When I stepped out of the car at the Mount Diablo summit parking lot, my heart sunk. In a thicket of clouds dense with drizzle, the racing wind ripped my just-opened car door from my hand. The wind chill must have been in the low 30s; a brisk morning for mid-May.
This was the trailhead for our fifth Round Top Challenge prep hike. People were driving nearly two hours for this hike. I feared I was rewarding their effort with duty on the deck of an old Spanish galleon rounding Tierra del Fuego in a furious storm. I thought about calling the whole thing off and heading home.
My friend Greg and I decided to walk a short way down the trail to investigate a junction I was unsure of. Thankfully, as soon as we stepped off the exposed summit and onto the flank of the mountain, conditions eased from unbearable to mildly miserable. Maybe the day could be salvaged.
I had hiked this trail once before and was absolutely enchanted by it. It was late May, a time when I reluctantly bid the magic of spring adieu. Vibrant green has turned to brown, and other than the late-blooming clarkias bidding farewell to spring, the wildflower show is over. But on the upper reaches of Mount Diablo, spring was still springing in earnest, and most of the flowers were different and special treats to see.
And of course, there is always the view. The oft-repeated claim is that, second to Mount Kilimanjaro, more of the earth’s surface is visible from the summit of Mount Diablo than anywhere on earth.
Our route would be the Grand Loop, a seven-mile circuit that wraps completely around upper Mount Diablo. The first half of the trail drops steadily for 1,600 feet leaving a heart-pounding, heart-breaking homeward ascent.
The first leg of the trail was on the mountain’s leeward side. With each step down and across the slope the weather grew more bearable. Quickly, we got our first taste of what would be a continuous dramatic display. Shifting windows in the clouds revealed a breathtaking succession of wispy-framed views far below.
The trailside flower show was enough to dazzle even the most flower-indifferent hiker. Carpets of bright purple Chinese houses provided a backdrop for more unusual species: the bright orange wind poppy, the yellow Mount Diablo fairy lantern, and an unbelievably rich red larkspur.
At the first trail junction, we stepped onto the Bald Ridge Trail, a narrow path that began shrouded in vegetation but finally emerged into open country. The receding clouds now revealed a wide view. The town of Clayton lay at the base of the mountain, then the delta, the Central Valley and, above the distant cloud tops, the snow-covered Sierra.
When we turned onto Meridian Ridge Road we were directly across the mountain from our starting point. We had descended a good bit of elevation, but we could see the low point of the loop still a discouraging distance beneath us.
The views and the company seemed to ease the job of climbing toward home—until the Juniper Trail and the last steep mile. Parking lot, very nice to see you.
A day that began with concerns about hypothermia ended with sweat-soaked t-shirts. A gray, wet, miserable morning had morphed into a bright and beautiful day, and watching it unfold was an added treat. Mount Diablo is one of those places that are easy to drive past promising yourself you will go there one day. Make plans to go. It is still spring up there.
