Holy Snowy Jim

Rain and hail poured down upon our fragile roof last night (I describe it that way because of the skylights).  I could see the pea-sized white beads of ice settling on the ceiling windows..  We had  thunder so loud, our boys just couldn’t believe it.  They had never heard a thunder boom so enormously.

I went to bed bummed because a storm like this surely meant that my local trails in the coastal hills would be closed.  As I drove my boys to school beneath dry skies, I saw a snow covered Saddleback Mountain.  Suddenly I HOPED my local trails were closed.  I checked the website and called the parks up until 9AM, thinking “be closed, be closed, be closed!”

Needless to say, they were closed.

Sure, I didn’t have a lot of time, but I had enough time to do some running up Holy Jim Trail in Trabuco Canyon.  So, gleefully, I headed off toward the freeway to find myself in a traffic jam getting to the onramp.  I couldn’t wait, so I took a left onto a side road.  Apparently, THOUSANDS of people came up with the same idea.  Traffic did not move.  From there, I could see the freeway marquee indicating a major accident at Ortega.  So, I got out of line, and waited to make a u-turn.  Apparently, HUNDREDS of people came up with that idea too.  Well, I wasn’t going to do the next obvious thing; instead I drove north some before finally getting on the freeway.  Anxious, I told myself, “Okay, you won’t have time to run all of Holy Jim.  And if you don’t hit snow, well, heck enjoy the muddy/rocky off-road drive to the trailhead.”

Downright giddy that I’m finally off to try and run to the snow!  And downright silly for taking this picture!

I had no idea whether I’d hit snow running up Holy Jim.  It was dang cold for sure, and I could see lots of snow up in the distance.  I passed two hikers making their way up.  After 8 stream crossings, still no snow.  Three mountain bikers passed me on the way up at about mile 1.  And though I was still running on dirt, I felt exhilarated.  Then at about mile 1.4, I spotted two small clumps of snow.  By then I had already peeled off my warm layers (It’s not easy running up Holy Jim).  Then at mile 1.5, I saw long strips of snow along the trail’s edge. 

A stream crossing on Holy Jim:

A quick pose before peeling off the winter duds.

Off in the distance – the prize!!

Other crazy people:

I didn’t note on the garmin when I finally found myself surrounded by snow.  It sounded like rain as the snow melted and dripped from the trees. A tiny creek ran swiftly down the center of the switchback trail.  And then the snow stopped melting, and as I ran past the trees, clumps of snow fell to the ground directly behind me.  It was an honor to be Holy Jim’s guest this morning.  I didn’t want to turn back.  I pushed the time limits as far as I could.  I didn’t want to leave this glorious winter-wonderland, but I had to get ready for work.  As I turned around I tucked away the camera and told myself, “No more pictures – enjoy!”  Though I did take the camera out just a couple more times.  Call me camera crazy today.

Running up Holy Jim:

On my trip down I saw this guy running up Holy Jim.  He didn’t seem to notice me, because when I spoke it seemed I startled him.  I said, “Who is this lunatic running up a mountain in the snow?”  I laughed, but he was so concentrated on the run, he didn’t act like he got my joke.  But I did get his name. 

Brett:

One last picture as I ran back down Holy Jim:

I worked long hours this afternoon into the night.  I’m still grading papers at home.  And it seems like ages ago that I went on this run.  It was so delightful, so surreal, it’s almost like it didn’t happen.  I feel extremely  fortunate.

Miles run 7.01 (11.28 km):

Maple Springs / Modjeska Peak Out-And-Back

I look forward to my mountain runs.  I enjoy them so much that occasionally I break the cardinal rule – the buddy rule.  Always run with someone.  Problem is, sometimes I find it difficult to find a buddy to run mountain trails.  That’s understandable.  It just takes so much time out of the day, not to mention, it’s a tough feat.

Since I broke the cardinal rule today, I was sure to run prepared on this early morning, cold-weathered run.  Funny thing . . . I took off onto Maple Springs the same time as a Boy Scout Troop.  They were on their third training hike for an upcoming 70 mile hike.  For those unfamiliar with the Scouts, their motto is “Be Prepared” and their number one rule is the “buddy system.” (I was a Scout as a child).

Heading up Maple Springs alongside the “boys” (& men):

I ran the canyon (which is mainly paved) without music because I wanted complete awareness of my surroundings.  I figured if I’m going to get into trouble (ie. mountain lion, a human with bad intent, etc) it’s going to be in the canyon with its high mountain walls and overall enclosed feeling. 

But I did not fear.  The canyon was breathtakingly beautiful.  The maple’s yellow leaves had mostly turned brown.  The creek ran strong.  Colorful birds swooped down onto the road and rustled about in the brush.  Good thing I know that birds make loud sounds in the brush.  Used to be I didn’t know the difference between the sound of a bird/small animal in the brush (because they are noisy) compared to a larger animal, say a buck.  It’s kind of like knowing the sound of a rattlesnake.  Before I knew what their rattles sounded like, EVERYTHING sounded like a rattlesnake – cicadas sounded like rattlesnakes.  Once you hear a rattler’s rattle though, you KNOW exactly what it sounds like.

Long after passing the Boy Scouts, I heard something loud tramping through the brush and I knew it was not a bird or squirrel.  It was branch-breaking loud and it stopped me in my tracks.  I listened for a bit, looked closely down at the stream, then took off cautiously up the canyon.  I figured it was probably a deer as I’ve heard that kind of loud, almost clumsy, branch-breaking sound before, and it was always a deer.  Still, I’ve never heard a mountain lion make its way through the brush, so there’s always that fear.  So, I took out my pepper spray, made sure my knife was in instant reach and continued up the canyon.

Scenes from the canyon:

Attempting a stream pose:

A Grand Ole’ Tree:

Camera timer is ticking & I can’t make it to the spot in time : )

The climb to the Main Divide was peaceful.  It’s loneliness was lovely.  I dropped my camera once.  I took in awesome mountain views of several Southern California counties.  Pretty much nothing ran through my mind.  And even though I carried a pack on my back, Maple Springs lifted all my weight off my shoulders.   

I noticed gray, bushy-tailed squirrels scurry up and down trees.  I saw these wonderful black and white birds with red head-tops that I’ve never seen before.  And I saw snow in the distance! 

A perfect place for a picnic (or photo):

Quickly scrambling for my camera to catch this shot of the moon as the clouds swiftly moved to cover it:

Nearing the top of Maple Springs:

I reached the top of Maple Springs and the Main Divide, a place known as “Four Corners” at the same time as a group of runners came up Harding Truck Trail.  They were a happy bunch.  When I asked if they were part of a running group, one guy answered, “No, we’re just a bunch of dumb asses who thought it was a good idea to run up here in the freezing cold.” 

I might add that it was dang cold on the Main Divide and the wind blew fiercely.  “Well,” I answered, “I’m a dumb ass who thought it was a good idea to do it alone.”  They took off ahead of me to Modjeska Peak while I attempted another posed picture that didn’t turn out so great.  But I didn’t want to mess around too much trying to get a good picture, as dark clouds were rolling in, and I could see a rainbow in the distance.  I did not want to run down this mountain in a storm.

Meeting some runners as they come up Harding Truck Trail to Four Corners intersection:

Four Corners before taking off to Modjeska Peak:

I ran up to Modjeska Peak joyfully, taking so many pictures of the snow that you’d think I’d never seen snow.  I’ve seen plenty of snow in my life.  BUT I have never run trails in the snow.  There wasn’t a lot of snow, but the thrill of it made me forget about that wind whipping my hair onto my face. 

When I reached the peak, the group of runners were starting to make their way down.  I took a couple photos, then dropped my camera.  That was the end of my camera.  I couldn’t get it to work after that. (That’s number two camera killed on the trail!)

View from Modjeska Peak:

Santiago Peak behind me:

The weather grew colder as I ran down the mountain.  About 1 or 2 miles down a biker making his way up said, “Lauren?  Is that Lauren?  I thought I saw your truck.” 

I wasn’t in thinking mode at the moment and wondered, “Who do I know that rides?  Think, think, think . . . “  I couldn’t think of anyone!  And then as I approached I couldn’t believe my luck.  It was my good friend Tom Fangrow!  I laughed out loud.  What are the chances that we would meet on this empty, freezing cold mountain road?  To me the chances seemed pretty slim.  I just had to have a picture of this chance meeting, but with my camera broken thought that wasn’t going to happen until I remembered my phone!  And click, I had it.  Tom was off for a big loop, down some very tricky switch back that we ran together with some other friends two summers ago.  I could barely do it back then.  And I was off down Maple Springs for the remaining 6 or so miles. 

Meeting Tom on the Trail:

Another delightful run for the records; this one was finished off with light rain.  18.06 miles (29.07 km) ran happily, joyfully, playfully . . .