STT

Saturday, March 13, I got out early for some trail time after two days of rain. The storm brought snow to our local mountains. Though I love hiking through snow (a light snow), my only possibilities of hiking in the snow were: 1) Maple Springs out of Silverado (which was under voluntary evacuation due to mudslides), 2) Trabuco Canyon/Holy Jim (which is still closed from #HolyFire), or 3) Drive to the top of the mountain to Blue Jay campgrounds (which was not a good choice for a few reasons, mainly because I kind of hate driving the windy Ortega Highway, especially the part when I’m right up against a cliff and the driver behind me is riding my tail, pressuring me to drive faster!) All other locations, if it got any snow, I figured most likely would have melted by morning.  And so I chose a location that few people would choose mainly because there’s so few places to park – Santiago Truck Trail (STT). What a lovely, lovely desolate trail.

I was on the road early enough to find parking in a turnout up Modjeska Canyon not too far from the trailhead. Having checked the weather ahead of time, I expected cold. I didn’t quite imagine though that it would feel this cold. The weather reports said 38F in Silverado, so I’m going to go with that (but it seemed colder!)  I know 38F is not so cold for a lot of people. For this native Californian, it’s pretty cold. And I wasn’t prepared, so I had to walk back to the truck for more warmth. (I guess that means I was prepared being that I had warmer accessories back at the truck.)

And so, with an insulated beanie and much warmer buff (doubled up with my thinner buff), my journey continued to “Old Camp” via STT. It makes my heart glad to even think of the loneliness of this trail. From the start, I took the high single track, though it had been bulldozed and was difficult at first to locate. It’s important that I take this high trail on the way out – it’s my habit, and I love, love, love the “backbone” portion pictured above (first picture).

Talk about quiet. I saw only a couple of people in those early hours. They rode bikes. Through the clouds that covered the peaks, I could see snow on the slopes. The Main Divide I am certain was covered with snow. As for STT, a few small patches of melting snow dotted the shady side of the road as I approached my turnoff point at Joplin. That was it as far as snow. I could hear the creek flowing strong far below my trail and in the distance across the canyon a small waterfall flowed over the boulders (@ approximately mile 5) that I plan to try and reach some day soon. 

At times the weather grew so cold and the clouds so dark that it felt eerie. Hard to explain really. The word “spooky” comes first to my mind. Nature is surreal even more so during these eerie times. I was happy to see anyone that I met along the trail, as first, they were a confirmation that I was not so crazy to be out on this lonely trail by myself, and also because it was comforting to see the face of another person after travelling in silence for some miles. After mile 4, human sightings became rare. I came upon a group of several young men headed down to “Old Camp”. A lone male hiker with poles passed me at one point on Joplin Trail.

The turnoff to “Old Camp” @ Joplin Trail is at about mile 6 on Santiago Truck Trail. At that point, I’d already hiked some significant hills, so the joy was instant upon reaching this junction. The relief of finally reaching this point was short-lived however, because after a short descent, the ascent begins once again. It’s two and a half miles to “Old Camp” at this junction. A very long 2.5 miles. But the last mile, so delightful it was, doesn’t really even count. On that final mile descent into “Old Camp”, the moss appears in thick mounds beneath the trees which are also covered in a moss carpet. Lush green ferns fill in the spaces between rock and moss and the wonderfully aromatic Bay leaf trees begin to appear on the landscape in abundance. I stopped to cut a small branch of the Bay Leaf to take home with me, as I always do.

Heading Down Into “Old Camp”

By the time I arrived to “Old Camp”, the cyclists who had passed me along the way had already passed me on their way out. As expected, I was completely alone down in this little shaded paradise next to the stream. I remained in that general area for quite some time, knowing that I was pushing it as I always do time-wise. I ate breakfast, unpacked and re-packed, explored some, took pictures and I also just sat. I sat and waited. Waited for what? Nothing. I just waited. And I listened. And I prayed. It was spooky down there I admit. But it was also peaceful and a little magical. I will say that I was quite pleased when a young couple rode in on their bikes and set up their spot not too far from me, closer to the stream. It was nice talking to people after being silent for so long.

Total miles for this adventure: 17 with 3,000’ of elevation gain

The remainder of the story in pictures:

Down By “Old Camp”:

The long hike back:

The Last Trail is ALWAYS the Longest

My country mourned over a great tragedy yesterday when a madman burst into an elementary school and murdered twenty young school children and several adults.  Though we all mourn, this event, like other similar tragedies, divides us as a nation as we all weep for the poor families involved. We argue about gun control, public school responsibilities and mental health laws.  I have my opinions and in my sadness have expressed them. 

Today, I merely wanted to get away and run.  Rain fell down upon my windshield as I drove under darkness to Modjeska Canyon.   I had planned on a group run.  After waiting 15 minutes at the trail head, no one showed.  That’s okay.  I needed to get away.  In fact, I felt a little relieved that no one showed.   I felt a great urge to exist in The Now without interruption.  Though my mind travelled to the terrible happenings of yesterday, I forced myself to bring it forward to the present.  And though my mind travelled to the future, as in what should we do????  I again forced my mind to The Now.  And I ran 24 mountain miles for the teachers and children who were murdered, and their families.

The first 12 miles were up hill.  Some slight down hills existed, but overall, it was a 12 mile, cold grind. 

Harding Truck Trail:

At the top of Harding Truck Trail, I came upon one of the thousands of  “Four Corners” on Earth.  It had spectacular views of snow covered mountains from afar.  From there, I took one of the 4 paths, The Main Divide, toward Modjeska Peak, and ran upon crusted snow and ice.  When my feet hit, I could hear the crackle of broken ice crunch down – a delightful, delicate sound.  Often I had to run into the bushes, around giant frozen puddles.  I also needed to concentrate on a strong footing, else I slip.  So much time had passed since my last run to Modjeska Peak from this direction, that one false summit fooled me. (I just love false summits,” said no one ever!)

Four Corners:

Running up The Main Divide toward Modjeska Peak:

At about mile 12, I HAPPILY reached Joplin Trail.  I’ve only run Joplin Trail once; that was UP Joplin.  And I’ll tell ya, if I had come upon a sword during that trip, I would have thrown my self upon it.  Running down Joplin was a chore no doubt.  I ran on snow covered ground.  Though I could not pick up my pace much running down Joplin, the experience was joyous.  Rocks tumbled beneath my feet.  Moss grew upon the boulders.  I fell only once landing on my butt, and my hand slammed down on a jagged rock (that wasn’t so joyful).  I hopped over a spring that was not flowing on my last visit to Joplin.  And I even came upon crazy men struggling on bikes to make their way up this trail.

Just like when I ran up Joplin, I had to grab onto branches running down Joplin, else I fall flat on my face.  After my fall on my butt, I tripped hard once and nearly twisted my knee.  Best of all (besides the glorious snow covered single track), I ran beneath a gigantic tree that had fallen and created a sort-of-bridge over the path.

Eventually, I made it to “Old Camp.”  Here I took off the warm clothing and took out some fuel to consume.  As always when I stop, I turned off the music so that I could hear EVERYTHING.  I heard two men down by the stream.  After several minutes, I noticed that they noticed me.  And then oddly, one of them walked off, not assuredly, looking back at me, toward Joplin Trail.  He wore a pack on his back.  But he wore long pants and was obviously a hiker, not a runner.  Oddly, the other guy disappeared in the opposite direction.  And I had the sinking feeling that he was going to flank me, that is, make his way around the stream and come up behind me.

I got out of there quickly, and began running up toward Santiago Truck Trail.  On my way up, I looked down onto Old Camp, and SURE ENOUGH, that guy, had come around to what have been the back of me.  He looked up on to the road as I ran past.  And I continued running all the way to Santiago Truck Trail.  Though I got an odd feeling about those men, I’m going to believe that the first guy went off ahead because the other guy wanted to explore some more.  Still, I am very cautious and pay attention to everything.  I wasn’t going to take chances.

Joplin Trail:

Old Camp:

I felt great relief upon reaching Santiago Truck Trail.  It was however THE LONGEST TRAIL IN THE WORLD.  Isn’t the last trail always the longest?  I judged “how much longer” by the flag overlooking the vulture crags.  I knew when I came upon the U.S. flag, I had only about 6 1/2 miles left.  It took, of course, much, much longer than I imagined.  I was overjoyed when I finally spotted the flag from afar.  Still, I had about a mile before I actually reached it.   

Next anticipated spot was the trail head to Santiago Truck Trail.  It took flippin’ F O R E V E R.  I wasn’t overwhelmingly tired physically.  I was just tired, more so mentally.  When I finally spotted the trail head, it took me TWO  miles to reach it.  Then I ran another 1.5 miles back to my car.  I was moving pretty slowly in the end.  But it was all worth it, WELL WORTH IT.  Still, I couldn’t wait to get home to hug my boys. 

Santiago Truck Trail: