To the east, the sun rose orange, cast that color by a thick pall of smoke. From the Satwiwa Loop Trail, the view of Boney Mountain were surprisingly clear. As the air pollution sensors in the area had indicated, the air quality appeared to be passable. I hoped it would stay that way for the remainder of the run.
With all the National Forests in California closed through at least September 21, and the smoke from wildfires affecting many areas, I’d been fortunate to find a place where I could get out and stretch my legs.
I was doing a route I had done many times before — a loop incorporating the Western Ridge of Boney Mountain and the Chamberlain segment of the Backbone Trail. I’d last done the loop in June and was curious to see the condition of the Chamberlain Trail and how recovery from the 2018 Woolsey Fire was progressing.
From the top of Peak 2935, it seemed the “smoke front” to the east was slowly creeping closer. The flat, orange light was eerie. Continuing to Tri Peaks, I decided to skip the side trip to Sandstone Peak and followed the west Tri Peaks trail directly to the top of the Chamberlain Trail.
Foot traffic on the Chamberlain Trail had opened it up a bit, but there were still thousands and thousands of stalks of bleeding heart along the trail. The condition of the trail improved somewhat below Chamberlain Rock.
When I’d done the route in June, I’d seen no one until just before the junction of the Chamberlain & Old Boney trails. In June it had been a group of hikers. This time it was another runner, and we exchanged notes about the routes we were doing. Below the junction, I was surprised to find that one of the seeps on the Old Boney Trail was still wet.
After getting some water at the Danielson Multi-Use Area, I continued up Sycamore Canyon, finishing the run on the Upper Sycamore Trail, Danielson Road, and the network of Satwiwa trails.
Mesa Spring Trail near the top of San Emigdio Mesa.
For many that enjoy the outdoors, there is an insatiable desire to go where we have not been, learn what we do not know, and discover what we have not experienced.
Each time I’ve done the out and back trail run from Mt. Pinos to Mt. Abel, I’ve been curious about the Mesa Spring Trail. The trail leaves the Tumamait Trail at Puerto del Suelo, a saddle about 0.6 mile east of Mt. Abel Road, and descends to a campsite at a spring on the margin of San Emigdio Mesa. The mesa is the large alluvial fan shown on this Google Terrain Map overview.
The Mesa Spring Trail is part of an old trail shown on the USGS 1903 Mt. Pinos topo map. The old trail was part of a route that connected the Cuyama River to the historic El Camino Viejo a Los Ángeles. It followed Dry Canyon, went over Puerto del Suelo, and to the valley that is now the Pine Mountain Club. Like so many trails, it must have evolved from a hunting and trade route.
Google Terrain map showing San Emigdio Mesa and my route from Mt. Pinos
The Mesa Spring Trail is usually accessed from the West Tumamait Trailhead on Mt. Abel Road. But it occurred to me that starting at the East Tumamait Trailhead on Mt. Pinos might be an enjoyable way to do a longer out and back run. The Mesa Spring Trail looked like it might be similar to the North Fork Trail — a little less used and a bit more remote.
I left the Chula Vista parking area a little before 7:00 a.m. and started chugging up the road to the East Tumamait Trailhead at the Mt. Pinos Condor Observation Site. I planned to skip the usual side trips to Sawmill and Grouse. The spring was at a much lower elevation, and I wanted to get there before the temperature sizzled.
Once on the Vincent Tumamait Trail, it took a little over an hour to reach the top of the Mesa Spring Trail. The junction is marked with a new sign and tree branches on the ground. It is about 5.7 miles from the Mt. Pinos parking area.
Plant communities change dramatically with elevation. This Jeffrey pine forest is at about 7000′.
The first couple of miles down from the junction, the trail more or less follows the drainage. About 10 minutes from the junction, a large pine tree had fallen and completely blocked the trail. I worked around the right (west) side of the tree, where some orange fence posts had been placed. A few minutes beyond the collapsed tree, the trail wandered around the right side of a pretty meadow and then back to the “V” of the dry stream.
For the next mile or so, the trail followed a typical down-canyon route. On the way down, there were some spots where I stopped, turned around, and made a mental note of what the trail did. It wasn’t so much a matter of getting lost, as it was not wasting time at an ambiguous spot on the way back.
About 2.3 miles down from the saddle, the trail climbed out of the canyon, taking a counterintuitive turn to the right. After reaching a ridgeline, the trail turned back left and continued downhill. But its wanderings were not over. The trail was working across the gullies at the top of the San Emigdio Mesa. It went up, down, and around, but eventually did go to Mesa Spring. There were “ducks” marking the route, but it really helped to have looked at a map and have a general idea of where the trail would go.
Mesa Spring is on the northern margin of San Emigdio Mesa.
Mesa Spring is a pretty green spot in a group of pinyon pines. As I neared the spring, I saw some coyote-like ears bobbing through the sagebrush, and not long after that, a deer bounded through the trees. At the spring, a squirrel leaped from the edge of the water-filled cistern to a nearby tree and various birds flittered in the pines. I heard a trickle of water near the cistern’s base but planned to get water at Sheep Camp, later in the run.
With its bounty of pinyon pine nuts, acorns, juniper berries, game, and more, San Emigdio Mesa provided vital resources for the local Chumash.
Although the Mesa Spring Trail continues down the mesa, the spring was my turnaround point. I had waited for a day when the weather was better for this run. A weak low-pressure trough moving through to the north had stirred up a little wind and taken the edge off the recent heatwave. It had been cool on the crest, but at 6000′ it was already hot in the sun. It was time to get moving, and in a few minutes, I was retracing my steps and headed back to Mt. Pinos.
Approaching Waterman Meadow on the Three Points – Mt. Waterman Trail
You know what they say about making assumptions. Did the Three Points loop around Mt. Waterman today (July 25), and assumed that water would be available at Buckhorn Campground. In a normal summer that would be a reasonable assumption, but this has been anything but a normal summer.
Running down through the campground, I thought it was strange that many of the spaces were empty. Following the signs that said, “Day Use Parking,” and then “Burkhart Trail,” I stopped at a spigot across from some restrooms.
Routine water tests were pending.
Surprise, surprise! The stapled-on Forest Service sign said, “Non-potable water. Please boil water for a minimum of 5 minutes before using.”
Later, I talked to a ranger and learned that the campground had just reopened on Friday! He said routine tests on the water system had to be completed before the water could be deemed potable.
So I had a choice to make. I was doing the loop counterclockwise, which put Buckhorn at about mile 9 of a 20-mile loop. The second half of the loop — on the PCT — can bake on a hot day, with the climb out of Cooper Canyon being especially blistering.
Morning sun crests a ridge on Waterman Mountain.
So far, the run had gone well. The Mt. Waterman Trail between Three Points and the turn off to Twin Peaks had been in excellent shape. No trees had blocked the trail, and the wildflowers and ferns at Waterman Meadow had been extraordinary. Like last year, a rejuvenated spring about 0.5 mile west of the Twin Peaks junction had water. (Not aware of the situation at Buckhorn, I didn’t top off my water.)
As usual, the run down the Mt. Waterman Trail to Highway 2 was excellent. A lot of people were enjoying the hike to the peak, but no more than is typical for that trail in the summertime.
Which brings me back to Buckhorn and my water problem. I could have shortcut the loop by skipping Cooper Canyon and running directly to Cloudburst Summit on Highway 2. That would have shortened the loop by 5 miles. But the day wasn’t super-hot, and there were several places where water could be used for cooling — even if I couldn’t drink it.
Reconfirming how much water I had left, I squeezed the Camelbak(TM) in my pack, and then started running down the Burkhart Trail into Cooper Canyon.
By maintaining a comfortable pace, and using seeps for cooling, my water lasted until I was within sight of the Three Points parking lot. This probably wouldn’t have been the case on a hot day.
After so many years of doing the Angeles National Forest Trail Race, I’m not sure I even had a choice. At about 7:00 a.m. on Saturday, July 11, 2020, I found myself running down Mt. Wilson Road.
It was odd not to be surrounded by runners. Gary Hilliard had not done his one-of-a-kind pre-race briefing. There had been no hugs or handshakes at the start of the run. No runners commented on the temperature or talked about past or future races. Thanks to COVID-19, the 2020 ANFTR race had been canceled.
But the mountains and trails were still there, and by running the 25K course, I could get a good idea of what the 2020 race might have been like.
I was not racing the course. The forecast was — of course — for a hot day. And in these covid times, I was running solo. I was out to enjoy “being there” — seeing what I could see, learning what I could learn.
View into the canyon of the West Fork San Gabriel River from Mt. Wilson Road.
Mt. Wilson road is exceptionally scenic, and on the way down to Eaton Saddle, I stopped several times to take photos. The canyon of the West Fork San Gabriel River is spectacular. It’s a long way down to the bottom, and I always marvel at its depth. The 2600′ climb out of that canyon is the crux of all the ANFTR courses, and as I would later discover, would be especially challenging today.
Rugged San Gabriel Peak marked the turn onto Mt. Lowe fire road at Eaton Saddle. From here, the course follows the fire road through Mueller Tunnel and up to the saddle between Mt. Markham and San Gabriel Peak. The first significant climb of the course begins here. Much of the 650′ climb up the single-track trail is in the shade. If it’s already warm here…
Looking back at San Gabriel Peak from near the top of the Lower San Gabriel Peak/Bill Reilly Trail.
The single-track trail leads up to the Mt. Disappointment service road. The high point of the 60K, 50K and 25K courses — about 5780′ — is along this short stretch of road. For the 25K course it’s (almost) all downhill from here to West Fork. A winding, and usually dusty, single-track trail turns off the service road and leads down through scrub oaks to Mt. Wilson Road, just above Red Box.
In the actual event, runners doing the 50K and 60K turn left onto the Gabrielino Trail at Red Box and do a 15+ mile circuit around Strawberry Peak. Runners doing the 25K turn right and continue down Rincon – Red Box Road to West Fork.
Spanish broom along Rincon – Red Box Road near Valley Forge Campground.
The time of day when you do the 5+ mile segment from Red Box to West Fork makes a huge difference. On hot race days, such as in 2012, 2017 and 2018, the road bakes and in-the-sun temps can reach well over 100 degrees. (This isn’t the only part of the 50K/60K course that can be hot!)
Because I was running the 25K course, I was on Red Box road relatively early. It was probably in the 90s in the direct sun, but there were still some cool stretches of shade. In years with average or above-average rainfall, there are usually a few little stream crossings where capfuls of water can be dumped on your head. They were flowing today. Usually at West Fork there is a hose/shower setup to use for cooling.
There was a collapsed sycamore on the trail near the spring, but it didn’t look like it was going to be much of a problem. On the run down to West Fork, I’d noticed an increasing number of trees on the road. About a mile from West Fork, a large oak had fallen down a road-cut, blocking the road and bringing with it a pile of debris.
Mass of trees down on the Gabrielino Trail.
Leaving West Fork on the Gabrielino Trail, I worked around the fallen sycamore and then continued up the trail. Within yards there was another fallen tree, then another, and another. The number of trees down on the trail was remarkable. Part of the reason is that the Forest Service isn’t currently allowing volunteer groups to do trail maintenance. I’m sure ANFTR R.D. / AC100 Trail Boss Gary Hilliard is going crazy not being able to work on the trails.
But I think there’s more to it than trail maintenance. There are far more trees down on the trail than I’ve seen in other years. The area is covered in scrub oaks and bay trees that were killed by the Station Fire. I suspect the same storms that broke and toppled trees in the San Gabriels high country over the Winter, toppled dead trees here as well.
Trees down on the Kenyon Devore Trail.
It became a mantra — over, under, around or through? Over, under, around or through? Tree after tree. It was warming up, and the extra work of battling the trees added to the effort. On the Gabrielino segment of the route, trail users had trimmed some small limbs from a few of the trees, and that helped.
I thought that once I got out of the scrub oaks and into the forest proper, there wouldn’t be so many trees on the trail. That was mostly true, but there were still several tree challenges higher on the Kenyon Devore Trail. One large log was perched across the trail at the top of a steep gully. I didn’t want to slip and started to use the log for hand-holds. Bad idea! Who knew how little force would be required to dislodge the tree.
Eventually, I reached a point on the trail where I could just hike and didn’t have to climb over, under, around or through anything. What a relief!
It’s difficult to estimate just how many trees were down on the trail. Fifty? Sixty? I have no idea. There were many small trees I didn’t even think about, and there were multiple trees down in some spots. However many there are, if another Winter passes before the trails can be maintained, it will require a massive effort to get them cleared.
The highest temperature recorded at Clear Creek on the day of the ANFTR/Mt. Disappointment races for 2005-2020. The 2020 race was canceled.
Based on the temperatures recorded at the Clear Creek RAWS, this would have been the #3 or #4 hottest of the ANF Trail Races. Compared to the other hot races, temps were a few degrees cooler early, but reached similar temperatures by mid-afternoon. The Clear Creek RAWS recorded hourly temperatures as high as 96°F and hourly fuel temps as high as 121°F.
The out and back to Mt. Baden-Powell from Islip Saddle has become a springtime running ritual for me. Sometime in April, May or June, I like to get back to the high country, and see what there is to see — including whether there’s any snow left on Baden-Powell or Mt. Baldy.
Snow in the San Gabriel Mountains, April 28, 2020. Click for larger image.
Sentinel satellite imagery showed a lot of snow along the crest at the end of April, but hot weather and dry winds in May accelerated the melt. By early June most of it was gone. It didn’t seem likely I would see any today.
I hadn’t seen any snow along the trail this morning. I’d run past Little Jimmy Camp, Windy Gap, Peak 8426, and was now at an elevation of about 8700′, near Mt. Hawkins. Above me, I could hear the excited voices of a couple of hikers near its summit. Thinking they might be part of a group, I looked up the trail toward the crest.
Something was missing… Where was it? Usually prominent on the skyline at this point, the “Mt. Hawkins Lightning Tree” was gone. I walked up the trail to look for the familiar landmark. The trunk of the lightning-scarred Jeffrey pine had been snapped like a twig. The crown of the tree lay 50 yards down the steep slope, jammed against two trees.
Jeffrey pine near Mt. Burnham, toppled by Winter winds.
It must have been a hard Winter. Several other live trees along the crest between Mt. Hawkins and Mt. Baden-Powell were either blown down or broken in half. In some cases, the damaging winds appeared to be from the south side of the crest and in others from the north. December 2019 was stormy in Southern California, particularly around Christmas. Weather data suggests this might have been when most of the damage was done.
Today, only two large trees blocked the trail. One, on the west side of Mt. Burnham, was easy to go under or around, but the other, west of Throop Peak, was a bit more of a challenge. Given the brush on either side, climbing over the tree worked for me. Some others had detoured well above or below the tree.
Snow plant along the PCT near Throop Peak.
Surprise, surprise! It turned out there were a couple of small patches of snow on the north side of the crest near Baden-Powell. These were the remnants of an area of wind-deposited snow on the lee (north) side of the crest between Mt. Baden-Powell and Mt. Burnham. Large drifts can collect here, and in a heavy snow year, can persist into July. The deposition area can be seen in the Sentinel satellite image.
With its long views, sub-alpine elevation, and weather-worn limber and lodgepole pines, Baden-Powell is a rewarding summit. Just a few miles to the southeast, Mt. Baldy looms above a mile-deep canyon. If the visibility is good, San Jacinto Peak and San Gorgonio Mountain can be seen beyond Mt. Baldy, many miles in the distance.
The distance from Islip Saddle to Mt. Baden-Powell (9,399′), and back, is about 16 miles. The cumulative elevation gain is about 3800′. Here’s an interactive, 3D view of the out and back route.
Trail note: I ran into a “misplaced” hiker that didn’t know what trail they were on or where they started. Take the time to familiarize yourself with the adventure you have planned!
Flower stalks of bleeding heart on the Chamberlain segment of the Backbone Trail
After climbing the western ridge route on Boney Mountain and scrambling over Tri Peaks, I was trying to run down the Chamberlain segment of the Backbone Trail. Usually one of my favorite downhills, the trail was so glutted with the flower stalks of bleeding heart, it made running difficult. Here’s a video snapshot of one short section of trail.
During this second Spring following the Woolsey Fire, bleeding heart has become a predominant fire follower in the Boney Mountain Wilderness. Its rampant growth is reminiscent of the explosion of Poodle-dog bush in the San Gabriel Mountains the second Spring following the 2009 Station Fire.
