STT

Saturday, March 13, I got out early for some trail time after two days of rain. The storm brought snow to our local mountains. Though I love hiking through snow (a light snow), my only possibilities of hiking in the snow were: 1) Maple Springs out of Silverado (which was under voluntary evacuation due to mudslides), 2) Trabuco Canyon/Holy Jim (which is still closed from #HolyFire), or 3) Drive to the top of the mountain to Blue Jay campgrounds (which was not a good choice for a few reasons, mainly because I kind of hate driving the windy Ortega Highway, especially the part when I’m right up against a cliff and the driver behind me is riding my tail, pressuring me to drive faster!) All other locations, if it got any snow, I figured most likely would have melted by morning.  And so I chose a location that few people would choose mainly because there’s so few places to park – Santiago Truck Trail (STT). What a lovely, lovely desolate trail.

I was on the road early enough to find parking in a turnout up Modjeska Canyon not too far from the trailhead. Having checked the weather ahead of time, I expected cold. I didn’t quite imagine though that it would feel this cold. The weather reports said 38F in Silverado, so I’m going to go with that (but it seemed colder!)  I know 38F is not so cold for a lot of people. For this native Californian, it’s pretty cold. And I wasn’t prepared, so I had to walk back to the truck for more warmth. (I guess that means I was prepared being that I had warmer accessories back at the truck.)

And so, with an insulated beanie and much warmer buff (doubled up with my thinner buff), my journey continued to “Old Camp” via STT. It makes my heart glad to even think of the loneliness of this trail. From the start, I took the high single track, though it had been bulldozed and was difficult at first to locate. It’s important that I take this high trail on the way out – it’s my habit, and I love, love, love the “backbone” portion pictured above (first picture).

Talk about quiet. I saw only a couple of people in those early hours. They rode bikes. Through the clouds that covered the peaks, I could see snow on the slopes. The Main Divide I am certain was covered with snow. As for STT, a few small patches of melting snow dotted the shady side of the road as I approached my turnoff point at Joplin. That was it as far as snow. I could hear the creek flowing strong far below my trail and in the distance across the canyon a small waterfall flowed over the boulders (@ approximately mile 5) that I plan to try and reach some day soon. 

At times the weather grew so cold and the clouds so dark that it felt eerie. Hard to explain really. The word “spooky” comes first to my mind. Nature is surreal even more so during these eerie times. I was happy to see anyone that I met along the trail, as first, they were a confirmation that I was not so crazy to be out on this lonely trail by myself, and also because it was comforting to see the face of another person after travelling in silence for some miles. After mile 4, human sightings became rare. I came upon a group of several young men headed down to “Old Camp”. A lone male hiker with poles passed me at one point on Joplin Trail.

The turnoff to “Old Camp” @ Joplin Trail is at about mile 6 on Santiago Truck Trail. At that point, I’d already hiked some significant hills, so the joy was instant upon reaching this junction. The relief of finally reaching this point was short-lived however, because after a short descent, the ascent begins once again. It’s two and a half miles to “Old Camp” at this junction. A very long 2.5 miles. But the last mile, so delightful it was, doesn’t really even count. On that final mile descent into “Old Camp”, the moss appears in thick mounds beneath the trees which are also covered in a moss carpet. Lush green ferns fill in the spaces between rock and moss and the wonderfully aromatic Bay leaf trees begin to appear on the landscape in abundance. I stopped to cut a small branch of the Bay Leaf to take home with me, as I always do.

Heading Down Into “Old Camp”

By the time I arrived to “Old Camp”, the cyclists who had passed me along the way had already passed me on their way out. As expected, I was completely alone down in this little shaded paradise next to the stream. I remained in that general area for quite some time, knowing that I was pushing it as I always do time-wise. I ate breakfast, unpacked and re-packed, explored some, took pictures and I also just sat. I sat and waited. Waited for what? Nothing. I just waited. And I listened. And I prayed. It was spooky down there I admit. But it was also peaceful and a little magical. I will say that I was quite pleased when a young couple rode in on their bikes and set up their spot not too far from me, closer to the stream. It was nice talking to people after being silent for so long.

Total miles for this adventure: 17 with 3,000’ of elevation gain

The remainder of the story in pictures:

Down By “Old Camp”:

The long hike back:

Ten Tough Miles

We got a couple of days of rain in the first week of March, so when it let up, I headed out to Chiquito Falls (off of Ortega Highway in the Cleveland National Forest). The creeks had a little bit of water, mainly big puddles between the boulders but the falls were dry. I expected as much; we didn’t get a lot of rain. But I didn’t do this hike for the falls, though lovely the falls are when they flow! I did this hike for the beauty and the fact that the out-and-back to Chiquito Falls is a tough ten miles. And sometimes, I just need tough.

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The route: San Juan Loop to Chiquito Trail to the falls & back, 9.5 miles, 2,295’ elevation gain.

A Photo Diary, March 5

Women My Age

I closed up February with a wonderful adventure on the 28th in Black Star Canyon. Yes, I was back in that canyon once again. Quickest drive, plus I get a paved road right up to the trailhead, and lots of parking. Yes, the place does get quite crowded, especially on weekends. But 99% of the crowds go straight to the falls. That leaves a very small amount of people turning left at 2.5 miles in and hiking up the mountain. That’s when it gets really good and quiet, where you could go for hours and not see a single soul.

I got out super early on the 28th so as to get a parking spot right up at the gate, which I did. Several small groups of hikers made their way through the canyon about the same time. All of them headed toward the falls. A larger group of runners ran by and headed up the mountain early on. I never saw them again.

The wind blew hard climbing up Black Star Canyon Road. Most of the time I kept my entire face covered. (But not once did I rethink shorts!)  My first big stop was at the  “Indian” village (surprise, surprise). I took a seat at one of my favorite boulders, which is somewhat hidden. It overlooks the valley, and if I sit on it just right, I have a clear view of Baker’s Cross in the far distance. I love that. It’s also a really cool spot to catch the rescues that happen down at the falls. (I’ve seen helicopters attempt rescues from that very spot at least three times).

I felt renewed after spending time in the village but not because I was tired from the trek. It was only slightly mentally demanding with all that wind, but at the same time it was also a joy. I felt renewed because the village gave me that secret place that I like to visit. After a while sitting on my boulder, I decided to further explore and found that I was actually sitting right on top of a little cave. Glory be! I was more than a little surprised. I had been sitting at that same spot, time after time, and never even knew! I felt giddy, like I had just received a gift from my Father (which by the way, I believe I did).

The Village:Beneath the boulder where I sit:

After the village, I moved around rain puddles through the plateau in the Mariposa Reserve. Not too far from the road, I saw three deer hop away like bunnies into the woods. I got lucky again!  As usual, it was a wonderful day on Black Star Canyon Road. The wind continued blowing hard all the way up to Beeks’ place where I took refuge in the smaller structure (the one that still has four walls). A large crowd of motorcyclists hung out near the main house for quite a while. But I stayed longer. Being that I got out early enough, I had all the time in the world! Video Clip of wind @ Beeks' Place 

Looking back from what I call the “plateau”:

Since I had all the time in the world, I hiked on up to the doppler radar tower before heading back. It was so close, why not? It’s a great lookout spot. From there I can see on both sides of the mountain – to as far as the ocean along Orange and LA counties, and on the other side, the Inland Empire and the San Gabriel, San Bernardino and San Jacinto Mountains. Who knows exactly how much time I spent up there, though I could probably look at my watch stats to figure it out. I’m just going to say that I probably stayed with the doppler for fifteen minutes before making it down the slippery slope back to the road. 

The wind did not bother me much. In fact, much of the time it delighted me. Occasionally, it felt like the earth trembled, but not from an earthquake, from the wind! And more than once the wind downright shoved me. I think I found that even more delightful.

After the doppler tower it was definitely time to start heading back. Gingerly, I made my way to the road, as the ground was mighty loose beneath my feet. And then a text came through. I had left the house before anyone had awakened and I hadn’t checked in yet, so I was quick to grab for my front pocket. But I couldn’t quite grasp my phone so that’s when I stopped in my tracks. And that’s when the ground continued moving beneath me. It’s amazing how much time passes during the few seconds of a fall. I remember that my right leg sunk down into the loose dirt. The rest of my body began to fall forward, over the leg that was stuck in position and here’s when time slowed down – I thought to myself, “I’m going to break my leg.” But also in that split second, because I knew my right leg was in trouble, I was able to lurch that leg forward. I think with the momentum of pushing that foot out of its stuck position, my knee slammed into the ground, followed by both wrists and then hands, and then finally chest and whole body. The fall actually injured my fingers, and also cracked the screen of my phone which I had managed to grab out of my pocket just as I fell. Of course, my knee took the most visible damage. I had a few scrapes over both legs. At the time, I was mostly bummed about my phone (which I refuse to replace for now because I think I deserve to suffer for this error!)

Anyway, I had just repacked my pack up at the doppler so I was in no mood to take the pack off again, dig down to the bottom for first aid and repack once again. I felt a little better after texting back and forth with my husband. With my biggest injury being a bloody scrape and most likely a bruise, I was good to head off. But feeling just a little bit jolted still, I decided that it was time for some short-cuts. I don’t think I was thinking quite straight yet because I missed the first short-cut that I had intended because I began searching for it too late. But I found the second one no problem, as it’s quite visible as you head down toward the Mariposa Reserve. The short-cut is a route that cuts high across the plateau along a single track that leads all the way down to the white cross along Black Star Canyon Road. I had never taken this trail before. Aside from the few slippery slopes, it was magnificent – one of those places that “with the birds you share a lonely view”!

The Short-Cut:

On the return trip, the village is just past the white cross, which also means there is just about five miles left. I was happy to keep on moving past the village when I arrived to it just as two bikers rolled in. I thought to myself, “let them have it for themselves, I’ve already been here.” These two bikers stood out to me though, they stood out because they seemed to be playing, like they weren’t serious bikers. They were just having fun. Their bikes were “cruiser” types, but with bigger tires than your average cruiser. They didn’t wear helmets nor did they wear packs and their attire seemed summer like – short-sleeved, they may have even been wearing sandals. And so as I turned back to look again I saw that they rode straight up to the edge of a small cliff – I mean right up on it.  And right then they both turned around while still standing with their bikes beneath them and looked in my direction. I smiled and I’m pretty sure they probably smiled back. Some time later, as I made my way toward another short-cut, these same two rode past me. I lost them for what I thought would be a second at a bend in the road, right near my next short-cut. I could see ahead on the trail where they would come out if they did not take the short-cut, and when I didn’t see this, I thought, “Bummer, they took my short-cut,” as if it was mine (ha!).

Anyway, when I came around the bend, I did not see the bicyclists riding up the short-cut, which is this steep climb up to a helipad.  I was perplexed. I should have seen the two riding up the slope since I didn’t see them on the road. There was no other place to go. In my curiosity, I ran up the hill, to my short-cut, which leads to a high lookout point. From there, I could see out a few miles, and the cyclists were no where to be seen. I had to think about this a while to come up with a possibility. 1) They were riding e-bikes and they rode away much quicker than imagined. But I think I would have heard a noise. Wait, electricity doesn’t make a noise, so it could have definitely been that, or, 2) They could have indeed travelled up the slope quicker than I imagined they could, and then when they got back to the road, they headed back up the mountain, back toward the village. And being that I myself took the short-cut, I could have missed them in this instance only. I don’t believe they were ghosts, as some believe that Black Star Canyon is haunted. I don’t believe in hauntings, though that is not to say that I don’t believe in the spiritual world. The whole episode just intrigued me some and contemplating how they could have disappeared out of my sight, occupied my mind a good deal, easing perhaps some of the ache from my fall.

By the time I arrived back at home, I ached all over. I took a warm bath, took a couple of ibuprofen and went to bed early feeling similar to getting into a minor automobile accident. My ache was dull, but constant, and I didn’t sleep well because of the pain involved in turning over. I guess women my age shouldn’t be falling down on the top of mountains. As I write this post 6 days later, I have completely recovered from my fall. My knee is scabbed, so are a few other places on my legs and right hand. So I guess it’s okay for women my age (except for the phone part, grrrrr, I’m a little annoyed about that). Regardless, what a wonderful day in Black Star Canyon. A truly wonderful gift!