TALES FROM THE TRAIL (AND SOMETIMES THE ROAD TOO)

Showing posts with label West Horse Thief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label West Horse Thief. Show all posts

Friday, August 10, 2018

#HolyFire

It is a little early for fire season in Southern California. I know. I was born in Southern California, and thus have 53 years experience. I have seen many seasons of fires and landslides. The destruction can be immense, it often brutally takes homes and lives. Gosh, there was one year back in the early 1990s when after a particularly tough fire season (hundreds of homes lost in Laguna Beach and elsewhere), we got it bad again when the rains came with landslides that destroyed more homes locally, and killed a few people as well. Usually, our peak of the fire season comes around October, occasionally September. Though, we can have fires any time of the year. And we do indeed.

Yearly fire stats for California (from Wikipedia for the last 18 years):

yearly stats

This past Monday, a fire broke out around my stomping grounds in Trabuco Canyon. The news media first called it the Holy Jim Canyon Fire, which was quickly renamed the Holy Fire (#HolyFire). Best I can tell however, Holy Jim Canyon was not the canyon that took the terrible destruction of the fire (yet). The fire seems to have originated somewhere near the Holy Jim Canyon parking lot. From there it travelled up Trabuco Canyon (not Holy Jim Canyon). The fire continued all the way up Trabuco to the Main Divide, and also travelled up West Horsethief (which I have written about many times in my blog).

Capture

This is the Trabuco Canyon Trail that I have experienced (Ah, lovely!):

trabuco canyon

trabuco trail

Gosh, the boundaries of the fire are enormous now. The fire has travelled all along the canyons in and around The Main Divide, nearly to Santiago Peak, and in the opposite direction to Los Pinos Trail (perhaps peak). From there it has also traveled down into Corona and Lake Elsinore (of course taking Indian Truck Trail along with it). Tonight, Friday night, the fire still burns. This morning, the number of acres neared 20,000, with I believe 5% contained.

As far as I can tell, the fire has not touched Holy Jim Trail. But the fire has burned Upper Holy Jim, which is a shrubbery forest of Manzanita (or was, rather). Of course, the social media world that I mainly identify with (trail runners, hikers, off-roaders by any means) are in a sad panic. We all know that we will never have it like it was – ever again – on those trails. It will grow back yes, but it will be different. And because I know that it will never be like it was again, I have an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. I’m very grateful that I got to spend countless miles and hours on the beautiful trails that #HolyFire has ravished. But I am also confident that those trails will turn beautiful again. It will be a different beautiful, and it will take some time. That is nature.

When a fire attacked Wood Canyon earlier this year, I couldn’t help but feel terribly sad. This time around, with fire attacking lands even more meaningful to me than the coastal hills, all I can feel is gratitude. Any sadness that I feel now is sadness for the 12 households that lost their rustic mountain cabins and possibly all of their belongings in Trabuco Canyon. At the same time that I feel this gratitude, I suppose as a defense mechanism, I’m glancing around the corner looking forward to the regrowth, the rebirth.

Fire is horrible, it is horrifying. Yet, it warms us, it keeps us alive, it is strikingly beautiful. Fire is a destruction that brings with it, a rebirth. I find that considerably odd. I should note that an arsonist, it appears may have started this fire. So terrible! I want to also state that this fire would have eventually happened -- a piece of glass in the dry vegetation, a spark from a car, lightning . . .  Fire is nature. It happens with our without us. It is sad that the state of California does not come up with a comprehensive plan to attack the natural disaster that occurs to us most often. I have big problem with how the “wild” lands are managed. But that’s for another post that I will most likely never post because land management seems to be a political topic, and that is not my intent.

Hopefully, the weather will turn, and the firefighters will gain the upper hand on #HolyFire.

From before (why I am grateful):

Prancing down West Horsethief in a skirt (Twin Peaks Ultra):taken-by-greg-h4Chomping my gum while marching up West Horsethief:chomping gumAfraid that I’m going to fall while running down a rocky West Horsethief:afraidHow I love thee:trailheadtop of westwest horsethiefanother w htAnd just a few more from West Horsethief:restingwhtht2

Friday, March 18, 2016

Back to the Scene of the Crash

Saturday, March 12, I hit the trails to return to the scene of the accident that broke my arm. In fact, I ran the exact route: Holy Jim to The Main Divide, down West Horsethief to Trabuco (where the crash occurred) back into the Holy Jim lot. 

I am happy to report that I did not crash again. Sadly, I gingerly made my way across the rocks along Trabuco Trail so fearful was I that I would fall again. But overall, I spent a marvelous several hours in the mountains. I wore a jacket most of the time, and even gloves, and didn’t need even half the water that I packed. I was serenaded by the woodpeckers hammering against the tree trunks as I made my way up Holy Jim. I also met several hikers on the way up, and then spent many sweet lonely hours along The Main Divide. Come to think of it, I didn’t run across anyone on W. Horsethief or Trabuco either. Running down West Horsethief was a bit tricky, as the rocky terrain still strikes fear in me. A fall on West Horsethief would most likely fare far worse than one on Trabuco.

I love this route. It’s the toughest 14 miles I know. Probably the most beautiful in my parts too.  I think it’s apropos that it would be THIS route that would break something. It was bound to happen I suppose.

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14.07 miles, 3,605’ of elevation gain

3 12 16

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Catching Up

Running has nearly come to a halt, a screeching halt.  Though I still have a couple trips out there that have not been blogged. The foot is better, but not at all healed.  I am fine to put in around five to seven miles, but afterward, I am limping about for the rest of the day and into the next.  It is what it is, and I am learning to live with the disappointment.   

First, to catch up with the end of August:

The 20th, I believe it was, I drove my truck with my friend Emmett to the Trabuco Trail head.  We left super early in the morning to avoid the heat, and we made a trek up Trabuco Trail and then the dreaded West Horsethief to the Main Divide for an out-and-back totaling about seven miles. The trip up Horsethief wasn’t so bad mainly because I had mentally prepared myself for pure hell.  When I expect hell, it’s never as bad.  Emmett made it up to the top well before me.  Then he gave me a five minute head start for the trip down, which was down right treacherous.  Fist sized rocks rolled beneath my feet, as ground fell away here and there as my foot hit.  I worried when Emmett hadn’t caught up by the time I hit Trabuco Trail.  Turns out that he took a couple of nasty falls.  That trail is extremely difficult to keep a foothold.  It’s scary too, because a fall could throw you off the mountain.

Somehow my SD card got corrupted and I lost all of the awesome pictures I took of our trip (boo hoo!! I lost the selfie pics of me and Emmett), but I did have these two gems from my phone camera:

Going up W. Horsethief, looking out toward the Pacific Ocean (which is beneath the clouds) and Yaeger Mesa which is about mid photo on the left:

photo (15)

Coming down W. Horsethief, near the top @ The Main Divide:photo (14)

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESAbout a week later, I got in another 7 mile trip in Aliso/Wood Canyons.   This time, I decided to start at the top of the park instead of in the canyon like I usually do.  I parked my truck at Moulton Meadows in Laguna Beach and in a trepid manner made my way down another treacherous decline – this one called Mentally Sensitive.  A rattlesnake caught me by surprise on that tiny single-track.  But I noticed it in time to steer clear and even catch a photo.  After reaching Wood Canyon, I took that trail to Mathis, which is a nice climb out back to the ridge. On the ridge I spotted my second rattler, and was able to snap another snake photo. 

Some scenes from my last summer trail run:

Toward the top of Mentally Sensitive:SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESSAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Snake #1:SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Looking down from West Ridge onto Laguna Canyon Road:SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Snake #2:SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Caught up.  Now I can rest easy.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Twin Peaks Ultra 2014

To bed at 8:30 PM Friday, I woke to a 2:30 AM alarm Saturday morning.  Less than an hour after the bars closed I was on the road, spotting more than one drunk driver, on my way around The Saddleback Mountains, to Indian Truck Trail in Corona.  Total drive time: 1 hour.

4:30 AM Briefing for early starters (photo courtesy Michael Perlongo):10688387_10202926099048725_3889964526360438111_o (2)

I set up the mountain in the dark in my quest to conquer Twin Peaks Ultra   mostly alone.  But I had the company of a lovely lady for a while.  When she told me that she had run Nanny Goat, I jokingly replied, “That’s good, you know all about suffering then.”  She said, “No.  I had lots of fun.”  It’s then that I wanted to take her by the shoulders, look her in the eyes and warn her, “You are going to go to a Dark Place today.  DON’T WORRY.  It’s going to be OKAY.  You will get through it, and you will be better for it.”  Instead, I told her, “Just remember, you have all the time in the world.”  Since we were both intent on the 50k, we really did have all the time in the world, well, all the time that the fifty milers had – and that was good enough. 

The first leg of Twin Peaks Ultra is about 7 miles long, all uphill, along Indian Truck Trail, a dirt road over-looking Riverside County.  How did I feel?  I felt neutral.  I felt no fear; I was not anxious.  I was in “one-step-in-front-of-the-other” mode.  I reached The Main Divide in about two hours with cheerful aid station workers, and one lovely lady stating, “It’s Lauren on the Run.”  I cannot tell you how strange that feels.  People read this blog.  And when they see me, they smile.  I find that strange and odd.

The second leg was a short distance of rolling hills along The Main Divide, about three miles.  At 9 miles in from the start, the front runners who started at 6:00 AM began to pass me.  I ran much of this portion alone however, and it blessed me with tranquility. 

I met my friend (Chimera, Old Goat, race director), Steve Harvey at mile ten where he manned the Horsethief aid station.  I made my stop quick knowing what hell awaited me.   I met up with Greg Hardesty, on my descent, who took this awesome picture of me slightly loosing my balance as I made my way into Trabuco Canyon: 

taken by greg h

This third leg of Twin Peaks entailed about five miles of very technical terrain (Horsethief and Trabuco Trails).  I took much of the Horsethief portion slower than I wanted, mainly because I feared falling on the fist sized rocks that rolled beneath my feet, and also because I needed to step aside for runners to pass.  This trail is a true single-track, with no room to pass. 

I reached Holy Jim, slightly slower than than I intended.  Still, I felt no anxiety.  As I told the lady on the way up, “We had all the time in the world.”  And looking at this run as the first long run in getting back to shape, helped a great deal.  This notion kept my usual evil negative talk at bay. 

The 4th leg, the Holy Jim leg, consisted of five miles uphill switch-back.  I cannot tell you how many times I have climbed Holy Jim. I have had good times, and I have had disastrous times with that monster.  But it has always, always been beautiful.  One person at the trailhead told me he had seen my video of a prior Twin Peaks and thanked me for the info.  I met another lady at the aid station who said the same.  I always feel a little embarrassed when someone tells me they saw my video or read my blog.  It’s like I feel I need to “measure up,” like they expect something better than I am.  And I am so not better than I am. Smile

Anyway, I stocked up with calories at Leon Gray’s station in the Holy Jim lot and trotted into the canyon behind several of the regular starters who were now approaching by greater numbers.  (Mind you, this was a mountain trail race, so by greater numbers, I mean don’t mean very many – only 79 people ran this race).

My first steps onto Holy Jim:

Those five miles up Holy Jim were a bear.  I saw friends who passed me on the way up.  Their encouraging words helped some.  Still, I felt miserable.  Weak, and totally unable to move with any speed whatsoever, I felt some solace over the fact that I had all the time in the world.   And I felt solace in the fact that I knew every bend in the road, and exactly when it was all going to end.

It took me two hours to climb Holy Jim.  My best time (I think) is 1 1/2 hours.  My worst time is around 2:15.  This was one of the worst times.  But I was not a wreck when I reached the top.  Still determined to finish this thing out, I felt confident that I would recover enough to reach the peak. 

On my way up The Main Divide, I passed four runners hovering over a map, and asked if they needed help.  They had already reached the peak and were unsure where to turn on the down trip.  I told them to turn onto Holy Jim and could have sworn that I read doubt in their eyes.  So I said, “Trust me.  I may come in last, but I know these trails by heart.  I know this course by heart.  Turn down Holy Jim, run back up to Horsethief . . .  Trust me.”

After these departing words, I began leg 5 of Twin Peaks Ultra – a three mile, uphill trek to Santiago Peak. 

I wish that I had the words to adequately describe the pure and utter hell that awaited me on leg five of this ultra.  It was only three miles.  But I think I could have travelled those same three miles faster if I were to have dropped to the ground and rolled up to the peak.  I was not in physical pain.  Sure the bottom of my feet ached a bit.  The plantar fasciitis in my left heel was hinting its way back.  Overall, I was okay physically and mentally – I was just utterly, UTTERLY exhausted.   

The hellish leg five mainly consisted of exposed, rocky truck trail with a relentless incline.  I was alone for the first 1.5 miles, and therefore resorted to mind games to keep me moving.  “Where do you think a half mile ends?” I asked myself, and then forbade myself from looking my garmin until I reached my guessed point.  I came up short each time, .3 of a mile, .45.  Doh!  But the game kept me going.  Somewhere in here I began texting my husband.  I needed something outside myself to help pass the excruciating slowly passing time.  Thank God I had service and was able to communicate somewhat with hubby.  He was so positive.  Oddly, I had this terrible desire to convey what I really couldn’t convey, and that was, I WAS IN HELL. 

About half way through this leg, I came to a flat portion and found very little strength to even trot it.  But up the next incline, I saw my friend Emmett Rahl.  What a welcome relief!  Coming down from the Peak, leg five had done him in as well, which made him decide to opt out of the 50 miler for the 50k.  I felt sad to hear this, as he had conveyed his desire to complete the 50 miler.  Regardless, I cannot tell you how much a friendly face helped on the course at this point.  Emmett pressed his ice filled hand-helds against my cheeks to cool my face, and I was off again, on again, with Santiago Peak in my heart.  That’s the only thing I wanted in the world right then – SANTIAGO PEAK.

Runners coming down from the peak told me about ice, and Reese’s candies, and great food that awaited me at the top.  I really didn’t care about anything except for the agony to stop.  I don’t know how I was able to put one foot in front of the other.  Passing a group of hunters drinking Corona beers, I was tempted to stop and drink a beer with them.  We chatted as I tromped by, and somehow I kept on going.  I saw a tree that I recognized, and I remembered that last time I came up this trail a LONG time ago, it had many more leaves.  And then I saw this:

The sight of the towers nearly broke me down.  I teared up, overwhelmed with relief.  The end of my misery was near, so, so, near, but at the same time, so gosh dang far!!!  Just a little bit longer, about a half mile, and I had this treacherous race in the bag.  I picked up my step some, and then lo-and-behold, another friend, Randall Tolosa, came up from behind me.  We made that last miserable part of the trek together, thankfully, as he kept my mind off the pure torture that I was enduring. 

At last!  Paradise achieved! 

At Santiago Peak I refilled my hydration pack with water, ice and Nuun tablets.  I guzzled three or four small cups of iced cola.  I ate a handful of potato chips, and I shoved a Reese’s two-pack into my pocket.  Now normally, I would never allow myself to eat two whole Reese’s to myself guilt-free.  Not so running down from the peak.  I ate both of them before the first mile off the peak had ended.

Heading down from the peak, I saw the lady whom I had wanted to warn about The Dark Place as we headed up the mountain so many hours ago.  I could tell from her face, she was in that Dark Place.  Yet, still she smiled.  That’s what keeps us coming back I guess.  We go to that Dark Place, and we still smile.  I barely recognized her, as we had met in darkness.  She wore a hat now, and she agreed with me that the trek to the peak was “quite difficult”  (those were her words, my words were not so nice). Winking smile  I also saw a young man, a slender young man, suffering terribly as he made his way to the peak.  He didn’t manage a smile.  I assured him that paradise awaited. And it really did.  I can’t think of anything that equates to the relief of finally reaching the peak, except for giving birth.  Yes, giving birth!.  The whole process is so terribly painful, and all you want is for it all to end.  And then finally, after so, so, so long of suffering, you are there – standing at the peak, or laying there with baby in arms. 

I headed down The Main Divide, then Upper Holy Jim cautiously, yet excitedly.  All I had to do was not twist my ankle or break any bones for ten miles.  Upper Holy Jim provided breathtaking views with steep, rocky and slippery terrain.  A couple of runners were making their way back to the peak for the fifty miler.  One of them shouted out to me, “Thanks for saving us earlier!”  He was one of the four guys I pointed out the way to at Holy Jim.  I smiled and told him how I thought they weren’t going to trust me, when to my surprise he hollered, “No!  I read your blog.  Great job, by the way, keep it up.”  That was the lifter I needed to carry on. 

Homeward Bound:

My goal down Indian Truck Trail, the last seven miles of this event, was to maintain a 15 minute mile.  I maintained between a 13 and 17 minute mile (downhill – 17 minute!!!).  I was that tired.  About a mile into the last leg, my phone rang.  Yes, my phone rang.  Without glasses, I answered the call blindly.  It was my friend Hank who had gone onward to work on the 50 miles.  He was hoping that I had finished the race because he was encountering some trouble on Horsethief (The man eater!).  To avoid telling his story before he does, I’ll just say that I worried a great deal.  I phoned Steve who manned the station at the top of Horsethief.  I didn’t get through but was able to leave a message.  Then after several attempts, and a great slow down on my part, I was finally able to reach Hank again by phone, and learned that he was coping. 

I finally crossed the finish line of Twin Peaks Ultra, the 50k option.  So happy am I that I decided to show up.  25k trained, I ran a 50k trail race with 11,000’ of elevation gain.  I feel like I gained a whole new family.  Twin Peaks is in my blood for good now.

Twin Peaks 2014a

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Thank God for Holy Jim

I got a really late start this morning, late for a mountain run.  I didn’t get into my truck until 8:30 AM, didn’t begin my off-road driving until about 9:00 AM.  My feet, ever so delightfully, hit dirt at 9:30 AM.

I decided to run my semi-usual Holy Jim / Horsethief loop counterclockwise, the opposite that I usually run it.  Oh. My. Goodness!  The climb up West Horsethief was brutal.  BRUTAL.  Instead of growing angry up that grueling climb, I told myself to use this as a learning experience.  (And it worked, I didn’t grow angry or throw a pity-party-temper-tantrum once up that blasted hill).

up horsethief down holyjim

The views brought to me by West Horsethief:

Even after reaching the top of W. Horsethief, I still had plenty of climbing ahead.  Heat came down in abundance!  At times, I needed to stop in the shade to cool my body temperature.  I felt the heat sickness coming on, but thankfully was able to keep it at bay (experience did its job today!). 

I didn’t see any other runners out on The Main Divide, though I did see two mountain bikers.  All I can really say is that it got DANG TOUGH out there on the mountain ridge.  Thank God for Holy Jim!  Though gnats swarmed my face when I hit this giant switchback, I was oh so relieved, because Holy Jim signified a downhill, mostly shady, five mile run.  And it was glorious.  Truly glorious.  There’s nothing like downhill shade when you’ve been doing uphill sun!

Yay shade!!!

I met two hikers on this fun downhill trip.  We chatting briefly.  When I mentioned West Horsethief, they said in unison “Everybody hates Horsethief.”  Euphoria hit with about 3.5 miles remaining as a breeze hit my face and the multi-colored wildflowers swayed at my shins.  Again, it was beautiful.  Truly beautiful.  And amidst enjoying this beauty and euphoria, a thought entered my brain.  That thought was,  “This is the part when you fall.”  (Falls usually happen in the center of euphoria). Wouldn’t you know it????  Not three steps later, I tripped on a cluster of boulders.  I tripped hard, but was able to save it, and thankfully didn’t fall.  (It would have been a terrible fall).

I washed my face at the trickle spring and made the last 2.5 miles in good time.  As I ran that last mile in I approached a dry Holy Jim Creek and opted to run across a small log to practice my balance.  I was almost patting myself on the back for good balance when the log turned and dumped me onto the dry, rocky creek bed.  I hit hard, with no roll whatsoever.  I guess the “Fall Fairies” still had it in for me – they didn’t so much like my “save” earlier up Holy Jim.  They made sure that I bloodied my palm and knees before the end of today’s run.  I lay there in the rocks, bees buzzing about my head, and also my cap that lay a couple feet away.  I felt light headed as I pushed myself back upright and needed to think twice on whether or not I hit my head.  I did not hit my head, but my wounds, caked in wet dirt, ached a great deal.  I staggered a bit before picking up my run again.  With just about 1/2 mile remaining in today’s run, the “Fall Fairies” left me a treat in the middle of the trail – two nice sized chunks of ice.  Yes ice!  Can you believe it?  I iced down my knees and palm and then made my way across Holy Jim creek, this time across a board secured about 3.5 feet above the creek.  I didn’t run it, though I made it across without falling and was able to pat myself on the back for good balance.  Winking smile  Finally, with some fluids to spare, I made it back into the Holy Jim lot where I promptly jumped into my truck for that tedious off-road trip out of the canyon.

Oh how I love mountain runs!  I can’t wait until the next one. Smile

Miles 14.18 (22.82 km)