The windward side of this foxtail pine snag has been blasted by the icy winds of a multitude of Winter storms. The wind has sculpted the mineral-like wood, exposing and accentuating its inner layers.
The photo is from last Saturday’s Cottonwood Pass – New Army Pass trail run. Nearly all of this route is above 10,000 ft. and 12 miles of it are above 11,000 ft. This relatively dry, high altitude habitat is home to the southern foxtail pine (Pinus balfouriana subsp. austrina).
One of the less common Sierra conifers, the tree is a long-lived species that is closely related to the bristlecone pine. The FEIS database references a southern foxtail pine 3400 years old, and the Gymnosperm Database a specimen with a crossdated age of 2110 years.
Because the tree grows so slowly, the wood is dense, and dead trees are slow to decay. In the vicinity of Cirque Peak, and a few other areas, dead foxtail pines and remnants are found above the current tree line. By crossdating tree ring sequences, a study published in 1997 found that over the past 3500 years the tree line in this part of the Sierra has generally been higher than it is now.
The study deduced that one period of reduced tree abundance and lowered tree line elevation was associated with warmer temperatures, and at least two severe multi-decade droughts. In contrast, the most recent decline has occurred during a cold, wet period that started about 450 BP.
It is remarkable that some of the dead foxtail pines studied here were alive during the Bronze Age, 4000 years BP.
I’ve run past this fallen Jeffrey Pine a number of times. It’s in an area of downed trees located on the western end of the Vincent Tumamait Trail, near Cerro Noroeste road. The trees probably fell after being killed by a fire. It’s a relatively large tree, and I’ve always wondered about its age.
A rough count of the growth rings gives an approximate age of 200 years. The tree ring sequence shows periods of fast growth, associated with above normal precipitation; and periods of slow growth, associated with drought.
Or should that be ramping UP for Mt. Disappointment? Anyway, started tapering for the Mt. Disappointment run next Saturday. Did the 13 mile Cheeseboro Canyon keyhole loop from the Victory Trailhead of Ahmanson Ranch yesterday, and then stretched the legs at Sage Ranch today. Both mornings were cool, with low clouds and fog — very pleasant!
Here’s hoping for “not too hot” weather for the race. At the moment, the GFS and ECMWF weather models show a weak upper level trough moving through California in the Friday-Saturday timeframe. Such a scenario should increase the chances of “seasonable” temps for the race — which would still be quite warm, but maybe not crazy hot.
Update Friday Morning 8/07/09. Broad upper level trough over California this morning is keeping things cool. Yesterday the high recorded at Mt. Wilson was 70, and the low overnight was 48! Southern part of the trough is forecast to hang back over Southern California through Saturday, which could result in temps a little BELOW normal for the Mt. Disappointment race. We’ll see!
I can’t think of a tougher stretch of trail in the San Gabriel Mountains. From Mt. Baldy Village, the Bear Canyon/Old Mt. Baldy Trail climbs 5800′ in 6.7 miles to the 10,064′ summit of Mt. Baldy (Mt. San Antonio). The route is as rewarding as it is difficult, with inspiring views and interesting terrain.
I had hoped for some remnant clouds from Friday’s storms, but didn’t expect to be using my windshield wipers driving to the trailhead. The dark gray clouds piled against the mountains had a scuddy, stormy look, and I had a difficult time convincing myself that it was just a deep marine layer. But the sun was shining when I parked at the bottom of Bear Canyon Rd. and began to walk up the steep, cabin-lined street.
Clouds pushing up San Antonio Canyon and the southeastern slopes of Mt. Baldy.
The last time I had been on the trail was July 2004, during the Baldy Peaks 50K. That day we started at the parking lot at Icehouse Canyon, and over the course of the race climbed Mt. Baldy twice. The first time from the Village, and the second time from Manker Flats. Today I wasn’t in a race, and would be completely satisfied to climb Mt. Baldy just once.
Running up a moderate section of trail below Bear Flat, I tried to figure out the last time I had run down the Bear Canyon Trail. Sometime before the Baldy Peaks race. I wasn’t sure how long it had been, but long enough to forget how grueling steep downhill can be.
My thoughts are interrupted by a pair of hikers coming down the trail. I ask how they’re doing, and am surprised to hear, “not so good.” They look disappointed and tired, and anxious to get down to the car. I wonder if one of them is ill, or if they just underestimated the difficulty of the trail.
A half-mile later I’m crossing the creek at Bear Flat (~5500′). This is where the fun begins. Here the trail switchbacks up a steep east-southeast facing chaparral slope to Mt. Baldy’s South Ridge, gaining about 1500′ in one mile. On a warm day it can be hellish. On a cool day it isn’t easy. Today it is cool. The cloud layer has continued to crawl up the mountain, and it envelops me as I start up the switchbacks.
A little more than a year ago, these slopes were burned in the 2008 Bighorn Fire. I had expected to see black, burned and barren chaparral in the initial stage of recovery, but instead there is substantial growth, comparable to 2-3 years of recovery in chaparral at a lower elevation.
Click for video snapshot from Mt. Baldy’s South Ridge.
At an elevation of about 7000′, I climb out of the clouds and into the sun. What a day! Benign clouds lap at the mountainside, enhancing already dramatic views. Between 7000′ and 9000′, I encounter several hikers and briefly chat with one veteran hiker, who tells me this is his friend’s intro to hiking! It is a busy day for this trail, and I’m guessing I’ll see more hikers when I descend.
Above 9000′ the open forest of Jeffrey, Sugar and Lodgepole pine becomes more sparse and stunted. The route feels more alpine and climbs onto the rocky crest of an exposed ridge (HD Video Snapshot). A little higher, a large patch of snow accentuates the “you’re getting near tree line” feeling.
Hiker leaving the summit of Mt. Baldy, and starting the descent of the Ski Hut trail.
Approaching Baldy’s summit, I’m surprised to see a wispy cloud had also ascended the peak and is waiting for me to catch up. On top there seems to be a mix of young and old, veterans and first-timers, excitement and exhaustion. After a few minutes on the summit, I run over to West Baldy. Then it is gravity’s turn, and I take the first steps down the slope.
The descent is just as extraordinary as the ascent, with far-reaching mountain views over a sea of clouds. On an exposed section of the ridge at about the 8500′ I happen on a Sugar pine with a spiral scar from a lightning strike. Such trees are disturbingly common. There is a Jeffrey pine at about the same elevation on Mt. Baldy’s North Backbone Trail with a similar lightning scar.
One, two, ten… Will the switchbacks ever end? Finally, through the trees I see the brilliant green of the ferns at Bear Flat. Running becomes easier. I pick up the pace, and in a few minutes turn onto the asphalt of Bear Canyon road.
Here is an interactive, 3D terrain view of a GPS trace of my route on the Mt. Baldy’s South Ridge on the Bear Canyon/Old Mt. Baldy Trail. The map can be zoomed, tilted, rotated, and panned using the navigation control on the right. Track and placename locations are approximate and subject to errors. Snow, ice, poor weather, and other conditions may make this route unsuitable for this activity.
Like an Ent, of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, the huge tree hummed softly. We were on the Coast Trail in Point Reyes National Seashore, near Kelham Beach, about halfway into a 14.5 mile hike/run. We’d paused under the sprawling limbs of the Tasmanian blue gum to enjoy its shade and eat a quick snack.
Rather than the singing of an Ent, the resonating buzz was from the wing-beats of many thousands of bees, foraging in the tree. But, it was certainly the kind of day an Ent would relish. Instead of fog and chill gales, the day was warm, with just enough of a breeze to tickle a leaf. Below the bluff, a lazy ocean lapped at the shore, barely mustering enough strength to generate an occasional wave.
Awed by the size of the tree, Brett, Amanda and I joined hands to create a crude measuring tape, but our combined reach only encircled about half of the trunk. We estimated its girth at chest height to be about 30 ft! An oak tree this size would be ancient — perhaps several hundred to a 1000 years old. But, eucalyptus followed the Gold Rush into California, and the tree could be no older than about 150 years!
It was comfortable in the shade of the tree, and we were not in a rush to get back on the trail. Near record high temperatures had been forecast, and the expected 70-80 degree temps along the coast and 90-100 degree temps inland seemed about right.
We’d started at the Sky trailhead on Limantour Road, and followed the Sky Trail up through lush Douglas fir forest, past Sky Camp, to the Woodward Valley Trail. Here, at an impossibly green meadow, we had turned off the Sky Trail, and followed the Woodward Valley Trail down the shoulder of the ridge to its junction with the Coast Trail.
Now we had to get that elevation back. Nearby a hummingbird dashed and darted among the peach colored monnkeyflowers, and lodged a territorial complaint as we returned to his trail. In a couple of minutes we turned sharply left onto the Sky Trail and began the steep climb back up the hill.
