Little did I know that what began as a curiosity and an opportunity to explore a new trail, would a month later find me at the edge of life, laying face down in a ravine, my mouth pressed against a small seep sucking muddy water amidst swarming bees.
It started back in July; I had just left my brother’s having spent a week in the Portland area. Eager to get home, I had blasted through Ashland making it as far south as Red Bluff before stopping for the night at the Vagabond Inn. It was 11:00 P.M. and even at that time, the temperature was still over 100 degrees.
Twenty minutes westward from the town of Williams, itself just a blip on the map where the 505 cuts south from the 5 to rejoin Hwy 80 sixty miles further, is an inconspicuous trailhead that if you were to adjust your radio, or glance at the navigator, you would miss. Nothing more than a pullout against the side of a hill, miles from any noticeable landmark or distinguishing feature, this gated fire-road serves as a fast track into the elevated basin designated as Lynch Canyon.
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