Panther Meadow

After spending almost an entire month on the road, I was ready to get back to nature. There was no better spot than to head to Panther Meadow and Panther Springs. I had been trying to get to this trail for months. After attempting to get to a few trails, only to find that the road was closed due to snow, I started asking my friend Google for directions to see if the road to this trail was open every time I was planning a new hike. Finally, in June, after I had been wearing sundresses and sandals for over a month, I went to the local Ranger Station and asked about the trail. I was shocked when they said that it typically does not open until mid-to-late July. WHAAATTTT?!?!?! But all of the reviews say that it's a beautiful meadow full of flowers and lush grasses! The Southern California Girl in me could not believe that there would be green grass and fresh flowers blooming that late in the year...but there were. And it was pure magic.

If you do any kind of research about Panther Meadow and Panther Spring, you will undoubtedly find mention of how unique this meadow is, how the energy is soothing, how the land is precious and fragile. Nothing can prepare you for how inadequate and also how true all of these statements are. And, if you are the type of person who connects with nature, who feels the energy of people and the earth around you, nothing will prepare you for the embrace you will receive when you cross the threshold into the meadow.

But let's back up a bit. To get here you have to drive up Mount Shasta past Bunny Flat. As soon as you pass the gate at the top end of the parking lot (Look, I don't know if it's east or north or south, that road up the mountain is windy. Haha, watch it be west, the only direction I'm sure it isn't.) the landscape changes from a rocky ground beneath giant conifers to hundreds of baby pines lining the road with lush, green groundcover below. There is a lower trailhead that allows you to walk up the mountain to the meadow, but reviews said that the parking lot was often full of campers. So I kept driving and parked in the upper lot, which is a more direct route to Panther Spring.

I had planned this hike around sunrise, (Notice I said around sunrise...) so there weren't many day hikers around as I headed out on the trail. The view from the parking lot was enough to make me pause, with the morning haze hovering over the mountain ranges below (yes, all of the other mountains are below where I was standing...that in itself is crazy), it was like a professional photograph, only better. The sun was out but it had not completely risen above the top of the mountain, so I had not missed the show.

The trailhead starts at an open area, and the path leads into the forest where the ground is covered in rocks. I was stunned. The ground was still covered in morning dew, so the rocks were bright and beautiful in shades of yellows and pinks and gray. Not one of them looked like they had come from a volcano, but there were so many that they for sure were not put there by humans. (I admit I have made that mistake before, thinking that beavers somehow went in the middle of a forest and stacked up giant logs, nowhere near water. Forestry Service. Fire prevention. I know...duh)

After walking through the rocky terrain, I noticed that the path ahead was paved in flat stones. And then I saw it. A grassy, green field dotted with the tiniest flowers, guarded by pine trees standing side by side along the perimeter and in front of the mountain spires, over which the sun had not yet crested. This was a full stop moment, my friends. I had not been on a trail in over a month and when I passed the threshold into the meadow it was as if Mother Nature herself enveloped me and said, "Welcome home." I stood there long enough to receive the embrace, to let the energy wash over me, and to release everything I had unknowingly been carrying.

I continued on through the magical meadow, being sure to stay on the stepping stones. This delicate sub-alpine meadow is created by the saturation of the ground from the snow melt. The soil is too wet for trees to grow, but it is perfect for the fragile herbs, grasses, and flowers to flourish. It takes between 200 and 400 years for the Mountain Heather to reach the height of a small shrub, so one crunch of a footstep can cause a century of damage. I didn't see one piece of trash on this trail, evidence that this is a sacred place to everyone who enters.

Coming to the east side of the meadow (the sun was rising on that side), I chose to take the trail to the right and head down toward the campground for a while. Once again, I was surrounded by pine trees and dusty, rocky terrain. I could still hear the gurgling stream, though, and had many opportunities to peek out through the trees to see the surrounding mountain views.

Knowing I would have to walk back up the trail and realizing that I wasn't going to get much closer to the stream, I decided to turn around and head toward the spring at the top of the meadow. As the meadow once again came into view, I noticed that the area was like an oasis. This lush, green area with a gurgling little stream and not one tree growing in the middle, was completely surrounded by a dry, rocky landscape and hundreds of giant pine trees. I have read the informational signs, I understand the biology of it, and it still boggles the mind.

Heading out of the forest to the upper side of the meadow, there was once again a path of flat stones. This time they were leading to a little cove inside the forest with some rocks set up like a chair. As I approached the entrance to the cove, I noticed rocks stacked in a semi-circle beneath the surface of the ground. Standing at the edge, I couldn't believe that it was a little pool of water that fed the gurgling stream. I stood there and stared for a moment, trying to see the water coming up from the bottom of the pool. Of course, I couldn't see the water springing up from inside the mountain. But that's what was happening because the stream continued to gurgle. See...magic.

I took a seat on the rocks in the cove, listened to the bees and the birds and the bubbling water as I sipped my coffee and wrote in my journal. A couple arrived with a violin and some crystal tone bowls, which was a surprisingly beautiful addition to the surroundings.

After a while, a few other people arrived and, because space was limited, I decided to pack up and head back to the car. As a bonus, the sun was just starting to peak over the mountaintop, so I would be able to watch the sunrise in the meadow after all. Watching the sun crest over the mountain spires, bathing the meadow in her morning light, I saw the colors become more vibrant, the flowers more pronounced. As if the magnificence in the shadows was just a dress rehearsal, practice for their time in the spotlight where they could truly shine.