I was visiting my sister, who lives in San Francisco, for a few days, and hiking a few of the Bay Area county highpoints. Contra Costa County's highest point is the well-known Mount Diablo. It's an easily-accessible peak, reachable by road and it is a developed state park. I figured this would be my easiest highpoint of the trip, but it turned out to be my most vexing for a number of reasons. Even the easy journeys can become epics.

I started today at a hotel in the town of Calistoga, in northern Napa county. My plan was to hike Mount St. Helena, the Napa County highpoint, then make my way south toward the Bay Area for a leisurely drive up to Mt. Diablo's top. Unfortunately, during the night a pretty strong Pacific storm blew in and brought with it much rain and very cool weather. Nevertheless, I drove up the 10 miles from my hotel to the Robert Louis Stevenson State Park at the foot of Mount St. Helena. The rain was steady, and I was ready to make a go of it anyway. I got my gear together, bundled up in rain gear, and started in. I got about a half-mile up the trail when I heard thunder. Not a good sign. Even though the rain wasn't too heavy, I decided to abort the attempt and try it the next day. I returned to my truck and sat in it for about 20 minutes to dry out a bit. I was a little frustrated but not too much.

I decided to visit Mount Diablo to salvage the day. I headed south through the city of Napa then through Benicia and Walnut Creek to Danville, where I found the road heading up to Mount Diablo State Park. The rain had remained steady the whole way down, just a generally wet, cold, gray day. The road up Mount Diablo is very pretty, featuring the classic California scenery of large oaks amid grassy hillsides. I was slightly concerned as I had less than a quarter-tank of gas, but I figured I had enough to drive up and down. After about 9 miles, I came upon the ranger station where I parked to pay my entry fee. That's when I heard the hissing sound.

My stomach sank as I watched my right front tire go flat in a matter of seconds. I saw the culprit: a small, 3/4-inch dagger-shaped rock that was big enough to pierce my tire. I pulled out the rock and chucked it. In a steady cold rain, I had no choice but to change my tire, which I did, laboriously, getting wet and dirty in the process. I decided to not chance fate, so I headed down to Walnut Creek and found a tire place, where I bought a new pair. Since I had about 2 hours to kill, I went to a nice brew-pub for lunch, then looked over the bikes at McGuire's Harley-Davidson shop next door. It was about 2:30 when I got my truck back, ready to go. So I tried again.

The drive back up was pleasant but rainy. I paid my $2 to the ranger lady, who was mildly surprised to see me again. But with the weather as it was, she told me they had to close the final 2 miles of the road to the summit due to snow and ice. I was allowed to drive as far as Juniper Camp, where I could hike the rest. I was the only person in the parking lot, and the weather had really gone bad, with fog, strong winds rain and sleet. I found the trail near the picnic area and started my hike.

The trail covered about 1.25 miles to where it let out at one of the big summit parking lots. I covered this stretch in about 30 minutes, moving quickly as you might imagine. There was no one parked at this parking lot and the whole place had a ghostly, abandoned feel to it at the moment. It's not hard to imagine that on a good day, literally hundreds of people can be congregated at the top. And here I was, with it all to myself. I wonder how often that happens.

The top has been graded and built upon, so I sought to seek out the highest point of land not part of a building. In the gloom and sleet, I scampered around the buildings, stepping on anything that looked like a candidate. My time up top was maybe 15 minutes, and I didn't waste time. Once I felt I had covered enough ground, I bee-lined for the trail back down to my truck, a total time of just under 90 minutes for the whole excursion. It was just about 4 p.m., but being so close to the winter solstice, the sun was setting by this time. Coupled with the weather, it was a dark and foreboding place.

I hit rush-hour traffic, compounded by the rain, in Walnut Creek and somehow, slowly, made my way back into San Francisco, where I dried out and relaxed back with my sis. What a crazy day! The next day I was able to hike Mount St. Helena, the storm having dumped a pile of snow on that peak for me to enjoy.