Whenever we visit California around this time of year we are surprised by Spring. It’s there in all it’s glory, the hills are bursting with verdant pride and the trees are ablaze with blossoms. But here in Reno, just a couple of hours away, winter still holds us in its firm grasp. We know that while life is beginning anew on the other side of the mountain, we are doomed to “dead” trees and brown grass until late May or early June. This was the perfect weekend to get away and sneak a taste of Spring. Right!! Don’t believe it! The real reason for the trip was to grab some much needed counties and quads in California. Spring was just the icing.
After two days of planning, we realized we wouldn’t be able to get seven quads, five counties and mine the Dublin area for numbers in three days. Well, Ok...I know we could do it in less time but we wanted as much time for the NUMBERS! So we left Reno Friday afternoon and drove down to visit L3-Geo in Roseville. That gave us another 2 hours on Saturday. The farther we got on Saturday the farther we could get on Sunday and that would allow even more time to get more numbers in the Dublin area Sunday afternoon and Monday morning. That was the plan...and it worked beautifully.
Saturday, March 1
Saturday morning we were up and out by 7AM. Our first cache was about 100 miles away in Oakdale, a small town 30 minutes east of Manteca. Once in Oakdale, we quickly found the requisite cache to qualify us for Quad 108 and now we were off to the next Quad! Not! It seems GeoJeepette wanted to grab more caches in Oakdale while I wanted to stick to the plan. After a lively debate regarding policies, philosophies, schedules and plans “we” decided to cache around Oakdale. I shouldn’t have spent valuable travel time debating a losing position. Fortunately there weren’t that many caches in the area and it wasn’t long before we were on the road heading east to the Sierra foothills and the Gold Country.
As we drove east on Hwy 108 toward Jamestown and Sonora, GeoJeepette started making little squeaking noises every time we passed up a cache. Sometimes she would spontaneously begin reading the description of an upcoming cache and silently beg with her beautiful big brown eyes. “NO! We are on a mission!!!” Besides, I was mesmerized by the spectacular scenery. The fertile farm land and blossoming orchards were giving way to lush green rolling hills studded with trees and capped with a layer of dark brown basalt. Everywhere you looked there were horses and cows grazing on the rich green velvety grass. I was fantasizing about what it would be like to live here when another squeak snapped me back to reality.
The first cache in Quad 109 took us to the Masonic Cemetery in Jamestown. Like so many old pioneer cemeteries, this one was on a rural road sandwiched between two houses. And like so many others, the grave markers are all gone and the property neglected. Sonora is just a short distance up the road from Jamestown and it’s similar to so many of the old quaint mining towns that you find along Hwy 49 in the Sierra foothills; historically interesting and very touristy. A couple more caches here assured us Quad 109 and we then headed up Hwy 49.
Just inside Quad 99 there is an ammo can cache at a historical monument. You would think that we had enough experience with ammo cans to spot one “behind the monument”. The ground around the monument was free of debris and vegetation and the trees were small and sparse. I expanded the search and even kicked (gently) the rocks adhered to the monument hoping for a secret compartment. Nothing. Not even a questioning stare from the muggle sitting in the car nearby. Very unsatisfying. But, fortunately, the next cache up the road was easy and very clever.
The return trip back to Oakdale was interrupted by a few stops for caches because...I’ll admit it...I relented, gave up, surrendered to the brown eyes. I’m weak. But, I felt better after having lunch in Oakdale and after a few more caches there we headed off on the next leg of the trip. The plan required us to take Hwy 108 to Modesto and then Hwy 132 west to I-5. The next cache was about 40 miles south on I-5 just north of the intersection with Hwy 152. An hour and a half later we had another quad and still had plenty of daylight left, but, just to be safe we called and made hotel reservations in Watsonville. Now we were committed to stick to the plan. No dawdling over unnecessary caches! The ensuing debate regarding the true meaning of “unnecessary caches” helped pass the time.
By the time we reached Gilroy, Geojeepette was much more amenable to grabbing the first cache and heading south on Hwy 101. No, it wasn’t a result of my persuasive debating skills. It was getting late, we had three more counties to get and I could hear a glass of wine calling my name all the way from Watsonville. Luckily (or was it my masterful planning), we quickly found caches in San Bonito, Monterey and Santa Cruz County and still had time to check in at the hotel and find that glass of wine.
Sunday, March 2
The bags were packed and the car was loaded before the 6 AM complimentary breakfast was even served. This was going to be an easier day but we wanted to be in Dublin around noon to start the mining operation. But first we toured Watsonville and Freedom looking for caches. We were disappointed with what we found. The caches were either missing or we couldn’t figure out how to get to them or they were camoed under too much garbage. And then there were the indigenous residentially challenged population prominently represented along the sidewalks and gutters. Our tolerance for Ick and Yuck ran out so we cut our visit short and headed up Hwy 101 to Santa Cruz. Once we thought we were far enough away we stopped at a vista point somewhere south of Santa Cruz. After finding the cache I wanted to get a picture of the ocean in the distance but I needed a higher vantage point. The nearby rock wall fit the bill but when I placed my hand on top of the wall in preparation for climbing up onto it, I touched something slimy. When I looked down at my hand I nearly puked! My hand was sitting in a puddle of spit next to a used cigarette. The ultimate in yuck! I may never be the same. I’m still having nightmares.
We skipped all the caches in Santa Cruz. We didn’t need them and GeoJeepette was wise enough to allow me time to recover from the shock. At Santa Cruz we turned north and headed up Hwy 17 to Scott’s Valley. By then I was returning to normal so we stopped and found a couple caches. Now we had to make a decision. We needed one more quad and county and both could be gotten with one or more caches in the Redwood City/Woodside area. Do we take the quickest route north on Hwy 17 and into the bowels of freeway hell or do we take the scenic route up Hwy 9 through the coastal redwoods. I would have consulted GeoJeepette but she was asleep so I made an administrative decision. The redwoods won, of course.
Majestic is the only word I can think of to describe the trees along Hwy 9. The winding road added a measure of fun to the trip but all the bicycles caused some very tense moments. Cars and bicycles shouldn’t be allowed to share the same narrow twisting mountain road. From some of the looks I received from bicyclians I knew they agreed with me, but obviously had a different perspective. Once in Quad 114 and Santa Mateo we found the required cache and continued on into Woodside. The plan was to cache around Woodside for a bit but when we got there this small...no... tiny town was wall to wall with motorcycles and scary people wearing leather so we pulled a quick U-turn and headed west on Hwy 84 to Redwood City. From there it was a relatively quick trip up Hwy 101 to the San Mateo Bridge and eventually Dublin.
Now we were in our own element. We were home. The Dublin/San Ramon/Pleasanton/Livermore area is our old stomping grounds. We lived in San Ramon for six years and knew this place like the back of our hand. Or so we thought. When we got off the freeway and tried to look for a place to eat we were lost. This wasn’t Kansas anymore! Everything seemed different, there was more of everything and we didn’t recognize anything. A quick calculation explained it all. It’s been 28 years since we left!! You feel really old when streets that didn’t exist before are old and cracked and full of potholes. But then, if you think about it, so am I now.
We did manage to find the familiar and reassuring yellow arches but were taken aback when we saw that it had sofas. What’s that about! I briefly worried that we had fallen down a rabbit hole but quickly decided it was better to go with the flow than to make a scene. It was comforting to discover that Big Macs were still Big Macs. After lunch we spent some time in the car reviewing maps and consulting the laptop in order to orient ourselves to our new old stomping grounds. We spent the rest of the day being relatively successful racking up some numbers before we checked into our hotel, grabbed some dinner and crashed.
Monday, March 3
San Ramon is just a short freeway ride north of Dublin and we decided that would be a great place to cache and see if we could find our old house. Thirty four years ago, our neighborhood was the first to be built in San Ramon. When we moved there cows and horses outnumbered the people and there were no stores, gas stations, parks or office buildings. Nothing. Now the cows are gone and the hills are populated with houses. Every amenity known to exist is there now, only a short distance from our old house. And the traffic and the number of people was nearly overwhelming. One moment I was wishing we had never left and the next I was glad we did.
We spent the morning caching and being amazed at the changes and then we headed back to Dublin, over to Livermore and then I-580. We continued east on I-580 stopping for the caches along the road and eventually found ourselves on Grant Line Road. After getting a cache near the off-ramp we decided to continue on Grant Line and see if we could pick up a couple more out in the country. One of these was at the Altamount Speedway. When we arrived it was quiet and the gate was closed. Good, no Muggles today. As I got out of the car I heard a strange yet familiar sound and by the time I reached the cache I was convinced there was a cat in extreme distress trapped high up on a nearby power pole. The cries and yeows were heart wrenching but, no matter how hard I looked, I just could not spot the cat. GeoJeepette had heard the cries too and was also searching the pole. She had a different vantage point then I and discovered that the feline cries were really coming from a bird. I wonder if that’s where the phrase “cat bird seat” came from. Do you suppose there really is a cat bird?
Now time was getting short and it was a long way back to Reno but that didn’t stop us from picking up a couple more before we found I-5 and headed north. Three hours later and, yes, a few caches more, we arrived back in Reno just as the sun was setting.
