LASSEN & BURNEY
A hearty weekend mix of prismatic pools, bubbling mud pots, and walls of waterfalls
Lassen National Park
day one
LASSEN NATIONAL PARK
It’s Friday afternoon and we’re headed to Lassen Volcanic National Park. Aged over a hundred years, this OG is one of the oldest parks in the nation. Not sure if it was my childhood Jurassic Park binges or some amazing hot springs experiences but something about hydrothermal volcanic activity gets me steamy.
We embark on our four hour drive from Oakland to Lassen. En route, we scoop up beef jerky and the cutest mask I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Gas station finds FTW
Our friends snagged the last campsite in the park just a week prior. Feeling like we won the lotto, our night time drive exposes silhouettes of bundled trees and a navy gradient of mountains. Cruising through a twilight-blanketed park and awaking to majesty always gives me butterflies.
Suspense builds as we pull up to the campground. We’re sleeping at Manzanita Lake. Flame isn’t permitted due to the rampant wildfires.
The darkness highlights the milky way in the way it deserves.
We wake, whip up breakfast, and discuss our priorities for the day. I’m aiming to see these wikipedia-coined bubbling mud pots, which soon turns into the group goal. Heading toward the ranger station is always a good bet whenever visiting a new park. Route 89 twists through the region, offering spectacular treetop views and drive-by scenes of the frothy mud baths.
Initially inhabited by Native Americans (more to come), this park wasn’t established until European settlers (no surprise) found interest in a series of micro-eruptions over a year period. In 1914, Lassen awoke from a 27,000 year slumber, sputtering steam and cracking it’s crust ¹.
Thirty volcanic flares tickled these very lands.
The next year, Lassen Peak officially exploded. I’m talking 30,000 foot columns of volcanic ash, lava leaking down the volcanic edge, devastating a small-forested area and seeping through town. Lassen’s roused steam vents and bubbling mud baths hint at a futuristic eruption.
This crumbly crust is very much alive.
Through research I discovered Lassen National Park previously hosting meet-ups for four Native American tribes - Atsugewi, Maidu, Yahi, and Yana. The high elevation, snowy winters, and migrating deer made it an ideal hunt and camp site in warmer months. Fast forward, European settlers began destroying native tribal population in the 1800’s through a series of battles. The Yahi tribe scarcely persevered after major attacks in the 1860’s, killing 100 Yahi Indians. About 10 members remained, hiding in the Lassen foot hills. A surveying party surprise massacred the remaining members of the group in 1910, stealing the tools and remains of the whittling tribe. The Europeans thought the tribe had completely died off until 1911. A lone Native American came wandering from the Lassen forest and stumbled into the town of Oroville, seeking food and survival.²
This man would later be known as Ishi, the ‘last wild Indian’. Ishi would soon be moved to San Francisco, allowing Europeans to study his culture in trade of shelter, food, and healthcare. Tens of thousands, awed at the Museum of Parnassus, observing his arrow making, basket weaving, and story-telling. Ishi (meaning man in the Yahi language) never revealed his birth name. He’s considered the last stone age survivor of the United States. Ishi died of just five years later of Tuberculosis in 1916. ³
The once ‘least civilized man in the U.S.’ became an invaluable ethnological source for American education.²
Trekking through Ishi’s hunting grounds feels like a blessing.
For our main hike, we explore Bumpass Hell.
And yes, mainly because the name is just so amusing.
Bumpass Hell a three-mile round trip hike, rimming tree-lined canyons and showcasing smoky scenery. The air is filled with sulphuric gases which basically feels like you’re wading through rotten eggs but not to worry! The smell is substantially diluted with visual intoxication. Pastel rainbows dance on the bubbling ground. The path leads to a sturdy bridge which cuts through the valley floor. The thick bridge serves as a reminder that Bumpass Hell is named after a man who fell, losing a leg in one of the boiling pools. YIKES. Today’s a day to follow the rules.
Milky streams trace the periphery.
We continue up the track to Boiling Springs lake.
A sun-kissed bluff sits atop the lake, hosting perfect viewpoints and begging for a picnic.
As usual, we reserve space near the regulars and sun bathe before heading back.
On the way back, we take a different pathway on the bridge but get all of the same views. Rotating through the altitude and color schemes, something continually takes my breath away. The vivacious mud pots, prismatic pools, and sugar pine forests make Lassen National Park an unforgettable trip.
We stay overnight at a friend’s but wake early enough to start driving to our next destination, Burney Falls. She’s less than an hour NE of Redding, costs $10 per car, and is a mere 1 mile hike around the whole falls, easiest day trip ever. The water is sourced from snow melt AND volcanic openings in the rocks so the falls NEVER RUN DRY. yesssss. The year round flow gushes 100 million gallons per day. The trail starts atop the waterfall with a bird’s eye view of the main attraction. The mile hike showcases women fly-fishing in the chilly stream and Snow White birds chirping as if they lead the way. The loop trail begins and ends at the waterfall, our main course.
day 2
BURNEY FALLS
eyes on the prize - Burney Falls
Little icy streams spew through pockets of black rock, mixing with the 129-foot waterfall, forming a broad wall. This cascade collides into a turquoise pool emitting bursts of misty rainbows. Dubbed by Teddy Roosevelt, Burney Falls is known as “the eighth wonder of the world”. DUH. Layered with black rock and fuzzy fern, this zone feels magical.
fairy tale page 63 - Burney Falls
The rocks are slippery but the walk down is worth it. The air becomes crisp and sound is dulled by the white noise of the rushing water. Inundated with mist and moss, I zone in on the crystal blue, effervescent waters and know I have to jump in. Year round, these waters drift between 42-48 degrees. I’m hoping the stats are wrong as I plunge. The icy gallons of snow melt feel refreshing for all of five seconds before rushing to my black rock home base. I stand, instantly sustaining a brain freeze but deciding it was worth it.
PERFECT END TO THE TRIP
