Clearing clouds along the crest of the Santa Monica Mountains from Bulldog Mtwy fire road. The photograph was taken on a recent run of a variation of the Bulldog Loop.
Rocky Peak Road is an exceptionally popular hiking and biking trail that starts at Santa Susana Pass, on the north side of the 118 Freeway. Regardless of the time of day or weather I ALWAYS see someone on this trail.
The plan for this afternoon’s run was to do an out and back on Rocky Peak Road to the top of the Chumash Trail (3.8 miles) or to Fossil Point (4.8 miles).
Another runner was finishing their workout as I started up the initial steep climb. Glistening in the warm sun, runoff from yesterday’s storm streaked some of the sandstone rocks, and ephemeral streams gurgled in the ravines and gullies.
Thanks to the sandstone geology, the dirt road wasn’t as muddy as most other local trails would be. Although heavily eroded from numerous Winter storms, it was still near the top of my list of places to run during periods of wet weather.
In the aftermath of yesterday’s storm the weather was spectacular. The temperature was warm enough to run in shorts and short-sleeves but still comfortable chugging up Rocky Peak Road’s steep hills. Puffy cumulus clouds filled the sky, creating postcard views at every turn.
More focused about getting up the hill than any weather concerns, I continued past the top of the Hummingbird Trail and through a gap in the rocks to a section of road with a good view of the San Fernando Valley and San Gabriel Mountains.
I’d been in a situation similar to this several times on Rocky Peak. As a storm moves east from Los Angeles, energy circulating around the low can sometimes result in “back-door” precipitation. In this scenario, clouds build-up over the mountains to the north and then drift over the San Fernando Valley, producing showers — and sometimes — thunderstorms.
But today’s scenario was a bit more complicated. A much larger area, extending east to the San Gabriel Mountains, was rapidly destabilizing. What had been a picturesque sky at the start of the run was now congested and ominous. The question wasn’t so much if it was going to rain, but if a thunderstorm was going to develop.
As I continued up the road, the sky darkened, the temperature cooled, and the wind became more gusty and fitful. A little chilly, I pulled on my arm sleeves. I laughed nervously as I mistook the roar of a passing jet for thunder. That was a jet, right?
When people say they are “doing Rocky Peak,” they are often referring to a high point on Rocky Peak Road that is west of the actual peak and about 2.4 miles from the trailhead. The final climb to this high point is a good one — gaining about 450 feet over three-quarters of a mile.
The road on this stretch is oriented in such a way that the terrain hides the view to the north. I was anxious to get to the top of the hill so I could get a better idea of what the weather was doing. As I worked up the road, I would occasionally feel the cold splash of a raindrop on one leg or the other.
Nearing the top, I thought, “I may get wet, but at least there’s been no thunder.” Within seconds of that proclamation, and as I reached the highest point, there was a long, loud, crackling peal of thunder.
One look at the sky and all thoughts of continuing to the Chumash Trail were gone. I turned around and started running down the hill, hoping to avoid the worst of the storm.
First one pea-sized hailstone hit the ground, then another, and then a sleety barrage of rain and hail poured from the sky. Instantly soaked, I shuddered as thunder echoed overhead and cold rain ran down my back. Muddy water flowed in rivulets down the sodden road and I cautioned myself to run fast, but not too fast.
I didn’t expect to outrun the storm, but hoped I might move to a part of it that was less intense. And that’s what happened. As I descended, the deluge gradually diminished. Most of the activity seemed to be behind me and a little to the east.
By the time I got down to the Hummingbird Trail, it was only sprinkling. The strong cell that had been over Rocky Peak had drifted southeast, and was now over the Porter Ranch – Northridge area.
Not all trails will have a smooth tread, good footing, trimmed vegetation, trail signs and other luxuries. What you see is what you get, and sometimes what you get is not perfect.
That was the case on last May’s run to the Serrano Valley from Wendy Drive. A long stretch of the Old Boney Trail was all but impassable. The trail was badly overgrown, the day foggy and gray, and everything was dripping wet.
But there is just something about immersing yourself in the good and not-so-good that nature offers. It’s part of what nature is. The splendid display of wildflowers seen on that run was a result of the rainy season that produced the overgrown trail.
Curious to see how that section of trail had changed in seven months, this morning I was back on the Old Boney Trail and on my way to Serrano Valley. It had rained around 4 inches during the week, and I expected the mud to be like glue and creek crossings wet.
Use of the trail had improved its condition. There were still some overgrown sections but most of the time I could see my feet, as well as the ruts and rocks on the trail. It was muddy in the usual places but the globs of mud on my shoes didn’t reach dinner plate proportions.
In the wake of the storm, the weather was exhilarating. Postcard clouds decorated the crest of Boney Mountain and a cool breeze filtered through the canyons. Despite all the rain, Serrano Creek was flowing at a modest level, and I emerged from Serrano Canyon with dry shoes.
It was a day for a longer run, and when I reached Sycamore Canyon fire road, I turned left (south) and continued down the canyon to the Fireline Trail. Going up the Fireline Trail to Overlook Fire Road extended the run and expanded the views. A right turn on Overlook Fire Road lead to the top of the Ray Miller Trail, and from there to the Hub. These junctions offer additional opportunities for extending the run.
Today, I ran down Hell Hill, over to the Two Foxes Trail via Wood Canyon Fire Road, then picked up Sycamore Canyon Fire Road near the Danielson Multi-Use Area and followed it to the Upper Sycamore Trail, Danielson Road, and Satwiwa. This interactive, 3D terrain view shows the route.
The photograph above was taken a few steps off the Backbone Trail, between the Corral Canyon Trailhead and Mesa Peak Motorway fire road. Also in the area was a set of table and chairs that might be used for an ocean-view card game or a lunch break.
These scenes were about halfway through a variation of the Bulldog Loop that starts/ends at the Cistern Trailhead on Mulholland Highway. The route follows the Cistern, Lookout, and Cage Creek Trails down to the Crags Road Trail, just east of where it crosses Malibu Creek.
A permanent bridge used to span the creek, but after being washed out several times in Winter floods, a “seasonal” bridge was put in place. The seasonal bridge is removed when there is a threat of flooding, such as during the rainy season.
This morning, the temperature in the canyon was in the mid-thirties. That was cool enough that I didn’t want to get wet, and I hoped the removal of the bridge had been delayed. But several days of rain were in the forecast, and as I neared the creek, I could see the bridge now lay alongside trail.