Walk About Martinez -- Round Valley Regional Preserve

It was another hazy, cold December morning as I started up the Miwok Trail in Round Valley Regional Preserve.  It is so far out Marsh Creek Road that the next stop is the little Delta town of Byron.  I’d never been here before, and came for a solo hike. 

Thirteen miles from the town of Clayton is a large parking lot for the preserve, which at 10:00 a.m. was beginning to bustle with activity.  Horse trailers were being unloaded, as a whole group of high school cross country runners assembled and quickly took off with their coach.  In what seemed less than a minute, they had crossed the bridge over Marsh Creek and run up a dirt road, disappearing around the shoulder of a high, oak covered hill.  That was the Miwok Trail.

From the open, alluvial plain at the trail’s start along Marsh Creek, you move quickly into a narrow canyon created by Round Valley Creek.  Hills rise steeply on both sides and the stream is a jumble of boulders, evidence to the hard load of sandstone it has been cutting through for a few thousand years.  Blue oaks cover the north facing slopes, leafless in winter, while golden grasses and rocky exposures face off across the creek to the south. 

The towering hills and close canyon foster expectation, mystery, just as the narrow portico of a gothic cathedral seems to squeeze one inward upon entry.  So small in relation to the massive exterior, the portico is dark and enclosed, almost cave like.  It makes the explosion of space once you enter, all the more glorious. 

A mile and a half along the trail, I was taken aback by the expansive beauty I met as I entered Round Valley itself from the narrow canyon.  Several miles long, and over a mile across at its widest, the valley seems an anomaly in the tightly spaced, mix of ever rolling Diablo Foothills. 

This is not a valley sculpted merely by a stream meandering across it.  Here the massive ridge lines look to have been forced apart and you can almost feel the geology at work, wrinkle after tectonic wrinkle of coastal mountain building.  Facing a steep thickly wooded ridge to the west and surrounded by grassy oak studded hills, the view across the nearly flat valley floor is stunning and peaceful.

I branched onto the Murphy Meadow Trail and followed the northern perimeter of the valley which appears to have burned last year.  The grass fire was contained by the dirt roads circling Round Valley.  The dark valley floor contrasts sharply with the blond hills, defining the valley as if a surveyor had colored it in on a plot map.  I’m not one to love the look of a newly burned landscape, but here it added another dimension to the topography that wasn’t all bad, and the damage of a grass fire is easily repaired with one good wet year and new growth.  Our wet autumn started the grass, but the dry December has withered it.  What remains is a new growth of fillaree which rolls, purple hued across the plain. 

A short way across Round Valley I came upon the first of many piles of old ruined nineteenth century farm machinery, harrows and disks, a fallen, half buried windmill and what appears to be an old hay baling rig, its wooden pieces rotting away while the iron wheels and gears still stand tall, rust red.  Further on is the remnant pile of what was once a well sprung cargo wagon.  From the size of the metal suspension, it wasn’t a people carrier, but was meant for heavy loads and I wondered how long ago it had last sagged under a towering, swaying stack of hay bales.  It was a bit of archeology from our ranching days, beautiful in its decay, and worthy to have been left when the park was opened to the public.

At the far end of the valley I came upon an East Bay Regional Park truck and Rangers, Wayne Gilfillan and Patrick McIntyre.  They were running a patrol through Round Valley before heading over to Morgan Territory Regional Preserve.  They were checking out the far corner of the park for people in need of directions or other aid and told me of finding two older women out hiking near dusk several weeks ago, who had run out of water and had no map.  They were headed away from Marsh Creek Road, the wrong direction, and might have been in trouble that late in the day without a bit of help from the rangers. 

They said the Diablo foothill parks are so large that it is common for them to find people absolutely lost and dehydrated.  Although the trails are well signed throughout Round Valley, pick up a map so the trail names will make some sense to you if you decide to hike this area.

Talking with the two reminded me of my old high school friend Roger Epperson, who had been the Supervising Ranger at Black Diamond Regional Park for many years before his untimely death a few seasons ago.  Being the geezer that I am, and prone to talk anyone’s ear off when I’ve been hiking all day alone, I told them a Roger story that I’d been recently reminded of by a mutual friend.  Poor Patrick, he already knew the story, but Wayne was all ears.

Roger had been quite instrumental in bringing Round Valley public, in cleaning it up and deciding what old stuff to leave and what to haul off as a public nuisance.  He had also built a backcountry camp at the far end of the valley.  One very hot day he was supervising a crew of young men with the Conservation Corps when the work and heat began to get the better of them.  Talk of mutiny spread but Roger wasn’t one to back off from hard work for grumbling teenagers, having been one himself.  As he drove the crew across the park, a large wild pig charged across the road and the park’s vehicle struck it hard.  It was down but one of the kids saw it still moving feebly and yelled “It’s still alive.”  Roger had raised animals all his life and was not one to stand by and watch one suffer.  Without a second thought he jumped out of the vehicle, grabbed a sledge hammer and dispatched the suffering creature on the spot.  The crew sat, wide eyed and amazed, and Roger didn’t hear a peep out of them for the rest of the shift.  Mutiny over, work on the camp site resumed.

After bending their ear, the two rangers graciously gave me directions to the little camp, and headed off for Morgan Territory, geezer in the rear view mirror.  They were great guys, the sort I find typical of the family of rangers we have working for us in our Regional Parks.

I hiked up the lower slopes of the steep, thickly wooded western ridge and realized that Roger probably had a hand in picking this lovely camp site.  The walk to it looks out over Round Valley and the bank of hills to the east, a vista perfectly framed by the fold of the hills and forest.  The camp itself sits nestled on the side of a small seasonal creek in a grove of blue oaks that would provide shade in the summer.   A fence to keep the cows out, an outhouse, picnic tables, non-potable water and flat tent sites are all provided and it is really a very nicely appointed camp.  It’s frankly pretty cushy by backcountry standards and would make a great destination for a Scout troop, or a family out to try their backpacking legs on something close by. 

After having lunch I headed back across the valley on the Miwok Trail, crossing paths with a large group of riders, picture perfect for the site and another era.   Their Western clothes and mounts seemed almost posed they fit in to the landscape so well and I followed at a distance, snapping photos at every turn.

Back at the narrow opening to Round Valley, I branched up onto the Hardy Canyon Trail, and began a steady climb.   Several families huffed their way up the trail stopping to catch their breath and take in the view which just got better and better as Diablo’s North Peak and then the Summit appeared on the horizon.  Initially framed by a saddle in the hills they eventually rose above it, massive, with Round Valley dark from its summer burn, etched into the foreground. 

Near the top of the trail I passed another group of friendly horse women.  As I crossed the ridge the view changed to take in the lower hills backing Antioch.  The midwinter haze was too thick for me to see the Sierra.

Now the going was easy as the path wound down a thickly forested canyon on a north facing slope and I found myself back where I had begun, eight miles before. 

This park is a gem.  From its tranquil center to its stunning views and ranching artifacts  and is worth the drive to East County for a hike.  I’ll be back to take it in at a different season.  Right now, given the lack of rain in December, the trails are dry and easy to hike, even warm on a sunny day.  

In the New Year, find a new place to put your feet and take a stroll into Round Valley.

"God never made an ugly landscape. All that sun shines on is beautiful, so long as it is wild."
— John Muir