June 17, I didn’t wake early as planned. Surprisingly, that didn’t stop me from heading out to Black Star Canyon. I looked at weather reports first, and seeing that the high in Silverado Canyon was 73 Fahrenheit, I was good to go. My feet hit dirt at 10:30 am.
Though the base of the canyon was full of hikers, once I turned off to the left, away from the creek, up toward The Main Divide, I travelled a lonesome road. What a lovely lonesome road it was. Sure, it was warm, but the occasional cool breezes rectified that. Black Star Canyon is still comfortable in June, which is why I chose it for the day’s hike. Soon, it will be too hot, and I haven’t been into that in a long time.
Once in a great while hiking up that lonely dirt road, I would come upon a mountain biker, and once I caught up with a man heading up Black Star Canyon Road for the first time. He was looking for a place to rest, and I told him that he wasn’t that far from the Indian Village site that he was hoping to come upon. We were just about to enter the Mariposa Reserve during our chat. Mariposa Reserve is my happy place. I call it that right now because just the mere thought of the plateau that makes up most of the reserve soothes my soul and brings down my heart rate.
My first stop in the reserve was to take a single track, about a half mile down to the creek. There’s a little bush whacking, and lots of incline, all to arrive at a lovely shady spot at the creek. It was still flowing, though slowly, which means there was a trickle at the falls. I came out at the single track in fact, very close to the top of Black Star Falls, so close that I could hear the voices of hikers hanging out down there. It’s exhilarating of course to sit there in that shady crevice of giant boulders above the falls without a soul around. It’s a bit spooky in fact. You can understand my surprise then when I saw four young men hiking down stream toward me.
Headed down to creek just above Black Star Falls
Wow. I didn’t expect that. And they didn’t expect me. When I made eye contact with the lead guy, he hollered back to his 3 friends, “Oh man, I think we’re back at the road.” Nope, I told him, the road’s up there. They were all delighted to learn that they had reached their destination, the top of Black Star Falls. Soon after that, I scurried back up to the trail, but not before urging the guys to be careful! My next destination: Beek’s Place.
Beek’s Place was lonely and lovely as usual. Though it was a bit hazy out, I still had views of San Gorgonio and the San Gabriel Mountains, not to mention Orange County and a socked in view of the Pacific Ocean. The Beek family had a wonderful location for their 1930s mountain retreat. I hung out at their place on this particular day for about thirty minutes before heading on. There is much to take in from this spot – faraway views and ruins to rummage about. When I finally did head out, I climbed just a little bit further for one last stop before the long down hill. My last stop: the doppler tower.
Just a short distance from Beek’s Place, I have never visited the doppler. The reason being that I am always behind on time. And on this day, it was business as usual. I was behind on time. But it’s nearly summertime now, and it doesn’t get dark until after 8:00 pm – and so I went for it and headed up to the doppler tower where I hung out for a good fifteen minutes or more. As I headed back, I could see a helicopter hovering about in the far distance, somewhere over the Mariposa Reserve.
For the next few miles down, the helicopter continued to hover over the reserve. Eventually,I made a stop at the Indian Village site and ran out to the edge to get a closer view of the helicopter. I could see the red and white design of OCFA (Orange County Fire Authority). A person walked along the outside right edge. The pilot had his door open, and I could see him looking out the door below to the forest floor – precisely, it seemed, where I had been earlier, where I had met that group of young men, just a small ways from the top of Black Star Falls.Then all of a sudden, the person on the edge stepped off and was lowered down to the ground where the trees and brush swooshed in the chopper’s prop wash.
As I continued my way down Black Star Canyon Road, I lost sight of the scene. And then I came out again where the helicopter had landed just off to the side of the road. The wind it’s propeller made was fierce, though far enough away from myself, I could see all the brown summer grass swirling and whipping about on the mountainside. The chopper eventually left, only to return again as I approached the final stretch on the canyon floor. (I have found nothing online about this rescue, except for a blurb on the OCFA Twitter page confirming a rescue of a female with a leg injury in Black Start Canyon).
In all, I put in 17 miles and of course was so much better for it, though fatigued was I. Still love Black Star Canyon. It’s never too lonely.
17 miles, 2,700’ elevation gain
