Category Archives: running|adventures

photography, photography|landscape, running, running|adventures, trails, trails|san gabriels, weather, weather|southern california

San Gabriels High Five

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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

photography, photography|landscape, running, running|adventures, trails, trails|sierra

PCT North of Walker Pass

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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)

nature, nature|weather, photography, photography|landscape, running, running|adventures, trails, trails|smmc open space, weather, weather|southern california

A Long Run Kind of Day

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Saddle Peak from the Backbone Trail, in the Santa Monica Mountains, near Los Angeles. Mt. Baldy can be seen in the distance.

The beauty and intensity of the day was infectious. Hours before a cold low pressure trough digging down from the Pacific Northwest had carried showers, thunder, hail, and chilly temps into Southern California. Its rainfall had refreshed the greens of the hills, and accentuated the yellows, purples and reds of the wildflowers along the trail. Its blustery winds had cleansed the sky.

A few minutes before I had completed one run, and now was starting another. I wasn’t certain how much farther I would run — I just knew I had to run.

The day had begun with friends on the Secret Trail in Calabasas. We had run up and over the shoulder of Calabasas Peak, and then ascended Saddle Peak via the Stunt High Trail and Backbone Trail. The view from the summit of Saddle Peak had extended beyond Santa Monica Bay and Palos Verdes Peninsula to the South Bay and Saddleback Mountain. New snow glistened on Mt. Baldy, and to the west the rocky summits on Boney Mountain stood in bold relief.

That 14.5 mile run had ended at Tapia Park. Now I was on the Tapia Spur Trail on the first climb of the Bulldog Loop. On the wind sheltered slope the bright yellow blossoms of tree poppy had begun to unfurl, absorbing the warmth of the midday sun. Distant peaks loomed to within an arm’s reach, and my legs seemed to draw energy directly from the trail. It was a long run kind of day.

Notes: The title photograph is of Saddle Peak from the Backbone Trail, in the Santa Monica Mountains, near Los Angeles. Mt. Baldy can be seen in the distance. The combined length of the runs was about 29 miles with an elevation gain of about 5000 ft.

Some related posts: Tapia Bound, Bulldog Loop and the Corral Fire, Fog Along Malibu Creek

photography, photography|landscape, running, running|adventures, trails, trails|smmc open space

Boney Mountain – Big Sycamore Canyon Circuit

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The Conejo Valley from Boney Mountain.

I liked last weekend’s run so much that this morning I returned to the Wendy Drive trailhead on Potrero Road and was now chugging up the Danielson-Old Boney trail, planning to do another circuit that would eventually take me back down into Big Sycamore Canyon.

Wearing short-sleeves, and without water bottles or packs, a group of three runners passed me as I plodded up the road. I guessed they were headed for the Danielson Monument. That’s where I was going — at least to start. The previous week I had noticed a use trail continuing east from the Danielson cabin site. It was well worn, and a little research confirmed that it was a route up the north flank of Boney Mountain.

My plan was to see where the trail led. That sounds like a given, but trails like this usually have a character of their own, and can lead to interesting areas and variations that demand exploration. Last week a hiker had asked me about this route, and commented that he hoped his group would make it up this time.

It didn’t take long to reach the spur trail to the cabin and monument. I turned left and followed the gently descending trail into the canyon. Where were the other runners? About the time I was beginning to wonder if they were doing an impressively fast and light circuit through Sycamore, I heard fleet-footed voices headed my way. We passed each other at the bottom of the canyon, and I continued the tenth of a mile up to the cabin site and the beginning of my adventure.

The route up the mountain was spectacular! This was not a trail engineered on a piece of paper, but a route that went where possible, following the vagaries and whims of the terrain. A long, sweeping traverse deep in the chaparral would seek a distant ridge and then dive back into the brush before suddenly turning directly and steeply uphill. Views of the valley grew more expansive with each step, and eventually I gained the first summit, marked 2701 ft. on the topo.

From here the trail followed a dramatic ridge, ascending a series of peaklets to a high point at about 2900′, across a canyon and to the north of Tri-Peaks (3010′). My immediate goal was to cross over to Tri-Peaks. From there I would find my way to the Backbone Trail.

What had been a well trodden path, now became less distinct. From my viewpoint, a route up the north side of Tri-Peaks looked improbable. Choked with brush and trees, the peak was an amalgam of massive volcanic blocks and boulders, fused with chaparral.

Following the crest of the Boney Mountain escarpment, I dropped down to a saddle. To my right, the terrain plunged between steep cliffs to Big Sycamore Canyon, more than 2500′ below.

Unsure of the route, but endorphin energized, I followed a path up and into a maze of corridors and rooms among the towering rock formations, eventually emerging at the summit block. Working my way out of the shadows, I traversed around to the south side of the peak. From here the Tri-Peaks trail was an obvious slash in the brush and in a few minutes I was on the Backbone Trail, headed west.

The downhill running on this section of trail is among the best in the Santa Monica Mountains, with memorable views of Boney Mountain’s massive western flank. In five miles and a nearly effortless hour I was down to the Danielson multi-use area.

I stopped for water and briefly debated how far to run down Big Sycamore. Not far — I picked up the Ranch Center fireroad (unpaved) and followed it up to the Hidden Pond trail, finishing the run like last week, on the Upper Sycamore and Danielson/Old Boney trails.

Here’s a Google Earth image and KMZ file of a GPS trace of the approximately 18.5 mile route.

Related post: Big Sycamore Canyon Circuit

photography, photography|landscape, running, running|adventures, trails, trails|smmc open space

Big Sycamore Canyon Circuit

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Rancho Sierra Vista/Satwiwa and the Conejo Valley with snow on the peaks of the Ventura mountains

I was about a mile from the Wendy Dr. trailhead on Potrero Rd. in Newbury Park. A cold wind ruffled the chaparral, and to the north snow could be seen on McDonald Peak (6870′) and other peaks of the Ventura mountains. I was nearing the top of a rounded ridge in Rancho Sierra Vista/Satwiwa, and in a few minutes would be descending the sun-warmed Old Boney Trail into the upper reaches of Big Sycamore Canyon.

Big Sycamore Canyon extends from the ocean to within a mile or so of Potrero Rd. It forms the main trunk of an extensive network of trails in Pt. Mugu State Park. Of the many possible trail combinations, my loosely defined plan was to link some of the trails on the XTERRA Boney Mountain Trail Run course into a longer run.

The general idea was to start on the Old Boney and Blue Canyon Trails, and return via the Hidden Pond and Upper Sycamore Canyon Trails. I was looking to do about 20 miles, and wasn’t sure how far down Big Sycamore I would run, or what other trails I would do.

The run up and over the shoulder of Boney Mountain was brisk and blustery. On the way I checked out the waterfall spur trail and the Danielson cabin site and monument. At one point, several miles into the run, the trail rounded a ridge and descended into a bowl at the head of a broad canyon. Here, the character was unmistakably that of the wilderness — isolated and wild with the chaotic western escarpment of Boney Mountain towering above.

About two hours into the run I pulled into the Danielson multi-use area in Big Sycamore Canyon. There’s a water spigot here, adjacent to a fireplace in a low-walled picnic area. While topping off my Camelbak, I noticed a runner on nearby Big Sycamore Canyon road, then another, and another. A continuous stream of runners was passing by — I had forgotten that the Lasse Viren 20K was this weekend!

Down in the canyon the weather was perfect for the race. Swept along by the wave of runners, I missed my connection with the Two Foxes trail, and it wasn’t until the aid station at Wood Canyon road that I turned off the race course. Within a couple hundred yards I happened upon the southern end of the Two Foxes trail and worked my way back up the canyon about half a mile to the bottom of the Coyote Trail.

The previous evening I had taken a look at the Tom Harrison Santa Monica Mountains West Trail Map and noted that the Coyote Trail, Hidden Pond Trail, and Upper Sycamore Trail could all be linked together in one long single track extravaganza.

I had not done these three trails and enjoyed the exploratory feel. The Coyote Trail and Hidden Pond trails were outstanding, with excellent running and highline views. The Upper Sycamore trail is classically riparian, winding its way among white-barked sycamores and stream rubble, in a stream eroded canyon to its junction with the Old Boney Trail about 1.5 miles from the Wendy Drive trailhead.

Here’s a Google Earth image of a GPS trace of the approximately 19 mile route.

photography, photography|trail running, running, running|adventures, trails, trails|san gabriels

Condor Peak Trail Run

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Trail runner on the Condor Peak Trail as it nears Condor Peak.

The temp was in the 30’s and it took a couple of minutes for my car’s engine to warm enough to thaw the coating of ice on the windshield. I was headed for a run in the San Gabriel Mountains and was wondering how cold it might be.

In a November in which 29 days had been bone dry, it had rained on the 30th, and temps had cooled dramatically. That was day before yesterday. This morning the sky was still a storm-cleansed blue, and except for a few passing high clouds, promised to stay that way. If the winds were not too brisk, it could be one of those invigoratingly crisp late Autumn days — cold in the shadows, but warm and pleasant in the sun.

About an hour later Miklos and I were working our way up the Condor Peak Trail (13W05), not far from the trailhead on Big Tujunga Canyon Road. At the parking area I had shed some extra layers and was now running in shorts and a light long-sleeve top. In the pack were an ultralight shell, gloves, and a headband.

About a 1/4 mile from the parking area we caught up to some hikers and their dogs. They asked us if we were headed “to the top.” I replied that we were doing Fox Mountain and Condor Peak, and would continue on to the Trail Canyon Trail.

“Do you have a car at the Trail Canyon trailhead?”

“Yep…”

“You know it’s 17 miles, right?”

“Yep…”

Twenty minutes into the run, we reached the point where the old trail jumps up from Big T and joins the main trail. From here we turned north, away from the highway, and began a long, winding, uphill course that would eventually reach the divide between Fox Mountain (5033′) and Condor Peak (5440’+). This meandering approach resulted in a very runnable section of trail that gains about 2500′ in 5.5 miles — an average 8.6% grade.

As the trail wound in and out of canyons, and from shadowed to sunny slopes, the temperature contrasts were startling. Within a few feet, we would stride from balmy, solar heated granite alcoves into frosty, refrigerated nooks near freezing. We estimated the difference in temperature to be 30-40 degrees.

Gradually we gained elevation, and in about an hour and a half we crested the broad divide at the base of Fox Mountain. From this point a short — but steep — path leads directly to Fox’s summit. 

Deep in morning shadow, the east side of the peak was cold! The ground was frozen, and heavy frost covered fallen leaves of chaparral. A few strenuous minutes and we were atop the peak, relishing the warmth of the sun and the panoramic view. Mt. Lukens, Josephine Peak, Strawberry Peak and Mt. Wilson loomed nearby. Further to the east, beyond Mt. Waterman and Twin Peaks, Mt. Baldy glistened white with a new coat of snow. Dressed for running, and damp from the climb, chill breezes hurried us from the summit.

Peak to peak the distance from Fox to Condor is over two miles. That’s what the map says, but on the ground Condor looks deceptively close. Several false summits amplify the deception, and many a hiker has been deceived. Even having viewed the route from Fox and climbed the peak before, I still did not fully appreciate the distance.

The scramble up Condor was a little longer than the hike up Fox. The peak has twin summits at very nearly the same elevation. We were curious which summit would have the register and found it on the more westerly summit. To do both Fox and Condor only added about an hour to our run.

Once down from Condor Peak it took about twenty minutes to hoof it over to the Trail Canyon Trail (13W03) junction. From here the trail drops about 3110 ft. in six miles. The grade of the trail is steeper than the Condor Peak trail, and a little more rocky and technical. Where the Condor Peak trail seeks the high lines, the Trail Canyon trail follows a creek and plunges into a deep riparian canyon.

Back at the car we marveled at what an enjoyable run it had been. The perfect weather and nearly ideal grade of the trails seemed to make the run almost effortless. It isn’t always that way.

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

Note: Although the Trail Canyon drainage is relatively small, it appears to have generated some sizable flash floods and debris flows. The canyon forms a huge southwest facing “rain catcher.” During Winter storms, the canyon wrings water from moisture laden wind as it is funneled into and up its slopes.