An Early Geology Lesson About Ridges by Don Taco

 An Early Geology Lesson About Ridges

by Don Taco

        Growing up deep in the Southland of California, behind the Orange Curtain, camping, or even going to the mountains, was not all that easy or common. It meant at least a two hour drive, because nothing is closer, and some planning and luck to arrive at a place that wasn't already over-run. I don't know how many times over the years we'd go with some people to a great little swimming hole they knew, and then return at a later time to find that the word had gotten out and it was too crowded to even consider visiting. 

      At the time when our lives were just beginning to be our own, and we had cars and jobs and gas money in our pockets, a carful of us went camping. We were near the chosen destination, with plenty of daylight, and for reasons I can't recall, we stopped at some little wayside or pullout, and then decided that we would just take the time to climb up to the ridge, where we were certain the view must be even better. And off we went. When we got atop the first little rise above the roadside, we could see the actual ridge, and, having decided to climb it, we went down and upslope to that next goal, to discover again that this was just another small fold in the hills, caused by the inevitable and inexorable force of water obeying the only force water pays any attention to, gravity, and that the actual ridge, and the grand vista we imagined it promised us, was still above us. And on and up we went. Picking our way, discussing what paths looked easy or hard, laughing and talking and having the time of our life being out of the big dirty city and its unbreathable air. 

     After several more discoveries of the 'real' ridge above us, and basically a geology lesson about how time and erosion creates mountains and valleys that I didn't really appreciate until decades later, we eventually found ourselves at a grand vista scenic point below the real ridge, or at least the last real ridge we discovered, and decided that we had probably spent about as much time screwing around hiking as we could afford if we were going to make camp and have dinner at a decent hour, perhaps even before dark.

  And thus, it was time to return to our vehicle. And we looked at the hill below us and said, well, there's no path or trail. We didn't follow one. Being clever fellows, though, we deduced quickly that we had been climbing, and therefore needed to go downhill, that the sun had been headed a certain direction, and therefore just needed to mostly stay at our backs on the return, and that we had not crossed any roads, so if we struck out this way, went downslope, and kept the sun at our back, we would eventually find the road.

     And we were right. We did. Scrambled down to the road, in a little less time that going uphill had taken us, and without having to skirt any dangerous terrain or jump off any cliffs.

     Which left us with the next problem. Where was the car? Being, as I said, clever fellows, we knew it was either above or below us. And if I remember right, there were two keys. So we guessed what we judged the most likely direction, and most of the gang headed out that way, while two of us headed off in the otherdirection, with the plan of whoever found the car would turn around and collect the others. We couldn't guess wrong, because we had all the options covered.

  We had not travelled, either group, more than a few hundred yards, when the larger crowd turned the first corner around a lumpy spot in the mountain, and there was the car. With no path, no tools, and no sense of direction, we had walked back to exactly our starting point.