Escaping the Grey: A Journey to the Sun at Cronan Ranch
Date: Jan 18, 2026 Location: Cronan Ranch Park Companions: Myself, Jagroop & Shelly
The morning in Lodi began under a shroud of heavy, suffocating fog. It was the kind of grey that seeps into your bones and whispers that you should just stay in bed, pull the covers up, and let the day pass you by. But we weren’t having it. Jagroop, Shelly, and I made a pact to chase the light. We loaded the car with a singular mission: drive north, climb high, and don’t stop until we break through the clouds. As we ascended towards the Auburn State Recreation Area, the world transformed. The grey ceiling shattered, revealing a brilliant, sun-drenched landscape that felt like a different planet entirely.
Leaving the grey behind. Just us, the red earth, and the wide open sky
After leaving the foggy valley below, the trail opens up into expansive, sun-drenched meadows. Shelly and Jag are dwarfed by the landscape, emphasizing the solitude and scale of the Cronan Ranch wilderness.
The relentless "Down and Up"
We set our boots on the Cronan Ranch Regional Trails Park trailhead, specifically targeting the East Ridge and the notoriously named "Down and Up" loop. The air here wasn't just clear; it was electric. The trail immediately demanded our respect. Over the course of 7.1 miles, we battled 1,043 feet of elevation gain. This wasn't a passive walk; it was a conversation between our lungs and the mountain. The path wound through shaded, ancient forests that felt like nature's cathedral, protecting us from the sun before throwing us out onto exposed ridges where the wind whipped and the views expanded endlessly.
“River Therapy💙”
We climbed out of the fog for this. The South Fork shimmering in the sun makes every step of elevation gain worth it. We walked not to be found, but to become small enough to heal.
A Canvas of Violent Green and Gold
To say it was "scenic" is an insult to what we actually saw. The recent rains have turned the hills into a violent explosion of life. The grass was a neon, impossible green, rolling like waves over the landscape. Walking through it felt cinematic, like we were the only three people witnessing the earth waking up. Below us, the South Fork of the American River carved through the canyon—a silver ribbon of raw power that reminded us of how small we really are.
Silence and Solitude
Emerald hills for days
Run wild, until the noise fades and your heartbeat match the rhythm of the wind
There is a specific kind of healing that only happens when your heart rate is up and the world is quiet. We found a perch at the top of the ridge to rest, cracking open bananas and peanuts as we stared out over the valley. We shared the trail with mountain bikers and horses, but in those moments of stillness, it felt like the mountains belonged solely to us. The stress of the week, the fog of the morning—it all evaporated in the thin air. It was just us, the river, and the rolling green silence.
The Feast of Victors
By the time we looped back to the car after two and a half hours, we were spent in the best way possible. We descended back to civilization with an appetite that could only be satisfied by one thing: steak. We landed at Early Toast (The Mimosa House), where I ordered a steak that tasted like absolute victory. Dropping Shelly off and heading home, the fog in Lodi didn't matter anymore. We carried the sun back with us.