Bottcher's Gap to Ventana Double Cone

Ventana Wilderness

11/10/2002

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Route map Originally conceived mostly as a means of getting some exercise after a month's relative inactivity (looking at the Forest Service map and skimming through Schaffer's book, it seemed like 14-15 miles each way, with some indeterminate amount of elevation gain), the area turned out to be prettier than I'd anticipated, and well worth seeing in its own right.

I left the Bay Area at around 3am, reaching the trailhead a bit after five. There were a surprising number of cars there, particularly considering the recent heavy rains we'd received in the past couple of days; I assume the cars belonged to people staying at the Bottcher's Gap campground, because I didn't see anyone else out on the trail the whole day. (The cars were all gone when I returned later that night).

After walking for the first half an hour or so by flashlight, the sun gradually rose, leaving me enough light to walk by. Shortly after this, I came to a remarkably pretty opening above the trees, with a variety of orange and red bushes lending colour to the spectacle--a very pleasant surprise, since I'd expected to be walking through mostly brush and chaparral. The enjoyable scenery continued with Pico Blanco visible to the south, and the trail a few minutes later winding through some small stands of ponderosa pine.

I reached the Ventana Double Cone trail turn-off at around nine, having averaged roughly three miles an hour to get here (and only having lost the trail two or three times to this point), and was starting to feel a bit full of myself, thinking I'd be back well before dark at this rate.

Needless to say, things didn't stay this way. The peak is relatively infrequently traveled (judging by the register, perhaps 15-20 ascents each year), and the trail up there was overgrown--I've done easier cross-country routes in the Sierra! I was also misled by some cunningly (almost deceptively) placed ribbons at a small saddle about half-way up, which led me along a trail first to a seasonal stream and then into some increasingly impenetrable woods. After thrashing about for a while on a trail that had become almost non-existent, I decided I had to give up; fortunately, after retracing my steps to the saddle, I found that the correct trail wasn't actually marked with any ribbons at this point... a bit misleading (although presumably helpful for anyone looking for the Lone Pine campsite, which I assume these marked), but I was happy enough to find the trail again not to complain too much about the wasted time and energy.

From this point, the trail became easier to follow as it winds its way up to the summit, which I reached at around 11.30am. Views from the summit were nice, although after no more than a minute or two up there, clouds moved in to obscure the sights. I flipped through the register, finding amusement in the reaction to Bob Burd's register entry (it was his engaging trip report that had inspired me to come out and visit this peak), and added my own quick entry before heading down.

From this point on, it rained the rest of the afternoon; the combination of the fresh rain and the saturated brush infringing on the narrow trail left me soaked. There was an opportunity for some minor excitement (panic, really, given the sodden state of my clothes and continued downpour) about half an hour before sunset, when I managed to lose the trail and follow a game trail down a ridge that eventually petered out; after finally giving up on this and working my way back, I was relieved to find the obvious main trail again, which I followed back to reach my car (and more importantly, its heater) around six or so. A very enjoyable day.

As a final note, after I later purchased the "Topo!" software, I discovered that the indeterminate amount of elevation gain was actually on the order of 8500 feet or so, round trip from Bottcher's Gap. (The precise figure's not clear given the vagaries of that software, but regardless, the 200-foot contour interval on the USFS map is quite deceptive! The route has so many ups and downs that about a third of that gain probably comes on the return).



Images

Click on a thumbnail to see a larger version of an image and associated comments.

Sunrise in the Ventanas. Sunrise in the Ventanas. Sunrise in the Ventanas. A beautiful sunrise in the Ventanas--this scene almost made it worth getting up at three in the morning.
A pretty opening above the trees after about an hour on the trail, probably somewhere above the Turner Creek trail. The same opening above trees. Colourful slopes, and low clouds lingering around Pico Blanco. The same peak a few minutes later.
Ventana hillside. Pines along the trail. Looking back at the forest. Okay, I've come seven miles so far...
...no, wait, eight... A curious singularity in the space-time fabric along the Ventana trail; Bottcher's Gap is both seven and eight miles away, and the Carmel River Station both eight and ten miles distant.  One wonders how much faith to have in the Forest Service's signs. Another Ventana hillside. On the Ventana Double Cone trail.
The notch from which Ventana Double Cone most likely received its name. A lone tree on the summit. The north peak. I was amused to see the reaction to Bob Burd's register entry; it was Bob's trip report describing his dayhike to this peak that had piqued my interest in dayhiking it likewise.

The last register entry before mine was some three weeks previously; the peak is relatively infrequently ascended (perhaps 15-20 times a year).
After reaching the summit, the clouds (and subsequently, rain) quickly moved in to obscure views and deny me the opportunity of taking a silly panorama from the peak.  A bit of a shame, because the views were rather nice. Looking northeast from the summit. Again looking northwest towards the notch.

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