Wood Canyon Trail, 9/6/2025

Wow, has it really been a month--over a month!--since I’ve been on a trail?

What happened?

Injury. After Copter Ridge, my left leg was hurting: the knee, which felt twisted (for example, just sitting figure-4 cross-legged with my left leg on top produced warning pain around the kneecap); and the hip (which was sore in the mornings). I rested the following week--no hiking--then again the week after when I was on travel in Half Moon Bay. But even after two weeks, it still felt fragile. The pain only flared at the extremums, but it was sharp enough that I worried if I pushed it, it would convert to persistent. So I didn’t hike. And didn’t hike. And didn’t hike.

I’d like to say some resurgent desire broke the inertia, but nothing so heroic: it was obligation. I’d volunteered for trail work last week, and if I said I’d be there, I gotta be there! It was trail assessment work--no tools, no decompacting or shovel or tamping, just walking and observing--but it forced me onto a trail. And the leg did ok! It complained, but it wasn’t shouting “we need to stop and rest!”, but more muttering, “we’re gonna need to get out here more if you’re gonna keep doing this.” Which is as much of an “ok” as I’m going to get!

One of the trail assessments had been down Wood Canyon Trail, inspecting offshoot trails. Huh, I’d thought, new trails!--I should check these out on a hike. Only when I got home and checked my Map, I already had: I’d just forgotten. Reason enough to revisit! And if I started from Canyon Vistas Road--as the trail assessment had--technically there would be a 0.3-mile stretch passing Canyon View Park that I’ve never hiked before. I’ve gone farther for less! Overall, it would be a shorter hike (under 10 miles) and easier (over fairly flat terrain), but that’s good: ease on in. Just in case I’m mishearing my knee. To assuage my ego with at least a little challenge, though, I opted to hike in the afternoon--the hottest part of the day. My watch would cite temperatures in the high 80s and low 90s, so there: at least some work!

I started this hike like all day-hikes: standing behind my open trunk and strapping on my daypack. Usually, as soon as I tighten the hip belt, the pack disappears. It becomes like my arm: I know it’s there and can feel it if I turn my attention to it, but normally I don’t even notice it. But today it felt strange, separate, like something on my back, strange as that sounds. Ah well, nothing for it but to hike: that’s the only way I know to cross this particular uncanny valley! 

The hike was down Wood Canyon Trail, with diverts to check out three offshoots: Alwut Overlook, Dripping Cave, and Cave Rock. After that, turn around and head back. It started up at Canyon View Park--the new line on the Map!--but quickly dropped down from the concrete walkway and manicured lawns of the park, into the packed dirt road and riparian zone of the canyon. There, Wood Canyon Trail shares the narrow canyon floor with Wood Creek and its crowding big trees. I was surprised the creek was flowing--I could hear the gurgling of water somewhere through the trees, and at breaks could glance down the gully to reflections of blues and greens across otherwise dark pools. And surprised that the breeze was blowing--strong across the open space of Canyon View Park, but persevering even in the narrow canyon (I’m guessing because it was so confined it had nowhere else to go!). And, of course, the cover: big trees shade almost all the trail, and even when they break for meadows of yellow, oatish grasses, the gaps are brief, and I more admired than suffered the radiant heat of the revealed sun. The trail reminded me of something I haven’t hiked in a long while: the calm dirt road, wandering lonely and easy through the hills, passing close slopes and small space, quiet, confined, where the land is more forgiving and agreeable than punishing and stark. Both kinds of hikes have their virtues--I just hadn’t been on a pleasant hike, down a pleasant road, along a pleasant creek, in a while!

To occupy my time, then, I made this jaunt into a shooting hike. I’d forgotten the batteries of my intervalometer, so couldn’t do any tripod shots, but that meant eschewing my usual panoply of panoramas and instead focusing on more classical, single-shot photos. Find something interesting that fits in a single frame. A lot of my shots ended up being “small”: the spines of a cholla, gold-tipped in the sun; the alien carving of water through sandstone, in gorges and scoops; a lone aster craning out of the shade, seeking the sun. I kept looking for “good shapes”, then tried to compose them into good shots. The problem with this type of shooting, though, is that it doesn’t convey a strong sense of place. These are individual shots, maybe good (possibly even pretty) in their own right (eh, we shall see), but they could be from any riparian zone in southern California. I doubt they cry out “Wood Canyon!” That’s one of the reasons I shoot panoramas: they capture the lay of the land, and if you see that, you know where you are. There were a few opportunities for that on this hike. Maybe from the bench at Alwut Overlook, or the perch over Cave Rock. Maybe under the overhang of Dripping Cave. Or at the picnic tables where Wood Canyon Trail meets Aliso Creek Trail. I was supposed to turn around there and head back, but then I looked out on Meadows Trail, saw the lowering sun beginning to englow the grasses and leaves and trees, and I diverted. The shot that I had expected--a golden grassland before the enshadowing hills--wasn’t quite there, but I got a shot of the dried husks of thistle spiking overhead against a blaring sun, golden sharp shapes against an endless blue; never begrudge your time on trail!

That diversion done, all that remained was to hike back up Wood Canyon Trail--the Back in this Out-and-Back. But I couldn’t do that either, and diverted again: onto Coyote Run and Wood Creek, single-tracks that run parallel to Wood Canyon. It was later in the afternoon now, and the sides of the canyon shadowed everything beneath, so while the sky was still bright and the day still light high above, no sun fell directly on the land I walked. And with that, my shooting stopped--I’ve been spoiled by stark southern California, and don’t have the skill to see shots in dull, uniform light--so instead I concentrated on hiking. Breathing became a focus: a lot of 2-2 orbits (breathe in for 2 steps, breathe out for 2 steps), even some tries with 3-3 orbits. Plus, Coyote Run is a dicey trail: it’s very blind due to the vegetation and turns, but the mountain bikers love it, so I had to stay aware and jump off when they tore by. And so the return concentrated on nothing but the hiking, the movement, the breathing. And listening to my knee! It was still complaining, it felt cranky and stiff, both in the front and back, and along the tendons that extend up and down. But it was more “pain is just weakness leaving the body” than “pain is the precursor to injury”, though, so as long as I didn’t push it too far--didn’t try to go too fast--I figured I would be fine.

There was one surprise. Almost at the end of the hike, after Coyote Run and Wood Creek, back on Wood Canyon Trail, I came upon a snake crossing the road. I first thought him a normal snake, but then I saw the tail: upright, with those distinct yellow beads. I stopped maybe 15 yards from him and let him, slowly, almost lethargically, cross. He was 2/3rds of the way across when two mountain bikers rode up behind me. “Snake?”, asked one, seeing me loitering. “Yeah,” I replied, “a rattler.” At that, he rode up behind the snake, stopping to get a better look. His friend, on the other hand, stayed where I was, looking rather dubious. “He can’t reach me from there,” the bold one declared, before adding, “man, he’s a big one!” His friend continued to look dubious. The snake, though, paid us no heed until it got into the grass, where it rattled a bit. “Just letting us know it’s there, it’s not mad,” said the bold one. His friend’s dubosity remained undeterred. To be fair, I think the Bold One was correct: the snake *couldn’t* reach him, and it *wasn’t* mad. For me, though, staying back wasn’t due to fear--I’d seen it well in advance, and it was pretty chill--but out of courtesy. This was the snake’s house, after all, and if he wants to cross the street, he can do so. And people are going to gawk because, well, he can kill them and that demands attention. But if I’m going to gawk, I can at least do it from a ways away, where maybe the snake doesn’t even notice (they operate more on vibration than sight, and I’m standing still). That just feels more respectful, for some reason.

Anyway, when he had comfortably gone into the brush, I passed and looked over and, indeed, he *was* a big one! Very thick around, and very pretty too!

And that was the hike! A shorter one--just an afternoon--with a lot of shooting going there, and a lot of just-hiking coming back. I feel it was an appropriate return after a month away: intentionally under 10 miles, in fact, after my unscheduled wander on Meadows Trail, I skipped a little loop I had planned to do at the end. To great success: my Garmin read only 9.5 miles at day’s end. So indeed easing my way back into things. The leg felt strong enough, and I think for the next couple hikes, a couple LA river hikes--one along the Santiago Creek Bike Trail, the other along the North Fork Coyote Creek Bike Trail, both a smidgen under 10 miles--will work. Basically staying at Tier-10, and pretty flat, but on harder ground (i.e., concrete) with the subsequent increased impact. And they’re two trails I haven’t done before! If the leg holds up on those two, I think I could responsibly entertain going to Tier-15, and heading back into true wilderness. It’s the slow way, but with no big trips on the docket, I’m in no hurry! 

Some notes:

-- Canyon Vistas > Canyon View Park > Wood Canyon Trail > Alwut Overlook > Wood Canyon Trail > Dripping Cave > Wood Canyon Trail > Cave Rock > Wood Canyon Trail > Meadows Trail > Aliso Creek Trail > Wood Canyon Trail > Coyote Run > Wood Creek Trail > Wood Canyon Trail > Canyon View Park > Canyon Vistas

-- To be fair, I suspect my leg ailments--the knee and hip--are interlinked: two flares of a single cause. Possibly one, possibly the other, or possibly something else in the leg entirely.

-- Around the junction of Wood Canyon Trail with Lynx Trail, I got passed by a vehicle. Not a car, not a truck, but what looked like a dune buggie! Open topped, with lots of emphasis on visible suspension and functionality--springs and tubes and pistons--rather than streamlined aesthetics. Two-seater, occupied by two guys in uniforms the same tan color as the buggie. As it passed, I got a glance at the decals: “Orange County Sheriff”, it said, then, “Search and Rescue”. Looks like a pretty fancy (and, to be fair, also appropriate) vehicle for getting around the trails in a pretty swift fashion. I just hoped they were out there on a patrol or test drive, and not on an actual search-and-rescue! (Odds were good: they seemed more relaxed than urgent.)

-- As mentioned, I’d walked the three offshoots--Alwut Overlook, Dripping Cave, and Cave Rock--earlier in the week doing trail assessments with LCF. When I hiked them now, though, I was surprised how much *shorter* they felt. For example, Alwut Overlook: it starts uphill so I put my head down, clasped my hands to the bottom of my pack, and started up. Just as I was getting into a rhythm, I looked up and saw I was passing where we’d seen a deer on Wednesday. Wait, already? On Wednesday, that had seemed a good ways up the trail--certainly a couple of discussions up--but today, it went by so fast I almost passed it without noticing! Just goes to show how much more carefully and deliberately you look at trails when assessing versus when hiking!

-- Toward the end of my divert on Meadows Trail, I came across a bee, upside down, in the dirt. It was pumping its legs, trying--I presume--to right itself. There was a lot of dried thistle and mustard stalk about, so I grabbed a little piece, gently put it up to the bee so it could grab hold, then turned it over and put it--and him--rightside up on the trail. And that was my Good Deed for the day!