From this morning’s ascent of Topanga Lookout Ridge.
From this morning’s ascent of Topanga Lookout Ridge.
Except for a teaser storm system in early November that brought a smattering of rain to the metro area and some snow to the mountains, the Los Angeles rain year is off to a parched start.
As of December 1, Downtown Los Angeles (USC) has recorded only 0.11 inch of rain since July 1. Along with 1995, this is the 7th driest start to the rain year over the 144 years weather records have been kept in L.A.
Update December 29, 2020. In the first significant storm of the rain year, Downtown Los Angeles recorded 1.82 inch of rain, bringing the rainfall total up to 1.95 inches. The storm total was more than generally forecast, but L.A. is still about 2 inches below normal for the date. The rain does move 2020 out of contention for the driest first six months of the rain year.
Update December 20, 2020. The period July 1 – December 20, 2020 is the driest on record (for that date range) for Los Angeles. As of December 20, the rainfall total for Downtown Los Angeles (USC) remains at 0.11 inch.
While “past performance may not be indicative of future results,” I was curious to see if, historically, a dry start to the rain year has generally resulted in below average annual rainfall.
There have been 16 years in which Los Angeles precipitation was 0.25 inch or less for the period July 1 to December 1. Rain year precipitation (July 1 – June 30) for those years varied from a low of 4.79 inches in 2017, to a high of 23.43 inches in 1937. Overall, these years averaged 11.34 inches of rain annually, which is 3.66 inches below the current normal of 14.93 inches.
Whether or not annual rainfall this rain year is below normal we’ll have to see. An important consideration is that La Nina conditions are present in the equatorial Pacific. This doesn’t necessarily mean less rainfall in the Los Angeles area, but taking into account a number of factors, the Climate Prediction Center is projecting below average precipitation this Winter in Southern California.
The title photo of silhouetted mountain bikers is from this afternoon’s run at Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (Ahmanson Ranch). The image is an example of a “silhouette illusion.” Are the riders going toward or away from the camera?
Every time I’ve run the Chamberlain segment of the Backbone Trail, I’ve looked at the intriguing rock formation near the top of the trail and wanted to climb it. Looking a bit like an aircraft carrier that’s run aground on a mountain ridge, it’s one of the most prominent peaks along Boney Mountain’s western escarpment. Named “Boney Bluff” by rock climbers, several sport climbing routes were established on the southeast side of the peak in the early 2000s.
Located just northwest of the junction of the West Tri Peaks Trail and the Backbone Trail, the peak is visible from many points in Pt. Mugu State Park. According to lidar-based 1-meter resolution 3DEP data, its elevation is 2985′, which is slightly higher than the 3DEP elevation of nearby Exchange Peak.
Boney Bluff is one of many small peaks and rock formations that are found across the Boney Mountain plateau. Comprised of a fused mishmash of volcanic breccia, the rock quality of these formations ranges from very good to quite bad. Seemingly solid handholds or footholds can break, and because of the way the rock erodes, low-angle sections are often littered with granular rocks that can be very slippery.
Having climbed the Western Ridge on Boney Mountain, I approached Boney Bluff from the north, via the Tri Peaks Trail. My route climbed a slope to the east side of the peak, then traversed right to the base of a jumbled face with several oddly eroded ledges. A short, steep crack and grassy ramp provided access to the ledges above. NOTE: There may be a better way to climb the peak. I was trying to do a relatively direct route and avoid bushwhacking. The route is somewhat manky, but worked for me.
The high point of the peak is on top of a summit block that caps the “island of the carrier.” Many of the formations on Boney Mountain have summit blocks, and these are often the most difficult part of the climb. Rule #1 involving summit blocks: Don’t climb up anything you can’t 100% for sure climb down! This one looked like it might be tricky, but with careful route-finding was pretty straightforward.
Because Boney Bluff is perched on the edge of the Boney Mountain plateau, on a clear day there are outstanding panoramic views of Pt. Mugu State Park and the Boney Mountain area from its summit. Today, the visibility was excellent and Mt. Baldy was visible, 75 miles to the east.
The resolution of the 3DEP Elevation Data is very impressive. While checking the elevation of Boney Bluff, I also noted the 3DEP elevation of several other peaks in the Boney Mountain area. For more info about 3DEP see this U.S.G.S. website.
From an afternoon run in Malibu Creek State Park.
Related post: Weeping Beech
The Overlook Fire Road in Pt. Mugu State Park was nearly empty. I’d seen only two hikers between the top of the Fireline Trail and the top of the Wood Canyon Vista Trail. Maybe it was the wind. There had been 20-25 mph wind gusts much of the morning. Along the ridgelines, the gusts were even stronger.
I’d picked Pt. Mugu State Park to do a run in support of the Santa Monica Mountains Fund’s Run, Walk, Ride, for Wildlife Research. Many mountain lions have included Pt. Mugu State Park in their home range, including P-1, the patriarch of the mountain lions in the Santa Monica Mountains study.
According to the NPS website, the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area is the world’s largest urban national park. Wildlife in the Park is affected by issues resulting from the proximity of urban and wild areas. Among the problems are poisoning from anticoagulant rodenticides, limited genetic diversity, and vehicular deaths. Only by studying Park wildlife can we better understand and manage these and other issues.
Because water is usually available at several spots in Sycamore Canyon, it’s a great place to do a self-supported ultra-length trail run.
So far, today’s run had taken me from Wendy Drive in Newbury Park to Serrano Valley via the Old Boney Trail. I’d circled past the old ranch in Serrano Valley and then descended the Serrano Canyon Trail to Sycamore Canyon. A short jog south in Sycamore Canyon put me at the bottom of the Fireline Trail, which I’d followed up to the Overlook fire road.
Next up was a scenic loop in La Jolla Valley. After that, I would work my way back to the Upper Sycamore Trail via Sycamore Canyon. From there, it would only be a few miles back to the Wendy Drive Trailhead.
The Santa Mountain Mountains Trails Council has been hard at work. Even though they can’t currently accept volunteer assistance, it looked like the Old Boney, Serrano Canyon, and Upper Sycamore Trails had been recently maintained.
I turned the corner, and about 60 yards away, a large, gray hawk was sitting on a fencepost. It looked like it might be a male northern harrier. I stopped and took a couple of photos. If it flew away, at least I might be able to confirm the ID.
In my experience, northern harriers are shy birds, and in most of my previous encounters, the birds have been on the wing. Moving closer, I walked a few steps, took a photo, walked a few more steps, then took another shot. Astonishingly, I was only about 20 yards from the bird, and it did not fly.
That’s when I heard the fast-paced footfalls of another runner approaching from behind. I held my breath and continued to photograph the harrier. Whether spooked by my presence or the approaching runner, the bird had had enough, and he finally took flight.
Northern harriers, and harriers in general, are unusual birds. They have evolved to subsist in open areas such as grasslands and marshes. Their physical features reflect the requirements of efficiently hunting in these habitats.
Northern harriers are adapted to use vision and sound to hunt their prey. Like owls, they have a facial ruff and asymmetric ears that are used to amplify and locate sounds made by prey. They also are reported to have feather adaptations for flying more quietly.
They are powerful, acrobatic birds. Their wings and tail are extraordinarily large for their body size. In aerodynamic terms, they use variable geometry to maximize lift or glide as needed. In slow flight, they can turn on a dime, leaving virtual skid marks in the sky. During strong Santa Ana winds, I’ve seen them dynamically soaring (like an albatross) on slightly-sloped Lasky Mesa.
One time I photographed a pair of northern harriers hunting on Lasky Mesa after sunset. It was a surreal experience to watch them in the diminishing light. They appeared to be working cooperatively, and their hunt was successful.