Bootjack Trail

Mount Tamalpais is an eminence that looms over the San Francisco Bay area, largely because of its towering size in relation to the surrounding hills. East of the bay is another prominence, Mount Diablo, which rises to an elevation of approximately 2500 feet. In this Mt Diablo is akin to Mt Tam (i.e., the diminutive locals attach to Mount Tamalpais).1

Mt Tam is crisscrossed with myriad hiking trails. Some of these trails traverse laterally; others run longitudinally, up and down the flanks of the mountain. Most of these are named for people and events that contributed historically to the mountain and its exploration: Bootjack, Matt Davis and Dipsea Trails are just some of these.2

Bootjack Trail3

Bootjack Trail runs along the southern flank of Mt Tam, traversing terrain up near the tree line all the way down into the heavily wooded area around Muir Woods National Monument – a preserve of mighty redwoods clustered near the base of the mountain. At the top of the trail sits the Mountain Theater, a stone terraced amphitheater where a small theater group presents Shakespeare and assorted musicals in the spring and early summer, before the oppressive heat of summer precludes any such exertion by either the audience or the troupe.4

This is truly a premier location for this undertaking; the aforementioned stone terraces grace a clearing set in a thickly wooded rise that affords a view of the southern flank of the mountain from Sausalito to San Francisco, when the fog permits that is. Whenever the fog is in, however, there is a pleasing view of billowy blankets of brume enshrouding the bay as well as the edificial evidence of an ever-encroaching civilization.5

This miasmic mantle imparts a fairy-tale effect to the scene. Great billows of the shrouding mists encompass the city as well as the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, sometimes affording a picturesque tableau of the tops of these structures peeking out of the vast sea of whiteness. The veil of white supersedes the sea beneath it and spreads out from the horizon in fair mimicry of the thalassic waters churning beneath.6

Viewed from the mountain these undulating forms give rise to impressions not unlike those precipitated by the clouds in the sky. Indeed, the layers of fog are but clouds upon the surface forming and reforming depending upon atmospheric conditions. When a dome of high-pressure dominates the weather, the fog compresses to a dense relatively shallow layer that is thick as the proverbial pea-soup.7

Sometimes the mists are only a hundred feet thick. This is when the towers of the bridge and other high prominences are left uncovered by the layer of mist. This includes the mountain, which is why whenever I could I would take the bus that goes out to Stinson Beach traversing the mountain where there was usually a guarantee of sunny weather whatever the conditions might be in the city.8

I digress; back on Bootjack Trail the path descends from Mountain Theater through some pretty black oak groves intersecting with several other trails along the way, including the Matt Davis and the Old Mine Trail (more on those later). Eventually the trail descends to Bootjack parking lot (where passengers alight from the bus) before dropping down somewhat more precipitously through more densely packed black oaks as well as small redwoods.9

This section of the trail is slightly cooler as the trees crowd closer and the mists manage to ascend to this height. Moss on the north side of the trees absorbs the moisture and imparts a very pretty effect. In the dim light, these moss laden trunks line the path and coupled with the red of the manzanita brush and trees lend a colorful trim to this lovely wood. Descending farther the trail enters an area predominated by smallish redwoods.10

Gradually, these redwoods increase in size until they more closely resemble the redwoods of lore: massive trunks supporting towering crowns of evergreen, ascending hundreds of feet into the air. The trail plunges through these groves of trees of ever-increasing height quite rapidly. At points, the path is supplanted by sets of steps that offer better footing as the hiker plummets down the ridge. Throughout, sunlight plays in the overhanging foliage dappling lovely accents everywhere in the surrounding forest.11

At its terminus, the trail enters the Muir Woods National Monument. This preserve of colossal trees comprises some of the most beautiful stands of coastal redwoods extant. Clustered in spectacular groves they stand in mute testimony to the foresight of early conservationists. There is a sense of near religiosity to this area. Indeed, there is one grove called the Cathedral Grove where the tree trunks rise majestically in a silent solemnity that gives credence to the nomenclature.12

Tourists stand in small groups, mouths agape at the wonder of the natural phenomenon. Whenever I would encounter these, I would think of the tourist busses and cars huddled in the parking lot just outside the gates to the preserve. Moreover, I would ponder the fact that most if not all of these souls had arrived in these conveyances rather than hiking down the long trail by which I had come and I pitied them their loss and appreciated all the more my own resourcefulness.13

© Stephen Alexander 200814