Saturday: Los Pinos Peak via Bell View Trail (10/9/2021)
When I touched the Northern Terminus of the PCT, I died as a thru-hiker and was reborn as a day-hiker. Well, today I fully resumed the latter, resurrecting my Saturday hiking habit by heading out into the Santa Ana Mountains and Cleveland National Forest.
For this hike, I headed to the top of Los Pinos Peak via the Bell View Trail. This hike has been on my list for a while, but that area has been closed for fire recovery for at least the last year (if not more). So when I got back and saw that the way was now open, I figured I had to take it. Plus, it's a considered a tougher trail--it's a ridge trail that goes up and down lots of local peaks on its way to the top, and it's pretty overgrown for the last couple miles to boot--and I figured I'd better make use of the remnants of my PCT fitness before I lost it all!
But as I started the hike, I immediately realized that I had basically forgotten how to hike. On the PCT, towards the end, it would take me 20-30 minutes to warm up at the start of the day, although that was mostly loosening up aches and stiffness. But this was different: this wasn't warming up, this was hiking at the wrong pace, with the wrong breathing, and while exerting the wrong effort. Everything was out-of-sync, leading to unsustainable hiking where I would tire myself out much too quickly. It wasn't until I got to the flagpole (there's a large American flag atop the first hill that serves as a popular out-and-back destination for day-hikers), after about an hour of struggling, that things finally clicked, and my body finally remembered how to hike.
Which was good because from the flagpole the trail became more challenging. Bell View Trail is indeed a tougher trail, walking along a ridge and climbing up and down lots of local peaks all the way to Los Pinos Peak and, unlike the PCT, it's not graded for livestock, so it ends up being pretty steep in parts. There was one peak where I had to pull out the gloves and use my hands to grab onto rocks and pull myself up. (Nor was the descent on the far side a piece of cake!) Plus about two miles from the peak the trail started becoming overgrown. Nothing impassable--just careful steps and some ducking to avoid low-hanging branches--and I never lost the trail. But here is also where I started to see the bright red leaves of poison oak, which were soon accompanied by tall fronds of poodle-dog bush; luckily all scattered rather than clumped so usually easy to avoid, but it was made me hesitate before I shrugged my shoulders and just continued on--I mean, what are you going to do?--trying my best to avoid it.
After those final two miles, I finally came to Los Pinos Peak which was, of course, nothing impressive: in the Santa Anas, a peak with a magnificent view is more the exception than the norm. Rather, the "impressive" part is in the getting there, not the being there. I dropped my bag, signed the trail register, looked longingly at one of the other trails to the top sliding down the ridge to the south, and the continued on.
Now I had intended to hit Los Pinos then descend down the east approach to hit Main Divide to ensure connectivity, then head back down the way I came. But there had been some pretty steep parts on Bell View, and I was loathe to descend down them. So instead I figured I could go to Main Divide then descend down Trabuco Trail, which I remember being more gradual. (Granted that would eventually lead me to O'Neill Regional Park and ascending out of the Arroyo Trabuco watershed up into Robinson Ranch to get back to the car would be tricky, but I figured I'd jump off that bridge when I got there.) Plus, Horsethief Peak was over that way--a detour of a couple miles--another unimpressive peak (much less so than Los Pinos). And so I headed out towards Main Divide to first take the side-hike to Horsethief Peak, then take come back and take Trabuco Trail down. Good plan!
So one of my comments on the PCT was that it never quite gave the same sense of physical adventure that my Saturday day hikes did. Now by the end of the PCT, after the various tricky--and sometimes, frankly, dangerous--river crossings in Oregon and Washington, this was no longer true, but the rest of this Saturday hike would have served as an example of what tricky situations I often get myself into on day hikes. First, when I got to Main Divide, I found a big red sign announcing that the Trabuco Trail was closed, with a mess of branches damming the trailhead. Hmm, well there's another trail--West Horsethief--that also goes down this same canyon but on its north side rather than its south and maybe it's open? It was at least an hour away, though, so if it was closed, I'd have to come back and go down Bell View anyway, only now it'd be in the dark. But I decided to risk it, and to drop by Horsethief Peak on the way there. And that was the second: I went up Horsethief Peak on its south side (which was steeper than I remembered), breezed right past the top without really noticing (which was as I remembered: singularly unimpressive), then descended down the north side. Only this northern descent was pretty much gone, clearly not having been re-trailed since the fire came through. This was pretty much a bushwack: the way overgrown, with no real trail to follow, but luckily there was only one way to go. Although at one point there was a huge washout, with walls 8 feet tall, and the only way down was to gingerly walk across the thin sandy lip at the edge, while being crowded by unyielding bushes. And even at the end of this northern section, rejoining Main Divide, just getting down from the height required negotiating a bluff that was steep, overgrown, and sandy from the fire, all a recipe for untrustworthy footing. And third, when I got to West Horsethief, of course I saw the same red sign announcing the trail was closed, so had to go back to Bell View. Luckily I was able to get to Bell View and descend past those overgrown two miles at the top just before I ran out of daylight, but I had to do the final 5-6 miles in the dark with a headlamp. And this was the fourth adventure: there were some pretty steep descents mixed in there, and looking down these in the dark would just freak me out--when I can't see their end in my imagination they become interminable and rapidly hopeless. In these cases all I can do is to focus on the immediate, which is tractable, accomplish the next few steps, and repeat. And finally, the fifth adventure: given the multiple steep descents, by the end my knees were complaining with a sharp pain under the kneecap. This pain I know: it ultimately leads to the knee locking up, which would make these steep descents much more difficult. Well, there's nothing to do but to manage it: to take frequent breaks, often in the middle of a descent, and let the pain subside, then continue. In fact, in the end rather then go up and then inevitably down a final hill, I instead took a side trail into the neighborhood, and eked out the end with some much more level road walking. All this lead to an "exciting" end of the hike, with lots of "adventure" mostly springing from decisions--the first to try and descend down Trabuco Trail, the second down West Horsethief--that ultimately didn't pan out and lead to some dodgy scenarios.
I will say, though, that the second part of the hike did have its quiet spots. Walking along Main Divide between Trabuco Trail and West Horsethief Trail, I was walking through a burn zone. And I had walked burn zones on the PCT and come to appreciate their particular beauty, indeed, some were strikingly magnificent. But here, I didn't see that. Maybe it was because I had seen this area before the fires, when it had been one of the jewels of the Santa Anas, a rare pine forest spread across the top of the mountains, shadowed and quiet and mysterious. But now it was laid bare, just scraggly upturned sticks of trunk and branch, infested with poodle-dog bush and soil turned dry dust. The peaceful reprieve that this place had once offered was now gone, but I could still see it in the familiar twists and turns of the trail, and still remember it in the few trees that had escaped the flames. So to me it wasn't beautiful, but rather sad. It will come back, I know, but on mountain time, and so long after I'm gone.
And that was the hike! Overall a good one, and one which reminded me of the sort of physical adventures I often bumble into on my Saturday hikes, usually when I get big eyes and start thinking I can do a lot more trail than is perhaps wise to tackle!
Some notes:
-- There are actually three approaches to Los Pinos Peak: from the Bell View Trail (the western approach), from Lazy W Ranch (the southern approach), and from Main Divide (the eastern approach). The Main Divide approach is the easiest--it's just a mile from Main Divide/Trabuco Trail junction to the top, and not that tough to hike from, say, Blue Jay Campground up Main Divide to said junction. And in fact, I've done that hike from Blue Jay Campground up Main Divide before--on a lollipop hike up Main Divide, then around West Horsethief Trail and Trabuco Trail, before descending back down Main Divide--and on that hike I'd actually hiked about half of the east approach before running low on daylight and turning around. So close, yet still so far!
-- Some peaks in the Santa Anas with good views: Sitton Peak (great views down the corridor of the 74, which explains its popularity), Santiago Peak (the highest peak in the Santa Anas), Sierra Peak (which gives good views of the corridor of the 91), and Beek's Place (not a peak, but the views down Black Star Canyon are pretty nice).
-- One of the things this hike impressed on me was just how well graded the PCT was. Main Divide--which is a functional dirt road--reminded me of the PCT: much more gently graded, and I found I could nonetheless build up good speed on its inclines and declines. The rest of the hike--Bell View, the connector to Main Divide, the ascent and descent of Horsethief Peak--was much steeper and tougher by comparison. But on these I found that at least I still retained enough breath and leg strength to continue hiking without too much difficulty: the tough bits of these trails was how technical they were, not how much endurance they required. Ah, the benefits of PCT fitness, even diluted as it is by now!
-- Oh, and I should mention: for some of the steeper local peaks along the Bell View Trail, there are alternates: routes that skirt around the peak rather than going up and over. I stayed away from these on the way up, but on the way down, in the dark, I took every one I could. Which was largely safer, except for one local peak where the alternate was washed out and I got that wonderful feeling of looking at what looks like maybe the possible trail in the thin light of a headlamp and wondering, wait, is that the right way? It's hard to tell. Hmm, am I still on the trail or have I lost it? Am I basically following an animal trail or, even worse, deluding myself and just making my own? Luckily, for this one usually after maybe 20 yards or so the trail would reemerge and I'd feel at least a little bit better. But this alternate is dicey in parts--although still better than the local peak, let me tell you!
-- There were folks on the trail! The expected hikers headed up to the flagpole, of course, but even beyond there, on the way up to Los Pinos Peak, I bumped into a few hikers coming down. And one stalwart mountain biker, dutifully carrying his bike up a rather steep slope. But after getting to Los Pinos Peak, I didn't see anyone else for the rest of the day. I will say that talking to other hikers was a bit strange: I'm still used to the PCT, where you talk to people with the implicit assumption that, in time, you'll see them again. But with day-hikers I'm pretty sure I'll never see these folks again, and I almost feel I should have taken a bit more time or made a bit more effort to make a better impression. One of the observations from my Saturday hikes was that there are Trail People--who always greet you with a big smile because they're just happy to be out here, and who you can count on to help you without a second thought if something ever went wrong--and there are City People--who are still absorbed in the concerns and issues of the world they came from, and being in their own worlds, usually treat you like a stranger on the street. And I prefer to be Trail People, and to give that impression, but had forgotten that doing so does take some effort. If nothing else, it involves pulling out of the "put my head down and hike" mentality, and instead acknowledging that I'm out here, that being out here is Good, and then reveling a bit in that Good. Because *that's* where the smile comes from! Need to remember: I'm not a thru-hiker trying to make miles anymore, I'm just a day-hiker out for a stroll!
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