The last time I was on Glen Pass was a brisk and brilliant October morning in the late 70’s. Overnight, the first cold front of the season had covered the trail with a few inches of snow. Working up toward the pass, bright fingers of gold had reached through long shadows to illuminate the angular, lichen-covered rocks, and the new snow had sparkled in celebration of Winter’s rapid approach.
Today, I’m back on Glen Pass, once again reveling in the wildness and beauty of my surroundings. There is almost no wind, and even at 12,000′ the day is warm. Refreshed by late season storms, the remaining snow is bright and youthful, accenting the elegant lines of the rugged alpine terrain. In counterpoint to the snow, a patchwork of clouds decorate the intensely blue sky.
In the outdoors, each place and day is remarkable in its own way.
Here are a few photographs from the run:
University Peak (13,589’/4142 m) from the Kearsarge Pass Trail.
The out and back trail run from Onion Valley (9200’/2804 m), over Kearsarge Pass (11823’/3604 m), to Glen Pass (11,978’/3651 m) worked out to about 20 miles, with an elevation gain/loss of about 4750 ft. Here’s a Cesium browser View of a GPS trace of my route and an elevation profile generated in SportTracks.
Our stopover at the Peruvian highland village of Tinqui was one of many memorable experiences on my running trip to Peru. At 12,400′, Tinqui is the trailhead for the Ausangate Circuit — an adventurous route around Mt. Ausangate that crosses two 16,500′ passes.
A 4-5 hour bus ride from Cusco, Tinqui is pleasantly remote and rustic. We arrived on a Sunday afternoon, and after getting settled into our hostel, walked down the dusty main street to the market. Music and laughter erupted from a nearby crowd…
“She told me her name was billie jean, as she caused a scene
Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one
Who will dance on the floor in the round”
Boombox at his side, a blue-jeaned and baseball-capped performer treated the crowd to his best Michael Jackson.
Later that evening, breathing deeply and thinking of the run ahead, I drifted to sleep on the distant, interleaving harmonies of a Catholic Mass sung in the native Quechua language — far from home, but not very far from the nearest boombox, and the influence of Michael Jackson.
Last year on this date, Southern California was in the middle of a heatwave. On June 20, 2008, Los Angeles Pierce College in Woodland Hills reached a record-setting high of 111°F, and on June 21 the temp reached 108°F!
Not so this June! So far this month, Downtown Los Angeles has not had a day when the average temperature was above normal. And it’s not only the low elevation stations that have been cool. Several times this month the overnight low at the Big Pines RAWS, near Wrightwood in the San Gabriel Mountains, has dropped into the thirties, and daytime temps have averaged more than 10 degrees below normal.
This translates to great running weather in Southern California, and near perfect weather for trail running in the San Gabriel Mountains. Today, did the Three Points – Buckhorn loop, along with a short detour up to the summit of Waterman Mountain. The route worked out to about 23 miles with a reality-checked elevation gain/loss of about 3800′. Here’s a Cesium browser View of a GPS trace of the run.
The title photo is of Dave Burke, cruising down a nice section of the PCT between Cloudburst Summit and Cooper Canyon.
There is nothing quite so compelling as an unanswered question.
Several years ago, in the middle of a trail run, an unusually shaped rock formation caught my eye. After a little bushwhacking and exploration, I found a way to climb the formation, and on its summit found a small pictograph. I wondered if there might be other pictographs in the area, and on the way back to the trail found the inscription pictured above.
Later, I took a friend with more ethnographic experience to the top of the rock, and it was his opinion that the pictograph, as well as the nearby inscription, were not of modern origin. He also mentioned that the rock likely marked the point on the southeastern horizon where the sun rises on the Winter Solstice, as seen from a Chumash shrine several miles away.
The pictograph on the solstice rock appears to have been painted using an ochre pigment, which may have been mixed in an adjacent cupule. It is in a harsh environment, fully exposed to the sun, wind and rain. It’s my guess that the white “alignment” reticule surrounding the pictograph is an unfortunate recent addition.
The petroglyph is in a concavity on the north side of a large boulder, and is better protected. That the drawing appears to be astronomical in nature, and is adjacent to a rock possibly used to mark the Winter solstice is probably not a coincidence.
To speculate on the purpose and meaning of such a drawing is to travel in time, and through the thoughts and eyes of another, visit a world far different than our own.
In this case that someone was probably an ‘alchuklash — an astronomer-priest-shaman who was a part of a religious-spiritual cult known as the ‘antap — a pervasive power elite within Chumash society.
The ‘alchuklash were adept astronomers, not only observing the Winter and Summer Solstices, but the moon, individual stars, asterisms, constellations, planets, Milky Way, eclipses and more. The observation and interpretation of the Upper World were an integral part of the Chumash cultural and world view.
But the Upper World did not exist on its own. The Chumash appreciated and celebrated the interdependency of Nature, and events in the Upper and Lower Worlds were inexorably tied to those in the Middle World of everyday existence. Using their specialized knowledge, the ‘antap facilitated communication and interaction between these worlds to the benefit, or peril, of the People.
It is in this context that in the drawing I see the powerful personage of an ‘alchuklash, who has reached into the Upper World. Perhaps the drawing is a commemoration of the power of the place. Perhaps it is a kind of owner’s manual, a premodern PDF, illustrating the purpose of the solstice rock. Or, perhaps it is something we cannot know.
Note: The contrast of the lines in the image has been increased to make them easier to see. In the ten years since I first photographed the etching, some detail has been lost in the lower right corner of the drawing. This image is from April 21, 2009.
Reference: Crystals in the Sky: An Intellectual Odyssey Involving Chumash Astronomy, Cosmology, and Rock Art. Travis Hudson and Ernest Underhay (Foreword by Anthony F. Aveni and illustrated by Campbell Grant). Socorro, New Mexico: Ballena Press Anthropological Papers No. 10, 1978, 163 pp.
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.
Snowbush on the Pacific Crest Trail near Islip Saddle
Below, the throaty rumble of an almost continuous stream of motorcycles echoes through the canyons. Closed by storm damage since the Winter of 2005, Highway 2 from Islip Saddle to Vincent Gap is open again.
It is also busy on the Pacific Crest Trail. I’m southbound on the PCT, and some of the hikers I’ve talked to are doing the route I’m doing — an out and back from Islip Saddle (6650′) to Mt. Baden-Powell (9,399′). At least one group has set up a car shuttle, and will descend to Vincent Gap after climbing Baden-Powell.
Northbound on the PCT, there has been a mix of youth groups returning to Islip Saddle after a night under the stars, and PCTers on their way to Canada. Nearly 400 miles into their 2650 mile trek, the PCTers look great, and if their broad smiles are any indication, they are enjoying life on the trail.
Whether hiking a couple of miles, or a couple thousand miles, it is great day to be outdoors. The weather is cool, and there is not a cloud in the sky. There are patches of snow here and there, and even some snow on the trail. My legs feel good, and I feel good.
Today I decided to keep things simple. Rather than climb Mt. Islip and other peaks along the way, I’m doing a basic out and back route to Baden-Powell. Even so, it’s no cakewalk. A quick calculation using the topo map gives an honest elevation gain/loss of at least 3600 ft.
Earlier, as I worked my way above Windy Gap, I was surprised to feel and then hear a distant, powerful, rumbling ka-boom! It wasn’t a motorcycle, or thunder — it was Space Shuttle Atlantis landing at Edwards!
With a few stops, and a mix of hiking and running, it takes me about 2.5 hours to get to Baden-Powell. No one is on the summit. Across Vincent Gulch, Mt. Baldy (10,064′) looms in the haze. A few ribbons of snow embellish its north face.
I grab a Clif Bar from my pack, and walk along the ridge, looking at the weather worn trees. After a few minutes, I return to the summit and then descend to the Wally Waldron Tree. For an impulsive moment I briefly debate continuing down to Vincent Gap and doing the South Fork loop. It would “only” be about 7 miles longer, and I’d never done the loop counterclockwise… but instead I hang a left onto the PCT and take the first strides toward Islip Saddle. Maybe next time.
Here’s a Cesium browser View of a GPS trace of the approximately 16.5 mile route.
