Category Archives: running|adventures

Sunny Sunday

Upper Las Virgenes Canyon

Today was one of those spectacular, sunny, warm December days we relish in Southern California; perfect for just about any outdoor activity. High temperatures were forcast to be in the high 80’s or low 90’s, and temperature records for the date were expected to be broken in many areas. As I ran north in upper Las Virgenes Canyon, I wasn’t sure where, or how far, I was going to run. On such a great day, it really didn’t matter.

Yesterday I’d looked across at Simi Peak while ascending Ladyface, and realized it had been more than a year since I’d run to Simi Peak from the Victory trailhead at Ahmanson Ranch. Rain was forecast the following weekend, so I’d better take advantage of the good weather while I had it! The out and back run to Simi Peak would be a good one.



The most direct route to China Flat and Simi Peak from upper Las Virgenes Canyon road is the Sheep Corral Trail. This singletrack trail forks left (west) from the road where Las Virgenes Canyon splits, initially following the main creek west, rather than the pipeline north. The singletrack is popular with mountain bikers and can be used to connect to the Cheeseboro Ridge and Cheeseboro Canyon trails. Both of theses trails are good options for doing a lollipop loop back to Las Virgenes Canyon.

Today I would continue past Cheeseboro Ridge and Cheeseboro Canyon to the Palo Comado fire road. Palo Comado leads up and over a low pass to an old sheep corral at China Flat. Simi Peak is bit more than a mile west of the corral. It usually takes about 15-20 minutes to run there from the sheep corral.

Here’s an interactive Cesium browser View of a GPS trace of my out and back route.

Some related posts: Simi Peak Out & Back, Scenic Route to Simi Peak, Vernal Pool at China Flat

Racing the Sun, Catching the Moon

Racing the Sun, Catching the Moon

For an eighty degree day, it had been surprisingly cold in Las Virgenes Canyon. The canyon’s east-facing slopes had been in shadow for much of the afternoon, and had lost any residual warmth to a crystal clear sky. The refrigerated air had spilled from the hillsides, collected in low points, and flowed in a frigid stream down the canyon.

In running shorts and a t-shirt, the cold air had been invigorating, but in the fading light I was glad to be out of the canyon, and running up the Beast toward Lasky Mesa.



The sun had set about 30 minutes before. Unmarked by clouds or contrails, the colors of the western sky were remarkably pure, ranging from the warm yellow-orange of a fleeting day to the cold steel blue of approaching night.

The sweet licorice scent of fennel swept past on a warm current of air. Along the trail crickets called, buoyant and hopeful; and a covey of quail chattered anxiously, debating flight. Above, the moon and Jupiter shone brightly, already beginning to illuminate the landscape.

On a hill to my right a solitary coyote yipped, and a nearby hillside answered in an excited sing-song of yips, yaps and yowls. Moments later another band answered the first, and then faraway a third.

Early in the run I had pushed the pace hoping to beat the sun back to car. Somewhere on the north boundary ridge it had become clear that I would lose the race with the sun. But I also realized it would not be a problem. There was no rush. I could catch the moon.

Ladyface the Long Way

Ladyface from Heartbreak Ridge
Ladyface from Heartbreak Ridge

I wasn’t familiar with the routes on Ladyface, and wasn’t certain I could get to the peak directly from the Heartbreak Ridge trail. But that’s part of the fun of an adventure run. I had a general idea of what I wanted to do — an out and back from the Phantom trailhead in Malibu Creek State Park to the top of Ladyface. And I had an idea of the time available to do it — about four hours. The details would sort themselves out along the way.

Or at least that was the theory. It was now three in the afternoon, and I was one hour and 56 minutes into sorting out those details. Theoretically, I was supposed to be on the summit of Ladyface in about four minutes.

View from Ladyface to Heartbreak Ridge and Ventura Frwy.
View from Ladyface to Heartbreak Ridge and Ventura Frwy.

Earlier, I had run out of trail descending Heartbreak Ridge, and had used a network of coyote paths to get down to Cornell & Kanan roads. But then I chosen the wrong “trail” to start the climb of the peak.

For sure the route would follow one of the prominent ridges on the east side of the mountain. Since the descent of Heartbreak Ridge left me on the northeast side of the peak I had looked for a route there. One car was parked at the start of a dirt road, and a street vendor had indicated he’d seen people start the climb there. My thought was that maybe an established trail would work up the canyon and onto the northeast ridge.

Wrong Charlie Brown! The trail, which (ha!) turned out to be a freeride course, was a dead end. Following it burned about 10 minutes and a good chunk of elevation gain. I ran down and jumped up onto the northeast ridge, where I found a use trail.

Hikers descending the east/southeast ridge of Ladyface
Hikers descending the east/southeast ridge of Ladyface

Low on the ridge it looked like this trail might go to a subsidiary peak and not the true summit of Ladyface. Whatever it did, I was now short on time, and committed to this approach. I would follow it until either I ran out of time, or reached a summit.

The face was deep in shadow and wet from Friday night’s rain. Still a couple hundred vertical feet below its top, I zig-zagged up through the steep outcrops of Conejo volcanic rock. It wasn’t how I had pictured the trail on Ladyface, and I hadn’t expected to be climbing on wet, mossy holds for the second weekend in a row.

Two hours and 3 minutes into the adventure I scrambled onto the summit. A surprised hiker asked, “Where did you come from?” I explained, and he commented, “I’ve never climbed Ladyface that way.”

I jogged down the well-used, but somewhat manky trail on the east/southeast ridge, followed Kanan back to Cornell Rd., climbed back up Heartbreak Ridge, and made it back to the car a couple of minutes after five o’clock.

Boney Mountain Morning

Crags on Boney Mountain's western ridge.

The face was not steep, but I was glad the pockmarked volcanic rock had big holds. Rainwater filled some of the pockets, and patches of lichen and moss on the face were saturated and slippery. It wasn’t a runout climb at the Needles or Tuolumne Meadows, but gravity still worked the same way. I reminded myself not to do something “stoopid.”



At the top of the face I looked around and sighed, and then looked around and sighed again. It was another stunning morning on the western ridge of Boney Mountain. To the west a nearly full moon struggled to remain above the hills, its brightness veiled in a mix of clouds. Another storm was expected in the evening, and the sky told of its approach. Broad strokes of cirrus brushed the blue above, and here and there fingers of tattered stratus reached into the coastal canyons and clung to the wet hillsides.

Today’s forecast for the Santa Monica National Recreation Area had called for mostly cloudy skies, and a high in the 60s. At the moment it was mostly sunny, but already there were hints of clouds developing on the ridges and mountaintops. At some point in the day the clouds would envelop the mountains, and transform the morning’s expansive vistas into a dimensionless gray. I hoped to get up the ridge, over Tri-Peaks, and to Sandstone Peak before that happened.



By chance the clouds behaved, and the splendid views and weather continued all the way to Sandstone Peak, and beyond. The run back to the Wendy Drive trailhead on the Backbone, Sycamore Canyon, and Upper Sycamore trails could not have been better.

As I climbed the final little hill to the parking area I noticed I had no shadow. Over the course of the afternoon the cloud deck would continue to lower and thicken, and by evening light rain would begin across the area.

Some related posts: Clouds and Crags, Conejo Valley Sun and Boney Mountain Clouds, Sandstone Peak from Wendy Drive

Mt. Baldy Run Over the Top

Mt. Baldy from the North Backbone Trail

Mt. Baldy from the North Backbone Trail

If you have a passion for the outdoors, you can get pretty creative when devising a reason for doing a particular run, hike, climb, ride, paddle or other adventure. My rationale for today’s outing was that I “wanted to measure a tree.”

The tree is an isolated and aged Sierra juniper poised on a rocky ridge on the North Backbone Trail on the back side of Mt. Baldy. I’d noticed it while doing the North Backbone Trail in 2006. At that time I had estimated the girth of the tree from a photograph, using my cap for scale. I’ve been intending to get back to the tree for years, and hopefully that was going to happen today.

With one little twist. This time, instead of approaching the tree from the Blue Ridge trailhead on the back side of Baldy, I was going to start at Manker Flat, climb up Baldy, and then descend the North Backbone Trail to the tree. This meant I would get to climb Mt. Baldy twice.



It made sense to me. Labor Day weekend I had opted to do a run in the Sierra instead of the Mt. Baldy Run to the Top race. This way I could get in a good shot of elevation gain on Mt. Baldy, enjoy the wildness of the North Backbone Trail, and also measure the circumference of the Pine Mountain juniper.

Step one was to get to the top of Baldy. Instead of following the more circuitous seven mile route of the “Run to the Top” course, I took the most direct route to Baldy’s summit — the Ski Hut trail. This trail reaches the summit in a little over four miles, gaining about 3800′ of elevation along the way. It’s a rough, no nonsense trail that in its upper reaches has a wonderful high mountain character.

I was a little late getting to the trailhead, and started running up San Antonio Falls Road about 8:30. A little less than a mile from Manker I turned off onto the Ski Hut trail and started chugging upward.



What is it about a trail to the top of a peak that makes you want to push the pace? Even before I noticed the hiker below me, I was pushing it. I ran in the few places I could, but the trail was unrelenting. Was he going to catch me?

In retrospect, I might as well have stopped to pick gooseberries. I was trying to stay ahead of a runner who had averaged 5:40 minute miles on a championship cross-country course.

Hayk caught me just below the ski hut. From there to the summit we talked about running, racing, mountains and more. He had recently run a couple of marathons, and was interested in getting into ultrarunning. Even after slowing to my pace for the last two miles, his time to the summit from Manker Flat was a speedy 1:26.



It was clear above the haze in the valleys and low clouds along the coast. From Mt. Baldy’s summit, all of Southern California’s high points could be seen. To the east were the mountains of the San Gorgonio group and San Jacinto Peak; to the south Santiago Peak; and to the northwest an array of peaks in the San Gabriel mountains, including Mt. Wilson, Strawberry Peak, Twin Peaks, Mt. Waterman and Mt. Baden-Powell.

After spending a few minutes proselytizing about the great running in the surrounding mountains, I shook hands with Hayk and started jogging down the North Backbone Trail. Step two in this adventure was to get down to the tree.

After all the uphill on the Ski Hut trail, the first few yards of downhill felt pretty good. But as the trail started to plunge down Baldy’s north face, it became all too clear that THIS downhill came at a high price. Every stride down was going cost at least a couple of steep steps up on the way back.

Then there was the uphill on the downhill. The North Backbone isn’t a uniform, well behaved ridge. It has ups and downs. Big ups and downs named Dawson Peak and Pine Mountain. Just descending to the tree would require 1200′ of elevation gain, and there would be much more than that returning to Baldy.

I tried not to think about it. There was just too much to see and enjoy. The area’s complex geology had produced dramatic ridges, mile deep canyons, and 9000′-10,000′ peaks. There were windswept Jeffrey pines and gnarled and twisted lodgepoles. Rabbitbrush bloomed in profusion, its bright yellow flowers contrasting sharply with the greens of the manzanita. Here and there red daubs of paintbrush accented the sparkling tiles of gray-green Pelona schist.



It was a spectacular place to be. After doing the North Backbone Trail for the first time in 2006, I came back the following weekend and did it again. It’s that kind of place — wild, scenic and adventurous.

How far down was that (dang) tree? I’d left the summit of Pine Mountain some time ago, and was still going down, down, down. The lodgepole pine forest on my right had the right look, but the slope to my left wasn’t steep enough. Maybe just down this hill… Is it at this little saddle? Just down the ridge a little more…

Epilogue: The circumference of the juniper measured 14′ 6.5″ or about 174.5 inches. See the post Pine Mountain Juniper for more info about the tree.

Some related posts: Mt. Baldy North Backbone Trail, North Backbone Trail Revisited

Cottonwood – New Army Pass Trail Run

Natural trail marker on the western approach to New Army Pass

Of the trail runs I do regularly, the Cottonwood – New Army Pass loop is the closest one to Los Angeles that goes over 12,000′. It starts at an elevation of about 10,000′, and reaches an elevation of 12,300′ at New Army Pass.

The run loops through glacier-sculpted Eastern Sierra terrain, crosses the crest twice, and along the way passes some spectacular high mountain meadows, lakes, and stands of weather-hardened foxtail pines.

Because of the altitude and the technical nature of some sections of trail, this run feels longer than the 21.25 miles indicated by my GPS. Another reason it seems longer is that I usually do the run as a day trip, driving from a few hundred feet above sea level in the San Fernando Valley, up to the Horseshoe Meadow trailhead at 10,000′. Depending on the number of photo stops, and if I have to stop for water, the loop can take 30% to 40% longer than a loop of the same length and elevation gain near sea level.

Today’s run of the loop was outstanding. Short-sleeve and running shorts weather, and people on the trail as happy to be there as I was.

Some related posts: Cottonwood – New Army Pass Loop, Mt. Langley in a Day from L.A., Climate Change and the Southern Foxtail Pine