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:

An Extended Fast (& finally a hike!)

I wish it wasn’t so hot, and it’s not even that hot! But it is for me. So heat sensitive I am in my older years (though I’m still in my fifties), I’ve been off the trails much of August. Just ten years ago I was exploring trails in 105 F degree weather. Right now it’s in the low 80s at most on the Southern California coast. Just a few miles inland the temperatures climb double digits. I walk here and there around town, and it’s lovely, but it’s also the middle of summer which means this seaside town is crowded with tourists. I’d rather stay more to myself these days. We are after all, still in a pandemic.

Last week I felt that the time was right for an extended fast. It had been a while, and so I was excited leading up to it. My eagerness was similar to anticipating an ultramarathon or a long difficult hike. I felt excited because I knew that I was going to come out of it a little more grounded and a little more focused on what’s really important. But at the same time, just like with ultramarathons, or long difficult hikes, I felt some anxiety – anxiety because I knew that the feat takes some suffering – it’s kind of a joyful suffering really (just like with ultras or crazy difficult terrain). But suffering is suffering, whether or not it’s joyful, it’s hard.

The first 24 hours of the fast was relatively easy, as it is usually (because I’ve practiced). The first day is a day of excitement, a day I begin a journey. It’s like a fresh start. It’s also like a day of reckoning, a day where I focus on prayer, reading, listening to music, working (because I have a job ) and some chores. One of the first things you will notice if you fast is how much time you have on your hands. There’s no meal prep, there’s no sitting down to eat, ever. That adds hours to the day. And then, I have even more time because fasting for some reason causes me to rise from bed one to two hours earlier than normal.

The second 24 hours was the most difficult mentally as it always is for me during a 72 hour fast. Day two is like walking past the scaredy-cat gate while in line for a roller coaster. It would be so easy to go ahead and satisfy my hunger and just do this some other time. During this second day, mornings aren’t a problem as I never eat in the morning. By the time afternoon comes around my stomach grumbles here and there. The stomach grumblings are surprisingly short lived. It’s evening that is most difficult on this second day. I feel physically strong but mentally weak. I try to wear myself out with my focuses. Day two is actually  ideal for a hike. But I didn’t that this time. Instead I added a good deal more focus to my work, as I’m coming to the end of Summer semester.   

The third day is no longer mentally challenging because it’s the last day of the fast. It feels somewhat akin to running that last third of a race, barring anything disastrous, I’ll be finishing this race. I can look ahead with relief.

The hours really drag on in day three. And while I feel mentally strong, I begin to grow physically weak in the final fasting hours. The third day is not a good day to go for a hike or even grocery shopping (because of the heavy lifting), though I’ve done both. This time I took it easy and eased on into the finish line. I completed in the evening, with 72 hours ending around 7pm Friday evening, August 6. I broke the fast with chicken bone broth (with ginger and tumeric). A little later I consumed scrambled eggs and some cucumber pasta salad my husband made. I should have probably ate a banana or some electrolyte pills because as usual, my legs and feet cramped while I slept that night. Ouch. That needs to be avoided. During this fast I drank lots of Propel water which has electrolytes but obviously not enough. Aside from the slight electrolyte thing (I’ve placed an order for SaltStick), I didn’t have any adverse affects. The next day, I felt renewed and a little more grounded by the fasting experience. I was primed for a hike – what a perfect day to hike!  And it was (except for the heat).

Originally I planned to hike Black Star Canyon. Imagine me thinking that I could handle Black Star in the August heat. But then something came up and I wanted to stay where I had cell service. I drove up the coast and continued on up a windy road to Top of the Word in Laguna Beach. It was late morning when I parked my truck at the park up there. The weather was chilly. We were socked in even on the ridge overlooking Laguna Beach. Yes, I’ve been complaining about the heat, but sometimes our mornings are pretty chilly, even in August (we’re lucky that way.)

I hiked down to the bottom of the canyon from Top of the World. And then I made a small climb up to a great little secret place. The clouds had dispersed by then and boy did it warm up, especially during those rocky uphill sessions with no shade. I hung out at my spot in the nice cool shade, enjoying the views for a good 90 minutes before heading back out. The climb back up to the ridge and then to my truck was hell but well worth the excruciating trouble. (A little bit of that joyful suffering)

In all, I hiked a little over five miles in these hot coastal hills. Upon returning home I noticed that for the first time in a long time, my skin was crusted with salt. I told my husband, “If you hear me say I’m going to Black Star Canyon, and it’s still summertime, don’t let me go!” (As if!)

Looking forward to summer moving on!