Category Archives: nature

Three Points Loop Plus Mt. Waterman

If you spend much time in the mountains, sooner or later you’re going to get caught in a severe thunderstorm. I don’t mean you’re going to hear a little thunder and get a little wet. I mean you’re going to find yourself in the middle of a heart-pounding, ear-splitting, ozone-smelling, sense-numbing storm that drenches you through and through and wrings the nerves from your body.

Having been caught in such thunderstorms while climbing in Yosemite, running in the San Gabriels, and running at Mt. Pinos, I do my best to avoid the beasts. Sometimes, it is not an easy thing to do.

Take this weekend for example. I have a 50K race coming up, and in addition to increasing my weekday mileage, I needed to do a Sunday run of about 20-25 miles — preferably in the mountains.

The Sierra was out. A monsoon pattern virtually assured widespread, and possibly severe, thunderstorms. Some forecast models were saying that the focus on Sunday might be the Ventura County mountains, so Mt. Pinos — the site of my most recent thunderstorm adventure — was also out. Both San Gorgonio and San Jacinto had been hit pretty hard on Saturday. That left the San Gabriels, and thunderstorm activity was expected there as well.

The choices were A — get up really early and try to beat the heat and humidity and run local; or B — get up really early and try to get in a mountain run before the weather OD’d…

Running up the Mt. Waterman Trail, one of my ever-optimistic running partners voiced, “Hey, have you heard about the unusual number of lightning deaths recently?” So far it had been a spectacular day. A broken layer of mid-level clouds — remnants of yesterday’s storms — shrouded the sky. By keeping things a little cooler, the clouds had delayed the development of today’s thunderstorms.

We had started at Three Points and run up the Pacific Crest Trail to Cloudburst Summit, then down into Cooper Canyon, where we left the PCT and ascended the Burkhart Trail to Buckhorn Campground. In Cooper Canyon it was obvious there had been heavy rain the day before. Everything was wet, and the willows and lupines along the creek glistened in the muted morning sun. Rivulets of rainwater had incised rills in the trail, pushing pine needles and other debris into patterned waves.

I had already lost the “when it would start raining” bet. I had said 11:00. It was 11:00 now, and still there was very little cloud development. So little in fact, we decided to do a quick side trip to Mt. Waterman (8038′), and jokes were being made about the rain gear in my pack. (My GoLite 3 oz shell made a huge difference in the severe thunderstorm on Mt. Pinos.)

About the time we summited Waterman, things started to cook. The canopy of protective clouds was beginning to thin and dissipate and some cumulus cells were starting to build. I wondered if we would make it back to the car before it dumped.

We didn’t. About 30 minutes later, as we worked down the back side of Mt. Waterman toward the junction with the Twin Peaks trail,  we heard our first grumbling of thunder. In another 30 minutes it started to rain; slowly at first, with large icy drops, then building in intensity, as prescribed in long established thunderstorm protocols. Periodic claps of thunder echoed overhead, and to the north and east.

About 3 or 4 miles of trail remained. Here, the trail winds in and out of side-canyons and for the most part is well below the main ridge, but at some points it is very exposed. Minutes before, we had run past a lightning scarred Jeffrey Pine. Burned and blackened, the bolt had killed the tree. I pick up the pace and try to put the tree out of mind.

It rained hard for a while and then the intensity diminished. The air temperature didn’t drop and the wind wasn’t strong. It seems most of the lightning is cloud-to-cloud and away from us. I’m drenched, but happy — instead of being fierce and frightful, this thunderstorm has been almost puffy-cloud friendly.

In steady rain, we cross Hwy 2 and jog up the trail toward the Three Points parking lot (5920′). As we near our cars, we’re startled by a loud boom of thunder directly over our heads — a not so gentle reminder that thunderstorms come in all sizes, and none come with a guarantee.

Here’s a Google Earth image and Google Earth KMZ file of the loop, including the side trip to the summit of Mt. Waterman.

Some related posts: Manzanita Morning, Three Points – Mt. Waterman Loop

Stuck in the Drive-Thru

Gopher snake (apparently) stuck in the one inch diameter entrance to a small burrow on Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Trail.

Was that a snake on the trail ahead?

It was a snake — a pretty big one — stretched across two-thirds of the road.

I slow, stop running, and then walk carefully toward it. The snake is dead still. A confounding series of thoughts follow in quick succession.

Looks like it’s probably a gopher snake… Glance at the tail — no rattles. Check the head — where’s the head? Check the tail again — definitely no rattles. It is a gopher snake. Look for the head again — did the snake get run over, or decapitated?

At least 30 seconds have passed and the snake has not moved — not a millimeter. Very weird. Is it dead? It doesn’t look dead. There’s no blood.

Realization dawns as I comprehend the snake may be caught in the entrance to a small burrow.

Com’on, stuck? If so, it’s in a bad place. Pick your peril: Upper Las Virgenes Canyon is hiked, biked, ridden on horseback, roamed by coyotes, and hunted by hawks.

Now it’s been a couple of minutes, and the snake still has not moved. I’m beginning to think maybe it is dead. So I touch it.

Panic! The snake writhes, contorts and convulses in an attempt to free itself. No go — it continues to convulse, and then suddenly, and impossibly, slithers down the hole.

What? My guess is that the snake had found a lizard, mouse, or other prey in the hole, started to swallow it, and with its body engorged, became trapped by its meal. Or maybe it just got stuck!

Cheeseboro Canyon Prickly Poppy

Prickly poppy (Argemone munita) in upper Cheeseboro Canyon.

Prickly poppy (Argemone munita) in upper Cheeseboro Canyon.

From today’s run of the Cheeseboro Canyon keyhole loop, starting from the Victory trailhead of Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (formerly Ahmanson Ranch).

Here’s a Google Earth image of a GPS trace of the loop, and links to trail maps for Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve and Cheeseboro/Palo Comado Canyons.

Kratka Ridge Sugar Pine

Stunted sugar pine on Kratka Ridge in the San Gabriel MOuntains, near Los Angeles.

Often described as the largest and tallest of the pines, Sugar pine can grow to heights of 150 feet or more. According to the National Register of Big Trees, the current U.S. champion sugar pine measures 209 ft. tall, with a spread of 59 ft.

The sugar pine pictured above is only a fraction of this size — at first glance it looks like the tree has been topped. Its reduced height is due to the harsh environment in which it grows. Sugar pine and Jeffrey pine found on the higher windswept ridges and mountain tops of the San Gabriel Mountains (and other ranges) are often stunted in this manner.

Research suggests that a number of factors contribute to this adaptation. Foremost among these factors is wind. A tree will respond to a windy environment by increasing the diameter of its trunk, and reducing its height. Water stress is another key factor. Shallow granular soil, low humidity, increased radiation, hot summers and cold winters increase water stress; and a windy environment will amplify the stress.

In such a demanding environment everything matters — snow deposition patterns, aerodynamic effects, competition with brush, subtle differences in slope aspect, mechanical damage, damage from pests, and more.

The photograph of the sugar pine is from the Pleasant View Ridge Snow run in May.