PINNACLES NATIONAL MONUMENT: Endless Hiking Among Otherworldly Rock Formations of an Ancient Volcano in Central California’s Gabilan Range

One splendid October morning, hiking a deserty landscape with stellar views in all directions, we’re hoping to catch a glimpse of Hoi, or one of his juvenile minions, high on Condor Gulch Trail. At the crest of High Peaks Trail, still no sightings. Then, scrounging around in my pack for a banana, Mary points up, exclaiming, “There’s one! Quick, look!” I fumble about, and manage to look up into the cerulean void barely in time to spot a big, ugly turkey vulture circling overhead. I quickly affix binoculars to eyes for a better look -- I don't see an id ta

Gymnogyps californianus ruled these skies up until the 1930s, was last seen in 1982, and after a long incubation period, was reintroduced to its native habitat in December 2003. It was / is a noble effort by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, in coop

Will these magnificent birds be able to survive in their reintroduced habitat for another several years until they reach breeding age to successfu


PNM is one of those “special, cherished” places I’ve always meant to check out . . . but never have until October 2006! (Surely, I’m alone in this department!) What have I been missing these many years of seeking out new places, discovering the exotic in the local, the universal and wondrous in the commonplace? After all, not just any old park has National Monument status bestowed on it. Here is an uncommonly intriguing natural area as close or closer than Pt. Reyes National Seashore, Henry Coe wild lands, Marin / Sonoma / Napa / Yolo counties, the Santa Cruz Mountains, all places I regularly pay homage to. PNM is as close or closer than beloved destinations to Sierra Nevada foothill canyon / river country. On

Our initial impression is of a remarkable, out-of-place landscape more akin to the desert Southwest than to the otherwise unheralded Gabilan Range in the otherwise un-touristy, highly agricultural San Benito County. [From Wikipedia: “. . .home to benitoite, the official gem of the State of California and of E Clampus Vitus, to the San Benito evening primrose (Camissonia benitensis), a flower believed to exist only within the county, and to Illacme plenipes, a milliped

Approaching from the funky town of Soledad, the long and winding road rolls through chaparral hill country, beautiful and remote-feeling to be sure, but just that - a feeling. We’re surrounded by private, fenced-off ranch lands with NO PARKING NO STOPPING NO CAMPING signs conspicuously posted along the way. (In other words, Keep the Hell Out.) This road leads to one and one place only - the West Entrance parking lot. Here, the lazy, infirmed or those short on time like us, can enjoy tremendous views of monolithic spires and sheer rock walls right from the car, without having to hike a single foot. (Unlike the East Entra

We’d been driving all day, up from wine country in Paso Robles, so by now, it’s getting on; we’ve got about two hours to get out and see what we can see. It’s amazingly warm, as dusky light softens the edges of rugged, dark purple hills. We round a bend in the road, in this otherwise unspectacular place, and suddenly they appear on the elevated horizon - a panorama of surreal redrock spires, imposing monoliths, and Arches National Park-like pinnacles rising anomalously out of rolling hills. I am flummoxed, nearly speechless, to behold such a magnificent heretofore unseen sight, close to home or not.
We self-pay at the unstaffed West Entrance Chaparral Ranger station, and set off on Juniper Canyon Trail, a winding, steep and narrow trail that gains over 1200 feet in elevation in under two miles. We decide to take it easy, venturing just far and high enough to kick back and take in a mind-boggling view of gigantic penis rocks, gargantuan rabbit figures, mushroom mosques, and other fabulous rock formations towering above and around us. Evening autumnal sunlight diffuses the scene, creating a soft, pastel dream world


The next morning finds us at the East Entrance, the primary portal to PNM, with a Visitor’s Center and a campground (outside of the park). Driving slowly in, we spot numerous deer foraging off the roadside. Only a couple other cars are parked on this perfect, bright, lovely morning . . . When suddenly, a park maintenance guy cranks up -- you guessed it! -- a noisy, obnoxious gas-powered leaf blower! In this remote place of splendid isolation and quietude, with nothing on the ground to even blow away, for crying out loud (except toxic molds and asthma-inducing dust), I’m being driven to despair and psychological torture by an NPS employee “cleaning up” with an ear-piercing, brain-rattling, bone-jarring, cell-shattering leaf blower! I am outraged and appalled, disheartened by the irony that PNM, priding itself on Class I Air Quality, and purity of wilderness, allows the stupid polluting contraption to be used. (It’s a bit like vacuuming the pews during mass with a Dirt Devil.)
Hike / loop options are diverse. (http://www.nps.gov/pinn/planyourvisit/trails.htm) Trails that lead to back wilderness areas of the canyon system of Chalone Creek watershed must be absolute

We opt to hike up Condor Gulch Trail to High Peaks Trail, then reverse loop it back down High Peaks to Chalone Creek and eventually Bear Gulch Trail back to the Visitor‘s Center -- all this, about seven grueling miles, after a two-mile side-detour, of course, to check out the “steep and

The entire hike I’m craning my neck looking for condors, or stooped over inspecting a particularly intriguing pyroclastic conundrum, or stopped dead in my tracks admiring on



PNM is a mere two and a half hours away (if you’re lucky enough to live in the San Francisco Bay Area). A lifetime can be spent returning there time and again -- we’re excited to next return on a lovely full moon to night hike the talus passages and high winding trails in albion glow. (Ranger Rupp informs us that the East Entrance remains open past posted closing hours for adventurous and exotic night hiking during temperate full moons.) Or maybe we’ll just pop down on some blisteringly beautiful March day, when the resurgent new season is upon us - when bone-dry gullies and water courses come roaring to life with run-off; when vast swatches of wildflowers color the hillsides; when you’ve got the paradise to yourself.

Situated just east of the famous Salinas Valley, Pinnacles National Monument exists as an island in time and space. It exists as a soul-soothing retreat, oh-so-close yet so-so far from the madding crowd (despite the excessive numbers that visit yearly). By dint of geologic anomaly, it exists here in our very midst, 26,000 acres of protected territory, increasingly threatened by cancerous urban encroachment and deleterious human activity. Pinnacles National Monument exists as a place to supremely commune with Mother Nature -- according to the National Park Service, you are apt to spot anywhere from “149 species of birds, 49 mammals, 23 reptiles, 6 amphibians, 68 butterflies, 40 dragonflies and damselflies, nearly 400 bees, and many thousands of other invertebrates.” Yes, Pinnacles National Monument exists as a unique place to learn about cultural history -- Costanoan Chalone and Mutsun peoples habituated the area f

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