Let 2015 Begin

We got a cold winter storm here in California last week. The snow level was down to one-thousand feet. 1000 feet! I didn’t get out to the trails until three days after the storm (Friday). And I chose Trabuco Canyon since I wouldn’t have to do any mountain driving. Pretty safe choice, or so I thought.

About a mile into the canyon I spotted snow at the sides of the road. And about a half mile later, the shady road turned icy. Well, I was determined to make the five mile drive into Holy Jim. But somewhere around mile 3, my tires started spinning and I found myself stuck in a rut before a large boulder on the ice. After attempting to drive out of the small whole and up over the rock, I decided to exit the truck to see to survey the situation. I could see that if I backed out of the rut, and cut the wheel sharply to the left avoiding the boulder up front, I would hit a patch of dirt. This I did, and continued driving slowly onward on that sloped canyon road. Very soon, I saw a truck driving toward me. The driver hung his head out as he passed and said, “Be careful in there – we had to turn back because it was too icy.”

I REALLY wanted to get to the Holy Jim lot. But quite quickly, I decided that this was not a very smart move. The mountain sides covered in snow, the road was pretty much solid ice and slanted in a direction that if I slid, I’d slide right off the road into Trabuco Creek. Last thing I wanted to do was hike back out of the canyon for cell reception to call for help. Hubby would not be happy.

And so, I began the harrowing task of turning my truck around on the ice. The road is thin, and being icy, made it even more difficult to turn around. I also had another problem. Turning the truck around put me nearly face forward with a giant ice puddle. Now, when I drove in, I hugged the mountain side of this puddle, avoiding it completely. But now, I could not get my car back to that side of the road – the space was too tight and too slippery.

So, I just sat there with my car perpendicular to the road, trying to think up a plan when two men came hiking up. “What do I do?” I asked the gentlemen. One of them had blood dripping down from his knee from a fall on the ice. He told me get the truck in the lowest gear then turn my wheel a little to the left. I followed his instructions. "A little more to the left he said." And then, "Now, just drive and momentum will get you through the puddle.” With no other options, I drove, with my wheel turned as directed I went down into the side of the puddle on the far edge, and then back up on the other end.

Whew! I drove back to the closest lot, parked and pushed in the emergency brake. And as I sat there prepping for some outside time, my truck began sliding. Turned off and with the brake on! Determined to get out there, I started the my truck back up and drove further out of the canyon, found a flat spot in the snow, parked, and with my heavy coat hiked back into the canyon. 

I hiked back to the Holy Jim lot, saving myself from a spill on the ice many times.  During my hike back out, cars were sliding all over the road, ice chips and rocks flying at my legs.  Eventually, I figured I would be safer off the road, so I hiked down to the creek and made my way back to the truck slushing through the snow all by myself.  (2.31 miles hiked)

A nice flat place to park:

Tuesday, I made it back to the trails for a 10.63 mile run in Aliso / Wood Canyons that kicked my ass.  Yup.  Chewed me up and spit me out.  

Let 2015 begin!

A coyote bolts off the trail that I’m stumbling upon:

Being There

“Where you are, be there.”  Master Lee, one of my son’s taekwondo instructors said to him.  And he said this to him again and again, until I never forgot the words.  But thing is, I did forget those words.  I always forget those words.  But they are back now, brought back by a multitude of circumstances. And I am ever so grateful.  Being there.  This is how I want to live life.  This is how I want to run trails.  For the longest time, I had not been showing up to my runs.  Sure, I was there, but I was not really there.  I was in the past, thinking of how things used to be, of the things I neglected to do, etc.  Or I was in the future thinking about where I wanted to run next time, what I needed to do to get my act together, etc. This is not how I want to live, how I want to run.  I want my feet firmly planted in the now. 

Last January, I posted that “I am back,” after running the Calico Ghost Town 30k.  Well, just in time for this year’s Calico run, I am once again back.  Back on my feet, back in the now.  And I ever so love the freedom.

Friday’s Run:  I ran an out-and-back up to Top of the World.  But heck, who says that I have to run it the same ole way EVERY SINGLE TIME.  This time, I took an obscure single-track that I have neglected for years as I approached Top of the World.  And then on the way back, I ran down Lynx instead of Cholla.  And I searched out a meadow that I noticed from afar.  Found it.  (Miles 7)

View of Saddleback Mountains from West Ridge Trail:View of Laguna Wilderness from West Ridge (look at all that green!):The meadow off of Lynx:

Saturday’s run:  I ran up a trail I haven’t run before named either Cadillac Trail or Trabuco Creek Road.  And I really didn’t run it.  At times, it seemed like I crawled up it.  Yet, I was present the whole time and enjoyed the struggle immensely.  The trail met up with Santiago Truck Trail where I ran up the road that leads to Old Camp.  But I never made it to Old Camp because I wanted to get back home in time to see my middle son off to his music lesson.

Scrambling up Cadillac Trail (& that’s probably a Cadillac on it’s back – it was actually kind of freaky come up under it, what if it slips and falls???):Looking back down at my truck, way down there. More climbing:And some more climbing:Time to turnaround and head back:

Summer Be Gone

All week I had been daydreaming about running in Silverado Canyon.  Since I had received a transfer on my Spartan Beast race (more on that later), I looked forward to making a trip out to Silverado Canyon for a jaunt up Maple Springs on Saturday.  Friday a fire erupted in Silverado Canyon.  It burned partially up Maple Springs and I’m pretty sure all the way up Silverado Motorway. 

Saturday the fire continued to burn.  And it was so dang hot (news reports said 103F in the local mountains) that I decided on air-conditioned cross training in the gym. 

Sunday, I read that the Silverado fire was contained, and being that I didn’t want to waste another weekend day, I headed off for the mountains.  Not Silverado Canyon, but several canyons away to Trabuco Canyon.  Pulling into the parking lot late, 8AM, I noticed only one car parked in the Holy Jim lot.  And I thought, “Oh crap.  There’s only one other person crazy enough to go out in the hellish heat – and that person was at least smart enough to arrive earlier.”

I nonetheless trotted off happily, with visions of making Santiago Peak.  I hoped that I could lookout and ascertain fire damages from afar.  The canyon was eerily lonely.  It seemed that no one even stirred in the cabins.  About a mile later, I came upon this note from The Holy Jim Fire Department taped up at the trailhead:

Then I crossed the bone-dry creek pictured below.  I could have ran right down through the dry creek bed.  But I chose to run the wood plank instead. 

Within about a quarter mile, I ran off trail to the “ladies room,” and found the remnants of some semi-recent gold mining.  I’m not sure if it’s legal to mine in National Forests.  If it is, one rule should be that the area is put back the way that it was found.  In addition to the bits of trash, a pair of underwear and a shirt strewn about, there were two dug out holes – one in the ground, the other in the mountain wall.  The hose was also left behind, which probably syphoned water from the creek (that used to flow). 

So, I continued onward, up through the forest.  Gnats swarmed my face.  They fought to get into my ears, into my eyes.  I coughed up more than one gnat when I remembered to keep my mouth shut!  The only solace that I felt running through those buggers was knowing that when the giant switchback began, I would lose them (but gain the burning sun). 

And gain the burning sun I did.  I didn’t fret; I hardly fret anymore because  I know how to cool my body temperature.  For those of you who get caught out there in the heat, here’s what you MUST  do:

1)  Hydrating is not enough.  You must cool down.

2)  Get in the shade (or expose yourself to a breeze if you can)

3)  Stop moving, preferably sit, if you are feeling really bad.

4)  Wet your clothing

5)  Rest. 

6)  Do the above OFTEN, and every time you feel lightheaded, nauseated, or strange in any way (like seeing colored spots, tiny flies, etc). 

In addition to the above, I didn’t push myself.  How, might you ask, is running up a mountain, not pushing yourself?  Well, I took it lackadaisically, just one foot in front of the other.  On the way up, I passed my spring in the mountain wall at about mile three.  It’s just an occasional drip now.  But I did notice that there were two small containers beneath the drip, both filled to the brim with the mountain water. 

The shade came back strongly at about mile 4.5.  And the gnats swarmed in worse than before.  I struggled out of Holy Jim, as the dirt was so dry and loose that I slid back with each step. 

Safe from Holy Jim, I was once again fooled by the shade and The Main Divide’s beauty.  Forget the fact that gnats swarmed my face – I took that bend in the road willingly, and headed upward toward Santiago Peak. 

I struggled immensely traveling the next 1.5 miles up The Main Divide.  I no longer ran, or even trotted.  Painstakingly, I put one foot in front of the other.  And I rested in the shade.  This was my view the last time I rested – here I sat in the shade for 18 minutes, poured water over my shirt, and took in my surroundings, feeling, seeing, hearing and smelling all of it.  I experienced NOW– and it was wonderful.  I really didn’t need the peak anymore.  I had received what I sought -- tranquility, as I sat there on The Main Divide.  I looked up and snapped this picture before traveling another half mile up the rocky road: 

This is where I turned around and headed down Upper Holy Jim back toward The Main Divide closer to Holy Jim (lower):

Upper Holy Jim was treacherous and hellish with heat.  The ground slid away beneath my feet with each step.  I couldn’t help regret my choice.  It was the “short cut” that added at least a half hour to this “run.” 

I came off Upper Holy Jim in a slide and ran The Main Divide back to Holy Jim dreaming about those two containers of water in my mountain spring.  As I stood at the top of Holy Jim, the earth slid beneath me and I fell onto my bottom.  Then it was onward for 5 more miles of hellish heat.  (105F, I read later). 

I COULD NOT WAIT UNTIL I REACHED THE SPRING.  I needed to cool down my inner temperature.  Badly.  With little shade ahead, drenching my clothing was my best prospect. 

I arrived to the spring exasperated. I felt even more exasperation when I noticed the empty container in the wall spring.  And then my heart filled with joy when I saw that the other container was still full.  Someone had come along and used only one container.  Only one!  And they left the other for someone else – a stranger . . . me!  Well, I ripped off my pack to make sure that I had enough electrolyte water to make the next three miles.  Confident I had enough, I took that water and poured it over my head, down my back and chest.  It felt ice cold.  ICE. COLD.  And for a short while there, I felt cold running down the mountain.  Glorious. 

GLORIOUS. 

Summer.  I am done.  Now be gone.

Yaeger Mesa

During the late 1800’s a man named Jake Yaeger had a cabin along Trabuco Creek and mined a mesa he owned up the canyon.  His mining efforts (which ran between 1899 and 1925) proved unsuccessful, but his name still lives on with the mesa taking his name:  Yaeger Mesa. 

I have only visited Yaeger twice before.  It’s not an easy task, and one that should not be taken alone.  It’s steep, it’s lonely, it’s long, and it’s hot.  But it’s beautiful.  I took that trip for a 3rd time yesterday, Saturday August 23.  First however, I hiked up Trabuco Canyon with my son on Friday, the day prior, to stash water at what would end up about mile 8.5 in my Yaeger Mesa loop.

On the way we stopped of at an old shot-up car, and also posed at the base of a closed-off mine-shaft:

Saturday, I managed to get myself out of bed at 4:45 AM.  I woke to the noise of Hank’s text arriving to my phone.  He was on his way.  Fortunately, I only live about thirty minutes from the trailhead, so I was able to take in a cup of coffee and casually change into hiking clothes.  At 6AM, I met my friends Hank, Judi and Matt, and we headed up the steep county trail called Bell View.  Did I mention that it was steep?  Well, it was.  And this was only the beginning. 

Looking back on The OC:

After about a mile on Bell View, we got off the beaten path and took an unmarked single-track referred to as Bell Ridge.  The climbs were immense, but we had relief with the occasional downhills and flats.  I felt confident that we were headed in the right direction when we spotted the flag.    Soon after, we came upon a giant cross that I hadn’t see before.  We bushwhacked out to it for quiet awesome views of the county. 

And then we continued to climb, and then climb some more.  And when we climbed a hill that seemed so steep that we couldn’t possibly climb one steeper, we’d come up on an even steeper hill.  Often I used my hands and arms to hoist me up particular difficult sections.  The steepness was laughable. 

At about mile six, Bell Ridge turned abruptly to the left, and we headed downhill before one last uphill to the peak.  At the top of that next hill, at about mile 6.5, we took a turn onto another single track and headed down a ridiculously steep loose-dirt trail.  It was shady.  It was lush.  And it took all my strength just to stay up right.  Often I leaned into my hip and slid down, but was careful to periodically change hip sides to avoid injury.  At one point, when simply just standing, my feet flew out beneath me and I crashed to the ground.  With minor cuts to my right arm, I worried more about the status of my camera, which I distinctly heard slam against a rock on impact.  Fortunately, all was well with my trusty camera.  I would find out later that evening however, that all was not well with me from that fall.  (I experienced pretty severe back pain for several hours before finally taking ibuprofen to ease it some)

Around mile 7, we finally reached Yaeger Mesa which is a large field filled with bracken fern year-round.  On Saturday, the ferns were a yellowish-green which from afar (say from The Main Divide or Horsethief) looks bright green.  Other times of the year the ferns are brown, green or even red (see prior winter visit by clicking here).   There is nothing like it in Trabuco Canyon, or anywhere that I’ve been in the Santa Ana Mountains.  Yaeger Mesa is one of my happy places.