Category Archives: running|adventures

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

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.

San Gabriels High Five

Snow on the Pacific Crest Trail west of Mt. Baden-Powell, May 18, 2008.

When considering where I might run this weekend, the words “snow” and “altitude” had a certain appeal. Record high temperatures had been set in the Los Angeles area on Friday and Saturday, and there was little doubt that more temperature records would fall today.


Angeles Crest Highway and the Islip Saddle parking area from the northwest ridge of Mt. Islip.
A couple of weeks before I had dodged a few remnant snow drifts on Pleasant View Ridge. From that vantage point you could see that there was much more snow on the steep, north facing slopes along the ridge between Mt. Islip and Mt. Baden-Powell. The S-shaped ridge spans a distance of several miles and links five peaks over 8000 ft: Mt. Islip, Mt. Hawkins, Throop Peak, Mt. Burnham, and Mt. Baden-Powell. Two of the peaks, Mt. Baden-Powell and Throop Peak, exceed 9000 ft. Today, the plan was to do these five peaks as part of an approximately 17 mile out and back route from Islip Saddle, enjoy the snow before it melted, and try to escape the triple digit temps of the lowlands.


Cabin on the summit of Mt. Islip.
Logistically, the difficult peak is Mt. Islip. While the other peaks can be done with relatively minor deviations from the trail, Mt. Islip stands alone, more than a mile from the PCT at Windy Gap. This time I opted to climb Mt. Islip from Islip Saddle via the northwest ridge. I’ve been investigating stunted Jeffrey and Sugar pines found along the windswept ridges of the San Gabriels, and this direct approach would give me the opportunity to check out more trees.

That was this morning, now I was on by way back from Mt. Baden-Powell, and about a quarter-mile east of Throop Peak. Hot, thirsty, dispirited, and nearly out of water, I had stopped to dig into the side of a dirty snowbank– attempting to get to snow that at least looked clean. The air temperature was eighty-something, but my fingers were stinging with cold as I scooped the coarse crystals into my Camelbak.

It’s amazing what a few sips of chilled water and an icy cold pack against your back can do for your demeanor. A few minutes before I had been debating whether I should just skip Throop Peak and Mt. Hawkins, and get down to Little Jimmy Spring ASAP. Now I could do these peaks and continue to enjoy a very warm — but beautiful — day in the San Gabriel Mountains.

Here’s a Google Earth image and a Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of my route. GPS reception was poor climbing the ridge to Mt. Islip.

Related post: Snowless San Gabriels

PCT North of Walker Pass

Pacific Crest Trail, north of Walker Pass, in the Southern Sierra.

I was headed home from a whitewater slalom training camp on the Kern River, and wanted to take advantage of being in the Southern Sierra and run an unfamiliar section of the Pacific Crest Trail.

Yes, it was windy and there were lenticular clouds in the lee of the Sierra, which meant it might get REALLY windy. No, I didn’t have my regular trail shoes or a hydration pack. Yep, there was some snow on the north side of the peaks on either side of the highway.

The plan was to do an out and back run north on the PCT from Hwy. 178 at Walker Pass (5250′). I didn’t know how far. I hoped far enough to check out the approach to Owens Peak. But that would depend on the amount of snow on the trail, how cold and windy it became, and how much elevation gain my legs had left in them.

It might not seem that paddling a kayak would be hard on the legs, but your legs are your primary connection to the boat, and my legs were worked following several days of strenuous paddling.


Plaque on the PCT north of Walker Pass, that commemorates the naming of Mt. Jenkins.
This post’s photograph was taken about five miles into the run. The plaque commemorates the naming of Mt. Jenkins. It honors J.C. Jenkins, whose Exploring the Southern Sierra and Self Propelled in the Southern Sierra books have inspired many an adventure. It was placed where the south ridge of Mt. Jenkins intersects the PCT.

I continued a mile and a half to a point where I could see the saddle and ridge leading to the summit of Owens Peak. Rounding a corner, I emerged from a wind protected traverse, and was slammed with a cold gust of wind. Ahead, I could see another long stretch of snow covered trail. Owens Peak would have to wait…

Notes: There’s an automated weather station at Walker Pass. This hill of wildflowers was a short distance from the pass.

Google search: $g(Southern Sierra), $g(Pacific Crest Trail), $g(PCT), $g(trail running)