Wood Canyon in its Summertime Glory (A Pictorial -- mainly :)

As this newfound back-to-school freedom begins to set in, we found ourselves this Friday with some spare time. And so, my husband and I decided on a hike through the lovely Wood Canyon. We started plenty late (about 10 AM) after tending to work, errands and such. And so it was rather warm. I take that back -- it was more than warm . . . it was hot. But we had a nice cool breeze for occasional comfort, plenty of shade, and a beautiful Wood Canyon in all its summertime glory.

Enter Wood Canyon

Buckwheat along the trail

The Lovely Wood Creek Trail

Stairway to Heaven? Think not, but a beautiful trip through Wood Creek Trail

Why I love Wood Creek Trail

Crossing Back over to Wood Canyon Trail

Creek along Coyote Run Trail

Coyote Run Trail


Prickly Pear (Coyote Run Trail)

More Coyote Run Trail

Somewhere on Dripping Cave Trail

Miles hike with husband this morning: 6

Quickest Route to Top of the World

My goal: a short run, but I didn't want it easy, and I wanted trails (which goes without saying that I didn't want easy). I began running at about 9:45 AM, which was problematic due to the heat. But I was determined anyway to once again, run to the top. To make that trip in about five miles, well, that was a first for me. Usually, I do some kind of loop to get to the top and back, totalling between ten and twelve miles. But there is a way in fact, that's much shorter (definitely not much easier)-- it's up that Cholla, then that rolling Westridge to the top.

I took off on a paved downhill from the grassy Canyon Vista Park. As a cool breeze blew, music piped in through my earphones aiding in my determination to run all the way, no matter how hot it got. And it got hot. Hot, hot, hot. Pretty quickly, I ran through that wall of heat and my feet hit the dirt a few minutes in. Then it was exposed trail for the entire distance. Up, up, and away I went on Cholla, which is quite short, about 1/3 mile, but steep, sometimes rocky, and all sunny.

At Top of the World, I talked with a few cyclists before turning around and returning the same way, up and down Westridge, then down Cholla. This was my first trip down Cholla, and needless to say, I focused hard on keeping my balance. About half way down, I took a phone call (so odd these modern days!) from my old-time friend calling to say he'd run Saturday's crazy race with me. "I'm on a sunny slope right now, can I call you back?"

And though I powered up some of those hilly portions (mainly the short ones), I took that last paved hill up to the car running rather slowly. I reached the car absolutely drenched and covered in salt, after only 5.9 miles.

But I loved it. : ) AND . . . I did not fall : )

You Are Now Entering Cholla Trail -- Tread Lightly and do not Fear : )

About a Quarter Way Up Cholla, Looking Back to Trail Entrance and Wood Cyn

Up Up and Away / Summertime on Cholla Trail

A Sad Freedom

Not one of us here got good sleep last night -- much on my mind, I'm pretty sure that I woke every hour. Just before waking for good, I dreamt that I rollerbladed along the asphalt Aliso Woods Trail. Then I daringly crossed over the "Closed" section, the one that intersects Wood Canyon Trail, and doesn't have a gate. It's just simply closed off to travelers. I breezed over that thing on blades, enjoying the freedom, until the trail took a turn toward the creek. Then after a sharp right I discovered a hidden treasure of a trail. It ran alongside the creek, beside secret homes for the privledged who had to access this heavenly trail.

Well, I scooted down a steep slope in my blades to access this dirt trail, when I found myself on a richly manicured lawn and before me, a gigantic wildcat. She was as tall as my shoulders, grayish-brown, and a cross between a cougar and a lion. Basically, it was a cougar with a mane. Well, I backed up slowly, moving my way up that incline. And just as I was about to hop back up onto that paved trail and skate away, the rangers drove by. Fearful that the cougar-lion might pounce, but more afraid of the rangers, I ducked and hid there until the rangers were good and gone. Then I hopped up on the trail and raced along the asphalt trying to make it back to the public road before the rangers caught me on a closed portion. But there was snow everywhere now, and hikers kept stopping me to ask the way. Frustration grew when I finally woke.

So what does that dream mean?

I have no idea. I'm sure in some way, it symbolically tells the story of sending my boys off to school today. Sure, I looked forward to this day. Today, I would gain my daytime freedom. No more nagging, no more 3 boys fighting. But it was very sad too. No more three boys lounging around the living room during breakfast, no more three boys laughing too loud in the morning. I missed them terribly, and ruminated over the fact that our guys are growing up so, so fast.

And so what did I do when all the dropping off at schools was complete?

That's easy. I'm sure there's no guessing here. 9:20 AM, I clipped my ipod to my belt, and I ran. Beneath cloudy skies, I ran down to the state beach, then through the smoky campground, and out onto that long stretch that used to kill me nearly six years ago. The tide was high, and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, its shine created thousands of fluctuating silver glimmers across the sea.

The wind blew cool, the sun beared down hot, and I ran some more. I ran out to the rock jetty where old fishermen threw out lines into still waters. Across the way, hundreds of pelicans mulled about the filling station dock. Plenty of other runners made the rounds too -- perhaps they also had sent children off for their first day back to school.

And I ran some more, through the wharf, its restaurants practically empty of tourists, seaguls prancing along roof tops, flies swarming in their glory at back door entrances.

And I ran some more beneath the bridge in cool shade, then up and over it to my island. Squirrels with tummies bulging ran across my path. But it was the walkers who blocked my path. Drinking fountains quenched my thirst, all the while, I thought about nothing. Nothing.

And I ran some more.

I didn't stop until I reached the cliffs. Waves crashed upon the jetty, sending easy, routine splashes toward the trail. I stopped for a second here, noticing a burn in my arms from my shirt seams. After rubbing chapstick along my arms, I took off running again. And I took that big hill home as fast as I could, no hands on the hips, just looking to the ground, listening to my music, thinking about nothing.

Freedom is definately kinda sad.

Miles logged this morning: 11.36

# of other runners on my route: 19

Maple Springs / Main Divide / Silverado Motorway

Woke at 4:15 this morning, on the road at 4:45. It was still dark, and unable to read the unassuming street signs, I drove right past Silverado Canyon on the way in. I made a u-turn on that lonely mountain road to arrive at the Silverado / Black Star Canyon intersection a little before 5:30 AM.

The weather was wonderfully cool as six of us (I'll refrain from saying six of us lunatics, or six of us crazies!) headed up Maple Springs Road. There was no downhill, or even a flat warm-up. The climb, though very gradual, began right away. Hey, I'm not complaining -- a cool breeze can make up for a lot. The climb was constant up to the Main Divide, but not terrible. That's not to say that I wasn't tired -- that I was. But I still had plenty of energy and the heat had not begun to bear down upon us.

Heading Up On Maple Springs Road

Maple Springs


Main Divide Road / Looking Back From Whence We Came


When the pavement ended, we ran a switch-back dirt road to the Main Divide, totalling a little under ten miles (I think). Daniel was waiting for Tom, Kelly and me, David and Larry had gone on ahead. When after wondering whether they had taken the correct turn, we saw two tiny figures in the distance, and so we were off too, headed for the ridge and that glorious trip down.

Meeting up on the Ridge (Tom Pointing Out Where We're Headed)


And We're Off!


The last part of the Main Divide Road (along the ridge) got pretty crazy for me. I found myself conserving water, which was not too smart. And the two hundred calories thus far wasn't nearly enough to make some of the steep climbs. My energy drained from me quickly as the sun now beared down hard. I relished even the tiniest bits of shade. And it was only after two hundred more calories, thanks to Kelly and Tom, did my energy slowly return. I told myself then -- no more rationing water. In fact, "you're in big trouble girl if you have any water left at the car."

Looking over other side of Santa Ana Mountains
(215 Fwy below, Lake Matthews in distance)


Me and It's-Not-As-Steep-As-It-Seems-Tom : )

Our Last Ascent!!


Group Photo-Op before heading down
2,000 Ft in Two Miles (Silverado Motorway)
Kelly, Daniel, Me, David, Larry

The trip down was a blast. Though tired as I was, I focused hard. Do not fall. DO NOT FALL. I tripped about three times, but no falls. That Silverado Motorway was a steep, steep, rocky switch- back (about 2,000 ft. in 2 miles). And though it was oh so beautiful, it was OH SO HOT. Tom, Kelly and I all ran out of water before reaching the bottom of the canyon. That was okay, because downhill, knowing the end is just around the corner, well, nothing beats that! Even in the blazing sun.

What a run. I'll say it again. What a run.

Miles logged this morning: 16.4

The Final Stretch (Car Is Just Around The Corner!)

The Fast Ones Waiting For Us As We Arrive

Elevation Profile (courtesy Tom, as well as 3 of the pics above)

Catching a Cool Breeze

Originally I planned for an early morning run, but for the first time in a long time, I slept in. What time is sleeping in? 7 AM. (Oh, where have the days gone when sleeping in meant 10 or 11 o' clock?) I couldn't fit in a morning run waking so late (we had things to do, places to go : ) Plus, another blazing hot day, there wasn't a chance I was gonna run with the sun anywhere in sight. And so I waited.

8 PM, still quite humid, down right hot in the house, I finally set out for a run. The moon was full, or nearly full, big in the sky. It cast a wonderful shimmering column of light across the dark ocean. I was surprised as I ran out to the rock jetty to find the weather still quite hot -- but who am I to judge? I mean, how could it be hot, I mean "really" hot, running along the seaside? Believe me, it was.

Not a leaf stirred in the trees, the ocean was still, its swells measuring in inches. But then as I ran on through the wharf, restaurant lights twinkling across the black waters, sudden marvelous cool breezes hit me head-on. These surprise gusts stayed with me as I ran throughout the marina all the way to the cliffs, where I stood looking down at the waves as they gently rolled in.

Miles logged in the dark: 5.09

# of other runners out there tonight: 3

To The Top!

Big clouds, with slight touches of gold and blue, shaded the land for a 6:30 AM run to Top of the World with fellow club runner, Tom. Those gorgeous clouds also trapped in the heat, making for a humid trip through Wood Canyon. I wasn't complaining too badly though, because of the lovely shade those clouds provided. Perhaps the clouds were the reason that the park had more visitors than normal (and I do believe the bikers were out earlier than usual), plus one lone worker trimming branches along the trail.

From the first step, I thought, "Oh my gosh, how am I gonna do this?" so tired was I. (Actually, I thought "How am I gonna do this?" from my first step out of bed). But there's something about running Aliso and Wood Canyons: I have to run all the way to the top -- doesn't matter how tired I am, or which trails we take, to the top they must lead.

And so we ran that gorgeous humid Wood Canyon, with Sycamore trees starting to show their fall color, all the way to Cholla Trail. Cholla is an exposed single track, quite steep, but not too long. It's extremely difficult for me to run up, and I'm never quite sure when it's gonna end. Then suddenly there's a right turn, and Cholla is finished. Hallelujah!

Stopping at bridge over creek on Wood Canyon Trail



There were plenty of bikers out this morning on the Westridge trail, which we took all the way to the top. And at the steepest, toughest part, Tom ran up ahead, and if I'm not mistaken, he raced the cyclist up that thing (and won!).

Running Westridge looking towards Aliso Viejo neighborhood

Quick snacks at the Top of the World, I don't remember even looking over the other side to Laguna Beach. Have I run to the top now so many times, that the view's become mundane? Oh my, let that not be. The view to the other side used to be my motivation. Now I suppose my motivation is simply the satisfaction of running some dang tough hills.

We took Mathis Trail down, with occassional breezes along the way. Cloud cover now disappearing, shade was the greatest relief.

In all we ran 11.63 miles, I'd say a great way to start the week (did I forget to mention that my week doesn't start til I run? : )

Fossils in rock where I stretched near ranger station

Dirt Tastes A Whole Lot Better Than Pavement

Overslept for a 6AM run (because I need an hour or so before heading off for a long run), I finally made it out the door 6:22. I looked forward to this twenty mile run, not really wondering if I could do it, because I knew that I could. Actually, compared to the trails, I figured it would be a cinch. In the midst of our usual end-of-August heat wave, I carried a handheld for water, with several electrolyte tablets packed in the strap for refills along the way. Good thing. Can you believe it was already warm at 6:30 in the morning? Not just warm, but muggy.

On the way down PCH I met an out of town trail runner who asked for directions to the beach. I told her, as well as, what I thought would be about a five mile run. We joyfully compared the trail to the road, the trail of course so much funner. And I ended by pointing to my scabbed knee with a comment about falling on the trail.

At least I won't have to worry about that on the road!

This is how I progress my way through long runs: I break it into portions or "legs". And I work on just one leg at at time.

Leg One (5.28 Miles)
Leg one started off great, meeting a fellow trail runner as mentioned, I looked forward to some nice solitude, good music. And then . . . AND THEN (I practically weep thinking about it), I FELL! I actually tripped on a sidewalk crack and plummeted forward. I hit that sidewalk hard, knee landing first, and then I rolled to the left (instead of my usual right, I suppose because I held my water in my right hand). All the while, cars whizzed by.

Well, I was pissed. I mean, damn angry, grumbling profanities beneath my breath. How could this happen? I wasn't even running downhill. Scab blown off, my knee bled afresh. After cleaning it with an antibacterial wipe, I applied an over-sized band-aid and put my feet to the pavement, and continued running.

There are differences between falling on dirt versus falling on pavement. First off, pavement DOES NOT MOVE. There's no give whatsoever. That makes for a much harder impact. Also, when I fall on the trail, dirt completely covers my wounds, pretty much stopping the bleeding immediately.

Anyway, there was a dead duck on the sidewalk after that. And the air smelled of gasoline as I made my way inland. Occassionally, glass littered the way. And here and there a single sock laid in the gutter or in the landscaped planters. When the climbing began, I ran it stoically, never stopping (because these beach city hills, though steep, are nothing compared to say, Mathis or Cholla in Wood Canyon). Then toward the city's high point, I noticed a thin rope tied across the sidewalk, attached to a street sign. What the heck? Up a ways, another rope taut across the sidewalk.

The downhill was no thrill for me. My bandage saturated in blood, I moved on through this leg to a paved path that led me down to the city's northern most beach. Plenty of hikers made their way down this trail, which about half way posted a sign that read "Trail Closed -- DANGER of slide." I let my mind wander, thinking about my life, still angry about my knee, my shirt now irritating me as it rode up my waist. And then suddenly, a feeling of despair overcame me. "Don't think, don't think," I told myself. JUST RUN. And so, I kept on running, because I really had no choice as far as I was concerned. Besides that, Leg One's end was in sight.

Leg Two (1.94 miles)
I ran out under PCH to begin Leg Two. Plenty of runners made their way along this beachside path. Not a breeze stirred as I began another climb that ended running beneath the highway for a flight of stairs up to the apartment complex that my husband and I lived in for many years. (memories) From there I made another climb up the same hill I ran down a few miles earlier. I looked to the trees, desperate for air movement. Not a leaf stirred.

Leg Three (2.65 miles)
This leg began on a downhill, back toward the sea. The bloodied bandage weighed on my mind, and my shirt irritated me so terribly, I was about to rip it in two when I decided on a four block detour (8 total for a round trip) to head home for a new shirt and clean bandage.

Back on the road, more comfortable in my favorite green, snagged-up shirt, I ran through the town center where vendors set up today's market. It smelled of bell peppers, onions, nectarines and all sorts of wonderful produce. Few buyers strolled about at this early hour.

I crossed PCH once again and ran to the cliff that overlooks the harbor. The air was still. But my spirits now lifted with a new shirt and clean bandage, I ran down the stairway for a gorgeous run on the historic cliff side trail to end with another stairway back to the road. And then I was back again, running down the same highway, toward the same beaches I told the women how to get to a few hours earlier.

Leg Four (3.86 miles)
This phase was the longest, mentally, and the hottest, yet the flattest portion of the run. It was mainly on asphalt where I ran through a crowded campground that smelled of campfires and cigarette smoke. I ran the straightaway, the waves to my right unseen because of RV after RV parked against the sand.

When the sidewalk ended and I made that last turn around, I was not physically tired, but mentally so.

Leg Five (4.36 miles)
Finally! The beauty of the run! Shade!!! I ran up to the jetty, a multitude of long boarders off to my left waiting for that perfect wave. An actual breeze blew as I made my way through the crowded wharf, restaurants full of morning diners. People lined the sidewalk for day long fishing trips. Several other runners made their way alongside the marina's still waters, very few smiling. It was hot!

Leg Six( 2.44 miles)
Portion six ended coming off the island, where I ran past the marine institute to the cliffs that tower above the small beach there. Tide was high, the surf rather calm. And then it was homeward bound with one last hill to climb, which I ran confidently, all the way back home.

Well, that's enough of the road for now!

Trails, take me away.

Miles logged this morning: 20.53

Falls to date: 8 (But who's counting?)

ps. Back at home I asked my husband, "What's the matter with me? Why so many falls?"

He responded, "Didn't your family used to call you 'Grace' when you were a kid?"

(Well, first of all, I was never a goat, but . . . ) Oh ya, that's right. I almost forgot: I'm a clutz. Okay . . . I feel better now.

All is well in the world. : )