Toward Triplet Rocks

Twin Peaks and 'Triplet' ridge from the Mt. Waterman Trail

The prominent ridge extending southeast from Twin Peaks to “Triplet Rocks” can be seen from many points of the Angeles high country. So named because of the triplet of sculpted white granitic monoliths at its summit, the isolated formation is generally considered to be the hardest to reach summit in the San Gabriel Mountains.



Here’s a view of “Triplet” ridge from a run up to Pleasant View Ridge a couple of weeks ago. In the photo Triplet Rocks is the rocky peaklet on the left end of the ridge and Twin Peaks (East) is on the far right. Peak 6834 is the prominent square-topped formation a little left of the midpoint of the ridge.

Today’s loosely formulated plan was to run/hike to the summit of Twin Peaks (east) and then see how far I could get out on the ridge in a reasonable amount of time. At the start of the run I had no idea what a “reasonable amount of time” would be.



It took me about a hour and fifty minutes to reach the east summit of Twin Peaks. On the way there I realized that I should have taken a couple extra bottles of water to stash on the summit. The roughly 60 oz. of water left in my pack wasn’t going to get me very far. I figured I could go about an hour down the ridge and still have enough water to get back and have a little in reserve. The day was windy and dry, but relatively cool. If necessary I could get water at a small spring on the Twin Peaks Trail on the way back.

How far did I make it? In an hour of hiking, scrambling, bouldering, bushwhacking and challenging route-finding, I made it to a rocky ledge  below peak 7120+ and a little before the notch at peak 6834. I guessed it would have taken another 45 minutes to get to the summit of peak 6834. Next time — this wasn’t a place to push it!



I now have a much better idea of what’s going to be required to get to peak 6834 and Triplet Rocks. The north side of the ridge tends to be steep, loose, and at times very eroded. The south side of the ridge tends to be choked with scrub oaks and brush. On the way out I dropped down on the steep north slopes a couple of times; on the way back I tried some improbable lines through brush that (surprisingly) worked out and allowed me to stay more on the crest of the ridge.

It was an unusually busy day on Twin Peaks. On my way down from the peak I encountered several large groups of hikers. When I got back down to the car two tour buses were parked at the trailhead, their drivers patiently waiting for their patrons. Round trip the adventure had taken almost exactly six hours.

Notes:

In the fall of 2010 an experienced hiker doing this ridge became disoriented in rain, snow and whiteout conditions and was reported overdue. Following an air and ground search he was located on the ridge and airlifted to safety. He had notified a relative of his planned route and must have had most of what he needed to get by for the two nights and three days he was out. According to news reports he was in good enough shape to drive home following the rescue.

In April 2021 a hiker who became lost in the Mt. Waterman – Twin Peaks area was found on “Triplet” ridge after spending the night out. The hiker was located with the help of mapping enthusiast who used a photo taken by the hiker to narrow down his location.  The area where he was found was within the Bobcat Fire burn area, and was closed at the time .

Mt. Disappointment 50K 2012 Notes

Mt. Markham

Mt. Markham From Near Mueller Tunnel

Note: The Mt. Disappointment Endurance Run is now the Angeles National Forest Trail Race.

The water felt surprisingly chilly, and for a moment I hesitated before completely immersing myself in the cool, clear water. More a creek than a river this time of year, this crossing of the West Fork San Gabriel River was at mile 17 of the 2012 Mt. Disappointment 50K. At 2760′, it’s the lowest point on the course and marks the beginning of the tough 5.4 mile climb up Edison Road to Shortcut Saddle (4790′).



Edison Road (FS Road 2N23) zigzags up an exposed, south-facing chaparral slope. The climb is warm on the coolest of days — today it was going to be torrid. Southern California was locked in the grasp of a record-setting, multi-day heat wave. During the week I’d taken a thermometer on a run and measured a temperature of 107.6°F on a breezy day at Ahmanson Ranch. All week I’d been checking the computer weather models and watching the temps in the San Gabriel Mountains, hoping for a break in the weather. Nada. The day before the race the “in the sun” temps at the Clear Creek RAWS, near the race course, reached a blistering 120°F.

The performance hit from running in the heat is similar to running at higher elevation. Acclimatization helps, but hot weather reduces performance. The following is from Daniels’ Running Formula:

“You can’t perform as well in a distance race in the heat as you can in a cooler environment… As soon as the body starts to heat up, blood is diverted to the skin, where cooling (through evaporation of sweat from the skin’s surface) takes place. A greater portion of the body’s blood volume is at the body’s surface to facilitate cooling, leaving less blood available for carrying oxygen to the exercising muscles. In effect, to prevent overheating, the body reduces the amount of blood available to enhance performance.”



Submerged up to my neck in sublime coolness, I dunked my head. To this point the heat hadn’t been too bad. Much of the first 17 miles had been shaded and tolerable, and I’d been doing everything I could to stay cool. The “not too bad” part was about to end. Most of the next 9 miles would be brutally exposed and facing directly into the sun.

The dip in the pool only took a couple of minutes, but was worth every single second. Even if my shoes were wet and my jelly beans and salt tabs melted gobs of sugar and salt it was worth it!



Incredibly, the cooling soak made the Edison climb almost enjoyable. Almost — it still took about 50 minutes to get to the Edison Road aid station and another 50 to get up to Shortcut. At Shortcut the fantastic aid station volunteers filled my Camelbak with Heed and ice, and I ate a couple of big chunks of watermelon (really good watermelon) and drank a little cola. I felt good, but should have been thinking ahead and taken a couple of minutes to really cool down here. The ice water sponges were just sitting there waiting to be used and I passed them by. A little too soon I was on my way, and in a few minutes was jogging down the Silver Moccasin Trail.

In the extra-strength rays of the noontime sun, the rocky canyon was a solar blast furnace. Temps were well beyond what I had experienced on afternoon runs earlier in the week.  At any instant I thought I might spontaneously combust. I kept watching the runner ahead of me, expecting him to disappear in puff of smoke.  And there wasn’t much relief lower in the canyon. Most of the trees along the creek had been burned in the Station Fire. There was almost no shade, and in the recovering vegetation the humidity (and heat index) was elevated.

After an interminable time I finally reached West Fork. The pooled water in the W.F. San Gabriel wasn’t as cool as at the lower crossing, but was still refreshing. (The hose from the water tank that Gabor sets up at the aid station was probably cooler and cleaner.) I refilled my Camelbak, and with a cup of cola and ice in hand, headed up the Gabrielino Trail toward Kenyon Devore.



The climb up the Kenyon Devore Trail was — and always is — grueling. Edison Road is tough because some of it is steep and most of it is exposed and hot. KD is tough because most of it is steep, parts of it are hot, and you’ve already done 26+ miles. I took it easy on the Gabrielino Trail, which has some runnable sections, with the hope of being able to maintain a steady pace on KD.

It was warm on the upper part of Kenyon Devore, but at least there was some shade. Last year’s race was unusually hot, but this year’s race was even hotter. This year the temperature (in the shade) on Mt. Wilson hit 86°F a little past 8:00 am and climbed to 96°F by the midafternoon. The temperature (in the shade) at nearby Clear Creek was over 90°F for most of the race, and “in the sun” temps topped out at 116°F!

This was my eighth Mt. Disappointment 50K and by far the hottest and most difficult. How difficult? This year’s middle-of-the-pack time — the median time for all the finishers — was 8 hours 30 minutes. This was nearly 45 minutes longer than the median time in 2011, and 90 minutes longer than in 2006.

One of the main challenges of the Mt. Disappointment 50K is that it starts and ends on Mt. Wilson — the high point of the course. The original course was run from 2005 to 2008, but because of the Station Fire and Mueller Tunnel closure variations of the original course have been done since 2009. This year Mueller Tunnel reopened and we were able to do the part of the original Mt. Disappointment course that goes from Eaton Saddle up the San Gabriel Peak Trail to the shoulder of Mt. Disappointment and down to Red Box.

In this interactive Cesium browser View of the 2005-2011 courses the 2012 course followed the 2005-2008 (green) course to Red Box and then the 2010 (red) course for the remainder of the race. Checking a few GPS track files with SportTracks and using DEM corrected elevations, it looks like the 2012 course distance and elevation gain/loss were about the same as 2011.

Many thanks to Gary & Pam Hilliard, Fausto & Cindy Rowlan, and all of the Mt. Disappointment 50K Staff, volunteers, HAM radio operators, Sierra Madre SAR personnel, runners, and sponsors that helped to make this event happen! Check out the results and photos on the Mt. Disappointment web site!

Related post: Mt. Disappointment 50K 2011 Notes

New Growth on Bigcone Douglas-Fir

New growth on bigcone Douglas-fir

These young-appearing bigcone Douglas-firs along the Valley Forge Trail are probably older than they look. According to the Forest Service Silvics Manual, Volume 1: Conifers, saplings may be only 2 ft. tall when 40-50 years old and as old as 70 years when they break through the oak overstory.



The bigcone Douglas-fir is a very resilient tree that is remarkably fire tolerant. It can lose virtually all of it foliage to a fire, appear to be beyond the point of recovery, yet survive and regenerate its foliage. Fire-scarred bigcone Douglas-firs have been used to analyze fire history and regimes.

The photograph on the left is of a bigcone Douglas-fir along the Valley Forge Trail that was burned in the 2009 Station Fire. Here is a closer view of the same tree showing how new foliage sprouts from buds along its limbs and trunk.

The Valley Forge Trail is in the canyon of the West Fork San Gabriel River in the San Gabriel Mountains near Los Angeles. It connects the Gabrielino Trail to Eaton Saddle on Mt. Wilson Road. The trailhead for Mt. Lowe Truck Trail is at Eaton Saddle.

The photographs are from a trail run in May 2012.

Related post: Red Box – Bear Canyon Loop

Mt. Wilson Rim Trail – Kenyon Devore Trail Loop

Big cone Douglas-fir on the Rim Trail near Mt. Wilson

Brett was down for Father’s Day weekend and one of the things we wanted to do was get in a couple of good trail runs. He’s heard me talk (a lot) about the Mt. Disappointment 50K and how it ends. Basically you run 27 hilly miles with over 3600′ of elevation gain, THEN finish the race by doing a 5 mile, 2650′ climb from West Fork up the Gabrielino & Kenyon Devore Trails to the top of Mt. Wilson.

This final climb tells the 50K tale. If you’ve trained well and run a good race a middle-of-the-pack runner might gain 15-20 minutes on this leg. If not, you could easily lose an hour or more. In any case you put everything you have left into this climb. An elevation profile and some stats for Kenyon Devore are included in the post Hitting the (Big) Hills of Southern California.

There are several ways to incorporate Kenyon Devore into a loop, but I could only think of two that didn’t involve running on Mt. Wilson Road. One option was a 22 mile/5000’gain loop from Shortcut Saddle to Mt. Wilson and back. That wasn’t going to happen because just five days before I’d run the Holcomb Valley 33 Mile race. Instead we opted to start on top of Mt. Wilson and use the Rim Trail, Gabrielino Trail and Rincon – Red Box Road to get to West Fork. This would pare down the loop to a manageable 12 miles and 3000′ of gain.



Other than a “few” gnats, a lot of poison oak and some Turricula (Poodle-dog bush), the Rim Trail was in good shape and the running excellent. Once away from the observatory complex the trail has an adventurous, backcounty feel. The trail was in good enough condition that Brett enjoyed running it in the KomodoSport LS.

The day was going to be a scorcher and I was glad that much of the Rim Trail was on the shaded, north side of the crest. The Gabrielino Trail and Rincon – Red Box Road were also relatively cool and in the shade. With no race clock ticking away, we stopped at West Fork and ate some blueberries and PB&J. So far the route had been down, down, down; but in a few minutes it was going to go up, up, up.



One of the surprises of the day was how much the Turricula (Poodle-dog bush) had grown along the Gabrielino and lower Kenyon Devore Trails since I had been here in early March. A rain gauge near here (Opids Camp) recorded nearly seven inches of precipitation from March 25 to April 26. This appears to have promoted the growth of the Turricula. In a very dry rain season the rain and snow had been much needed. It rejuvenated the streams and vegetation, and the area looked much as it would if the seasonal rainfall had been normal.

The Turricula could not be avoided in some places, but that will be remedied in a couple of weeks when Gary Hilliard’s Mt. Disappointment Endurance Run volunteer trailwork group works on this section of the Gabrielino Trail and the Kenyon Devore Trail.

Update June 21, 2012. Although my contact with Turricula on this run was very limited, I did have a mild reaction, mainly on my arms. There was very slight inflammation and the “prickly” itching that is characteristic of Turricula. The itching became noticeable about a day after exposure and persisted for 4-5 days. Although mild, the reaction was stronger than occurred following several similar encounters last year. One difference was the exposure to poison oak on the Rim Trail earlier in the run. It’s possible that there was a cross reaction. This was observed in animal testing, but not in (limited) human tests. However, my reaction following this latest encounter was much, much milder than my first bout of Turricula, which resulted from wading through large patches of the young Poodle-dog plants on miles of overgrown trail. That first very strong response may have also involved a cross reaction with poison oak.



With the Summer Solstice approaching and the Sun so high, the temperature difference between sunny and shaded sections of trail was remarkable. About the time we were on Kenyon Devore the Clear Creek RAWS recorded a fuel temperature — the temperature of a wood dowel in direct sun — at a scorching 104°F. Brett did well on the climb and could have zoomed ahead. I had not recovered from Holcomb and struggled a bit on the exposed and steep sections of trail. Higher on the trail there was a breeze and more shade and that helped. It also helped pouring water over my head at the creek crossing!

It was great to show Brett Kenyon Devore, and what better way to sharpen the appetite for one of his superbly prepared dinners!



Humboldt Lily



Turricula (Poodle-dog Bush)



California Sister

California Bluebells Along the Gabrielino Trail

California bluebell (Phacelia minor)

Like Turricula (Poodle-dog bush)*, California bluebell (Phacelia minor) has been shown to cause a contact dermatitis similar to poison oak. The results from one study suggest the “dermatotoxic potential” of California bluebell approaches that of poison ivy/oak and that it is more likely to produce a reaction than Turricula.

Fortunately California bluebell doesn’t appear to be as prolific a fire follower as Turricula and is a much smaller plant.

The photograph is from a trail run in May.

*The taxonomic name for Turricula parryi (Poodle-dog bush) has changed to Eriodictyon parryi. The Jepson Manual: Vascular Plants of California, Second Edition (2012) has returned Turricula to the genus Eriodictyon, as originally described by Gray. According to the Wikipedia entry for Turricula (April 11, 2012), “… molecular phylogenetic analysis carried out by Ferguson (1998) confirms that Turricula should be treated as a separate genus within a clade (Ferguson does not use the term “subfamily”) that includes Eriodictyon, and also the genera Nama and Wigandia; Eriodictyon is the genus to which Turricula is closest in molecular terms, and is its sister taxon.” I use “Turricula” and “Poodle-dog bush” interchangeably as a common name.

Related post: Contact Dermatitis from Turricula parryi – Poodle-dog Bush and these additional posts.

Boney Mountain Eclipse Run

Narrative about 2012 solar eclipse

Some things in nature are supposed to be constant. The ground shouldn’t move; a mountain that is here today should be here tomorrow; and if skies are clear and blue, the sun shouldn’t grow mysteriously dim.



Imagine the consternation of our early ancestors, keenly attune to nature, feeling the sun dim and then looking for a cloud they could not find. There is still much of them in us. When the earth shakes or the sun fades, even moderately, we can’t help but react at the most visceral level.

While ee still can’t predict an earthquake with any certainty, we can predict eclipses. Fred Espenak’s NASA Eclipse Web Site includes maps and tables for several millennia of solar and lunar eclipses. Using the web site’s JavaScript Solar Eclipse Explorer you can find the solar eclipses that will be (or have been) visible at a particular location, as well as the type of eclipse, it’s magnitude, and when it will start, end, and reach its maximum. In 2002 I used the Eclipse Web site to plan a trail run to coincide with the June 10 solar eclipse. This afternoon I was doing another eclipse run — the north side loop on Boney Mountain.



Perched on rocky ledge on the western ridge of Boney Mountain, I watched as the light on the landscape became increasingly muted. At the eclipse’s maximum almost 80% of the sun’s area would be obscured and about 85% of its width. The descending veil was tangible. I could not only see it, I could feel it. Even though I understood what was occurring, and that it would not last, ancestral fears were welling up and whispering, “Something is wrong…”



As the time of maximum eclipse approached, bird songs increased as if it was dusk. The wind, which had been blowing in fits and starts began to blow steadily from the west. The temperature dropped another degree or two.

Once the eclipse’s maximum had passed, I continued to work up the ridge, enjoying the extraordinary light. I hoped my wife was getting some good shots of the eclipse in our backyard. Many eclipse viewers are so focused on the sky, they don’t notice the spectacular lensed images projected on the ground and elsewhere by sunlight filtering through trees. The gaps between the leaves of a tree work like a giant pinhole lens, with a focal length of many feet. In the case of the trees in our backyard this produced images of the eclipsed sun 10 inches or more in diameter. Lensed eclipse images were also projected by  sunlight filtering through the chaparral on Boney Mountain.

I topped out on the western ridge around 7:10 and jogged up to the high point between the western and eastern ridges. Across the way three fellow eclipse watchers were on Tri-Peaks, and it sounded like there was a party over on Sandstone Peak. Even with the sun low on the western horizon, you could feel its intensity returning. Only about one-third of the sun was now obscured, and minutes before sunset — about 7:43 — the eclipse would end.



Marine layer haze and long shadows were filling the valleys as I began the second half of my eclipse adventure — running down the eastern ridge and trying to reach the trailhead before it was pitch black. Much of the route was illuminated by the setting sun, and I was able to get past most of the technical running and down to the Danielson cabin site before it became difficult to see. Once on Danielson road the bright western sky provided enough light to run. I made good time down to the creek in Upper Sycamore Canyon and then pushed up the road to Satwiwa. Just enough light remained to run the connecting single track back to the Wendy Drive trailhead.