Rediscovering Winter Wonderland in Hope Valley

Date: February 21, 2026
Place: Hope Valley, Markleeville, California
Coordinates:
Length: 1.9 miles
Level: Flat terrain but challenging deep fresh snow.

 

This recent winter has been strange here, in California. It started very early with several powerful storms in October, continued into November and December with great promise of a truly wet season and a superbloom year, and then dried up completely in January and the first half of February. The end of February saw the biggest storms yet, storms that dumped huge amount of snow in the mountains and caused some serious troubles there, including the deadliest avalanche in the history of Tahoe area. Nearly all of that snow is now gone, since that last storm was followed by the hottest heat wave ever recorded in March in those regions.  

I was looking for a window in my busy schedule and between the storms to go skiing. I found that window on Friday, February 20 right after the storm was finished. I hurried up the mountain as soon as the road was opened again and enjoyed a lovely skiing day in Kirkwood. The beautiful weather after the storm and the high fresh powder invited the multitudes of snow lovers to come as well, and the narrow and winding SR 88 was jam-packed with slow moving cars. I stayed that evening in Minden, NV, and decided that the following Saturday I'd go snow-shoeing instead of skiing again on all too crowded slopes. I looked up a few sno-parks along SR 88 and eventually stopped at my previous love of Hope Valley Wildlife Area. This time however, I didn't go on the usual trail I walk on but stopped at a pullout further west with the thought of exploring a different area of the valley.  

The 'Trail'head

There are several trails in Hope Valley, most of which are used by OHVs and in winter time - by snowmobiles. The snowmobile users were already crowing the Hope Valley Sno-Park area but there were none at the pullout where I stopped. There were only a few other cars parked there. My neighbor was preparing for back country downhill skiing on the wild slopes west of the road. I was preparing to snow-shoe on the flat area east of the road. I could see three small figures moving slowly eastward on what looked like a thin trail, and decided to follow them. 

My hike as captured by my GPS

The pullout I was parked at was on the west side of the road, and both sides were pretty icy. I displayed my pass in the windshield, took my snow shoes and poles by hand and walked carefully across the road to the place where I assumed the other people descended into the valley. 

It took some work to ascend the high and icy snow curb built by the snowplows over the last few days. Up on the curb I strapped on my snow shoes and carefully descended town to where the trail was. 

The snow was virginal and smooth. The temperature was in the high 20's meaning the snow was also dry and light. Soft wind blew the top layer of snow, shifting it across the plain of the valley floor. 

Small willow bushes, completely bare of leaves decorated the snow-covered valley. The willows' red twigs added a lovely and lively color to the bright whiteness of the scenery. 

Willow bushes

The valley looked flat but wasn't completely flat, even when its features were evened by the snow. I ascended a small mound and  saw the trail disappearing between a grove of pine trees. 

The trees still carried on their branches much of the snow that was dumped on them during the recent storm. As I walked between the trees I tried listening for birds but all I could hear was the sound of the boughs swaying in the light wind and the whooshing of my own steps. 

A little further down the trail I did hear another sound, and in the middle of the pine grove I came upon another human - he was moving on cross-country skis. I saw the path that he cut through the deep fresh snow before connecting with the trail I was on.  

The skier was on his way back. I asked him how far did the trail go and he duly informed me that there was no trail here. The path we were on, he said, was blazed by the tow other people I've seen earlier with him. They were packing the snow with their snowshoes. He wasn't in a group with them but like me, he found it easier to follow a path crated by others rather than blaze his own. 

View East

 

So I learned that the trail I walked on went only as far as the other two snowshoers went. I said goodbye to the skier and continued south on the path. At the same time I started contemplating the possibility of going off on my own in any direction I wanted.  

View Northeast, Picket Peak

The day was slowly warming up. It wasn't anything resembling hot of course, but the chill seemed to have lost its bite. There were little icicles draping from the tree branches, like little sharp fangs, evidence for yesterday's partial melt. The temperatures haven't reached melting point yet today - the icicles weren't dripping. 

I am well familiar with the eerie silence of winter wonderland. Still, I expected to see some evidence of wildlife, as I know quite a few species stay put and even remain active throughout winter in the mountains. Everywhere I looked though, I saw nothing indicating wildlife activity. 

View Southeast

The ridge bordering Hope Valley on the east had a prominent peak rising ahead of me. The peak, Hawkins Peak according to the map, seemed like a good mountain to climb at a warmer time of year. 

Hawkins Peak

The snow was pretty deep. Ahead of me I could make the nearly faded curves of Red Lake Creek. I wondered if there was a flow of water under the snow and if so, would I be able to cross it without sinking through the ice. The path however, clearly crossed that creek. 

I still didn't know if there was flow below the ice when I crossed the creek. The ice covering was pretty solid and I didn't sink through nor even heard any cracking of the ice. 

Red Lake Creek

I followed the curves of the creek with my eyes all the way to the north. There, at the northern end of Hope Valley were the mountains beyond which lay Lake Tahoe, the gem of the Sierra Nevada. I had the urge to drive back through Lake Tahoe but thinking of the weekend ski traffic there cleared my mind of that thought. 

Hope Valley

To the southwest my view reached the mountains where Carson Pass was, behind which was the Kirkwood ski resort. It must have been full of skiers that Saturday. 

Hope Valley

Ahead of me and a bit off to the left was a pile of large granite rocks that were already partially exposed of the snow. Behind the rocks I could make out the shapes of the two snowshoers that blazed the trail. They were making their way back on the same path they created. 

I diverged from the path and made my way to the rocks. From there I also had a very nice view of the mountains on the west - Red Lake Peak on the left and Stevens Peak on the right. 

Red Lake Peak (Left) and Stevens Peak (Right)

As the snowshoers came close to the rocks I hailed them. They stopped and we chatted for a couple of minutes. They told me that there was indeed no discernible path other than what they stomped with their snow shoes, and that path stretched only to the first hill on the east where they had decided to turn back. The did not see any wildlife either, but they did see some tracks. I thanked them and the continued on back toward the road. 

Red Lake Peak (Left) and Stevens Peak (Right)

I returned to the path in the snow and resumed my walk eastward. A few steps down the path I turned and viewed the rocks again - the southeastern side of those rocks was nearly completely exposed. 

The southeast boundary of Hope Valley was nearby now. The snow was no longer flat or nearly flat. Mild-sloped mounds and hills, some covered in pine groves undulated all the way to the mountains that bordered the valley, with Picketts Peak on their northeastern end. 

Picketts Peak

The wind picked up, blowing the dry snow in wisps across the white surface. This created moving ripples. I tried capturing the ripples on camera but I'm not sure it came out right. 

Moving Snow Ripples

Ahead of me the slope was rising. I followed it up, step by step. The slope wasn't steep enough to merit raising the heel lifts which make ascending easier. I did however, have to dig harder with the prongs of the snow shoes into the snow to avoid sliding back on my steps. 

The path led me to a large pine tree with a bare top and then it ended. That was as far as the two other snowshoers go before turning back. As I was making my way up there I thought that it would be a good place to have a little snack break. When I arrived at the tree it turned out there wasn't and convenient place to sit there so I figured I'd move on and have my break at a different place. 

I looked around a bit and saw a line of animal tracks on the hillside. It could have been a small rabbit. It was not a convenient place to get to and check out at a close distance. 

Animal tracks

I thought about returning also but when I checked my navigator it indicated a forest trail just ahead, so I thought it might by nice to get to it and return on the round. I started descending down the other side of the hill and into a thick grove of pines, blazing my own path through the deep snow. 

Snowshoeing through fresh, deep snow is hard work. The snowshoes are designed to widen the base of the feet but I was sinking nonetheless into the deep snow all the way to my knees. I was very glad that I was wearing my snow gaiters, I didn't get any snow into my shoes or up my trousers.  

The wind intensified. The trees swayed, dropping blobs of snow from their boughs. I consistently chose the path with the widest gap between the trees until I eventually aborted my efforts to reach the forest trail and started curving back to the west. 

Eventually I spotted a fallen log that was almost clean of snow and I made my way there. It was a good spot for my desired break. I sat down and pulled my little stove from my backpack, stuffed my pot full of fresh, clean snow and after melting and boiling it I enjoyed a cup of hot miso soup followed by hot tea.

I took my time enjoying my break and the peaceful, silent winter wonderland scenery. Eventually however, it was time to get up and move on. As I clambered through the deep snow I passed a large, new-looking cabin. I later found out that that area was a Boy Scouts Camp and I wondered if they did winter camping there as well. 

At that point I was no longer trying to expand my loop of exploration but set my way directly where I knew the path was, even though I wasn't able to see it. 

I arrived at the path about an hour and a half after leaving it and found it nearly full of freshly blown over snow. 

Knowing how deep the path was I appreciated the amount of snow that was carried by the wind. I assumed that by the end of the day that path would be completely erased. 

I continued on westward. Ahead of me towered the mountains and my thoughts drifted to the skier that I saw earlier heading hp those slopes. I hoped he was having fun.  

Red Lake Peak (Left) and Stevens Peak (Right)

The snow blowing in the wind was more visible along the crest of the low hill I was ascending. I paused and took a moment to appreciate the visibility of the wind gusts. 

I passed near a low, bushy tree that was definitely not a conifer and that I couldn't identify without its leaves. 

I didn't stop again. The wind was so strong now that it got from mildly unpleasant to truly bothersome. Also, I was conscious about the passing time and the very real possibility of getting stuck in the traffic that'll be going west from Kirkwood after the ski lifts close for the day. In a short time I was back into the pine grove, this time not meeting any other hiker about. 

Out of the woods - I was crossing again the flat with the red willow bushes. I could see that there were more cars now, parked on the eastern pullout. Small human figures were going along the icy snow curb. They looked pondering whether to go out on he snow or not.  

Near the road was a grove of aspens, now completely bare. Hope Valley is one of the nicest places to go and see the fall colors. On autumn those poplars are aflame with yellow golden leaves. 

There were also pine trees near the road and as I walked underneath them the wind blew light snow from their high branches down on my head and shoulders. Looking up that snow dust looked like fairy dust. 

The fairy dust didn't make me fly. I clambered up to the curb and released the snowshoes from my shoes. Two women approached me and asked about the path. They were from Nevada so there weren't concerned about making it home through traffic, so after hearing what I had to tell them they eagerly pulled their own snowshoes from the car and strapped them to their feet. 

From the curb I took one last view of Hope Valley, appreciating its serene beauty. I would have loved to stay more but I had to get back home that evening. I made it out just in time, sneaking past Kirkwood just before the lifts closed for the day. 

On a Winter Discovery Hike at Reinhardt Redwood Regional Park

 

Date: January 22, 2025

Place: Reinhardt Redwood Regional Park, Oakland, California

Coordinates: 37.806910, -122.148377

Length: 4 miles

Level: moderate

 

Last month I planned to take my family hiking group to Reinhardt Redwood Regional Park, east of Oakland. It has been a while since the last time I hiked there so a prep hike was in order, and I went on my own. I parked in the innermost parking lot and started without delay up the Canyon Trail, due east.

My hike as captured by my GPS

Canyon Trail is a fairly steep dirt road. Like its name suggests, it follows a narrow and deeply shaded canyon. It was a cold morning and I hurried uphill, ready to meet the sunshine again up on the East Ridge Trail.  

Canyon Trail

January 2025 was a dry month and the creek was not flowing. The trail however did have quite a few muddy spots, in places where water retained in the heavy clayish soil was seeping out to the surface. 

Although most of the park's area is forested, there are also significant chaparral coverage of the hill slopes. Up near the trail junction I had a nice view of the chaparral slope outside of the creek's gulch. 

Chaparral

I turned left (northwest) on the East Ridge Trail. The uphill ascension continued but at a much milder slope. For the god part, the trail was open to direct sunshine, which I enjoyed greatly. 

East Ridge Trail

I walked fast, pausing only briefly ear and there to look at some interesting sights such as a tall madrone tree with its shining smooth red bark. 

Pacific Madrone, Arbutus menziesii

Soon I came upon another trail junction, one that was gated. This wasn't a cattle gate but one barring humans, allowing entry only to those hikers who have a permit - the area east of the trail I was walking on was managed by the local water company, EBMUD. I promised myself that one day I'll get myself a permit and go hike there.

On the left was a huge pine tree, standing out in a forest f live oak and laurel. Try as I did, I could not fit the entire pine into my photo frame. Although there are native pine species in the Bay Area, I don't think this pine was a native species, but one that established itself from a population brought hither by people. Still, it was pretty and impressive.

Pine, Pinus sp.

Still on January, but some plants begin their spring bloom. The laurel tree which I've seen blooming already in Las Trampas just a few days earlier, was booming here as well. 

California Laurel, Umbellularia californica

Despite the dry spell, there were plenty of mushrooms on the forest floor, some of them evidently have popped out fairly recently. I love seeing mushrooms so I paused for a bit next to those I've seen there. 

At the high point of the trail there was a memorial bench. The bench was inviting so i sat down for a few minutes, drinking my tea from my thermal mug and enjoying the view ahead. Through the haze on the horizon I was able to identify the long ridge of the Ohlone Wilderness and Rose Peak, as well as the bump of Mission Peak which from this angle didn't have its signature pyramid shape. 

Off to the other side on the east, Mount Diablo was in the view, framed between the trees and the ridge of Las Trampas. 

For a good stretch now, the trees remained east of the trail and I had view to the west and to the south over the chaparral. Then I did see a single tree on the west. The tree was small. I didn't recognize the species, but it was a deciduous one, and it was just beginning to bud out. The tree itself wasn't what attracted my attention - it was the little hummingbird that was perched on the tree top, singing loudly its squeaky spring song. 

Anna's Hummingbird

Then the trees closed in on both sides of the trail, creating a beautiful canopied tunnel over the path. The forest there was the usual mix of oak, laurel and madrone, and I was already seeing a few thin redwoods too among them. 

East Ridge Trail

On the forest floor I saw a few more mushrooms, including a couple of shiny purple ones that seemed to have poked through the soil fairly recently. 

I didn't expect to see any herbaceous wildflowers this early in the season, so I was quite surprised to see some wild strawberry flowers. 

Wild Strawberry, Fragaria vesca

Just before the trail junction where I had planned to turn downhill to the Creek Trail where the redwoods were I saw a fallen, dead oak. What got my attention to this oak was the eerily beautiful mosaic pattern of the dry brown moss that filled the cracks in the dead tree's bark. 

The next trail unction was with the Prince Trail, a short and steep trail connecting the East Ridge Trail with the Stream Trail below. It is a short bit of trail but I did see some interesting sights on my way down to the creek, like the budding soap plants. 

Soap Plant, Chlorogalum pomeridianum

From the mid point of the Prince Trail I could see already some of the redwood fairy rings. All the redwoods in this park are young, new growth that sprung from the side shoots of the old growth trees that were looked in the 19th century. They grow in rings around where the old tree used to be. 

Coast Redwood, Sequoia sempervirens

There were more mushrooms along the trail. These were small and delicate, poking out through the green moss. These tiny mushrooms are but the small fruiting bodies exposed to the air. Most of the fungus is a much larger being, hidden out of sight in the earth or in the rotting vegetation. that they decompose 

I sat for a few minutes on the bench at the junction with the Stream Trail and munched on my snack, letting my excitement build up. The creek side nearby was a known place for ladybugs to aggregate in the winter, but not every year they accumulate in large numbers. I've already seen photos online of this year's aggregation of the ladybugs but I also knew that nothing was tying them in place and on warm weather they would disperse. When I eventually came  over to that spot and looked for the cute little bugs I was immediately gratified - there were lots and lots of them. 

All the vegetation in that area was covered with ladybugs, with all numbers of dots on their wings. Most of them were red but some were orangish. A warning sign nearby said that the ladybugs were to be seen only, not touched, and definitely not collected. 

The wooden fence posts and beams were also covered in ladybugs. The little insects seemed quite active, moving around and walking on the plants and all over each other. 

An information sign nearby explained about the lifecycle of the ladybugs. These insects, it said, aggregate during winter to be ready for mating when spring comes along. They tend to aggregate in the places where they'd hatched, where their larvae would be sure to find plenty of mites to eat when they hatch from the eggs. The only other place where I've seen ladybugs aggregate like that (there were even more of them there), was in Snow Mountain, almost three years ago. 

After the ladybug spot I resumed walking southeast along the Redwood Creek. Now I was walking right under the tall redwoods, and the trail was very shaded and cool. 

The Stream Trail

I've never seen Redwood Creek dry - there was always some water running through. Although January was a dry month I was expecting to see a higher flow, after all, December was rainy. The water level however was pretty low and the flow barely noticeable. 

Redwood Creek

In many ways, Reinhardt Redwood Regional Park looks and feels like a northern extension of Anthony Chabot Regional Park. The forest there however, has better preserved community of the native East Bay tree species such as the live oaks, madrones, laurels, and of course - the redwoods. "Preserved" might by a bit of an overstretched word because none of the trees there are the original, old growth trees. Those were all logged out a couple hundred years ago. Still, in places the forest in this park has a nice "wild" feel to it.

The Stream Trail

Despite the low flow of the creek the area beneath the redwood trees was plenty damp. The ferns looked very lush and happy and the rich smell of a healthy forest permeated my nostrils. The forest scene was completed with some lovely looking mushrooms rising through the thick layer of humus and decomposing leaves. 

The only flower that I saw blooming along the well shaded Stream Trail was the invasive periwinkle, which I did not photograph. I did see the fruit of the snowberry here and there - they also looked lovely. 

Common Snowberry, Symphoricarpos albus

There are many picnic areas along the Stream Trail and on the last curve before reaching the parking lot there was also a large, open lawn and a little playground. I was glad to find a restroom structure there and on my way to use it I was impressed by the raw of tall manzanita that were in full bloom, and the swarm of angry-sounding bees that fussed over the cloud-like blossoms. 

Brittleleaf Manzanita, Arctostaphylos crustacea

Redwood Regional Park is very pretty year round, but winter time has its special charm there, and it is my favorite season to hike in the redwood forest. A week later I took my family hiking group on that same loop trail, and they agreed with me.