Chiquito Basin

Posted on June 13, 2004 in Hikes and Trails

For the record, I want to say that I do not believe that trail bikers are evil as a species. One does meet up with considerate people pushing pedals and sprockets through the wilderness. The two bikers we met today stand as a fine example.

We were lost. Or at least, for about five minutes, I dreaded that I had wandered off on the wrong trail. My topographic map failed to show construction of a new trail which bent to the right of the one shown on my map and lead down through a scrub oak and chamise cloaked elfin forest through a vale of live oaks. I figured that the intersection shown on the map matched the one we just passed. When we came to a crossroads about fifteen minutes later, bewilderment set in.

Nowhere did the map show trails crossing trails. Yet here in the middle of a steep meadow we stood at one. I scrutinized the map, trying to figure out just where we were. Had we veered off along one of the other canyons? Were we miles from where we should have been?

We had had the trail to ourselves. I had counted this an advantage until we reached this junction. Which way was Chiquito Basin? Had we passed it without noticing it?

From the thick oak forest below us, I heard the click of wheels and two men talking. I motioned to Lynn to stop and listened. In a minute or two they appeared, a pair of mountain bikers pushing their vehicles up the steep slope. When they reached the intersection, they stopped to chat.

Together we looked over the map. They weren’t familiar with the ground except for the fact that they were on the San Juan Trail and that the trail we hadn’t come down led to the campground where we’d started. Their trailhead was eight miles behind them. I scryed the pale green contours and the black dotted lines. They confirmed that we had come from the right direction and that we had not detoured into one of the side canyons. The trail junction post had an arrow which pointed southwest. I checked the map against this and chose the same path the bikers had come up.

They were getting tired from the climb and did not relish the steep slope which they had to follow if they followed the line they’d pushed their bikes up. I told them about the easier, shaded trail that we’d sauntered down. They took it as I headed down the hill, promising Lynn to turn back in twenty minutes if we did not find Chiquito Basin.

We found it, though we were disappointed in our search for the Indian grinding rock which a guide told us lay concealed in the scrub fringing the north edge. On our way back, I heard them coming down through the thick woods between the meadow and the intersection where we’d met them. They heard us and stopped until we passed. I had Lynn hoof it a little faster so we wouldn’t detain them long. We greeted each other with smiles, each happy to have found our destination. As they parted, I wished them a safe ride and added my new tag line of the trail: “If you have a breakdown, walk it out.”*

Too many bikers barrel down trails, heedless of those of us who walk on foot. These men behaved like gentlemen. I wish more bikers acted like them.

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*This is because the biker who was killed in Whiting Ranch last January had stopped to attempt to fix a broken chain. A mountain lion sneaked up on him while he was working on it and the rest made the national news.