June 15 (2001, 2003, 2004)
"Gnarled Interwoven Masses of Brush Ahead, Behind, Left, and Right"

Date: Fri, 15 Jun 2001 14:05:00 -0800
To: North_Fork_Trails
From: Russell Towle
Subject: Canyon Creek reprised

Hi all,

This morning Tom McDonnell (of Dutch Flat), my son Greg, and I hiked down Canyon Creek Trail to the river. [...]

The wildflower bloom is pretty much over, some Harvest Brodiaea, some Monardella, musky-scented Toyon bushes are now in bloom, and a few of the last larkspurs are on their last legs. We visited the Big Waterfall and The Terraces on the way down.

It was hot and we swam a little in the North Fork which, while not icy, is somewhat shockingly cold.

The Water Ouzel nest at the last waterfall, by the river, is active again this year, but in a slightly different location, closer to the fall, in a crevice. We watched the ouzels feeding their young. Actually, we could hear the babies raising a big ruckus whenever the parents came in. The nest is too deep in the crevice to see easily.

Then it was up and out—hot, steep, resting in the shade. Saw gold prospectors—Don Robinson was one—in the creek above the bridge a ways. They enjoyed seeing the Big Tunnel. Reported only fine gold.

A good hike tho a little brief.

Date: Sun, 15 Jun 2003 10:26:59 -0800
To: North Fork Trails
From: Russell Towle
Subject: New York Canyon V

Hi all,

The well-guarded 567-foot waterfall on the East Branch of New York Canyon, already surrounded by caveats ("Beware of Cliff" and "Warning: Rattlesnakes Present" and "Gnarled Interwoven Masses of Brush Ahead, Behind, Left, and Right"), also exhibits one rather absolute and unyielding inverse ratio.

The closer one can drive to the giant waterfall, the less the water that is falling.

The word went out that Foresthill Road was open to Robinson Flat, so Ron Gould, Michael Joyce and I loaded a chainsaw and our packs into Ron's 4WD truck and aimed to drive down the Sailor Flat jeep trail. This all worked out admirably well. A few stops to cut through fallen trees, and we reached the 5200' contour, parked, and headed west through the forest. Near the jeep trail, gigantic Sugar Pine and Douglas Fir and Incense Cedar towered over a near-thicket of smaller trees and brush. We wandered a bit at first, in search of a good game trail, and then settled into a long traverse to the west. Occasionally one thread of trail would unravel into many, but merely holding a level line was enough to put us right again.

Suddenly we were shocked to see masses of reddish-gold fur on the ground, with a few flies scampering and flitting among the—carnage? What had happened here? Had some part of a bear been dragged here by a mountain lion? No bones were near. No bits of flesh. Michael wondered if a bear might have rubbed off the masses of fur against the little oak nearby, in some kind of shedding, molting event. However, the flies seemed to argue against that hypothesis. A mystery.

Without further incident we reached a nasty ocean of imbricate oak and cherry bushes, all shingling over one another after decades of heavy snow. At the edge of this brushy sea we found a prospect pit, in rock of the Sailor Canyon Formation, Jurassic-age metasediments which sometimes have fossil ammonites. We forged on, our loppers set to full power, and carved a somewhat intricate swath towards low cliffs ahead.

As it happened, we had chosen an excellent line, somewhat higher than I had followed with Gus, a week ago. Nearing the cliffs, the tracks of a bear appeared, and we began to see an easy route to the summit. Bears choose well. We gained the crest, took a short break, and followed a zig-zag course down the rocky summit of the ridge, before veering more to the west and down to the East Branch. Over this area brush was easily avoided. Thousands of Mariposa Lilies and other flowers grew in the sunny openings.

To the north we could see Snow Mountain, and to the northwest its long southwest spur dropping to the confluence of Big Granite Creek and the North Fork, with Cherry Point rising beyond, and part of the Sugar Pine Point ridge also in view, still farther to the west.
We had lunch near the head of a series of waterfalls, about a quarter-mile south and upstream from the big falls. Ron Gould and I had discussed in detail a certain little knoll near the big falls, a knoll which ought to offer a perfect view. From our lunch spot we could see the route which must be followed, crossing the creek to contour along and climb gradually to the west, until the high cliffs near the falls were passed, and a descent might be made. I was worried that we might face some real rock-climbing along the way, but as it turned out, it was far easier than I had dared hope, and soon we were making little zigs and zags down steep but safe slopes, to where the ridge flattened out and then rose abruptly into a little dome of chert of the ancient Shoo Fly Complex.

The views of the Big Falls were wonderful. Hints of rainbow color gleamed in the drifting veils of white spray. On the summit of the knoll, little flats of angular chert pebbles were scattered among the outcrops. Where I threw my pack down, on one such tiny flat, shards of black chert showed that an Indian sat here some centuries ago, crafting arrowheads, at one of the wildest, cliffiest, loveliest spots in the entire upper North Fork.

A strong breeze played across the summit and an attempt to examine my geological map was doomed.

Below the summit some rock ramparts partially encircled the dome and looked to offer special views of their own, so Ron and I scrambled down and made a kind of circumambulation, almost all the way around the dome, a hundred feet or so below the summit. We saw some rather nice falls and pools over in the West Branch. The dome was clearly carved out and scoured by glaciers, but as is so often the case, these metasediments do not hold striae well, and even intact areas of glacial polish were hard to come by.

We must have spent an hour or so there before turning away and climbing slowly up the steep ridge above. Along the way we visited many fine viewpoints, and were fortunate enough to find a Mountain Kingsnake at the edge of a cliff. It was about two feet long. I took several photographs and submitted a couple to the online repository "CalPhotos" (go to http://elib.cs.berkeley.edu/photos/fauna/sci-Reptile.html and click on "Lampropeltis zonata"). These lovely snakes have black and white transverse stripes or bands, with red bands more or less present and visible in the centers of the black bands. Our snake slowly slithered a tortuous course along crevices, trying and failing to find a hole where an escape could be made, but eventually succeeding, disappearing into a mass of moss which concealed some hidden chamber.

Mountain Kingsnake
(Lampropeltis zonata)
The walk out was a lot easier, what with all the lopping we had done, and soon we reached the truck. A hike of perhaps three miles altogether, with a scant six hundred feet of elevation loss and gain, seemed like so much more. We were all scratched and sore and more or less wrecked. Forty-five miles brought us to Auburn, and then it was up I-80 to home and hearth and food and sleep.

Such was a visit to New York Canyon.

Russell Towle

Green Valley's Ditches
[North Fork Trails blogpost, June 15, 2004:
http://northforktrails.blogspot.com/2004/06/green-valleys-ditches.html ]
On Sunday I GPSed the courses of the two largest ditches in Green Valley: the High Ditch (HD), which traverses all of Green Valley, from east to west; and the Green Valley Blue Gravel Mine Ditch (GVBGMD), which begins on the North Fork upstream from Euchre Bar, crosses the river about midway between Euchre Bar and Green Valley, and ends in the center of Green Valley.

I found that the High Ditch holds an elevation of about 2100 feet, or a little less, and the GVBGMD comes in at about 1960 feet, or a little more or less, at its terminus, in the center of Green Valley.

Tom Martin of Alta tells me that the High Ditch is called the McCaffery Ditch, and that it took its water from the North Fork of the North Fork (NFNFAR). He cited Gene Markley as the source for this information. I called Gene and asked him about it. He said that he learned the name from Matt Bailey; and suddenly I understood the origin of that name. It appears on the earliest official map of this area, the 1866 General Land Office map of Township 15 North, Range 11 East (a "township," in the surveying sense, meaning a six-by-six block of thirty-six "sections," each section nominally a square mile—and here in Northern California, the numbering of townships is referenced to Mt. Diablo as the local "origin" of coordinates—that is, we here, near Green Valley, are in the 15th township north of Mt. Diablo, and the 11th township east of Mt. Diablo. The northeast corner of the township is thus 90 miles north, and 66 miles east, of Mt. Diablo. By the Theorem of Pythagoras (combined with the Flat Earth of Ptolemy), that means that Mt. Diablo is about 111 miles from where Casa Loma Road crosses the railroad tracks.)

At any rate. On this 1866 map, along the east boundary, in Green Valley, is a little black square with the words "Mchaffey's House and Garden." It is easy to see how "Mchaffey" could become "McCaffery." This surname is usually spelled 'McHaffey'; let us imagine that the surveyors, in 1866, mistakenly used a small 'h', and correct their error. And, the High Ditch terminates not far from the McHaffey house site, today, marked by much Vinca and some cellar holes and fruit trees. It is close to the Pyramid, in the west part of Green Valley, and right on the West Trail.

However, the High Ditch existed to serve the hydraulic mine(s) at the west end of Green Valley, not McHaffey's garden. Perhaps McHaffey himself was the owner of one or more of the mines there; perhaps he built the ditch, or hired it done; it would have been quite costly. But, I do not know that. For now I reject the "McHaffey" name in favor of the generic and descriptive "High Ditch." Perhaps it could be called the Pyramid Ditch.

But, what of this business about the High Ditch originating on the North Fork of the North Fork? It turns out that Gene Markley himself had made the same mistake I had, in mistaking the High Ditch for the ditch which is cut into the marble cliffs at the east end of Green Valley.

I knew that this marble-cliff ditch is the GVBGMD, but (like Gene) I had thought it was the same ditch which crosses all Green Valley to end near the Pyramid—near the McHaffey house site. It is not. The High Ditch originates within Green Valley itself, at the very east end, drawing water from what I call Iron Point Ravine, and probably also taking water from the other ravines along its way west—Casa Loma, Moonshine, and Ginseng ravines (my names). If one scouts past the source of the High Ditch, across Iron Point Ravine to the south and east, there is no trace of any continuation.

But, even the GVBGMD did not originate on the NFNFAR. Instead, it drew from the main North Fork, well above the confluence with the NFNFAR, and crossed the North Fork about .35 mile downstream from the Euchre Bar bridge. Today, only a cable crosses the river at that point. One can easily find and follow the line of the GVBGMD on the south side of the NF at Euchre Bar, either east or west, upstream or down; follow it west and downstream, and it mysteriously ends, near the cable.

Similarly, one can scramble out along the marble cliffs at the east end of Green Valley, and follow the GVBGMD upstream, to where, again, it mysteriously ends, near the cable. I figured out about twenty years ago that it must have crossed the North Fork on a flume, near the cable. And this was confirmed by an 1876 newspaper article from the Dutch Flat Forum, which describes operations of the GVBGM, and the ditch, and the flume.

Let me quote from that article about the GVBGM: first, an inexact reference to the cost of the ditch:
Ten men are employed who work the claim night and day, and, having a strata of gravel which prospects well, it is thought that it will pay expenses this run. The disbursements of this Co. since active measures were taken to construct a canal, up to the present time, has been between $60,000 and $70,000, while the receipts have been but $1800.
And next, the description of the flume across the North Fork:
Another important and interesting item which has not been mentioned, is the trestle-work erected on the bridge to convey the water to a corresponding height on the opposite side of the river. The height of the bridge as before mentioned is 62 ft. from the bed of the river, and the trestle-work is 73 ft. up to the bed of the flume, making in all 139 ft. to the top of the flume. The American River at this point on its bed is about 40 ft. wide, and when its rushing waters are at their height and come plunging through this narrow gorge, it forms a scene, when viewed from a central position over the river, which would well repay those who admire the grandeur of nature together with the remarkable achievements of science and art.
It is true that the GVBGM has almost the perfect elevation to be the downstream continuation of the large mining ditch which indubitably does come down the NFNFAR to Euchre Bar. However, I believe that ditch served the minor hydraulic mines at Euchre Bar itself. There is certainly no sign of its continuation downstream, on the south side of the river, west of the Euchre Bar mines. I've been over those steep rubbly slopes twice, searching for it, years ago.

It is also possible, however, that the bridge mentioned in the 1876 article was the Euchre Bar bridge itself. Then the ditch coming down the NFNFAR might have been led across here, from the north side to the south side—only to cross again, .35 mile downstream. I regard this as highly unlikely.

While raising these kinds of points in my conversation with Gene, he eventually conceded that, yes, the ditch cut into the marble cliffs does not go through to Euchre Bar on the south side of the river; he recalled that there was a section one always had to just scramble, along the river itself.

All this just goes to show that it can be hard to figure out the origins and courses of old mining ditches, especially when one, like the GVBGMD, does something really strange—cross the North Fork itself, on a flume the newspaper article declares to be "139 feet" above the river. Suppose the flume was four feet high; then the bottom of the flume would have been 135 feet above the North Fork.

The crossing point is about 3/4 of the distance between where the 1840-foot contour crosses the North Fork, just above the marble cliffs, where Sugarloaf Ravine meets the river, and where the 1880-foot contour crosses. Hence we could take the elevation of the river at the crossing to be 1870 feet. Add 135 feet—and one arrives at 2005 feet for the elevation of the ditch at the crossing.

This is in good accord with my GPSed elevations for the GVBGMD to the west—it came in at 2000 feet at the marble cliffs, and around 1960 to 1980 feet at its terminus. However, I have found that, when near cliffs, GPS data is not to be trusted. Cliffs reflect the satellite signals and wreak havoc on the GPS unit's calculation of position. Trees also cause problems. And then, when one gets home, and hooks the GPS unit up to the computer, and downloads the waypoint and track data to a properly-georeferenced topographic map, using just the right "geoid" or map datum, one often finds that the elevations one recorded on the ground, do not match up well with contour lines on the map. For instance, at the terminus of the GVBGM, in the center of Green Valley, I was getting consistent readings of about 1985 feet; but, plotted on the map, the terminus came in below the 1960-foot contour.

I believe there is a goodly amount of inaccuracy in topographic maps, in the positions of the contour lines. The Dutch Flat quadrangle's rendering of the trails in Green Valley is simply terrible. Combine the built-in inaccuracies of the map with the inevitable inaccuracies of GPS and one is left having to make rather arbitrary decisions. For instance, in a best-possible drawing of the High Ditch on the Dutch Flat quadrangle, one might simply choose to use an elevation of 2100 feet, which is half-way between the 2080- and 2120-foot contours. A refinement might be to give the line of the ditch a gentle grade, of perhaps 10 to 20 feet per mile, from east to west.

Aerial photos would help resolve these kinds of mapping problems.

I can send a fairly large (~300K) map showing my GPS track records for the two ditches, and a photograph (~80K) of the GVBGM crossing the marble cliffs, to anyone interested.

The next-largest ditch in Green Valley is on the south side of the river, at about 2200' elevation; it drew from Giant Gap Ravine and McIntyre Ravine and delivered water to the Hayden Hill Mine. I have not GPSed this ditch, yet, but I have hiked it.

There are many many smaller ditches in Green Valley.

June 14 (1978, 2000, 2001, 2007)
East Fork Country ~ Artifacts

6/14/78  morning. cloud shadows flit across the canyon, as they have for days now.”

[Russell Towle's journal]

File name: rendermap.jpg
File date: June 14, 2000

BVB = Big Valley Bluff; SPF = Sugar Pine Flat.; BGC = Big Granite Canyon; NYC = New York Canyon;
SM = Sailor Meadow; WC = Wildat Canyon; DC = Duncan Canyon; DP = Duncan Peak; LBM = ?

Date: Thu, 14 Jun 2001 15:22:02 -0800
To: North_Fork_Trails
From: Russell Towle
Subject: Hearing

Hi all,

Good news, the Planning Commission voted 5-2 to uphold the appeal, and deny permission to build a house above Iron Point! Thanks so much to all of you who wrote.

Several people spoke on behalf of the appeal. As the appellant, I was allowed to ramble on and on about the great North Fork, and sat down possessed with all I should have said, but didn't. Then Bill Newsom stepped forward to charm the Commission with his deft humor, and urge protection of the scenic qualities in the canyon. Tim Woodall made a very effective presentation upon the legal issues bearing upon the Minor Use Permit. Marilyn Jasper and Sharon Cavallo spoke well on behalf of the great canyon. And Stephanie Austin-Goodman brought the meeting to a temporary halt by offering to buy the 48 acres from the applicant, Linda Carruthers, while Jim Forman, Commission chairperson, tried to quell her with arms waving. Such an offer was apparently well outside the scope of what the Commission wished to hear.

It is unknown whether Ms. Carruthers will appeal this decision. If she does, the matter will be heard before the Board of Supervisors (I think).

Date: Thu, 14 Jun 2001 20:41:30 -0800
To: North_Fork_Trails
From: Russell Towle
Subject: Iron Point parcel

Hi all,

[...] if anyone wants to see what an SPI clearcut looks like in real life, Iron Point has a nice view of some a few miles east, up on Sawtooth Ridge. They are about two years old. SPI owns quite a few sections up in that area. These clearcuts can be reached by driving in to Helester Point (from Emigrant Gap) and walking a half mile west.

If anyone else has the sense that TNF may be drastically underestimating the amount of SPI lands (and other lands) it should attempt to purchase, well, maybe we can do something about it. So far as trails go, the China Trail at Lost Camp originates on SPI lands, I believe. I am planning to hike the China Trail down to the North Fork of the North Fork with several people on the weekend of the 23-24. Any of you are welcome. I will provide details when they are known.

More and More Lost Locomotives
[North Fork Trails blogpost, June 14, 2007:
http://northforktrails.blogspot.com/2007/10/more-and-more-lost-locomotives.html ]
Western Azalea
(Rhododendren occidentale)
Wednesday morning Ron Gould and I drove up to Emigrant Gap on I-80, and then in on Forest Road 19 to Onion Valley (a lush wet glacial meadow just below the 4800' contour), hung a left on Forest Road 45, and very soon went right on 45-2. Our objective was the old Bradley & Gardner Ditch, or Placer County Canal. Following it in and out of Monumental Canyon we would reach the East Fork, and in another mile, the "take," where a small dam once diverted the East Fork into the Canal.

There we would find the old riveted steam engine boiler, twenty feet long and four feet in diameter. I had conjectured that this might be the source of the "Legend of the Lost Locomotive," the abandoned narrow-gauge logging engine supposedly hidden away in that remote, many-ravined East Fork Country.

The East Fork of the North Fork of the North Fork of the American River might better be named Azalea Canyon, for the Western Azalea, a species of rhododendron, is in full bloom along the banks of the creek, the large and graceful white flowers sweetly scenting the air. This shrub seems especially common there.

We parked at the end of Road 45-2 and began our hike.

All went as planned and Ron much admired the admirable old rock walls along the Canal, and the fine view of the Monuments, below, on Monumental Creek.

We reached the "take," and the putative Lost Locomotive. Ron has a keen eye. I had examined every exposed surface for some kind of maker's mark, but I found nothing. Ron immediately saw some tiny letters on two of the riveted iron plates forming the giant cylinder; one set of letters was legible, and read "CH#1," the other, longer set of letters seemed to spell "LOCHAIR" but was very faint, and may have had one letter preceding the "L."

Later, from the internet, Ron learned that "CH#1" means "charcoal hammered number one grade." This was a specialty rolled iron used for boilers.

We paused for lunch at the Lost Locomotive (which may well have been some kind of stationary steam engine, and in any case has no running gear or cab), and discussed its position, really right down in the bed of the Azalea Canyon, inches from the water. On the one hand, it might have rolled down the canyon wall: there was some denting to the cylinder. On the other hand, it might have been carried down Azalea Canyon from somewhere above, in a flood event, such as occurred in January of 1997. There are scratches running lengthwise on the cylinder.

Ron felt that, had the tons of metal been carried down the river, it would show more and deeper scratches. I on the other hand, who started by insisting it must have rolled down from some point above, now began to think that it must have been washed down Azalea Canyon to its current position.

We found a number of pieces of strap iron in and around the creek, which seemed to have nothing to do with our lonely Lost Locomotive, and I speculated that they may have been used to tie together the logs of the vanished diversion dam.

I was wrong, however, as will soon be made clear.

After lunch, we climbed to a century-old narrow-gauge logging railroad grade less than a hundred feet above the Bradley & Gardner, and followed it up the canyon, through occasional patches of thick brush. This old railroad grade bade fair to continue up Azalea Canyon for miles. However, in half a mile it turned into a side canyon and seemed to end altogether.

We could see a strange area of raw dirt across Azalea Canyon, and in the course of scouting the forested slopes in our ravine for any sign of our railroad grade's continuation, we drew nearer, and saw that near the area of raw dirt, some cliffs fell steeply to the river. So we made our way back to the river's edge, and saw immediately that a road descended to the river from the Texas Hill side, ending in a huge turn-around and log deck. A very high bank had been left by the big bench cut. So, there was our raw dirt.

Immediately upstream were the cliffs, and we entered a fascinating little gorge within Azalea Canyon, Shoo Fly Complex metasediments carved into pools and rapids. Smooth and rounded rocks along the stream gave way to ragged cliffs of slate rising hundreds of feet above. It was easy going, with the water so low, to ascend the gorge, and shortly we entered a more typical part of the canyon, with White Alders along the banks, and many boulders of glacial outwash and glacial till in the stream.

We rested. The day was quite warm and the shade was welcome. Looking at our maps, we saw that a certain road descended to the river from the north, only a little ways upstream. Ron began wandering up the creek, and soon a shout brought me scampering along after him. He stood triumphantly over a train wheel, which must have weighed hundreds of pounds, lying beside the creek on a bedrock outcrop. Now we must be within an ace of the road-from-the-north, so we forged on up the stream, finding more strap iron, and then, some narrow-gauge railroad track, and then ...

And then we reached the road-from-the-north, which I saw at once was a century-old railroad grade, unusually steep, but Ron kept on finding new and more exciting bits and pieces of old railroad junk down below, and I rejoined him. A little flat at the base of the old road held a sign on a tree reading "Time Bandit Claim." The miner had found many square nails and spikes and whatnot in the course of suction dredging the creek, and these were in a pile. We saw large pieces of old iron equipment scattered beside the creek nearby, and another old railroad grade seemed to climb steeply away on the Texas Hill side. I followed this up a couple hundred yards, where it became indistinct, but did seem to continue, and then struck directly back down to the stream, crossed, and found myself in a vast springy area with an acre of Lady Ferns putting on new growth in the sunshine.

Lady Fern
(Athyrium filix-femina)
I found a squishy path through the ferns and entered the forest above, immediately striking another old railroad grade, which I followed up the canyon a short distance, before it seemed to end. Retreating, I began to see more old metal scattered in the woods, and soon found a cabin site, with pieces of an old cast-iron woodstove, and other oddities, scattered about. Ron joined me, and after looking at the antiquities, we saw a Forest Service sign advising that it was a historic site, and artifacts could not be taken.

Walking down the old railroad grade towards the flat with the mining claim sign, we saw some more old metal at the edge of the large springy area, much obscured by alder trees, and walking over, found a second boiler, like the first, about twenty feet long and four feet in diameter. This boiler had various appurtenances bolted on which were missing from the Bradley & Gardner boiler. Nearby were what appeared to be long sections of riveted light sheet iron smokestacks.

We interpreted this second boiler to be a stationary engine used at the base of a steep, tracked, "incline," although in retrospect I suppose it may have powered a sawmill. But we saw no sawdust pile, no artifacts which could only have derived from a mill.

Seeing all this antique logging gear, scarcely half a mile above the Bradley & Gardner boiler, led me to conclude that it had indeed been carried down the river in a flood event.

After exploring the area fairly thoroughly, we debated whether to follow the road-from-the-north up to where the top of the incline must have been, on the ridge dividing Azalea and Monumental canyons, but decided instead to follow back down the East Fork and look for the base of the Texas Hill Incline.

This historic incline connected the East Fork (Azalea Canyon) to the summit of Texas Hill, and thus to the Towle Brothers Lumber Company's "Burnett Canyon" mill, of the 1890s.

On our way back down Azalea Canyon, we saw more and more old strap iron, and soon enough found long pieces, some still nailed to wooden rails. This was a relatively primitive way of moving logs around; instead of laying "real" railroad track, which is expensive, one used wooden beams or logs for rails, and nailed strap iron on top. Then flat-cars, or log-cars, of some kind, could be rolled down these tracks, using oxen or even mules for motive force. It looks very much as if one of the primitive strap-iron railroads followed right down Azalea Canyon, sometimes directly beside the stream itself, sometimes fifty feet above it. We saw hundreds of feet of strap iron before we reached the Bradley & Gardner.

From the Canal, a few yards west of the "take," we followed an old railroad grade down to the stream, and immediately struck a continuation of the strap-iron railroad. As we followed downstream, crossing from side to side to take advantage of forested flat terraces of glacial outwash, so did the strap iron cross back and forth.

Eventually we reached the near vicinity of the Texas Hill Incline, but frustratingly, could not see it. Trees over a hundred feet high have grown up since then.

However, we did find a cable spool, which may be what was sometimes called a "gypsy head," associated with a stationary engine used for yarding logs, at about where we felt the base of the Incline must be.

Proceeding downstream, a much more substantial narrow-gauge railroad grade replaced our fragile strap-iron line, and this led to a crossing of Azalea Canyon exactly at the confluence of Monumental Creek. From there it was a short but not all that easy scramble back up to Road 45-2 and Ron's truck.

Before returning to the freeway and Civilization, we drove up Texas Hill Road past the spring of that name, and found the upper section of the Incline. However, we could not see all the way down into Azalea Canyon. The exact course of the Incline as it nears the stream will be found on some other trip.

Such was a very interesting day in the East Fork Country.

A reminder: