But for the committed hiker, this park has it all. More than 250 miles of trails and dirt roads offer a short stroll or a six-day backpack trip. A level hike or one steep enough to test the endurance of the most experienced hiker. If you choose to camp, there are 20 sites (first come, first served).

The park also gives you a look at historic ranch buildings. Exhibits of a living room and dining room re-created from Coe family heirlooms are on display. An old barn gives you a look at early ranch architecture and old carriages, wagons, and other farm implements can be examined. The Coe Ranch took form in 1883 with a 160-acre homestead by Henry Willard Coe Sr. in the Cold Flat area. His brother Charles homesteaded another 160-acre parcel nearby. Their holdings increased as other homesteaders moved away until ownership totaled 12,500 acres. Henry married, moved to a new home on Pine Ridge, and operated the ranch until 1913, when he moved away.

Henry's daughter, Sada Sutcliffe Coe, returned to her childhood home with her husband in the 1930s. In 1953, Sada gave her Pine Ridge Ranch "to the people" as a memorial to her father. The state built on Sada's gift and gradually expanded the area to its current size.

My reason for visiting this park the first week of September was Sam, my 8-year-old grandson. Granted, late summer may not be the most popular time to hike at Coe, but Sam and I were trying to put together a quick backpack trip. I've learned, in my old age, that when an 8-year-old gets the urge to "hike with Grandpa," it can be a window of fleeting opportunity. So I jumped to it, consulted my guidebooks, made a few calls, and decided on Henry Coe State Park.

We drove to Morgan Hill, and 40 minutes later, we were at the park headquarters. While the road is narrow, the views of Anderson Reservoir and the valley beyond are spectacular. We checked at the ranger station and requested a mostly level trail of about three miles. The ranger suggested the Flat Frog Trail, which went around (not over) the ridge and ended at Frog Lake. We would find water there and a nice campsite above the lake. The trail starts across the road from the Visitor's Center as the Corral Trail and continues over the next three-quarters of a mile on a mostly level track in and out of a major ravine. There is a bench at trail side as you approach the trail junction with Flat Frog Trail. Sammy and I stopped for a rest, a drink, and trail snacks, and a little discussion on how hot it was, how heavy the backpack felt, how far we had come, and how many more miles to go. Soon we were on our way to the trail junction and then north on Flat Frog Trail. Flat Frog is the longer but flatter way to Frog Lake. The alternate--Monument Trail and Hobbs Road--is a steep up-and-down trail in half the distance, but in the heat and with backpacks, we made the right choice. As the Flat Frog Trail continues, the steep slope alternates between dry forest oak and pine) and grassland. The most interesting tree is the unusually large big-berry manzanita--larger than any I've seen on the Peninsula--almost as large as our typical madrone tree. Approaching Frog Lake, you climb alongside the Little Fork Coyote Creek, and for time brief time, you go through a wet zone where the shrubs are green and ferns grace the trail-side landscape.

Frog Lake was manmade many years ago, probably to water cattle. Now it's a pretty pond about half filled with water plants. We made camp at the prepared site above the lake and returned to fish--not at all deterred that Grandpa brought casting poles and lures for trout and this pond was for blue gill and bass at best. We practiced our casting, lost a few lures, and decided to cook dinner--noodles, hot chocolate, peanuts, granola bars, and another hot chocolate. Back to the lake to filter more water--with some doubt as to whether the filter was good enough to purify the water of Frog Lake. Then off for a short hike toward Middle Ridge, where we found an active spring with a holding tank installed for the convenience of thirsty hikes and animals. A little farther, and Sam announced that it was time to go back to camp. I'm learning the mind of an 8-year-old: When it's time to rest, we rest; time to eat, we eat; time to "go," we go. But it's never time to sleep. After falling asleep over the second game of War (this one with a flashlight), we crawled into the sleeping bags, looked up at the stars, and saw nothing but clouds. That was somewhat of a disappointment, since Grandpa was prepared--star chart in hand--to point out the heavenly wonders. Soon, the clouds led to a few drops, so we scrambled to cover up. The conversation ended about 10:30 p.m. after we covered all that I could remember from my youth. About 3 a.m. the coyotes started a serenade, which had a way of tweaking our ears to noises of the night. Sun-up at 6:30: time for hot chocolate and Pop Tarts. A few more practice casts, and we packed up to move out. Sam was in fine form, leading the way, resting as needed, enjoying the experience, I hoped. You see, in 10 years he will be big and strong, and I will be older and even more limited. Guess who will carry the big pack then!

As we approached the junction with Corral Trail, a group of hikers coming toward us warned us that a rattlesnake was coiled on the trail. Sure enough, there it was--rattles buzzing (amazing how loud they sound), body coiled, and head cocked. We got as close as seemed wise, threw a few sticks, but the critter was not to be dissuaded. He had his territory and was determined to protect it.

So, up the hill, through the brush, and back to the trail we went to complete our hike. An excellent lesson for Sammy to keep his eyes and ears on the trail, especially in snake country--although I hasten to say that this is only the second rattlesnake I've seen in the thousands of miles I've hiked through California--the other was in the Coal Creek Open Space Preserve.

Take a day to experience this hiker's paradise, or camp a few nights and enjoy some of the many trails through this wilderness area.