Located near Mammoth Mountain, San Joaquin Ridge extends from Minaret Summit (9265′) north about six miles to San Joaquin Mountain (11,601′). Views from this ridge are legend, with broad vistas that include Mt. Morrison, Red Slate, Mammoth Mountain, the Minarets and Ritter & Banner, Mono Lake, and much more. In good weather it is an awe inspiring locale in which to hike, ski or run.
This day, the conditions for running the ridge are ideal. In the wake of a weak weather system, skies are mostly clear, and a cool breeze reduces the heat of the harsh sun, producing a welcome warmth. Winter snow is already receding from the ridge crest, allowing a choice of routes over, or around, remnant drifts and cornices.
Returning from a high point a few miles distant, bounding strides lengthen, and I seem to soar down the ridge, weaving among the stunted pines, glissading across bands of snow, caressing the wind and flying up or down slopes with equal ease. It has become a run that defines the root experience of trail running and the rewards of being in the mountains. There is freedom of motion — and emotion — in every stride.
Ahead of me, a pair of ravens turn and the Sun glistens from back to wing. Individual feathers ruffle as wings are adjusted to increase lift, and turns are tightened. Soon we are soaring high above the Sierra, and all things seem possible.
The Baldy Peaks 50K (currently in hiatus) is without a doubt the most challenging 50K I’ve done. This race climbs to the summit of Mt. Baldy twice, once from the village and once from Manker Flats. And after climbing Baldy twice, you get to amble over to Thunder Mountain as well. The total elevation gain (and loss) is reported to be 10,775 ft.
Race organizers asked endorphin influenced runners to write a poem on the second ascent of the peak.
This particular Blazing Star (Mentzelia laevicaulis) was on the Manzanita Trail, between South Fork Campground and Vincent Gap. In the Baldy Peaks race they were along the service road between the Notch and Manker Flats.
Five miles of (mostly) downhill to go. Running through an old growth forest of Jeffrey Pine, Sugar Pine and Incense Cedar, I relished being on a pine needle covered trail at 7000 ft. in the San Gabriel Mountains.
In a record dry water year, I had been curious to see how the mountains were faring. Although creeks were very low and grasses dry, my impression was that groundwater resources were not quite as bad. The usual springs and seeps still muddied the trail. In 2005 the San Gabriel Mountains were deluged with rain, and in the 2006 the rainfall was nearly normal, so some carryover would be expected.
Update May 27, 2007. My impression of groundwater resources may have been overly optimistic. On a run to Mt. Baden-Powell from Islip Saddle, I stopped by Little Jimmy Spring. It was nearly as low as in late August 2002, when Los Angeles had just experienced its driest water year on record. This year will likely break the 2001-2002 record.
Even so, it was obviously much drier than normal. There were fewer wildflowers, and some young Incense Cedars looked as if they might be stressed. On the plus side, manzanita and currant were blooming in profusion, and perhaps 30-35 scarlet red stalks of snow plant were seen on the loop.
Running down the Silver Moccasin Trail from Shortcut Saddle to West Fork a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned to my running partner that a few years before, I had carried my whitewater kayak down the trail.
Around 1995, Gary Gunder and I started exploring the creeks and rivers of Southern California, looking for hidden gems that rarely – if ever – had been paddled. Kayaking these streams has been an incredible experience, and has enabled us to see some of the wildest and most beautiful places in the mountains of Southern California.
Creeking in Southern California is an “iffy” activity. Iffy in the sense that it usually takes a lot of rain for a stream to flow, and there is a very narrow window in which the flow will be ideal for paddling. In addition the canyons are steep and isolated, logistics are usually complicated, and more often than not it is necessary to carry your boat to the point on the stream where you put in. Paddling a stream can involve a hike of several miles, and a very long car shuttle. Several times we have gone to a creek, only to discover that it was too low to paddle.
Plastic kayaks may look light, but kayaks made for paddling creeks typically weigh around 45-50 lbs. Add to this the weight of paddling gear, rescue equipment, food and water and the total weight might be 65 lbs. or more. If food and overnight gear for a multi-day adventure are added to the mix, the total weight can top a beastly 90 lbs.
There is no good way to carry a heavily loaded kayak and you can be certain that obstacles such as downed trees, swollen creeks, and washed out trails will have to be negotiated. Picture yourself carrying a kayak (as a backpack) across a steep snow slope, slipping and falling, and then going for the sled ride of your life, flailing like an upside down turtle with a 90 lb. shell!
In 2003, when we paddled the West Fork San Gabriel River, it rained very heavily the night before. The storm set a new rainfall record for the date, and I was sure the river would be too high. But what a day, and what a river! Skies were partly cloudy and shafts of sunlight filtered through the firs, glistening off the water, and highlighting the saturated greens of mosses, ferns, grasses along the river. Ephemeral waterfalls cascaded and fell from cliffs at several points. It was a wilderness paddler’s dream day.
It would be difficult to pick a favorite among the creeks and streams we’ve paddled. Each one has its unique character, scenery and challenge. The best multi-day runs would probably be a 47 mile reach of the Wild & Scenic Sisquoc River near Santa Maria, and a wilderness section of the Wild & Scenic Kern River from Grasshopper Flat, past Kern Falls, to the Forks of the Kern. The most technical would probably be the upper Santa Ana River downstream of Filaree Flats, Arroyo Seco below Switzers, and upper Matilija Creek above Old Man Creek. The most scenic might be Middle Piru Creek or Upper Piru Creek. The wildest might be Yucca Creek, a tributary of the N.F. Kaweah.
The best my legs have ever felt running trails is following a wet rain season with a lot of kayak hiking!
Note: The title photograph is from a March 5, 2005 descent of upper Matilija Creek, near Ventura, California.
A closer look at the feathery blossoms of the holly-leaved cherry (Prunus ilicifolia) reveal a peculiar flower whose many stamens resemble the tentacles of a sea anemone.
Holly-leaved cherry is a member of the genus Prunus — the same as apricots, peaches, plums and cherries. As is the case with other species in this genus, the seed and leaves may contain hydrogen cyanide. It produces a small, thin-fleshed fruit favored by coyotes.
The photograph was taken on the slopes of Rivas Canyon near Will Rogers State Historic Park, while doing the route described in the post Will Rogers – Temescal Loop. Once again the weather for this (approximately) 21.5 mile loop was post-card perfect. A Google Earth image of a GPS trace of the route is available in the earlier post.
