San Gorgonio, Northside Chute

It had been nearly two years since my last trip to the San Bernardino Mountains, primarily because worthwhile outings there require a full day.  And this was not to be an exception.  A 2:45AM alarm was necessary to start hiking from the South Fork trailhead before 6:00.  By 8:30, we were replacing shoes with boots at Dry Lake.

The snow was mostly firm until we reached the open moraine above Dry Lake.  From that point on it was variable with an abundance of sudden postholes through seemingly firm crust.  The conditions improved as we ascended the chute.  The snow petered out a few hundred vertical feet below the crest, providing an hour of classic scree climbing (reminiscent of the slog to Mt. Russell's East Ridge).  A little after noon, we were relieved to step onto the 11,490 foot summit of San Gorgonio. 

The joy of glissading down the north side was short-lived, as we immediately found ourselves mired in unconsolidated mush.  After a solid hour (or two?) of regular, albeit unpredictable, postholes, we stumbled back to Dry Lake.  By 5:30, we were on the road, ingesting caffeine and pretzels.  Miraculously, I was back in south Orange County at 7:15PM (much better than the three hours it once took me to drive home from there).   

The numbers: 4600+ vertical feet; 11+ hours round trip.

 Patrick at Dry Lake.

 Stepping into the uncooperative snow above Dry Lake (Jepson Peak on the left).

 Approaching the chute. 

 Following a glissade run up the chute. 

Mt. San Jacinto from near the summit. 

 Patrick taking time to savor a posthole. We ascended the chute second from left and glissaded the far left chute. 

 The calm before the storm (Jepson Peak).

One last look back at Mt. San Gorgonio.

Pinos Peak via Bell Ridge

Yesterday (March 1), Patrick Moran and I took a surprisingly great hike up and down Bell Ridge to Los Pinos Peak (4,510 feet) in the Santa Ana Mountains.  Though the net elevation gain is ~3000 vertical feet, all of the ups and downs on the serpentine ridge make it 4300+ vertical feet round trip. This trail, which I heard about from a friend, is not marked on any map or guidebook I've seen, though it is discussed in some mountain biking blogs. 

The numbers: ~13 miles, ~4300 vertical feet, 5.5 hours.

 A misty dawn.

Patrick exuding some serious aura.

The snow and mist made for a refreshing hike. 

 Patrick on the summit, which we reached at 9:15.

Santiago Peak, um, peaking above the clouds. 

 Heading down.

Looking back up the ridge. 

Spur of the Moment (Mt. Baldy)

Patrick Moran and I planned to hike the Devil's Backbone Trail on Mt. Baldy yesterday.  But after walking up the dirt road for twenty minutes, the urge to get off the beaten path became irresistible.  Thus, on a whim, we ascended a trail-less spur ridge that drops down from Devil's Backbone, two ridges east of Register Ridge.  We eventually merged with the trail and followed it to the top, which we reached at 9:00AM. 

Dawn

Gaining the ridge after ten minutes of groveling

 Comfortable walking on a bed of pine needles

An unusual angle of Baldy Bowl 

Devil's Backbone Trail

The final slog to the summit

West Horsethief / Trabuco Canyon Lollipop

On Saturday (February 11), Abby and I hired a babysitter and explored new terrain (for us, anyway) in the Santa Ana Mountains.  The trailhead was at the very end of Trabuco Creek Road.  Although the first half of the road was improved, the second half was as rough as ever, so we were glad to be in our AWD Subaru . . . at least initially. 

From road's end, we hiked up Trabuco Canyon to the junction with the West Horsethief Trail, avoiding fresh deposits of horse poop along the way.  After the zigzagging ascent of West Horsehief, we intersected Main Divide Road, which we followed for a couple scenic miles to Los Pinos Saddle.  There we headed downhill on the Trabuco Canyon Trail, occasionally jumping out of the way to avoid collisions with reckless and very serious mountain bikers -- they're probably having "fun" in some remote sense of the word, but they often don't look like it.

Returning to the car, we made it about 100 feet before the front right tire exploded after being punctured by a tree root.

The numbers: 10 miles, 2700 vertical feet.

What Abby's car may have become had we not brought a spare tire. 

 Ascending the switchbacks on West Horsethief Trail. 

Getting close to Main Divide Road above the switchbacks. 

Among the conifers on Main Divide Road. Lots of varied vegetation on this hike.

Sugarloaf Ridge to Ontario Peak

Last weekend (February 5 to be precise), six of us scampered up the mostly off-trail Sugarloaf Ridge route to the summit of Ontario Peak in the San Gabriels.  The route involves hiking for about 15 minutes up the popular Icehouse Canyon Trail, stepping off trail and scrambling up Falling Rock Canyon for an hour or so, swimming up the scree slope to Sugarloaf Saddle, negotiating Sugarloaf Ridge for a couple hours, and finally intersecting the beaten path for a few minutes to the craggy top. If I recall correctly, it took about 6.5 hours, including a descent of the friendly, albeit icy, trail. 

Patrick swimming up the scree slope to Sugarloaf Saddle. 

Not much snow in early February on the north side of Ontario Peak.  

Tracie and Norma near the top of Sugarloaf Ridge with a snow-free Baldy Bowl in the background.  This is February? 

The gang (Norma, Tracie, Phil, Patrick, and Dave) on the trail back to Icehouse Saddle.

"The Last Step: The American Ascent of K2"

The Last Step: The American Ascent of K2 by Rick Ridgeway is a thorough and very well-written account of the 1978 expedition that put four Americans on the summit of the world's second highest peak.  Led by Jim Whittaker, who had been the first American to climb Everest in 1963 (and by a new route at that), the expedition was only the third (1954, 1977) to put climbers on K2's summit. 

The four climbers who summitted were Lou Reichardt and Jim Wickwire on one day and Rick Ridgeway and John Roskelley on the next.  Wickwire endured an open bivouac just below the summit, for which he later paid a steep price, and Ridgeway's and Roskelley's tent and one sleeping bag were destroyed by a stove fire after returning to camp from the summit.  Remarkably, there were no fatalities on the expedition.

The team of fourteen climbers took over two months to forge the route up the Northeast Ridge, which had never been followed to the summit. Like most expeditions on 8,000-meter peaks, this one sounded miserable.  Everyone suffered. Adding to the complexity, but ultimately making for a better read, was the affair between Chris Chandler and Cherie Bech, especially because Cherie's husband Terry was also on the expedition.   

Baldy Village Trail . . . finally

Until last weekend, I had never hiked the Baldy Village (a.k.a. Bear Canyon, a.k.a. Bear Flat) Trail, even though I had climbed eight other routes to Baldy summit (Goode Canyon, South Ridge, Ski Hut Trail, Baldy Bowl, Register Ridge, Devil's Backbone, Northeast Face, and North Face).  With fall conditions extending into January, it was time. 

At 5:45AM on January 7, Ryan Bracci, Patrick Moran and I hit the trail in the pitch black.  About one mile in, we were surprised to encounter a party (literally) of three people camped directly on the trail.  They were sleeping on (not in) their tent, were provisioned with a case of beer, and had decorated the trail surrounding their camp with toilet paper, poop, and a condom wrapper.  The scene served as a conversational stimulant for the rest of the day (and for some days to follow).

After briefly losing the trail in the vicinity of Bear Flat, we pounded uphill and didn't take our first break until gaining 3000 vertical feet.  From there to the summit, it was a scenic grind.  We topped out at 10:15 after gaining a total of 6000 vertical feet, and my legs definitely felt it.  By 12:15 we were at Manker Flat preparing to drive to the other car at Baldy Village.

Ryan above Bear Flat.

Ryan at sunrise in the first conifer stand.

 My first glimpse into the upper reaches of Cattle Canyon.

Patrick with Baldy summit directly overhead. 

 Ryan setting the pace across the scenic ridgeline. 

    Ryan (L) and Patrick (R) on top.  A strangely snow-free summit in early January.