Volcanoes, Fault Lines, and a Junior Ranger Oath at the Gate: Pinnacles National Park
After wrapping up our time in Yosemite, we made a short detour to Pinnacles National Park—drawn by its towering rock spires and the chance to witness the slow-motion drama of the San Andreas Fault. But as we pulled in, we realized this wouldn’t be the usual Junior Ranger-style adventure.
We entered from the east side of the park, which doesn’t connect to the west entrance off Highway 101. On this side, the only staffed ranger station was the entrance kiosk—manned by Ranger Joe. The visitor center, marked on Google Maps, was closed—marked by a strip of white duct tape covering the sign. So we turned around, drove back to the entrance, and Ranger Joe handed us Junior Ranger booklets with a promise to be there when we returned.
Temperatures were climbing into the upper-70s, and with no shaded parking available, we couldn’t leave Poky in the car. None of the trails with the views of the pinnacles were dog-friendly so we all got out and clustered under the one tree near the lot, taking turns heading out while the rest waited with Poky and a bowl of water.
The first group hiked up to a canyon rim to get a clear view of the jagged spires—the pinnacles—remnants of an ancient volcano that erupted 23 million years ago. Thanks to the relentless motion of the San Andreas Fault, the volcano has been split in two. Today, two-thirds of it towers above this park; the other third now rests hundreds of miles south on a different tectonic plate. You can actually see the split here—one of the best places in the world to witness how California is slowly tearing itself apart (geologically speaking).
The second group ventured into the talus caves, where massive boulders from ancient rockfalls have sealed over a narrow slot canyon. These caves were darker and deeper than expected, and without headlamps, we only made it in as far as an iPhone flashlight would allow. The air turned cool and damp (a welcome reprieve from the heat), and we could hear water trickling beneath our feet—fed by natural springs that make the caves a refuge for rare California salamanders.
Eventually, we regrouped under the tree, completed the Junior Ranger booklets, and drove back to the gate. True to his word, Ranger Joe was still there. He administered the Junior Ranger oath through the car window while the kids stayed buckled in the backseat—as Ranger Joe reference “the power vested in me by the U.S. Department of the Interior.”
Pinnacles may not have been the most convenient stop for a family with a dog, but between volcanoes split in two and caves made by falling boulders, it was worth the stop. Then we hit the road again, headed west up the Peninsula—and straight into a cloud.
