The COVID19 Disruption

March 26 was the last time I hit the trails. I think that I didn't blog it because I'm too sentimental about it. To write a blog post means to miss my old life. My life before the COVID19 pandemic. And I don't really want to think about it. I don't want to think about the medicine that I've been missing since shelter-in-place was ordered. (It makes me sad; I'd rather not be sad.)

The last day I drove to work was Thursday, March 13 -- my last day of teaching before spring break. It was raining. We were in strange times, masks and gloves on about a quarter of the people on campus, but malls were still open, as were bars and restaurants. Still on that last day on campus, March 13, I was so naive to how things were going to drastically change. I remember it was cold, and I was wet from the rain even though I had an umbrella. The mood about campus was anxious. I filled my truck with gas a couple days after that. More than a month later, I still have a half tank. In my old life, I filled my tank about every 5 days. Now, I work from home, recording lectures and holding a computer "lab" online. I no longer drive 50 to 60 miles a day. 

My husband has worked from the home office for years now. And other than not having to drive the boys to their stuff in the afternoon, his life has not changed much. My parents' lives have not changed as well, but most everyone I know, my 3 sons, a freshman and senior in high school, and a junior in college, included are experiencing a major disruption.  

I have not been having that great of a time working from home, especially with trails out of reach. This is not to say that I don't enjoy all this extra time with my family. I do. It's wonderful, and there are lots of great talks and strolls around the yard. But my classroom is my kitchen. And there are unique challenges to Zoom lectures and email correspondence. To top that, the first week home my computer crashed. I had to purchase a new one, which was not in the budget. A few weeks later, my iphone was stolen out of my purse while I shopped for groceries. That hurt.

People are anxious. I am anxious. On the good side, as of now, everyone in my family, both immediate and extended are well. California has been on "shelter-in-place" since March 20. The moods have been tense since. At first, we were allowed to take hikes in the mountains and bike rides and such on the beach. Eventually, all those options have been shut down. I stopped hiking well before the local governments and forest service made it impossible by closing down roads, parking lots and trail heads. I have not hit the trails for nearly 4 weeks! I've had some small walk-abouts in the neighborhood. But that's it. And this is my greatest suffering point. It would help me a good deal to have the medicine that satisfying wanderlust amply provides. I don't have it; I look elsewhere for refuge.  Some good and some not so good.  I have since washed all the hardwood floors of our beach shack and then moved onto shampooing carpets (they were disgusting.)  I washed the walls, the bookshelves and cabinets. I weeded the planters and washed out the bird feeders (Oh, did they need it!). I began purging papers from the office/library. I haul out a garbage bag full every week. I really have neglected these things for so long, it's shameful. Normally, I'd go for a hike and process that with a positive note. I haven't processed my neglect with a positive note yet.

I suppose to remedy the minor existential crises this shelter-in-place order brought on, I force myself every day to make my surroundings better.  I cut flowers in the backyard for a kitchen bouquet. I have the boys sweep the porches and mow the lawns. I prune plants and remove wilted Calla Lily, Camilla and Birds of Paradise blooms. I feel oddly driven to do these things. I am driven to do them because it covers up how I feel that I'm failing intellectually, physically and spiritually right now. I've assigned myself some exercises. Not physical exercises (where I am drastically lacking), but instead intellectual and spiritual exercises. Aside from beautifying my surroundings, I began reading (once my great love) -- one book of fiction and the other non-fiction. Every morning I begin with my reading (and a cup of coffee). And after that, I make my bed. 

I have done all these things to try and substitute the medicine that trails provide (which too, is only a temporary remedy to the anxious-spiritually-struggling life that I keep finding myself at). I have always had this need to feel that I am moving forward. Shelter-in-place is perhaps as close as you can get to the opposite of moving forward, thus the manic reaction to beautifying my surroundings at home. There is a lot of beauty here at home too. Aside from the small little seaside yard and a peek of the ocean from the front porch, there's my family. It's good to be with them. (Though I still await seeing my oldest son who is in Ventura County.) I guess that I am rambling now, and really should get back to the purpose of this blog overall -- trails.

So, back to  my original intent for this post, it was March 26, as I have already mentioned and we were 6 days into shelter-in-place, but exercise was clearly allowed and even encouraged. I had read that amenities and parking lots would be closed at Aliso/Woods Canyons but that the trails would be open. Lack of parking lot has never stopped me. And so, I set out in the late morning, to a lesser known entrance to Aliso/Woods. Turned out, the city of Laguna Beach had closed all trail heads in the city, and I had to sneak into the park (which was open). It was not difficult by the way to sneak in. The person patrolling the closed trail heads, (I heard a city volunteer) had driven away by the time I made it to Meadows trail head, and by the time she returned, I was already well into the park (but I am fairly certain she had to have seen me from her vantage point upon return).

I hiked more than 10 miles, beginning in Moulton Meadows Park, down Meadows Trail to Wood Canyon, Cholla, West Ridge and Top of the World. At first, the trails were empty and I began to doubt the legality of my presence.  But once in Wood Canyon, I counted thirty or more hikers, runners and bikers over a 5 or 6 mile stretch. The park mind you is 4,500 acres, so even with 30 plus people, I had much time alone. About three-quarters into Wood Canyon I hiked off trail to the ladies room in a wooded area. And there in the deep shade, I stumbled upon a bob cat who froze for a second and promptly took off further into the brush. Back on the trail, about a 1/4 mile later, I spun around abruptly with hunch I was being followed. Sure enough, I spied a coyote trotting in my direction! Once he realized I had stopped, he was off the other way.

My last hike was a lovely one and much needed. When I arrived to Alta Laguna Park, I found myself fenced in and had to climb out. A few others were doing the same. The road was crowded with cars since the lots were locked shut. There were were a couple of police squad cars driving about, and city workers were posting "No Parking" signs. I enjoyed my last couple of miles back to my truck like I would a last cookie. I knew this would be my last hike in a while. As I made my way back down into the park, near Meadows trail, I could see the city truck patrolling the area right in my path, "I'm in for it," I thought and plugged forward ready to face the music. But the truck thankfully, had just driven off before I arrived. I was relieved to not have a confrontation. I haven't been out since, and that is not a good thing. Who knows though, maybe in the long run, it will be.

A View of Saddleback Mountains from top of Meadows Trail, Laguna Beach

View of the Pacific Ocean, Near West Ridge (Laguna Beach)

Looking down onto Meadows Trail, Aliso Viejo

 

 10.41 miles, 1,731 ft of elevation gain

It's a Jungle Out There.

I believe it was March 20 when the governor made it official and ordered a shelter-in-place for California to help slow the spread of COVID19. With off and on rain, I was eager to hit some trails the next day (3/21), and as of late, I've been able to do that with the absence of people.  I have been known to occasionally hike off trail or hike places that are closed (but not in a long, LONG time).  This situation is quite different, so believe me, I checked out the shelter-in-place order before deciding on a Saturday hike. I found from everything that was published online on this shelter-in-place that I could walk my dog, run or hike as long as I did it alone, or with someone that I lived with. (Thank goodness, because the gym was out of the question as they were all ordered closed along with all the other "non-essential" businesses).  

I wasn't so naive to think that the trails weren't going to be crowded. Every place that immediately came to mind didn't seem right. I was trying to hide; I needed to go where others would not. What I really wanted was Black Star Canyon, but I knew, because of the ample parking and the relative ease of driving there, Black Star, was going to be packed. The coastal trails in my area were all closed due to "wet and muddy conditions."  I also wasn't up for the local beaches (not with the downright bad attitude posts I'd been reading from community members -- Wow, just wow, so mean, it's a jungle out there!). Anyway, if Black Star was going to be crowded, so then were Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary and Silverado Canyon, and they have much fewer parking spots. I also wasn't up for any big drives, so Blue Jay Campgrounds and that general area of the Cleveland National Forest was off. What I finally decided on is that lovely, quaint canyon behind Caspers, called Hot Springs Canyon. There's rarely any cars in the lot. There's also a little mountain driving, not much, but enough that I thought it might curtail hikers from choosing this trail.

I was wrong.

The parking lot was more packed than I have EVER seen.

Fortunately, San Juan Trail is a long difficult trail. That means most people don't take it. And once I got started I rarely saw anyone else on the trail. There were more mountain bikers than usual -- but that's always the case on San Juan Trail; it is a mountain biker trail. I also noticed once I climbed a bit and was able to look further down the canyon, that many of the people were merely taking a stroll up Hot Springs Canyon to Lazy W -- they were not headed up San Juan Trail.

So, it was a lovely, lovely hike! Really. The skies were blue. I could see the ocean and Catalina Island. The weather was cool and crisp. What an awesome 13 mile hike. It was not perfect "social distancing". Though I could travel for miles without seeing another soul, there were times when I'd come up on a group of 5 or 6 on this single track. When we could, we all practiced "social distancing". At my turnaround point, Cocktail Rock, I met about 5 others taking in the views. We stood about in somewhat of a circle, all about 6 feet apart. One-by-one, we all took off heading back down the mountain. I took up the rear, since I was the only one on foot. Right after leaving the scenic spot, I came upon 2 other hikers making their way up the trail. And then I was completely alone for the next five or so miles. I did my regular spill toward the bottom of San Juan Trail on my return (pretty much always fall on this trail -- it's so sandy slippery). My injuries were minor: a road burn and bruise on right shin. Barely felt it.

That was March 21. It's been five days since I've hit the trails. The online screaming matches continue regarding staying at home. What a wild, wild time. I do see people out and about, taking walks and hiking. But the streets are basically empty and those who venture out are getting lambasted online. It's really not a great time to be talking about hikes and running. I have been staying home, except to venture out to the grocery store in search of eggs and paper towels. Our grocery shelves are still practically bare. So, take care out there everyone. If there's things that are really bothering you, just turn it off (now). As my 10th grade history teacher, Mr. Gallatin used to warn us at the end of just about every class -- "It's a jungle out there!"

San Juan Trail during Shelter-In-Place

Route: San Juan Trail out of Hot Springs Canyon, to Cocktail Rock just below Sugarloaf Peak.

Car Wreck/Rock-It Loop

March 19 (Thursday) Social Distancing was the talk of the town, but there was still no official shelter-in-place order. I had been converting all my classes to online and learning the software that I would be recording my lectures (Zoom). And so when we had another break in the rain, I was eager to take a break from work and headed on off to Aliso Canyon where the fields were green, but the skies were gray. The parking lot at the ranger station was closed but there was plenty of room to park on the street and in the church parking lot across the street. There were other cars parked about with hikers and mountain bikers -- I'd say 20 to 30. But this wilderness park is about 4500 acres. So if each of those cars had 2 people each, that'd be 60 people in a 4500 acre area, which of course means you stand a good chance of not seeing a single other person there.

The park itself was open, I confirmed by talking with a ranger. And then minutes later, as I was headed out toward Aliso Creek Trail, the rain began to fall. I hurried beneath the structure that houses a piece of historic farm equipment, hoping to wait it out. It was cold windy wind, so I took a gamble and headed off into the native plant garden to a couple of benches that I recalled beneath some trees that overlooked Aliso Creek. What I didn't remember was that those trees were deciduous, which means the benches were completely exposed this time of year (no leaves!). By the time I made it back to my truck in the church parking lot, I was pretty drenched. Fortunately, I was wearing a pair of quick-dry hiking shorts, and I had a dry beanie waiting to replace the drenched one upon my head.

I checked my weather app to see that this storm would be passing and leaving a wide area open for slight rain, or no rain at all. And I just sat there for a while in my truck, taking in the few people here and there scurrying into their cars. Twenty to thirty cars may seem like a lot for this pre-shelter-in-place "Social Distancing" phase we were in. But it's really not for this park on a spring day (and spring break for many), you could easily see 5 times as many people. I finally felt dry enough to venture out of the truck. It was about 11:30 am. I was still on spring break, and the next week, more after that, I was working from home, so I had time to get in a hike, and so grateful I was for that. The dark rain clouds at last parted and Aliso Canyon looked like this:

Aliso Creek was roaring

In Wood Canyon, about to cross over Wood Creek

Because I set out so late on this hike/run (but mainly hike), I decided against the Big Loop or any version thereof. Instead, I decided to head up Wood Canyon, turn off on Mathis, then before the big climb up Mathis, turn off onto Oak Grove Trail. This lovely green and wooded trail leads to a land of fairies and magical spells, a wrecked car from long ago (now destroyed from vandals) and a magnificently steep trail that climbs back up to Mathis (near West Ridge). I don't often find myself on Car Wreck, as it is quite difficult going up. But on this particular day, that kind of uphill climbing was just what I needed.

Kickin' Back on this Bizarrely Placed Bench on Oak Grove Trail

 

Car Wreck Trail

A tiny bit of rain came down on Car Wreck Trail. And surprisingly, I met up with two separate groups of people, each consisting with about 4 people (I think the first group had 5). That's quite unusual. As empty as this park was, I would have figured that one of the most remote trails (like Car Wreck) would have had no people sightings. I did some live video going up Car Wreck (it really is that fun of a trail!). And then at Mathis and West Ridge, I found the trails desolate once again.

I elected to head back via Rock-It and Coyote Run Trails. I saw a couple of people off in the distance on RockIt Trail. I don't recall any others. The park was pretty desolate. 4,500 acres is a lot of land. What a beautiful day it was!

Rock-It

Empty Grocery Shelves & An Order To Social Distance

This past Tuesday, March 17, we got another break in rains. We were not in a statewide shelter-in-place order yet, but practically everything had closed down: schools, libraries, bars, dine-in restaurants, theaters, gyms, sports, concerts, etc. From what I see around me, no one is in a panic -- no one I talk to, none of my family members. But there is a lot of public discourse if you have any of the apps or belong to your community's social media pages. People are posting angrily and want everyone to stay inside of their homes. Hunker down! On Tuesday, "Social Distancing" was the order of the day -- that is don't meet in groups, publicly or privately, and stay at least 6 feet from one another outside of your family. I thought local mountains were the perfect place of course, to social distance myself. 

I decided to take drive up Santiago Canyon Road and turn off into Modjeska Canyon. That took about thirty minutes. I was aiming for a shortish hike, so I was in no rush and could enjoy the drive -- I found it calming. I parked off to the side of the road along Modjeska Grade, which was a short uphill distance (about 1/4 mi) away from Santiago Truck Trail. It's an asphalt hike to the trail head with this gorgeous view overlooking the homes off of Modjeska Grade and Santiago Canyon Rd:

Santiago Truck Trail (STT) is the perfect trail when I want short distance (as in about 7 miles). Of course, STT is good for long distances too, as there's Joplin Trail and Old Camp off Yonder! It's a beautiful trail and it never gets old. My heart sang on Tuesday the moment my feet hit the dirt. I  was very much in the mood to toughen it up and didn't hesitate to take the higher, more difficult single track that backbones up above Santiago Truck Trail.  What gorgeous views!

Meeting back up with STT the views did not disappoint. I took it to the flags across from the vulture crags. It's mainly uphill on the way out, except for this one grand sweeping downhill that meets up with The Luge Trail. There were no more than a half dozen mountain bikers over those 7+ miles (but I really think the number was more like 4). Either way, STT was a tranquilizer, and a easy pill to swallow at that. What a contrast it was up there to what's going on down here. Up there (on Santiago Truck trail) there's beauty surrounding. There's majesty. There's history. There's respect. What a great escape to what's going on down here. Down here, need I say, there's a disruption, a major disruption. There's empty grocery shelves and an order to social distance.

STT never gets old. And I think it even gets better in the midst of a pandemic. 

7.12 miles, 1,409' elevation gain.

Social Distancing