Haystack Butte

My youngest daughter knows just how much I love the sunset, so she recently sent me a photo of the vibrant colors painted across the sky above the Pacific Ocean. There are only two things that I really miss since moving up north; being around all of my people, and those gorgeous Southern California sunsets. I think I've mentioned that my last house had an ocean view, and if I was home at dusk, you knew exactly where to find me; in the back yard watching Mother Nature paint a picture to commemorate the end of another day (see below).

Feeling a little jealous, I decided that I would find a place to watch the sunset here. Our house is in a valley, so I have to make a trek, which is the perfect excuse to hit the trails. Today that trail was Haystack Butte. This hike has been on my list since I explored the neighboring South Yellow Butte trail last year. Since I have focused on easy trails, and had already hiked up a butte near Haystack, I didn't think to check the actual length, elevation, or average hiking time. Yeah, I learned a few lessons on this one...keep reading.

Did you know that optimists usually run late because they think they can get "one more thing" done before they head out? I'm an optimist so I did that one more thing and I left later than expected. I wasn't worried though, I was heading to a more open area and climbing to the top of a hill, so I would certainly be able to see the sun dip below the horizon.

This trail is an old road behind a cattle fence, so I surprised myself when I turned right in without having to turn around and come back. I figured out how to use the gadget on the fence to get in and headed out on the path. The road started out sandy, wide, and pretty flat. The Queen was glowing behind me and the view before me was bright and gorgeous.

As the trail curved around, I noticed that the butte was covered in little yellow flowers. It was a pleasant surprise in this seemingly dry area. As the trail turned from sand to rocks, I noticed that I was walking slightly downhill. I made a mental note of this so I would be prepared for the incline on the way back. I was also thinking that this slight decline was going to make the hike up the hill a bit longer. Haha, I had no idea what was ahead of me.

Wanting to meet a deadline and catch the setting sun, I kept my pace pretty quick. (For those of you who have walked with me, don't roll your eyes. I would have kept up with you this time.) I turned the corner, saw the incline ahead of me, and trudged on knowing I would have ample opportunity to stop and catch my breath while viewing the scenery. And the scenery was beautiful. I was walking on the east side of the mountain so I caught glimpses of the colors in the sky and could turn around to see Mt. Shasta glowing in the light.

I stopped a couple of times to enjoy the view and admire the amazing rock formations and tiny caves that undoubtedly housed many living things that were hidden from view. I saw some beautiful lavender daisy-like posies, some bushes with darker purple flowers that had the shape of lilacs, and some orangish-red blooms dotting the path ahead. Then I came to a place where the trail seemed to level off while making a 180-degree turn, and was greeted with an even steeper incline. Leveling off and then becoming steeper seemed to be the pattern on this trail. I was huffing and puffing and telling myself I was "almost there" for probably half a mile. It got so bad that I even told myself that I was lying. Yes, I did. I said it right out loud. I also thanked the rocks and trees for their stability and apologized for not stopping to notice their beauty. I had places to go and a sunset to see.

Just as I thought I was not going to make it to the top, I caught a glimpse of Mt. Shasta's crown through the trees. With her encouragement, I pushed through and came to the top of the mountain, which was like a field of dry grass and spring flowers and old juniper bushes. And the view...

While I didn't get to see the sun dip below the mountains, I did get to see a sky full of gorgeous colors. The snow-capped mountains to the east clung to the clouds and sat in the shadows. The Queen, Mt. Shasta, stood there glowing as the sun was reflected by her blanket of snow.

I could have stood there to watch the colors fade, but I knew I had to get back down that mountain before it was pitch black. With the steep downhill path in front of me, I pulled out my walking sticks (thanks, Mom) and headed back to the car. I knew it would be dark before I got there but I was prepared with my headlamp attached to the front strap of my backpack. (Please know that I will find any way I can to attach the headlamp to me, so I don't have to put it on my forehead. It's just not cute...sorry.)

Not wanting to walk in the total dark, I was taking the trail pretty fast, until I tripped on one-too-many-rocks. At that point, I took the hint and slowed down a bit, so I didn't find myself rolling down the side of the hill. I stopped a couple of times to catch the final glimpse of the colorful sky and then made that 180-degree turn toward the east side of the mountain. Boy, did it get dark really quick. No worries, I just hit the button on my headlamp and... nothing. So I stopped and pressed the button harder. Still... nothing. It's okay, I carry two phones with me, so I turned on the flashlight on one of them, hooked it to one of my poles, and continued down the mountain.

This is where things get sketchy. Nothing happened, I am fine, and I was close enough to the highway that I could always hear the cars passing by. But boy did my mind race as I trekked through the dark. Was that crawly thing I saw earlier a snake or a toad? Was that noise my water bottle or is there a wild animal behind me? How do through-hikers on the PCT or Appalachian Trail do this all the time without freaking themselves out? And while all of these questions zoomed through my mind, I was singing at the top of my lungs (or as loud as I could while racing down the trail, practically out of breath). I figured my singing would keep the wild things away. And, once I realized there were toads and not snakes, I told myself that they wouldn't be out here if there were predators in the area. (And we're just gonna let me continue to believe this and move on.)

So many lessons learned on this one! The biggest ones are to double check the stats of the trail and test your equipment before heading out. (Note: batteries in the headlamp have been changed and the button works.) I do have to say, hiking that fast both up and down the hill, was exhilarating. I just tackled a "moderately challenging" trail, in the dark, and within the average time. I am sure that I'm ready for more; longer paths and higher elevations...but maybe I'll stick to hiking in the daylight.