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The last time I attempted this mountain, it was on the tail end of a trip that also included Junipero Serra. We got to New Idria just past noon only to find that we couldn’t coax the 2WD car over some obstacles in the road. With an unexpected 16 mile round trip hike ahead of us, we turned back. This time, we brought the 4WD drive, but I was in the mood for a hike anyway. Some rough weather and laid back weekends contributed to a bit of anciness, so the 16-miler didn’t daunt me.
I picked up Mike H. in Fremont and continued on to pick up Jan and Derik in Morgan Hill. Together we reached New Idria around 9:30 and started up the “Hell,” proclaimed the sign. The road goes through all that is left of the mercury mining community that thrived for over 100 years. We passed a huge pile of bright red cinnabar, the ore for mercury, and then another pile of tailings left from the mine. A stream the color of Tang ran out from under the tailings pile. Don’t drink the water.
We continued up through the town behind a large 4WD and their trailer of off-road vehicles. They continued up where we decided to bow out and begin the hike. Maybe I was a little timid in the ol’ 4WD after our muddy adventure in Yolo County, but like I said, I wanted the hike anyway. We hiked along the road to the first ridge, and then descended a small amount to the San Carlos Creek valley and a beautiful and fully unnaturally blue pond. This is definitely not the environment to go swimming. As we started up Road R014 and R010 onto the ridge that is south of the creek, we got to see a lot of the strange landscape around us. San Benito is in the middle of a large mass of serpentine soil and rock, characterized by high levels of nickel and magnesium, but very little calcium. Plant life didn’t exist in some spots, but unique combinations of it thrived elsewhere. The soil and rock was a blue-green hue; some of the slate or shale we found almost slick to the touch. Of course, the rock is also a carrier of long, fibrous crystals: natural asbestos. The BLM warns recreational users about some of the risks and basically says if it’s dusty and windy, go home. The risk was low while we were there; we forged on.
On top of the ridge and on Road R010, we entered a zone where the motorized vehicles weren’t allowed. Ah, a little peace from the bikes. We continued up and over a few bumps along the way, making our way to the summit. As a county highpoint, it was appropriately clad with towers and cellular or microwave equipment. We pulled the class 3 moves necessary to summit the mighty block and plopped ourselves down for lunch. The summit register was still there, but only went back to 2005. Lots of OHV riders make their way here and have a penchant for one page, one signature. Lunch finished, we walked down the road on the southeast side of the peak, joining up with Road R011, which heads back down the San Carlos Creek valley. At the intersection with R0153, we struck off from the valley road (we already had enough of getting sprayed with mud by the bikes) and walked along the ridge to the north of the creek. The ridge leads to San Carlos Peak, where Mike and I scrambled to the top. There wasn’t much to find, just some poles stuck in the ground and an old concrete bunker. The cooled thing we found was an uncovered mine shaft. Rocks dropped into the shaft wouldn’t make a noise until the struck the side of the shaft after 8 seconds, and continued making noise on the way down for almost 15 seconds after we dropped it. That’s deep. Our price of admission for San Carlos Peak was four ticks. Ya-a-a-a-ay.
We continued on Road R153 around the mine at San Carlos and down toward the blue pond. From there, it was a simple matter of retracing our steps and heading home.
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