Yolla Bolly

Words by: Feild Patten
Images by: Andrew Thomas

Yolla Bolly: a phrase from the Native American Wintun language of the region's Wintun peoples, Yo-la meant snow-covered, and Bo-li meant high peak

It was sunny and beautiful, late August in Northern California, and we were cruising north on the I-5 with all four windows down and little on our minds except when the cell signal would dissipate, and we would be alone with nature. This summer only three of us could make the inaugural backpacking trip. As we were reaching in the rear for some snacks, it was absent mindedly stated; “one of you guys grabbed and packed that tent that was laying in the kitchen right?” SHIT. We veered off at bullet ridden exit marker 603 notating a town called “Willows.” Heck, maybe there would be a tent in this small dusty town. First stop, Westside Outdoorsman, where an old gentleman sat behind a dusty counter smoking a Camel Wide and guarding his arsenal, was no dice. Next door at the trusty Ace Hardware on a back dusty shelf we struck gold…err…lead by securing a 6 man circa 1995 tent.

 With the tent secured, we headed north through Artois, Grapit, Orland and into the last city of substance, Corning. From Corning, we headed off the grid. We meandered down the little used A9, marveling at the magical golden hills and swerving roads that seemed to stretch for eternity with no vehicles or persons in site. Soon the asphalt ended as we merged onto the gravel M2. Our adventure awaited.

 For a few years, we had researched this location for a backpacking adventure. The Mendocino National Forest comprises nine hundred thirteen thousand acres and is the only National Forest in all of California without a major paved road system. Our specific destination was the rugged and little known Yolla Bolly Wilderness. The unpaved M2 wound up up up through the mountains and the one lane logging road provided unobstructed views and thousand-foot, sans guardrail, drops in numerous locations. We took numerous wrong turns up treacherous rock pitted logging roads that pushed our two-wheel drive Nissan Rogue to its limits and left all three of us white knuckled and looking at one another with a bit of trepidation. Around 3pm as the sun was waning in the late August sky, we pulled into Ides Cove Trailhead. We were the only car in the small roundabout nestled amongst massive old growths and carved up picnic tables with trail hiker missives from throughout the years. We hit the trail shooting for our destination, Long Lake.

The trail was beautiful and wound its way through lush forest and rocky terrain. After four hours of hiking, we arrived at a spectacular saddle with unencumbered views of the mountain ranges beyond. With an orange sky and waning light, we pitched the tent and set up in complete silence with nary a hiker in site. For hours we enjoyed a night sky like no other, replete with shooting stars and crystal-clear celestial bodies.

 Long Lake sits in a bowl a short fifteen-minute hike up and over the saddle we were camping on. The following morning, we strolled up and over to the lake to explore. Typically, these high-altitude lakes have a few small brook or rainbow trout in the ten to twelve-inch range. We planned on trying our luck with a fly rod to pass the time, take a few pictures, and to perhaps satiate our appetites with a small trout appetizer. Shockingly, Long Lake is filled with massive hungry trout. We were able to pull numerous 20 inch+ rainbow trout out of the lake. One of our hiking partners passions is cooking, and we were rewarded with a trout feast cooked over an open fire with lemon, garlic and sea salt. We sat on our saddle gorging ourselves watching the orange glow of the sunset crawl behind the distant peaks.

 In the three days we were hiking in Yolla Bolly we saw exactly four people. On the hike back to the car we encountered a grizzled family in camouflage. Father was carrying a compound bow, mother was carrying a small girl of about three, and the son, about five, had another compound bow strapped to his small shoulders. They asked us one question: “Seen any deer?” These people were people of the land. People hunting for food, not trophies. We noted that yes, we had seen numerous deer. They trudged past us on their quest. Yolla Bolly is special. A place of solitude. A place that seems forgotten. Exactly how we like it.

On the hike out, we had chatted about the possibility of traversing the logging roads all the way across the Mendocino Forest and making our way to Covelo to the 101 rather than backtracking to the I-5. The road in had not been fun and we figured it is only 57 miles across the forest, surely, we can figure it out.

 Remember, there are no paved roads, and no signs for that matter, in this National Forest. As we pulled out of the campground parking lot, we turned down the logging road that “looked like” it would lead us onto the correct “semi” main road. Within 2 minutes we knew we might better rethink this plan. The road angled downward at a 45-degree angle, or greater, and was littered with boulders the size of small cars. We were in a Nissan Rogue, a fearsome four-wheel drive off-road monster…...said no one. The nose of the vehicle was facing directly down. In the distance, we noticed a massive jacked up 1990’s Tacoma slowly crawling up the road. When the Tacoma reached us, the driver rolled down the window and stared at our predicament. The driver was in full camouflage with a gun rack in the rear window. He slowly said, “you ain’t making it in that.” He graciously helped us navigate back up to the top of the “road” and directed us down another un-marked 10 foot wide “trail” and stated “follow this road here for 20 miles or so, take a left, then a right, then a left and you will be on the way to Covelo.”

 We didn’t see another vehicle for hours as we wound up and down and around the dirt roads. Suddenly, we came upon a sign that said, “ROAD CLOSED-WASH OUT.” We had been traveling and mile marking for hours. We figured we couldn’t be more than 10 miles from the outside of the park. We drove around the sign. As we were inching along the road looking for the wash out, we saw a pickup with a kayak strapped on the top coming toward us. We motioned to the truck and rolled down our window to ask about the road. The driver, with dreadlocks and no shirt, took a look at us and our vehicle and said “yep—the road is totally washed out. I was able to get a couple of tires up on the side of the mountain and squeeze by. Yall can prolly make it.” Real encouraging.

 We encountered the wash out in another 10 minutes of driving. Half of the road was totally gone. 1000 foot drop easy. Two of the passengers got out and walked while the driver inched along with direction from the guys standing. The vehicle made it fairly easily, but one wrong turn of the wheel would have certainly sent the vehicle careening into the canyon below.

As we made our way out of the National Forest, we stopped at one of the least known, but most impressive, hidden swimming holes in Northern California. We had Rattlesnake Creek all to ourselves, like the rest of the trip. We were able to suntan on massive boulders, jump off a waterfall, and enjoy the crystal-clear swimming hole tucked into a nook in the side of the lower canyon walls. The water was crisp, cold, and refreshing. A worthwhile stop after the road of doom traverse.

After Rattlesnake Creek we saw our first signs of civilization as the M1 intersected with the Mendocino Pass Road at the base of the Black Butte River. Black Butte River Ranch Country Store sits on a hard corner with a general store and a hamburger stand. We stopped for beer. Only beer. We all agreed we needed it, and deserved it, after the drive. As we got out, hamburger smoke, music, and the unmistakable smell of Mendocino County home grown weed wavered in the air. We devoured cheeseburgers, killed a sixer of Mendocino Brewing Seasonal Bock, and relaxed in the rockers under the shade people watching. We could have stayed all day.

 Yolla Bolly, and the Mendocino National Forest, is a wild land. An untouched land. So many of the National Parks are geared toward car campers, day trippers, tourist busses, and RV crawls. None of that will be found here. It’s a land that’s harsh, hard to reach, and unforgiving. Should you venture there you will be rewarded with unimaginable natural beauty but most importantly solitude. We run, plan, schedule, txt, email, tweet, Instagram, facebook, and Netflix our lives away. Get out, explore, be daring, take risks, GO.