Reaching the turning point of any journey is nearly always fulfilling- and last Friday’s arrival at the Falls was no exception.  Getting up and in there is ALL the fun.

There are three falls that are accessible to the casual hiker.  I imagine the rock climbers could manage to get permits to go down to the upper four cascades, but I was glad just to have a bear’s eye view to the top.

I spent about ten minutes examining the first cascade, and its pools- both the feeder and receiver.

Climbing up a short ledge to Cascade # 2, we find this:

Going up to Falls # 3 is a slight alley-oop, through a safe rock ledge, to the left of the creek flow.

There is a small beach here, at the hiker’s terminus.  I always count myself fortunate to find others at these sorts of places, so that I may take a photo of them as a couple or, as with the other day, a group of three.  I’m always glad to get a record of my own visit, in kind.

Looking backwards, I feel blessed by the power of water.  For me, a child of fire, that’s huge.

Going down the trail, back towards Sabino Visitor Center, I was  always reminded that it has been a work in progress to keep this sacred spot in the state that it was known to the ancient Sonorans.

The first people here made their marks, but no doubt found the passage to the top of the ridge as formidable as we do.

I got a nice warning from Mr. Sun that our time together in this breathtaking canyon was getting short.  The flashlight in my day pack wasn’t too fazed.

Besides, this is another place where I was being closely watched and guided.

These Seven Falls, in a dryer climate and lower in elevation than their Colorado counterparts, nonetheless inspire, comfort and reassure- just as much as the falls to the north.

The upper part of Bear Canyon features the last two creek crossings, then takes one up a moderate switchback and along a ledge trail, for the 2/3 mile remaining to Seven Falls themselves.  I found a few families returning from the Falls and at least one hiker looking exhausted.  Somehow, though, I did not get the feeling I was about to share his fate.

The striations on the boulders increase with the level of water activity, indicating heavier mineral deposits upstream.

Here is a look westward, back at Bear Canyon.

The wispy cloud rising up reminded me of Penny.  There has not been a time that she has been more missed than right now.

Heart-shaped rocks always seem to pop up, when I start to get a bit down-hearted.  Guess it’s a message that I can get  over whatever is weighing me down.  This lovely canyon was just the right place, on that day.

Next:  Seven Falls themselves

I had the pleasure, on Friday of  this past week, of hiking the eight mile round trip, between Sabino Canyon Visitor Center and Seven Falls, in the Santa Catalina Range, northeast of Tucson.  Bear Canyon Trail provides a generally easy path, for the first 2.5 miles,then  7 crossings of Bear Canyon Creek, which are quite straightforward, and have MOSTLY stable steppingstones.  A walking stick, or two, are advisable for the stream crossings, though.  Here are some views of the first 2.5 miles, including a heart-shaped rock.

Bridge crossing Sabino Creek.

The trail to Bear Canyon diverges from Phone Line Trail here.

Note the striations on the rocks, which result from centuries of hard water activity.

Here are several shots of Bear Canyon Creek.

There are some interesting rock overhangs, and the long view to the canyon rim, along the way.

Next, Upper Bear Canyon

As with all things Sedona, this aptly-named trail, opened a few months ago, is a feast for the eyes.  The “Chuck” is a loop trail, of about 3 miles.  Yesterday, I took the segment that links with Devil’s Bridge Trail, so as to go up to Vultee Arch and get up close to that marvel of nature, also called Devil’s Bridge.

It is a moderate hike, in my estimation, not requiring much effort for most of the way- but asking the hiker to use caution on the final ascent to the Arch, as well as on the descent.  Along the way, much attention was focused on three rock climbers , perched on the south face of Mescal Mountain, across the canyon to the north.

Here are several shots of the Chuck, and of Vultee Arch.  First, is the Dry Creek Road Parking area.

I took the segment of Chuckwagon that went towards the Bridge.

The route to the Bridge goes east, through the scrub of the southern Great Basin, across Dry Creek (which actually had pockets of water, here and there) and back south a bit, to the Devils Bridge parking area ( a small dirt lot), off the four-wheel drive-only road.

Here, we can see the north section of Capitol Butte, which is home to the arch.

Mescal Mountain and Doe Mountain are visible to the north.

The trail is very easy here.

True to form, I found not one, but three, heart-shaped rocks along the trail.

There are riparian pockets along the way.

One can see the arch from a fair distance, once on the Devils Bridge Trail.  That trail is about a mile long.

The view from the sandstone bench, southwest of the bridge, is also worth the short climb.

Here is an interesting sandstone “slice”, near the Devils Bridge Trailhead parking lot.

Finally, on the bridge itself, is an example of “Boys will be boys”.

I find myself feeling best, when on the trail, whether surrounded by throngs or in isolation.  Hiking is one of the few things I haven’t messed up.  Besides, it keeps me healthy.

Saturday, November 30 led me up the coast to Orange County, as has been my wont, over the past several Southern California visits.  I’ve been to all but two of the OC beaches, and elected to return to San Clemente Beach, for a short while on Saturday morning, so as to enjoy an early lunch and breathe a bit of salt air.

Not knowing what the traffic situation would bring, I headed north a bit, along the coastal highway.  Glancing over at I-5, I spied, with my little eye, a line of traffic inching its way towards the Capistrano Beach exit.  So, the coastal drive continued, as far as just north of Dana Point.  I was able to easily cut over at Crown Valley, and followed the various highways up to Brea, leaving me plenty of time to enjoy Carbon Canyon, home to Orange County’s only remaining grove of Coastal Redwoods.  The area is in what was once the oil-producing town of Olinda, now submerged by a reservoir that was created by the Carbon Canyon Dam.

The first part of the regional park is standard SoCal wilderness, with a fledgling botanic garden, for effect.  The dam has left two small reservoir ponds that are linked.  Standard SoCal means plenty of manzanitas and California Live Oaks, but there is the promise- of redwoods.

After a mile or so, there they are.  No, it’s not a Christmas tree farm. These are for posterity, and new trees are growing!

The ponds are also a source of enjoyment to the people of Brea and Yorba Linda.  There were almost as many people along the shore as there were enjoying the redwoods.

On the way back, one is reminded that this is still an extension of the Sonoran Desert.

Immediately to the east of Carbon Canyon lies Chino Hills State Park, with several gems of its own, extending from Olinda to the town of Chino Hills, nearly 20 miles eastward.  This is a place to explore another time, but for now, here is the west end of Telegraph Canyon.

Doubling back through Carbon Canyon park, on my way back out, I spotted a bit of tree hugging.

It was a good point in time for time travel, of sorts, so I went to downtown Brea, and found some blasts from the past.  Next post:  Back to the seventies.

The place I  knew as “downtown”, to which I ran errands for my mother by taking the bus, to which we went to the ocean for a swim, where we often went hiking in the woods, was Lynn.  One of the earliest towns in Massachusetts Bay Colony, a bastion of Puritanism, Lynn became, in the Industrial Age, known as the “City of Sin”, for its gin mills, pubs and houses of ill repute.

The city is now moving forward with recognizing its heritage, and is taking steps to expand a long inchoate Museum of History.

It was to Lynn Woods, though, that my feet needed to go, and so, after a half-hour walk around the museum, I headed five miles west.

The Preserve has wide bicycle paths, a small rose garden and a shore along Lily Pond.  Mostly, though, there are the trees, and rocks, that are the legacy of a glacial period.

Once arriving at these two rock gateposts, know that you have arrived at the park’s western limit.

Views of Lynn’s Walden Pond (not to be confused with the eponymous body of water in Concord, MA), are off to the north.

Of course, there is no connection between Penny and this bridge, but it touched my heart, anyway.

This encounter with my youthful past reminded me that there are good things, marvels, in anyone’s life, at any stage.