Caterpillar Phacelia (Phacelia cicutaria) was prevalent at Sage Ranch prior to the 2005 Topanga Fire. It may be somewhat more widespread than I’ve generally seen, but this could be due in part to last year’s record rainfall and this season’s late rainfall. It doesn’t appear to be a fire follower in the same sense as Large Flowered Phacelia, Star Lily or Dicentra, whose populations have increased dramatically this year.
Bright green highlights new growth on a Big Cone Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga macrocarpa) in the San Gabriel Mountains near Josephine Peak and Strawberry Peak.
These peaks are popular lower elevation summits, that can be snow-free in Winter, or a blast furnace in Summer. Josephine Peak (5558 ft.) was once the site of fire lookout, and a fire road leads from Clear Creek Station to its summit. From the west, via Clear Creek or Colby Canyon, Strawberry Peak (6164 ft.) is a more difficult ascent that requires careful route-finding and rudimentary rock climbing skills. Many hikers prefer to do Strawberry from the east, starting at Red Box.
The day this photograph was taken, I wasn’t climbing Strawberry Peak, but instead was running a circuit around the peak. Part of the Angeles National Forest Trail Race course, the circuit is an excellent 15 mile loop with an elevation gain/loss of about 2700 ft. Here’s a Google Earth image and Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of the Strawberry Peak Circuit. A longer variant of this route is described in Fall Leaves on Bear Creek and Strawberry – Bear Canyon Loop.
Giant Rye Grass (Leymus condensatus) is a member of the grass family that can grow several feet tall. These, out at Sage Ranch, are in the 5-7 ft. range.
Later in the year, after its large green blades turn brown, they have a peculiar, almost ghostly, way of rustling in the wind; sounding as if an animal or person has gently moved through them. (Photograph from a run on May 26, 2006.)
Practically any objective can be a good excuse for an adventure. Each time up or down the Chumash Trail, I pondered the prominent rock formation northwest of the trail and wondered what I might find there.
My first thought was to find a direct route across the deep canyon that parallels the Chumash Trail. Recons from a couple of points on the trail revealed this was a bad idea. Sections of the canyon that looked passable from above were incised, with crumbling, near-vertical walls. A Plan B was required.
A look at a topo map suggested it might be possible to access the formation from Las Llajas Canyon. An advantage of this approach was that, if it worked, it could be part of a loop. On a cool January morning, I decided to give it a go.
From Las Llajas Canyon, an old, overgrown roadbed led up a side canyon to a point where there was no obvious route. The canyon bottom did not look promising, and steep slopes bounded both sides of the canyon. After scrambling several hundred feet up a south-facing slope, I found a deer trail that seemed to be headed in the direction I wanted to go.
This game trail was the key. It reflected the cumulative experience of many deer dealing with the terrain issues I faced. It was remarkably efficient and appeared to be the path that expended the least energy to reach the main ridge. That is, if you’re a deer. At one point, I was forced to backtrack when the trail crossed a steep, exposed slope better suited to those with four legs and cervid hooves.
Once on the main ridge, it didn’t take long to reach the rock formation.
According to the Dibblee geologic map of the area, the formation is positioned on the south branch of the Simi Fault. The steeply inclined layers of cobble that are embedded in the formation might have been deposited as part of a fan delta some 60 million years ago. This cobble is also encountered at several places along the Chumash Trail.
Near the summit of the formation I found some chiseled inscriptions. They were very weathered. The most prominent might be either a “93” or “33” over the top of a “W,” and another is perhaps a “DH.” It’s hard to tell.
Of the three high points comprising the formation, I scrambled to the top of two. The easternmost summit (on the far right when viewed from the Chumash Trail) involved climbing on loose cobble, and looked like an accident waiting to happen. Here’s a photo from the middle tooth, looking down the ridge.
As I climbed down from the summit to a saddle northeast of the rock formation, I spooked a deer, and it bounded into a brush-filled gully.
Continuing up the ridge, it eventually intersected Rocky Peak Rd. at its high point near some bivalve fossil beds. According to the Dibblee map, these are much younger than the rock formation’s cobble and may have been deposited in shallow marine conditions or lagoons a couple million years ago.
At Rocky Peak Rd. I had the option of returning via Las Llajas Canyon but decided to complete the approximately 8-mile route using the Chumash Trail.
This interactive, 3D terrain map shows the approximate route used to get to Chumash Rock and then complete the loop. The hike/run was on January 29, 2006.
Runners, mountain bikers, a hiker, a rattlesnake, a wind-blown grass seed, and a motorcycle — all up on Laskey Mesa in Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (formerly Ahmanson Ranch).
A close view of Owl’s Clover reveals the probable reason for the name — fat little purplish-pink owls, crowned with a tinge of yellow, perched amid the purplish-pink of this unusual blossom. Here’s an even closer view of one of the individual flowers, showing its remarkable structure.
Owl’s Clover, in this case Castilleja exserta, is a fairly common California native that seems to prefer the margins of dirt roads and other disturbed areas at lower elevations. It’s in bloom now in the Santa Monica Mountains and Simi Hills. I noticed some on the Bulldog loop while running the Malibu Creek Challenge on Saturday, and also while doing a short run out a Sage Ranch Sunday.
This photograph is from a run at Sage Ranch on May 2, 2005.