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!

My Own Sweet Time

2/26/21: I decided to celebrate my newfound strength from refueling after coming off an extended fast. I could think of no better way to celebrate than to hike a big loop in my local trails going up Mentally Sensitive. This trail, which derives it’s name from an old sign that used to read “Environmentally Sensitive”, is the toughest trail to climb up in the entire wilderness areas of Aliso and Wood Canyons. It’s tough, yes, but not too tough. It is tough enough though, that I rarely climb up nowadays.

Looking Back While Climbing Mentally Sensitive:

I took my own sweet time climbing Mentally Sensitive. Good thing it took me so long, otherwise I might have missed the bobcat at the top. Imagine my excitement! I fumbled around for my camera for so long, I thought for sure I missed him. But I did not. I zoomed in with my cheap little camera and caught a decent shot of him right above a Laguna Beach neighborhood. What an exhilarating way to end the climb.

On a whim, I changed up my big loop and had lunch in one of my secret places (nuts, cranberries, beef stick). I didn’t think that the climb in would affect me much. And it didn’t much during the hike (because as I mentioned, I took my own sweet time). What I recall most about this loop was how I felt afterwards back at home. I was dead-dog-tired, that’s how I felt. I felt it even the next day (in my glutes!).

Don’t recall much more, as it now feels so long ago. I would really like to get out of my local hills and travel to other trails, but I just don’t have the time. But I am grateful that my local hills are so wonderful – even in the midst of all this population, I have this beauty. And it’s free. What a gift!

Secret Places

My hiking-running-wandering adventures have become especially focused on secret places lately. I need to get away and set things straight, and I can do that in a secret place. By “secret” I mean the places that most people don’t know about, a place where I am alone with an awesome view and most importantly, I am hidden. Sometimes these places are hidden in plain site, sometimes they are well known (but still with room to hide). Such place could be on a sandbar alongside a creek, in a cave, or on an out-cropping. It seems like I’ve always been in search of secret places (but lately, I’ve been on a mission). When I was a young girl, my sister and I had a secret place up in the front yard tree. We climbed it as high as possible, until the branches were too thin to hold us. Sitting high above our one story house, we could see everything, but were completely hidden. That was a perfect secret place – but I am no longer daring enough to climb a tree so high. (I’ll climb a tree, but not that high!) I’ve had so many secret places through the years, many I can’t even recall. In college, I had another perfect secret place right on campus, practically in plain sight. It was on the top floor of the history building, if my memory serves me correctly, the 5th floor. It was usually after dark that I rode the elevator to the top floor where I would make my way to the balcony. Students often hung out on the lower balconies, but absolutely no one ever came up there on the top floor balcony where I could see the entire campus, students running to and from classes. That's where I watched the world move below, wrote in my hardcover journals and smoked my cigarettes as the birds flew in and rattled the rafters above. Every time I hear the song line  “with the birds I share this lonely view,” I am fondly reminded of this spot (Thank you Red Hot Chili Peppers!) I  suppose I am forever in search of that spot where with the birds I share a lonely view. Those are the loveliest places.

Nowadays, I have many secret places in my town on the California coast. The caves on Cave Rock Trail in Wood Canyon are one of my current secret places, though they aren’t so secret – sometimes I have a secret place just outside the caves at Cave Rock where I have full view of the caves. I’ve got secret places up Black Star Canyon, a couple of them quite well known (the historic “Indian” village and Beek’s Place), and I’ve got secret places that I tend not to share, mainly because they are off-trail. I am not meaning bushwhacking. I don’t do that anymore, and in fact have only bushwhacked once or twice since I promised my husband that I wouldn’t bushwhack anymore many years ago. What I am referring to are  un-marked trails. On federal land, at least in the Cleveland National Forest, there is no rule against taking unmarked trails. And actually, a trail that may seem “unmarked” may be in fact marked. But there are rules against taking unmarked trails on state and county wilderness areas. But I have noticed that unmarked trails that get travelled enough, eventually become marked trails (like Mentally Sensitive in Aliso Canyon and Car Wreck Trail in Mathis Canyon)

Things I like to do in a secret place (of course, you can substitute whatever you like because a secret place is secret after all):

• Sit in awe
• Pray
• Break a fast
• Organize pack
• Watch
• Listen
• Take pictures (and then some more)
• Pray (Did I already mention that? Yes, for emphasis.)
• Plan trip back (how much am I going to need to run being that I’ve spent so much time here)
• Layer up (lately) or Layer down (later)
• Say thanks for this secret place and then smile a lot about how beautiful it is.

I feel I’ve already gone on too long and I haven’t even finished up February’s hikes. I found much refuge in secret places on my Valentine’s Day hike and my 56th birthday hike which is why I’m on the topic in the first place.

February 14, my maternal grandfather’s birthday and also Valentine’s Day, my husband drove me to a location near Wood Canyon for a point-to-point hike (Valentine’s gift). I landed pretty quickly at one of my original secret places in Wood Canyon (Aliso Viejo, Ca)  – that is Wood Creek Trail. It is a short trail rarely travelled, and from it, before I swoop down into the trees, I have sweeping views of the canyon as well as much of the travelers alongside Wood Canyon Trail (all the while I go unseen).

When you hear voices on Wood Creek Trail, they are from Wood Canyon Trail. People rarely take Wood Creek Trail. The entire trail is a perfect secret place, which is no wonder it was one of my first in this park, and the first I visited on Valentine’s Day 2021.

After Wood Creek Trail I decided to stop by my recent find, a bit off- trail. There I took a seat on a lichen covered ridge where I spent entirely too much time which meant that I had to run more than I had planned (and I had planned no running). On my return, I put in a little over two miles running while watching my Life360 App to arrive at the ranger station just as my husband pulled into the lot right at sunset (finishing up with a little over 5 miles traversed!)

I was quick to jump out on the trails very quickly after Valentines Day – two days later in fact, my feet hit the dirt again, in commemoration of my 56th revolution around the sun. I set off to a usual secret spot but beforehand did a little exploring. It’s beautiful out there right now in Southern California. Spring has begun. The green grass is sprouting beneath the forest cover, ferns are reaching out from boulders, and the first spring flowers are slowly emerging. What a glorious time to be on the trails! (And it’s going to get even better).

I found a new secret spot on the hike commemorating my 56th revolution around the sun. It is off-trail (but not bushwhacking) in a serene spot. It was a little spooky though. Still, I’m grateful for finding this new secret place, though like many others that I stumble upon, it may likely be merely a memory because it is unlikely that I will return (unless I bring someone else along). Sometimes the awe takes the breath right out of me and it kind of freaks me out to return to certain spots  (like up above Black Star Falls – I probably won’t return there for a while unless I bring someone else along).

Scenes from the new place:

It’s difficult to find the time to get out and hike to these places. Often I put it off. One reason that I put it off is because it feels selfish to leave the home for several hours at a time just to wander about the wilderness. It in fact takes so much time to wander about that it takes away from other things that I also want to get done (like my reading, writing, and organizing, to name a few). It feels so selfish that I absolutely will not hike if the house needs cleaning, or if my children need a ride, etc. Don’t get me wrong – I am always grateful when I do get out and wander for hours, it is a great gift. Even when I can’t get out though, I can still manage a secret place. I don’t really need trails for secret places. They can be anywhere, including in my own home (it’s easy to find them, all you have to do is wake-up before everyone else, and that’s easy in my house). But trails are the best because all trails are secret places (and that’s something I have known all along but didn’t have the wisdom of what they could really bring). I always knew that trails were a gift. My skull is so thick – they are the only way to get through to me.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

(Psalm 91:1)

Breakfast at Black Star

Hiked up Black Star Canyon Road last Thursday (2/4) with breakfast in my pack. Despite the crowds at the bottom canyon (and the awful graffiti, which is sparse but there, not to mention the barbed-wire electrified fences), Black Star Canyon is wonderful, which is why I chose it for breakfast. Once you begin the climb up, the crowds and graffiti and barbed-wire electrified fences fall behind and the canyon opens up to this awesome playground that most people don't venture.

I left early enough to avoid the crowds at the base of the canyon. There were just a couple of others on the trail during the first two miles. And after that it would be several hours before I saw another person. My intent was to possibly have breakfast on the boulders above the falls and then afterward spend some time at the “Indian” site. The weather was wonderfully chilly which made the climb up that giant switchback road very enjoyable. Once I got above the clouds, it warmed up some – but not enough to take off any layers (except for the gloves and beanie). I’d say that the temperature was perfect. Also, the clouds were absolutely magical, softly, silently swirling about in the sky.

After 4.5 miles I took a sharp turn off the trail and headed down a single track straight into the canyon. There’s a lot of overgrowth, and a couple of places I needed to duck to avoid a branch. In the end, the trail dumps out at the dry creek bed where massive boulders are strewn about above the falls. Being that the creek was dry, I ventured further than I had before, through a small cave made from the boulders and down to a nice long flat rock, perfect for breakfast. When I finally landed on that rock, I felt so miniscule compared to all that surrounded me that it made me nervous. In fact, the rocky canyon ledge that hovered above nearly took my breath away. It was frightening almost, sitting there beneath this huge cliff that could squash me in an instant. I settled myself down with some breathing and prayer and then in awe took in the massiveness of this place. After some while, I hiked back out and up to the Indian village to have breakfast.

The Indian site of course was the perfect spot for a meal. . It is no wonder why the Tongva-Gabrieliño people chose this spot to do the same. It’s perched out over the canyon with awesome faraway views. There’s shade and grass and boulders scattered all about. It is said that the Tongva-Gabrieliño people came here during the summer because of the cool weather. They grinded acorns in this spot which was their main source of food up here. I sat just a few feet from some of the grinding holes to partake my breakfast. Across the canyon I could see Baker’s Cross. The spot was ideal.

Brought enough so to have choices: Dubliner cheese, peanut butter Larabar, couple of beef sticks, bag of cashews, bag of dried fruits and nuts. Ate about half before packing it up and heading back down the mountain. In all, I hiked a little over 11 miles with 2,842’ of gain.