Stevens Trail REVISITED
This past Sunday, tired of the Sierra foothills' cold keeping us in, David and I decided to hit Stevens Trail for the third time since we have lived here. The last couple hikes here were embarked upon in the late afternoon. This time we managed to reach the trail head before 9am, despite having enjoyed several adult beverages the night before. When we arrived at the parking lot for the trail, temps were only in the 40's, but the sun was shining, so we ignored our chill bumps and set out. In truth, I was not expecting any surprises today, but I brought my camera just in case......
The 4+ mile hike down trail to the river was just as it always was: beautiful wildflowers, treacherous bends, and the promising fall in elevation that we knew would eventually yield the north fork of the American River. By 10:15, we had reached the rocky bank that we had previously gold panned. Our chill bumps were gone after hiking for over an hour, and we were ready to plunge our hands into the freezing water. I was in front, bounding over the big black rocks on my way to where we had found gold before, when I spotted beside a crevice, just where my next footstep would land, a neonate Northern Pacific rattlesnake, coiled in the morning sun. I was elated! Of course I stopped dead in my tracks and immediately started fumbling for my camera as I alerted David that there was a baby rattlesnake here. David whipped out his camera, too, and we both started snapping shot after shot, all the while being careful to move slowly and not startle her back into her rock crevice shelter. Soon we had all the photos we thought we would get that day, and pressed on, leaving the baby to enjoy her morning bask in peace.
A few minutes later, we reached the spot where we intended to pan. David began gathering material from the rock cracks, but I had a feeling there were more snakes to see, and started scanning the ledges along the hillside. Immediately, I spotted another basker, an adult Northern Pacific this time. I snapped a couple quick pics before the snake became aware of my presence and slid up under a rock. I continued searching, but nothing else appeared, so I went back to see if the little one was still basking. Indeed, she was in the exact same spot, so I took more pics. It's hard for me to stop taking photographs of snakes when they are presenting the perfect photographic opportunity! But eventually, I left her again, and went back upriver to where David and the adult rattlesnake were. This time, the adult NorPac was on the move, looking for a way out of the corner of rock it had been basking in. Unaware I had returned, it slithered this way and that, and I just took one photograph after another. At last it was making its way into some thick vegetation, and I decided to let it continue on its way unmolested.
So now, David and I gathered up our things and hiked further upriver for more fruitful panning grounds. On our trek, I was in the lead again, and nearly stepped on a large Sierra Garter snake in a sandy area by the water. As it tried to make its escape, I reached for it and caught hold of its tail. It was a big snake, the biggest garter I had seen in California thus far, and it was not interested in being manhandled. As I held its tail, it twisted and entertwined itself in some vines. Frustrated, I just held on, contemplating how I was going to get it loose from the vegetation without harming it. But after a bit, it realized it was not getting anywhere and backed straight out of the brush. Now I had an angry garter out in the open, and still had to get it under control. But using my ancient "BE THE TREE" technique, I was at last able to calm it down enough to grasp it behind the head. David took a few photographs with his camera, all the while making fun of me for now having garter musk on my hand, and soon we were sending the unhappy camper back off to the wilds.
Further upriver, we settled down to gold pan. There was nothing particularly promising about the spot. But it looked as good as any, and the flash in our pans proved we had made a good choice stopping here. We spent the rest of the day sifting through sand and gravel and depositing our shiny finds in a plastic vial. As the clouds began to roll in, and the chill bumps returned to my arms and legs, I announced I was clearing my last pan. And before long, we were on our way back to the trail. But before we left the river, we had to check on the baby, which much to our surprise, had remained in the same spot for the entire day. Worried that the wrong people would discover her and put an end to her short life (as many self proclaimed "nature lovers" are prone to do), we both agreed that we should move her somewhere less exposed. With no snake bag or hook, we had to improvise, and I used one gold pan to push her across the ledge and into the other gold pan, then setting the smaller gold pan upside down on top of her. The rattlesnake safely contained now, we returned to where the adult had been that morning, and released the neonate into the same crevice, where hopefully she will have better cover and be less noticeable to the hikers and gold panners that frequent Stevens trail.
The 4+ mile hike down trail to the river was just as it always was: beautiful wildflowers, treacherous bends, and the promising fall in elevation that we knew would eventually yield the north fork of the American River. By 10:15, we had reached the rocky bank that we had previously gold panned. Our chill bumps were gone after hiking for over an hour, and we were ready to plunge our hands into the freezing water. I was in front, bounding over the big black rocks on my way to where we had found gold before, when I spotted beside a crevice, just where my next footstep would land, a neonate Northern Pacific rattlesnake, coiled in the morning sun. I was elated! Of course I stopped dead in my tracks and immediately started fumbling for my camera as I alerted David that there was a baby rattlesnake here. David whipped out his camera, too, and we both started snapping shot after shot, all the while being careful to move slowly and not startle her back into her rock crevice shelter. Soon we had all the photos we thought we would get that day, and pressed on, leaving the baby to enjoy her morning bask in peace.
A few minutes later, we reached the spot where we intended to pan. David began gathering material from the rock cracks, but I had a feeling there were more snakes to see, and started scanning the ledges along the hillside. Immediately, I spotted another basker, an adult Northern Pacific this time. I snapped a couple quick pics before the snake became aware of my presence and slid up under a rock. I continued searching, but nothing else appeared, so I went back to see if the little one was still basking. Indeed, she was in the exact same spot, so I took more pics. It's hard for me to stop taking photographs of snakes when they are presenting the perfect photographic opportunity! But eventually, I left her again, and went back upriver to where David and the adult rattlesnake were. This time, the adult NorPac was on the move, looking for a way out of the corner of rock it had been basking in. Unaware I had returned, it slithered this way and that, and I just took one photograph after another. At last it was making its way into some thick vegetation, and I decided to let it continue on its way unmolested.
So now, David and I gathered up our things and hiked further upriver for more fruitful panning grounds. On our trek, I was in the lead again, and nearly stepped on a large Sierra Garter snake in a sandy area by the water. As it tried to make its escape, I reached for it and caught hold of its tail. It was a big snake, the biggest garter I had seen in California thus far, and it was not interested in being manhandled. As I held its tail, it twisted and entertwined itself in some vines. Frustrated, I just held on, contemplating how I was going to get it loose from the vegetation without harming it. But after a bit, it realized it was not getting anywhere and backed straight out of the brush. Now I had an angry garter out in the open, and still had to get it under control. But using my ancient "BE THE TREE" technique, I was at last able to calm it down enough to grasp it behind the head. David took a few photographs with his camera, all the while making fun of me for now having garter musk on my hand, and soon we were sending the unhappy camper back off to the wilds.
Further upriver, we settled down to gold pan. There was nothing particularly promising about the spot. But it looked as good as any, and the flash in our pans proved we had made a good choice stopping here. We spent the rest of the day sifting through sand and gravel and depositing our shiny finds in a plastic vial. As the clouds began to roll in, and the chill bumps returned to my arms and legs, I announced I was clearing my last pan. And before long, we were on our way back to the trail. But before we left the river, we had to check on the baby, which much to our surprise, had remained in the same spot for the entire day. Worried that the wrong people would discover her and put an end to her short life (as many self proclaimed "nature lovers" are prone to do), we both agreed that we should move her somewhere less exposed. With no snake bag or hook, we had to improvise, and I used one gold pan to push her across the ledge and into the other gold pan, then setting the smaller gold pan upside down on top of her. The rattlesnake safely contained now, we returned to where the adult had been that morning, and released the neonate into the same crevice, where hopefully she will have better cover and be less noticeable to the hikers and gold panners that frequent Stevens trail.
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