
This is South Branch Grouse Creek Falls, which I found on my trek to the bottom of Grouse Falls. South Branch Grouse Creek drops steeply into this canyon, and joins up with Grouse Creek below Grouse Falls. This cascade is found just before the confluence of the two creeks.
Now I had an interesting email exchange with someone recently who told me they had been down to the bottom of Grouse Falls a couple times back in the ’70s, on a Sierra Club hike led by a man named Gene Markley. He couldn’t remember too many details, but indicated there had been a maintained trail leading straight down to the falls. There was no overlook at that time, of course. I was intrigued. Where did this trail start from? Why is it no longer in use? I googled Markley to try to find out more. I couldn’t find any recent information on him, but I did learn that he wrote some books back in the ’70s. One of them I was able to buy a used copy of on-line, called Bogus Thunder Mountains, which was written in 1976.
It is a collection of short essays about the Northern Sierra Nevada, and Placer County in particular. It is an absolutely fascinating book. He is a very entertaining writer; people just don’t write like this anymore. And it includes some very interesting history of this area. He has one essay about “Hunting Waterfalls”, of which I want to quote some parts to you because I thought it was so neat:
“It is concluded among all mighty hunters that tracking a mountain puma or trailing a bear is the ultimate sport … I’ll have to disagree. It, in fact, cannot hold a candle to waterfall hunting! … Waterfall hunting should be done in parties of not less than two or more than six. Solo waterfall hunting is forbidden, becasuse a lone man is no match for the canyon walls or face of peaks [my wife likes that part] … It is, in fact, a rough sport, and one should be ready for the worst. The hunter should be in good condition and be able to move through brush, talus slopes, and slides. Most important is that they still have enough ‘umph’ left to climb out of the gorge or off the mountain at the close of the day. Often you can hear a fall roaring for almost a mile, but approaching it is something else. This is where mountain know-how comes in and proper leadership becomes of utmost importance. The fall cannot be considered captured until you are actually being bathed by the wind-blown spray from the falling water. The next thing is to get yourself in a comfortable position to watch the water tumble, slide, and fall off the mountain or canyon wall. Then, it’s all yours and you have bagged it …
Everytime I think of bagging a waterfall, I think of Grouse Falls … That’s the biggest one I have ever captured. It’s a big one, only a handful of people have ever seen this fall [not true anymore obviously, but how many have really ‘bagged’ it as Markley has?] … The stream comes spilling down Grouse Canyon, dropping from one pool to another, when suddenly it shoots down a curved trough between two twenty-foot rock faces and begins to fall and fall. After a hundred foot leap, it hits and bounces off another two hundred feet, then tumbles, splitting into two separate falls. The water comes dashing down into a rock pool that allows it to spill down through a wild cataract for about one hundred fifty feet, ending up in a huge containing pool which stores the water for a slight second before allowing it to escape over a seventy foot vertical fall. Here the rushing waters disappear into a large green pool surrounded by mossy rock slabs. The river then starts to flow again, spilling its way down into the wilds of the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the American River. The fall has a total vertical drop of imovane about five hundred feet. Anybody for a waterfall hunt? ”
Awesome. That is what I call describing a waterfall. I sure wish I could write like that.
I have one more portion of a different essay I would like to share. This one is just for my friend, Brian:
“The mountain lion, or puma, of the Sierra is the most spendid animal of the wild world … He has been known to spring a distance of twenty feet and can drop from a sixty foot perch to down a deer. He travels approximately twenty miles a night during his hunt, which is normally for weak old deer. He has never been known to attack man and is rarely seen by humans. As in Africa, where he is king of the beasts, he is in the Sierra the greatest of all animals. The mountain lion is on the decline in Placer County and in another generation, only tales will recall this magnificent creature … it was my first puma sighting, and although I hope to repeat it someday, I know the big cats will go the way of the California grizzly … in his usual greed, man destroys all – even the King of beasts.”