Category Archives: running

San Gorgonio Mountain – Falls Creek Loop

Falls Creek trail on Mt. San Gorgonio.

Lowland blues got you down? Are you beginning to think faux pine tree cell towers aren’t that ugly? Do you gaze longingly at distant mountains and then realize you’re looking at a billboard?

When I feel that way, one of the close-to-home hikes/runs that satiates the alpine craving is the Falls Creek loop on Mt. San Gorgonio. The ‘Falls Creek up, Vivian Creek down’ route has been a high mountain favorite of mine for a number of years. It is as rigorous as it is beautiful. About 24.5 miles long, it gains approximately 6600′ on the way to the 11,499′ summit of San Gorgonio.

Even at 7:30 in the morning, the climb out from the Momyer trailhead on the steep, south-facing slope of Mill Creek canyon had been warm, but in about an hour we were in the firs and pines, and contouring into the shaded drainage of Alger Creek. Another 30 minutes and the trail has joined the route of the original Falls Creek trail — climbing to the eastern side of the divide between Alger Creek and Falls Creek and turning north as it entered the Falls Creek drainage. (A spur trail descends to Dobbs Camp.)


Small stream below Saxton Camp.
The trail up the Falls Creek drainage has few switchbacks and is deceivingly steep, but the segment is one I always enjoy. Near Saxton Camp its course works back into a lush side canyon, where it crosses an idyllic stream in a pastoral mountain setting. Above Saxton Camp, the area has an isolated, big sky, big mountain feel. Bright green slopes of manzanita extend upward for miles, and stale flatland sights, smells and sounds are displaced in favor of deep blue skies, the minty fragrance of pennyroyal, and the raucous shouts of Stellar’s jays.

Just get me to Dollar Lake Saddle… Please! I don’t know what it is about this section of trail, but the short 1000′ climb from Plummer Meadows to Dollar Lake Saddle is always tougher than I expect. Maybe it’s the altitude, maybe it’s the miles I’ve run during the week, or maybe it’s a gravity anomaly — whatever, it’s a relief to get to the saddle.


Lodgepole pine above the Jepson - Little Charlton Peak Saddle.
Above the saddle, the trail becomes more airy and alpine, and at times there are views of the summit area of Gorgonio and down Gorgonio’s north face. Adrenalin flows and the effort required seems to ease. Sometimes running, sometimes hiking, we continue up the rocky path.

About an hour above Dollar Lake Saddle, we jog across a nice flat stretch of trail just below Gorgonio’s summit. It’s around noon when Andrew and I weave our way through a final few boulders to the summit. Relaxing on the summit, we chat with others about their routes, and talk about running and the mountains.

In February, Andrew caught the trail running bug. In May he completed his first ultra — a fifty miler. Now he’s training to run the Angeles Crest 100 mile endurance run in September. Today’s ascent of San Gorgonio is the first of two long mountain trail runs he will do this weekend.

After about 15-20 minutes on the summit, we jog back to the Vivian Creek trail, jump on the escalator and head down. There are the usual stops to get water at Upper Vivian Creek (the last water was at Plummer Meadows), and to take a few photographs. There’s also a quick stop to have our wilderness permit checked.

Around 2:50 we’re off the mountain and crossing Mill Creek, and in a few minutes we’re running down the blacktop and back to Momyer.

Here’s a Google Earth image and Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of the loop. Surprisingly, it is only about 1.5 miles shorter than the “high line” loop that ascends East San Bernardino Peak before traversing to Mt. San Gorgonio.

Related post: San Gorgonio High Line

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

Google Earth KMZ Files of Southern California Trail Runs

Introduced around 2000, the Garmin eTrex was the first GPS unit I used to trace a trail run. The GPS tracks were imported into TOPO! where the length of a run could be measured, an elevation profile generated, and the topography of the run examined.

Since the eTrex was designed to be used in an “orienteering” position — flat in your hand in front of your body — it would frequently have trouble receiving GPS satellite signals if hand-carried while running or hiking. About the time enterprising hikers and runners began to resolve this issue with creative hats, holsters and harnesses, Garmin released the Forerunner 201, greatly simplifying the task of tracing a route.

In 2005, while preparing a presentation about kayaking Piru Creek for a meeting with the Forest Service, I stumbled onto Keyhole.com. To say I was blown away by this bit of “Eureka” technology would be an a gross understatement. Now, in addition to seeing Piru Creek in photographs, and on a topo map, you could get a “before you paddle” preview using Keyhole — even if you couldn’t paddle class IV whitewater! Google acquired Keyhole in late 2004 and launched Google Earth on June 28, 2005.

Shortly after Google Earth was launched, SportTracks added the ability to launch Google Earth and view the GPS trace of a run or other activity. Since SportTracks could also directly import data from Garmin’s Forerunner, the software made it very easy to view a run in Google Earth.

I’ve been working on updating the posts on Photography on the Run that reference a trail run to include a link to a Google Earth KMZ file. A KMZ file is just a zipped KML file, and either can be opened in Google Earth. A list of the trail runs with KMZ file links can be found by clicking “Google Earth KMZ Files of Trail Runs” in the sidebar.

These are actual tracks recorded by a GPS during a trail run and may contain GPS errors, route-finding errors, and wanderings that are difficult to explain. In a few instances tracks have been modified to correct errors, or to remove side excursions that are not part of the usual route, but not all errors have been corrected. No claim is being made regarding the appropriateness or suitability of the routes indicated.

New Army Pass – Cottonwood Pass Loop

Outstanding trail running down the Rock Creek trail on the Cottonwood loop.

It isn’t unusual for snow to persist on New Army Pass (12,300′) well into July. Strong northwest winds, following in the wake of blustery Winter storms, blow freshly fallen snow over the crest and into this cirque, forming cornices along its lip, and dense slabs of wind-ground snow in it’s lee.

That’s why the July 1 Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Park Trail Conditions report for New Army Pass seemed plausible. It read, “The top of the pass has an 30 foot snow wall – ice axe recommended.”

The reported trail conditions are a compilation of reports from the field, and are not always up-to-date. Having been over the pass a number of times, and in a variety of conditions, I thought that we would probably be able to bypass any remaining patches of snow without needing an ice axe. Worst case, if the pass looked dicey, we could use Cirque Peak or some other alternative route to attain the crest.


New Army Pass
We need not have worried. While there was snow in the cirque, and in a couple of places along the trail near the top of the pass, the trail was completely clear. Even so, it was a good excuse to do the 21 mile Cottonwood loop counterclockwise — the reverse of my usual circuit — climbing up New Army Pass from the Cottonwood Lakes side, and then running down into Rock Creek basin.

Now that I’ve done the loop in both directions, I think I prefer the clockwise circuit. The 9 miles of running from New Army Pass down through the Cottonwood Lakes basin is generally better than the running down from Chicken Spring Lake and Cottonwood Pass. Also, there’s more downhill on some sandy sections of trail between Chicken Spring Lake and Rock Creek. The tradeoff is you give up the nice downhill into Rock Creek basin, and near the end of the loop have a mile or so of annoying uphill.

Here’s a Google Earth image, Google Earth KMZ file, and an elevation profile of a GPS trace of the route. (The elevation profile was generated using SportTracks.)

Related posts: Cottonwood – New Army Pass Loop, Mt. Langley in a Day from L.A.

Up and Over Kearsarge Pass

Miklos and Krisztina above Bullfrog Lake. East Vidette is the prominent conic peak.

Poised on a glacial bench a dozen miles west, and few thousand feet above Independence, California, Onion Valley is the starting point for many a Sierra adventure. Kearsarge Pass provides relatively quick and easy access to the heart of the Sierra, and the more technical passes south and north of Kearsarge can be used by mountaineers to access peaks along the crest, or basins on the west side of the crest.

It is an area that is dramatically alpine, and I have returned again and again to climb peaks such as Independence Peak and University Peak and to hike, run and explore. One Summer Phil Warrender and I did a trans-Sierra hike that started here and took us over University Pass, Andy’s Foot Pass (13,600′), Milly’s Foot Pass, Longley Pass and Sphinx Pass, ending at Cedar Grove. We went superlight (about 15 lb. packs w/o ice axe), did as much cross-county as possible, and climbed a few peaks along the way.

Today Miklos, Krisztina and I were doing a reconnaissance hike/run up and over Kearsarge Pass, and down into the Kearsarge – Bullfrog – Charlotte Lakes basin, and back. The idea was to pick a time when the Kearsarge Pass trail would be mostly free of snow, but when much of the surrounding terrain would still be accented in white.


View west from Kearsarge Pass

What a day! Perfect temps, little wind, excellent trail conditions, super scenery, and absolutely outstanding trail running.

Here are a few photographs:

Big Pothole Lake from the east side of Kearsarge Pass. Nameless Pyramid (right) and University Peak (left) on the skyline.

View west from Kearsarge Pass over Kearsarge Lakes and Pinnacles to Mt. Brewer (left), North Guard (middle) and Mt. Francis Farquhar (right) on the skyline.

Kearsarge Lakes and Pinnacles from the north.

Miklos and Krisztina above Bullfrog Lake. East Vidette is the prominent conic peak. Deerhorn Mountain is at the head of the recess to the right of East Vidette.

Scrambling above the John Muir Trail about a mile from Glen Pass. Charlotte Dome is in the distance.

Here’s a Google Earth image and a Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of our route.

Owens Peak from Walker Pass

Three climbers pick their way through the rubble on the southwest ridge of Owens Peak.

A good way to think of this adventure is as an excellent 17 mile trail run on the PCT north from Walker Pass (5217′), combined with a three mile scramble up and down the rocky southwest ridge of Owens Peak (8453′).

Based on the expanse of granite seen from Hwy 395, I had visualized the southwest ridge of Owens Peak as a somewhat vegetated but relatively clean  ridge. Wrong! The ridge is a geologically complex mix of fractured metamorphic, metavolcanic and gabbro rock capping the granite of Owens Peak. In most areas the rocky sections of the ridge are bounded by dense brush and pinyon pine.

We pretty much stuck to the crest of ridge on the way up, continuing up and over the steep outcrop just below the summit. Although it was an interesting section to climb, the outcrop was quite loose, and we dropped below it on the descent.


Mt. Whitney, Mt. Langley, and Olancha Peak from Owens Peak.
Owens Peak is relatively isolated, and the views from the summit are sweeping. To the north we could see Mt. Whitney, Mt. Langley, Olancha Peak, and the windblown crest of the Sierra between Army and New Army Pass.

Not everyone would see the positive aspects of doing a 10 mile route to a peak that could be done in only 3.5 miles — or enjoy the ups and downs, and somewhat tedious route-finding along a brushy and crumbling ridge. It’s an acquired taste. It was good to share the experience with enthusiastic friends who were still smiling as we jogged down the last yards of trail to the car.

Here’s a Google Earth image and a Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of our route. GPS reception was weak at times on the way up and the track has been edited to remove some of the larger errors.

Note: After the Spring snowmelt, it appears there are no natural water sources on the PCT between Walker Pass and Owens Saddle (mile 8.6), or on the ridge.

Related post: PCT North of Walker Pass