Packsaddle Cave Trail: 7.3.19
This hike is 5 miles round trip. It is near Kernville, CA. Traditionally, I will spend precious moments discussing the intricacies of the trail, things seen, and felt. However, this is going to be one of those few instances whereby I bypass the stroll, as if that is the proverbial etiquette of bowing down to the the idea that it is "the journey, not the destination." For this particular entry, I will be focusing primarily on the event, the focal point if you will. The. Cave.
There are many beautiful areas near the Kern River that are fortified by silence and isolation. Packsaddle Cave is one of these destinations. When looking up from the base of the cave towards its mouth, there is nothing particularly discerning or even remarkable. The mouth of the cave is a little black hole surrounded by mostly dead brush and an occasional, what seemed like accidental, misplaced, haphazardly dropped and forgotten green wisps of tenacious greenery, determined to be represented among the dominating foliage. Naturally, when distance and looking up at an angle are co-opting a view, one can only assume that it is an illusion and furthermore, keeping a secret.
Walking up the side of the mountain to get to the mouth of the cave was interesting. It was narrower than even distance assumed. Not dangerous or even challenging, but, most certainly narrow. Perhaps about a foot and a half wide. The path at this juncture had no switchbacks. Fr what they were, they were well kept, not by preservationists, ecological activists, or rangers; God no. It was maintained by the love of every step an explorer took. It was padded down by every fumbling child racing to the top out of excitement. It was maintained and preserved by the very thing that drives us all to explore, that need to see what is right around the next corner.
Well, around the last corner was the yawning cave as the mouth opened up wide, showing us the back of its deep, winding throat. Upon walking into the cave, immediately, the temperature dropped 20 degrees. Although it sounds hyperbolic, I assure you, this marker of temperature is exactly as dramatic as it sounds and was immensely more dramatic after coming in from the 95 degree heat of the world. The front of the cave had no obstruction on the ground. It was perfectly flat. The walls, naturally, textured, porous, and dimpled. The ceiling, now, the ceiling had all the personality. Short, purposeful, meticulously placed stalactites. Nothing intimidating or daunting, but definitely flaunting its relenting perfection.
Now, the deliberate decent into the bowels. It began to get colder, although oddly, dampness did not follow. It was a dry coolness. Each catacomb had its own personality, its own structure, and its own path into it. Intrigued, I continued. Some of the stalagmites were peculiarly shaped, which now that I have written that: a) makes me sound like I know something about stalagmite and general cave formation (think again; good at many things, this would not be such a thing) and b) infers that there is a typical shape, which, as we know in the world of nature, is not the case; certainly the world is designed by physical rules that dictate patterns and produce brilliance, but replicating perfection, nonsense. Anyway, many of these structures looked like they were designed by a pastry chef with basic piping techniques. The base of the stalagmite looked as though it was squirt out of the piping, settled a bit, and then rite as it began to more fully solidify, the next layer was squirt onto it. Equally round those smaller in diameter. This continued for about five layers. There were plenty of semi-land bridges to scuttle across that opened up into an even bigger room where the stalactites were like tonsils. They were everywhere. And still, the temperature dropped. Compared to outside, we were perhaps 25-30 degrees cooler now. It was comfortable considering hiking in the heat had caused my body to store far too much heat. Expelling the eat into a voice of nothingness was soothing.
Getting back to the front of the cave was not as challenging as one would assume. Eating lunch in the mouth and gazing out into the wild set up several interesting juxtapositions associated with the senses. The most obvious, tactile contrast, temperatures. Five feet into the cave and one could already feel the 20 degree decrease from the outside. The second most obvious, visual contrast, light versus dark. I stood with my back against cave's inside wall and from that angle, I could see both the light from the outside as well as the darkness within simultaneously, almost as if one eye was focused on the light and the other on the dark. Then, this brought up a third, more subtle juxtaposition, two physical things occupying the same space at the same time. Here, both light and dark occupied the space, and I, the conduit. Symbolically, I suppose it was a more overt representation of how one harbors both light and dark tendencies. More of a philosophical titillation that most are will to explore I suppose. But there we have it, the wonders of juxtaposition.
Get out there and take a detour!
