough the mother came after her. The lioness quickly ran along her as she was running away. In a moment, the woman noticed that the lioness was gone. She had just wanted to scare her out of the vicinity.

These wilderness areas provide plenty of "mysteries" in our lives, partly because we are not in control there. That theme is common when people describe simple encounters with wild animals, even small ones. Not only are we often not in control, but we can find ourselves at the mercy of wild animals. These animals have no concept of "justice" or "injustice." They live by evolutionary-struggle only. Urban dwellers are amazed when they suddenly find themselves "not in control."

When we see a rugged wilderness, especially wooden mountains, there's a "mystery," because we don't really know what's in there. Even on a warm sunny day, we can make out the ominous darkness just under the tree cover. However, it doesn't have to be a "wilderness." A small hillside, with some cover, engulfed by urban sprawl can provide a touch of mystery.

Just two weeks from an encounter with two very wolf-looking coyotes, I had another experience of a different sort. I saw the coyotes while hiking along the foothills in the broad daylight of a late afternoon. The later experience wasn't as potentially dangerous, but it was maybe more mysterious. It took place close to where I saw the coyotes, but in an area of trees and heavy brush. A transitional location heading into heavy woods, and it was during twilight. 

Early last summer, I began to notice what I considered an unknown animal while on twilight hikes in the foothills. I thought that it could be a fox, but it was black. It did have long ears, and appeared even larger than a fox. For months I wasn't able to get a good look at it. Finally, in early fall, I saw it. It came crashing across a hillside trail in front of me. It was a cat, but not a bobcat. It was one of the largest cats I have ever seen; long, lean, and muscular, with big feline shoulders. It was black with some white on its underside, long-hair, and had unusually long ears.

While it didn't have the long legs of a bobcat, it was big. Its black color made me think of the mystery black panthers in England. I would guess that it was about twenty pounds, and possibly a little more considering its length. It looked more like a "little panther" than a bobcat or lynx. Obviously it didn't strike a degree of fear as with the coyotes, but it got my attention.

I was hiking in an area which was a little bit more remote than where I usually hike. With the trees and heavy brush and foliage at that time of evening, it was beautifully gloomy. It was mostly a mixture of black and shades of grey, with the natural colors of browns and greens only faintly showing. As I started to reach a wider clearing along the trail, I noticed something big and black in the middle of it, about forty yards away. At about thirty yards, I knew it was an animal.

It was sideways from my perspective, and was in a crouching position, with its head turned towards me. I then remembered the big back cat from about five months ago. Could this be him? What else could it be? Within twenty yards, I saw that it was him... staring at me in the darkness. I couldn't see his eyes, and didn't want to purposely shine my flashlight into his face. If it was totally dark, then I would have shined it because I wouldn't have known what it was. What was he thinking? They weren't human thoughts, or even the thoughts of a house cat. I would guess that they were the intelligent thoughts of a predator acknowledging that "discretion was the better part of valor" just prior to retreating... like an African lion stepping out of an elephants way.

To the left of him from my perspective was a forty-plus foot tree with a massive stem with the thick branches sprouting out low; and with very heavy brush to the left of it outside the trail and clearing. He slowly stood up and started walking into the brush and foliage, as if he didn't want to be pushed. As though the option of waiting until the last moment and then darting off would be too much of a blow to the ego of this sizable predator. He then disappeared into the shadows, as though he were only a spirit-animal..... a myth.

As I passed the clearing and started making my way down towards a main trail that would take me back to civilization, I thought about what would have happened if I had somehow shrunk down to about eighteen inches tall--or even two feet--as I approached him? After I got home, and it was completely dark outside, I then thought about him just briefly. That he was still up there, hunting in the dark woods, with his night vision. A spirit panther.

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Paradise Ignored

Paradise Ignored

Yosemite north of Hetch Hetchy offers solitude where few explore

Tom Stienstra - San Francisco Chronicle - July 19, 2012

At the brink of the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne, our first glimpse of Hetch Hetchy below set off sensations of awe, ghosts and thrills.

In early evening, a thick sky and refracted light tinted the canyon with a muted opaque glow. The air was warm and humid. Our packs felt lighter than in days, knowing the end of a 35-mile trek was a few hours off.

Across the lake, 5,772-foot Kolana Rock, like Half Dome's little brother, towered over the canyon. On the north rim, massive LeConte Point rose up like a second El Capitan. Ahead we could make out the feathered wisps of Wapama Falls, like a hidden Yosemite Falls.

Below was one of the prettiest lakes in California, Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, owned and operated by the city of San Francisco. Before the 312-foot dam was constructed to provide water and electricity for San Francisco, the canyon was a second Yosemite Valley, one of the showpieces of the world.

John Muir lost the battle against the dam in 1913. Many say he died of a broken heart the next year.

As you descend into the canyon, you might feel the shadow of Muir's ghost looming over the lake, or that of the men who lost their lives when they built the linked pipeline, or perhaps the two backpackers who were swept off a hiker's bridge last spring by flooding outflows of Wapama Falls.

Hetch Hetchy and the nearby wilderness is the hidden Yosemite, where a handful of adventurous souls trek to little known lakes, ridges and valleys.

In the wilderness north of the lake, it's common to have pristine lakes all to yourself at small, intimate camps. Yet just over the ridge, in Yosemite Valley, more than 20,000 people can jam into 7.5 square miles every day of summer, with all the parking spaces gone by 9 a.m.

Five years ago, the Department of Water Resources completed a study that said it was feasible to drain Hetch Hetchy and restore a second Yosemite Valley. This month, the organization Restore Hetch Hetchy, supported by three former Yosemite superintendents, turned in signatures to put a measure on the November ballot that would require the City of San Francisco to come up with a plan to do that. If approved, another measure would then appear in 2016 that would require the plan be implemented by 2035.

Nobody argues with the need for the water. The premise is that it doesn't need to be stored in a national park.

Last week, a group of four of us took off on an expedition into the Yosemite wilderness above Hetch Hetchy and to descend into the canyon as if simulating the experience of the trailblazers of the 1800s. The Furniss clan of explorers, hydrologist Michael Furniss, son Liam, and nephew Chris, all with advanced science degrees, were eager to see the hidden Yosemite.

Call of the wild

The idea for the trek came years ago, the first time we hiked the John Muir Trail, from Mount Whitney to Yosemite Valley, and felt the shadow of Muir in many of our steps. Many on the JMT know this. It's something that doesn't go away.

That imprint was still fresh when the time was right last week. We secured a wilderness permit, limited to 25 per day for the trailhead, outfitted and readied our gear and backpacks, and then drove out and left my truck at the end of the trail.

We then shuttled to the Cherry Lake Trailhead in adjoining Stanislaus National Forest for our launch point, set at an elevation of 5,000 feet. With a huff and a puff near dusk, we were off to nearby Lake Eleanor and beyond, excited at what was ahead.

After a short first-day hike at dusk to Lake Eleanor, the first camp, we covered 17 miles and climbed 3,000 feet in two days with camps at Laurel Lake and Lake Vernon. In one 50-hour span, we saw one rattlesnake, two bears (they both scampered off), heard another at night (it took off when I called out, "We have company"), and here in a state with 37.7 million people, encountered no one on the trail except a sole ranger.

This is Yosemite? One of the most popular parks in the world? At peak season in July? That's right: two days and not a single other camper anywhere at three of the prettiest lakes in the Sierra.

At night at Eleanor, we heard the mating call of a Sierra spotted owl, then at Laurel, the haunting, extended hoots of a great horned owl. With no moon and a dark, clear sky, the plethora of stars - sparkling diamonds everywhere - made it difficult to identify constellations.

At dawn, about 20 yards downslope from my bivy, nestled on a forested peninsula at Eleanor, I heard the tale-tell click-click-click of a rattlesnake. Sure thing, about a 4-footer had set up its base station nearby. He clearly made his living here, most likely when the chipmunks showed up to raid any camper goodies that hit the dirt by accident.

We climbed up the foot of Moraine Ridge, then departed from the forest and walked into a vast, glacial-carved valley at 6,500 feet elevation. We found Lake Vernon tucked against a high ridge. Pristine and gorgeous.

"Some 20,000 years ago, the canyons of the Sierra were filled with ice nearly a mile deep," said Michael Furniss, whose highest expertise is in soils. "This and other ice ages carved out these awesome valleys. The ice was gone by about 10,000 years ago."

Muir, who graduated from the University of Nature, was the pioneer in glaciology who is credited as the first to determine that glaciers carved Yosemite's deep canyons.

Valley descent

We awoke at dawn at Lake Vernon. The air was cool and it was so quiet you could practically hear the flowers bloom. The morning trek climbed 1,100 feet for a stunning view of the granite valley, and then emerged on a forested ridge on the flank of 8,412-foot Mount Gibson.

Instead of a view, the trail burrowed through a grotto of waist-high bracken ferns and under a pine forest, and then ran aside a meadow adorned with thousands of wildflowers. Muir called such a meadow "a bee garden," with mule's ears, shooting stars, lupine, columbine, Indian paintbrush, milkmaids, parsnip and so many others. For an hour, it felt like 1868 when Muir first walked these mountains.

Suddenly, the trail broke from forest and extended to a sub-ridge that faced an open valley, and in the distance emerging in front of us, was the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne that led to the Hetch Hetchy Rim.

In a span of 5 miles, we dropped 3,000 feet to Rancheria Falls and its swimming holes, and continued through a notch in the north wall, on the precipice of paradise.

Within a mile, the first glimpse of Hetch Hetchy appeared ahead. The lake was still, and despite a faded sky, the water was indigo blue and seemed to hide secrets and mysteries.

The face of Kolana Rock rises up from water's edge and seems to poke a hole in the sky. Smith Peak, at 7,751 feet, towers directly across the lake.

The trail follows a thin line of conifers that runs along the foot of the north wall of the reservoir. In some spots, crews have blasted out rock and then carved and positioned rock steps like giant puzzles made out of granite.

Step by step, for 6.5 miles, you pass along the lake toward the dam and the end of the trail. Each moment provides a new glimpse of Hetch Hetchy and its landmarks, and you circumvent Kolana Rock in a curve on the far side. As you near Wapama Falls, you pass the base of 6,197-foot Hetch Hetchy Dome. Any moment, you might expect the specter of Muir to appear.

At the base of Wapama Falls, now reduced to thin summer flows, you can scramble below the hiker's bridge and scoop up some of the sweetest tasting water on the planet. It is the same water that makes its way to Crystal Springs on the Peninsula, and after treatment, to the faucets in homes in San Francisco, the Peninsula and many others in Santa Clara and Alameda counties.

From our rock perch, we drank all we could hold, amazed at its cold, fresh, natural sweetness, and then took in the view once again and scanned toward the dam: 2.4 miles and the trip would be over.

"You can see and feel deep time in this canyon," said Michael Furniss, "yet relatively few even know there is a second Yosemite Valley, and it's here under water."

Somewhere off in the distance, as we hoofed down the trail toward my truck, I felt the presence of Muir's words ring in the air.

"Hetch Hetchy Valley, far from being a plain, common, rock-bound meadow, as many who have not seen it seem to suppose, is a grand landscape garden, one of Nature's rarest and most precious mountain temples."

If you want to go

Park entrance fee: $20 per vehicle, good for a week.

Wilderness Permit cost: Free wilderness permits required for overnight stays in Yosemite Wilderness; for trailhead reservation through Yosemite, $5 per person plus $5 for confirmed reservation.

Wilderness Permit/Cherry Lake Trailhead: Reserve 24 hours ahead of time (Saturday for Monday) through Groveland Ranger District, Stanislaus National Forest, (209) 962-7825.

Wilderness Permit/O'Shaughnessy Dam Trailhead: Reserve up to 24 weeks in advance through Yosemite National Park; download PDF reservation form at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wpres.htm, then fax to (209) 372-0739. Info: (209) 372-0740.

Bear-proofing food: Bear canisters are required for food storage in wilderness; rentals available at park entrance kiosks for $5 per week.

Trail map: "Hetch Hetchy Trail Map," $8.95, Tom Harrison Maps, tomharrisonmaps.com.

Contacts: Yosemite National Park, (209) 372-0200, nps.gov/yose; Stanislaus National Forest, Groveland Ranger District, (209) 962-7825, www.fs.fed.us/r5/stanislaus.

Bonus tips

A few things we did to make our trip easier:

Car shuttle: So we could hike a one-way trip and thus start and end at different points and descend into Hetch Hetchy, we left a vehicle at the end of the trail near O'Shaughnessy Dam, then drove to a trailhead on the east side of Cherry Lake.

Water purification: We used Steripen water purifiers, which use battery-powered ultra-violet rays, and thus were able to drink cold stream water in 90 seconds without pumping, chemicals or boiling.

No twisted knees: Three of four people in our party (not my thing) used hiking poles for additional stability on the trail.

Nearest drink: When you finish the trip, the nearest cold drink and snack is at the little store at Camp Mather (friendliest folks you ever met); (209) 379-2284; campmather.com.

Nearest restaurant: Evergreen Lodge, a short distance down the road from Camp Mather, has a top-notch restaurant and bar (buffalo burger with cheddar cheese borders on the awesome); (209) 379-2606, evergreenlodge.com.

Best breakfast on the road: The little cafe just past the top of Priest Grade on Highway 120 near Big Oak Flat is the best around (the scrambles are mouth-watering great); Priest Station Cafe, (209) 962-1888.

- Tom Stienstra

How to get there

From San Francisco to Groveland: Take the Bay Bridge (get in right lane) across to the split with Interstate 580. Bear right on I-580 East and go 46 miles to I-205 East. Take I-205 for 14 miles to I-5 North merge, and go 2 miles to the exit for Highway 108/120 to Manteca/Sonora. Take that exit and drive about 47 miles (stay on 108/120 at signed junctions when driving through towns) to the exit for Highway 120/Groveland. Bear right on 120 and drive (newer vehicles take shortcut up Old Priest Grade) through Big Oak Flat to Groveland.

Groveland to Cherry Lake Trailhead: Take Highway 120 east for 14 miles to Cherry Lake Road. Turn left and drive 24 miles (paved, but twisty and narrow in spots) to a junction at Cherry Lake. Turn right and drive 1 mile to the dam. Turn left (road turns to dirt), drive over dam for a half mile to another junction. Turn left and drive 1 mile to a signed trailhead (on right), and parking and primitive campsites (on left).

Groveland to O'Shaughnessy Dam/Hetch Hetchy Trailhead: Take Highway 120 east for 22.5 miles to Evergreen Road (signed for Hetch Hetchy). Turn left on Evergreen Road and drive 7.4 miles to Hetch Hetchy Road. Turn right on Hetch Hetchy Road and drive 9 miles to the dam and trailhead; at park entrance, ask ranger for overnight parking permit and location of backpacker's parking.

'Tom Stienstra's Outdoor Report' can be heard Saturdays on KCBS (740 and 106.9) at 7:35 a.m., 9:35 a.m. and 12:35 p.m. E-mail: tstienstra@sfchronicle.com. Twitter: @StienstraTom

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