Trabuco Canyon Round Two

My left side, particularly my arm, ached for several days after my fall hiking to Holy Jim Falls on the 17th of this month. The left knee pain seemed minor, and the arm wasn’t getting worse. In fact, after a couple tough days with some wearing a sling, I felt that I was on the road to recovery. When I woke on the 21st, I noticed an extremely tight calf on my left side but overall felt that I could hike. So, about 6 am on the 21st I drove out to met my friend Kelly at the mouth of Trabuco Canyon. I felt confident I could put in some miles.

We took my truck in, headed for Holy Jim Falls once again. About a mile and half before the Holy Jim lot, I parked along the fern wall of Trabuco canyon and we slid down the slope to the creek in search of Falls Canyon. It has been many years since I’ve travelled to these falls (in fact, I believe that I’ve only been there twice). It’s not a canyon one often ventures alone (though I did once, and it was lovely with no incidence). Anyway, Falls Canyon trail had changed a great deal, with much of it re-routed across the creek and then blocked by downed trees. The hike was tough, so tough that we eventually turned around a short ways before the falls (I thought that I could hear it). No problem. The trail had really done its toll on me anyway. It was time to head back to the truck in search of easier falls up Holy Jim Canyon.

Falls Canyon:

Scaling the creek wall to get back was much easier than sliding down it earlier. However, I struggled some because of my left side. Back in the truck and driving over Trabuco Creek a couple more times, we arrived to a crowded Holy Jim lot. We saw no other people, just a lot of trucks. Kelly was as pleased as I was upon returning to Trabuco Canyon after so many years away. We have had many adventures in these canyons together. Before heading up Holy Jim, we hiked Trabuco to the closed portion about a half mile up. A few specific cabins that I remembered had disappeared, absolutely nothing remained of them. Other cabins left behind stone chimneys and walls as remnants. If I recall correctly 13 to 15 cabins burned to the ground during the #HolyFire. The story is terribly sad. Arson from a maniac who couldn’t control his anger.

Trabuco Canyon:

We spotted a couple of guys wearing bright orange shirts drive up into the lot as we headed up Holy Jim Trail. (Kelly thought they might be hunters). Despite a lot full of trucks, we didn’t see anyone the entire hike to the falls. This of course meant that several people were hiking, running, or biking past the falls turnoff, closed territory. Good for us because we had the falls to ourselves for quite a while. Eventually, three gentlemen with hiking poles came up, and we chatted a bit about the trails. The mood was festive with laughter and lots of chatter. As we prepared to leave, the two guys wearing orange shirts hiked up. Kelly told them that she thought they were hunters to which the leader exclaimed, “And we are, hunting souls for the Lord!”

Holy Jim Falls:

The ladybugs were again out in abundance. They absolutely amaze me, so much so that I snapped away with the camera and didn’t realize that my injuries were taking some hits from this short hike. What a beautiful trip this was and the company made it even more special. I think it wasn’t until that night back at home when I realized that I had put a lot of pressure on my injuries, especially my calf and knee. It seemed inconceivable that such a  wonderful, short hike would cause so much trouble. Time for ibuprofen, ice and rest.

About 5.5 miles in total.

Ladybugs!:

Welcome Back Holy Jim

It’s been nearly four years since I’ve driven up Trabuco Canyon, parked in the Holy Jim lot and ventured up that trail at the base of Old Saddleback. I love Trabuco Canyon; Holy Jim takes up much space in my heart. It has given me great things – beauty, revelation, and even triumph when we were in sync, but other times Holy Jim has delivered some heartache and even disgust, not to mention near heat stroke and nausea and other unmentionable physical problems. Aside from all this, what I remember most are the times Holy Jim gifted awe to the point of tears.

Anyway, I inadvertently learned that Holy Jim had partially re-opened from it’s closure after the #HolyFire (August 2018). How could this be? How did I not know Holy Jim had reopened? The news certainly put a kick in my step! And so, this past Friday, December 17, I finally returned. I expected the canyon to have a few travelers but as it turned out the canyon was practically empty. I enjoyed taking my sweet time driving the bumpy puddled road. About 3 miles in I was so overcome by the beauty, I abruptly pulled over to walk about mossy boulders overlooking the creek.

Teared up a bit at the mouth of Trabuco Cyn, like
anticipating meeting up with a long lost friend:
         I sure missed this drive:

The only other person in the Holy Jim lot when I arrived was a man who I had seen earlier on the drive. I noticed that he occasionally stopped to pick up trash alongside the road. He was sitting on the tailgate of his truck in the lot playing the harmonica when I pulled up. By the time I finally exited my truck two rangers had driven up as well. I chatted briefly with them (inquiring about further trail openings).  I was a little bummed to learn that Holy Jim from the Falls junction to the Main Divide would remain closed until August 2022. Now matter though because I was here now! I was grateful to hike Holy Jim even if just for a few miles.

Holy Jim Canyon was empty. When I say empty, I mean that I did not see a single other person as I made my way up the trail, nor did I see life at any of the cabins (except that final cabin that had the same red vehicle from years back parked up front). The lack of people made me reluctant about moving forward especially since I was headed toward a box canyon solo. Now normally, I’m not overly concerned about hiking or running alone, as long as I am well equipped and know the trails. But box canyons have always spooked me in general. (So, what was I thinking about doing this alone? I wasn’t thinking. I was too excited over the fact that Holy Jim was once again open.) But box canyons – yikes! I won’t even go into the horror the imagination can conjure up about being trapped in a box canyon. I decided that if I felt the same way at the turnoff, I would turn around and head back. It was that great to be back – it didn’t matter if I made it to my destination. It’s the journey that I get the most from, not necessarily the destination.

As I made my way along that quiet trail, I recognized much of Holy Jim from the past. For a few seconds I felt as if I walked through a ghost town – there were celebrations and defeats in this very same place (even before my time, for centuries!). There were the boulders I recognized, along with creek crossings and canopies. But much had changed as well. A good portion of the trail had been washed out. Standing in the midst of this washout, I felt disoriented not knowing just where I was. But then I noticed ties in the trees and quickly realized that the Forest Service had marked the way. Following the ties for a short while, I found myself back on recognizable terrain. Huge sections of trees were down and some particularly neatly placed boulders that previously framed the creek were now obliterated as if they had been kicked about the trail. Yes, things had changed. As they always do. But this was still Holy Jim, I could tell.

I felt comfortable upon reaching the turn off. The trail was pretty well visible and cleared and so I continued onward to the falls. Though it’s been almost four years since I’ve been on Holy Jim Trail, it’s been many more years since I’ve been to the falls. Holy Jim falls was an unnecessary detour while heading up to The Main Divide. But now. Now, 2021, I’m content hiking to the falls. It was lovely. I had it all to myself.

After spending some time at the falls, I headed back toward the trail and slipped on the wet rocks landing on my right hand. With my wrist a little achy, I felt that was ample warning. I told myself (out loud) Focus Lauren! You don’t want to break your arm . . . again. And then I chuckled. Not five minutes latter, while gripping onto a branch, my feet slipped beneath me and I slid down to the creek (but not into the creek). It was an awful fall affecting my entire left side (arm, hip,  leg). I had held onto that branch for dear life during the fall which resulted in a twist to my body. Twists like that do bad things (my last big twist resulted in torn tendons in my foot). So, there I was on the floor of the canyon once again. With use of only my right arm I got myself up and slowly made my way over the boulders and across the creek. Then while still a little dazed, the two rangers suddenly appeared before me. Well, what a happy sight! They helped guide me over a particular rough spot which was quite difficult with use of one arm. And I got to talking again with these guys, and turns out they know the guy who signs the permits for our races. In fact, he’s their boss and had sent them out that day to Holy Jim. I was amused by the coincidence. I told them to be sure to tell him I said Hi and reminded myself check-in. (The USFS has been very friendly toward foot races but COVID has put a hold on everything, as least in the Cleveland National Forest). Anyway, My spirits were up after that meeting and I felt better, confident that I could make it back to my truck without incident.

The remainder of the hike was in fact without incident. Except for this: On the way back I came upon these lovely creatures – Lady bugs!

About 5 miles hiked. I forgot to start my “Smart” watch.

Maple Springs Rd.

Last Saturday (11/20), I got out early for Maple Springs Rd. Well, I woke early, but didn’t get out terribly early (about 7 am). I love Maple Springs Rd., though I don’t choose it often (especially during summer). It’s a slow drive to get to this particular switchback up Old Saddleback. Like most the other switchbacks, it leads to The Main Divide (the truck trail that runs along the ridge). The speed limit through Silverado is 25 mph, making the drive just under 90 minutes from my front door to my not-so-secret parking space where the asphalt ends.  I was thrilled to find the spot open to park at the end of the one-lane asphalt road. I thought for sure that I’d need to get out a heck of a lot earlier to get this awesome parking place. I felt lucky.

The time was perfect now that it is fall and the weather’s cooled own. If my records prove correct, my last trip up Maple Springs Rd. was January 27, 2021. Not even a year ago but it seems so distant. Feels surreal.

Being that Maple Springs Rd. is one of the only roads that lead to The Main Divide that is open to vehicles right now (Bedford Rd. being the other that I know of) it was quite busy with motor traffic. I’m okay with that. There were times when trucks or motorcycles rumbled by and there were times when I didn’t know there was another person on the mountain:

About 9 miles with some decent elevation – still haven’t uploaded my watch. I need to do that.

Nothing Ever Stays The Same

We had a little heat wave last weekend, in the middle of fall. That isn’t too unusual for California. We can have a heat wave in January. I just wasn’t mentally prepared. (And if given the choice, I skip the hot days!)

Friday, November 12, I set out for a secret place off the beaten path in Aliso/Wood Wilderness. It had been a while and I had a longing for this certain spot. Fortunately, it’s pretty close to the trailhead and I need that being that I am still not in great shape. The hike down Wood Canyon was lovely and shady, quite comfortable. I wore my hiking boots for some reason (even though I didn’t need them) but that made this hike even easier. Wearing hiking boots is like four-wheel drive compared to two-wheel drive trail shoes.

It’s been a while since I’ve noticed any abrupt changes in Wood Canyon. But things always change. It’s only a matter of time. That’s our Earth – from day to day, it’s different. The creek re-routes, huge trees come down, cliffs erode. You name it. Last Friday, I came up the remains of an enormous, lovely old tree that used to provide much shade for Coyote Run Trail. I’ve sat  beneath it countless times. I have even climbed it. But this wonderful tree is no more, having finally been cut down. It was sad to see it go; I felt super fortunate for knowing this tree. (Here’s a pic. of the tree in it’s splendor in 2011 and another from 2018)

The second change on this hike is that the rangers have finally pinpointed and marked the unmarked trail to this secret spot, making it officially out of bounds. There’s a sign now that says I can’t pass. I took it anyway, one last time. All the debris had been cleared from the trail. The secret spot (which wasn’t mine only – there was evidence of others knowing this wonderful spot) was as well cleared out. The shade tunnel formed from branches that I used to walk through was gone and all the undergrowth was cleared out.  So, this was my last visit. And a lovely visit it was. I felt fortunate for having known this spot just as I felt fortunate for having known that tree.

Approximately 5.5 miles total. I still haven’t uploaded my watch which is sitting in my truck nearly a week later.

Veterans Day Stroll Along The Headlands

One of the gems within walking distance from my front door: The Headlands. It takes some balance and focus but just keep on going until you find a doorway in the rocks.

Too Long

Gone are my wanderings of late. There’s reasons for that. I’m working on other things. I’m concerned. I’m pre-occupied and I’m watching. I’m at peace at home but then I go and look out there at the big ole’ world (I need to stop doing that!) There’s things happening that I never thought I’d see – things of nightmarish novels I read in my youth. Why am I being vague? You probably know why. People from both sides of the thought spectrum are “cancelled” for talking about the “wrong” things. Privacy, freedom of speech, individual rights, they don’t seem to mean much anymore. When I lose my focus, these things distress me. I hate that weight. And so I’ve been turtling. Aside from my trips to the beach, I hunker down in my home away from the world. I try to grow there. I have a few secret places on my own little piece of property for retreat.

I stop by the shore often in the morning, at sunrise if I can manage. I watch and listen to the waves. Time escapes me sitting before the Pacific and before I know it, three hours have passed and I need to rush home for a Zoom meeting.

The Pacific Ocean (from Doheny Beach, Dana Point, CA):

On one such recent morning, I noticed a lone swimmer out past the waves as I stared off at the horizon. It was one of those mornings when time escaped me and before I knew it, hours had passed. How can so much time pass without even realizing? Well, there’s much to be see, much to hear, and much to smell and feel down at the seashore. That’s my excuse.

After all that time,  the swimmer was still out there – in the wilderness just on the outskirts of civilization! (Get where I’m going here?) What a longing that this put into me! Right then, I decided to 36 hour fast (for I had not yet eaten for the day) and hike up to one of my secret places the next day to break my fast. Why add the fast? I suppose to make it more special, to add more purpose. Well, I sobbed at this decision. Later, in anticipation, I choked back tears more than once. It had been too long. 

The next morning (November 6), I was up before sunrise and drove through a thick fog to Black Star Canyon. I had lots on my mind. I had lots of questions, and much to let go of (or at least try and release). I thought I would suffer physically because it had been so long since I hiked mountain trails. Honestly, because I anticipated physical suffering, I kind of wanted physical suffering. There’s a kind of cleansing I feel in physical suffering. I felt that would do me good at this particular moment in time. But I felt so good by the time I reached the Native American “village” that I thought for sure I could have made it to the Main Divide without issue. I broke my fast with some cheddar cheese, crackers and a beef stick at  about 10:30 am while sitting on a huge boulder overlooking Black Star Canyon. Baker’s Cross stood straight ahead in the distance.

Beautiful hike. About 10.5 miles. Much tears. Some sadness. But greater joy.

Black Star Canyon: