The Obligatory
"Play safe. Ski only in clockwise direction. Let's all have fun together."
Monday, June 05, 2006
La Jolla Canyon
We've been having some pretty amazing weather here in Southern California recently. Our so-called "June Gloom" marine layer was conspicuously absent for much of last week, and the weekend air was remarkably clear. So on Sunday, after a night of Guitar Hero-partying, I woke up early and drove out to Ventura County.
After about an hour driving on the Pacific Coast Highway (with the windows down, naturally), I parked on the side of the road of the southwestern corner of Point Mugu State Park. A small campground on the beach was starting to fill up with sunbathers and families getting ready to escape the predicted 90-degree-heat. I crossed the highway and headed into the wooded trailhead.
The first part of the trail wound through the coastal mountains, climbing steadily upward. This was pretty much the only elevation gain, so I figured I'd get it over with right away. Under full sun in a cloudless sky, the heat was fairly intense. I'd spent two days in the desert last weekend, but I'm pretty sure I sweat more in that three mile climb than I did all day in the desert.
Thankfully, the trail had some pretty amazing views to keep my mind off the sun. Lizards darted across the trail in front of me, while hummingbirds hovered in the chaparral. I even managed to see a few quail and a small rabbit hiding out. This section was very close to the coastline, too, so there was a great mix of air currents to keep me on my toes. Every so often, a sage-scented blast of hot air would come whistling out of the inland canyons - just as quickly countered with a cool, thick salty breeze pulled up from the ocean. And if that wasn't enough, the trail was lined with late-blooming flowers, adding even more color to the green hills.
The first part of the trail ended at a fire road that straddled the ridge between two expansive valleys. To the west was a sea of waving grasslands in the La Jolla Natural Preserve; to the east, the Tri-Peaks and lower Big Sycamore Canyon (the upper section of which I'd partially hiked back in April). I've been past these mountains looking toward where I was standing right now. It was nice to get the reverse angle. Were I filming a conversation between the peaks, I'd have all the coverage I need.
The fire road soon reached a fork, and I took a trail that led back down into La Jolla Valley and its immense, flat grassland - one of the few native Californian grasslands in existence today. The trail wound through the five-foot-tall stalks, which was a huge change of pace from the exposed ridgeline road I'd just come off of. When the wind passed through the canyon, the grass swayed with a light rustling noise, broken only by a few crows flying overhead.
The effect was immediately peaceful ... except, being raised in Connecticut - the Home of Lyme Disease - I was constantly stopping to check every piece of exposed skin for ticks. Still, a pretty amazing sight.
Suddenly, the grassland trail descended into a fairly dense forest, which surrounded a small hidden lake. Maybe I've been spending too much time in the desert, but when I saw the lake on the map, I'd just assumed it would be a dry one. It was nice to see some water on the trail.
What wasn't so nice to see was the poison oak practically blanketing the trail near the water. Large sections of the rest of the trail were equal parts hiking and impromptu games of "Dodge The Shiny Leaves" and its companion game, "Oh Shit, Was That Poison Oak?"
And then, almost as suddenly as the forest had come on, the trail turned into a deep, rocky canyon, hemmed in by rocky cliffs on either side.
At this point, you must be saying to yourself, 'Damn. What else could this trail possibly need?' I know I was. I'd come in expecting just a simple coastal canyon and some grasslands and gotten scrub, wildflowers, ridgeline views, forests, lakes, caves, cliffs, and actual amber waves of grain. Oh, you were looking for a waterfall? 'Cause this trail's got one of those, too.
It is getting close to the dry season, so the fall was just a small trickle, but it was still enough of a plunge to get that relaxing waterfall white noise. After relaxing on some nearby boulders for a while, I packed up, hiked out, and headed home ... where I promptly drank about a gallon of water.
Distance Hiked: 9.1 miles
Total Footsteps: 18,067
How Much I Love The Huge Numbers The 'Footsteps' Statistic Creates: Very Much.
As always, more pictures on Flickr.
After about an hour driving on the Pacific Coast Highway (with the windows down, naturally), I parked on the side of the road of the southwestern corner of Point Mugu State Park. A small campground on the beach was starting to fill up with sunbathers and families getting ready to escape the predicted 90-degree-heat. I crossed the highway and headed into the wooded trailhead.
The first part of the trail wound through the coastal mountains, climbing steadily upward. This was pretty much the only elevation gain, so I figured I'd get it over with right away. Under full sun in a cloudless sky, the heat was fairly intense. I'd spent two days in the desert last weekend, but I'm pretty sure I sweat more in that three mile climb than I did all day in the desert.
Thankfully, the trail had some pretty amazing views to keep my mind off the sun. Lizards darted across the trail in front of me, while hummingbirds hovered in the chaparral. I even managed to see a few quail and a small rabbit hiding out. This section was very close to the coastline, too, so there was a great mix of air currents to keep me on my toes. Every so often, a sage-scented blast of hot air would come whistling out of the inland canyons - just as quickly countered with a cool, thick salty breeze pulled up from the ocean. And if that wasn't enough, the trail was lined with late-blooming flowers, adding even more color to the green hills.
The first part of the trail ended at a fire road that straddled the ridge between two expansive valleys. To the west was a sea of waving grasslands in the La Jolla Natural Preserve; to the east, the Tri-Peaks and lower Big Sycamore Canyon (the upper section of which I'd partially hiked back in April). I've been past these mountains looking toward where I was standing right now. It was nice to get the reverse angle. Were I filming a conversation between the peaks, I'd have all the coverage I need.
The fire road soon reached a fork, and I took a trail that led back down into La Jolla Valley and its immense, flat grassland - one of the few native Californian grasslands in existence today. The trail wound through the five-foot-tall stalks, which was a huge change of pace from the exposed ridgeline road I'd just come off of. When the wind passed through the canyon, the grass swayed with a light rustling noise, broken only by a few crows flying overhead.
The effect was immediately peaceful ... except, being raised in Connecticut - the Home of Lyme Disease - I was constantly stopping to check every piece of exposed skin for ticks. Still, a pretty amazing sight.
Suddenly, the grassland trail descended into a fairly dense forest, which surrounded a small hidden lake. Maybe I've been spending too much time in the desert, but when I saw the lake on the map, I'd just assumed it would be a dry one. It was nice to see some water on the trail.
What wasn't so nice to see was the poison oak practically blanketing the trail near the water. Large sections of the rest of the trail were equal parts hiking and impromptu games of "Dodge The Shiny Leaves" and its companion game, "Oh Shit, Was That Poison Oak?"
And then, almost as suddenly as the forest had come on, the trail turned into a deep, rocky canyon, hemmed in by rocky cliffs on either side.
At this point, you must be saying to yourself, 'Damn. What else could this trail possibly need?' I know I was. I'd come in expecting just a simple coastal canyon and some grasslands and gotten scrub, wildflowers, ridgeline views, forests, lakes, caves, cliffs, and actual amber waves of grain. Oh, you were looking for a waterfall? 'Cause this trail's got one of those, too.
It is getting close to the dry season, so the fall was just a small trickle, but it was still enough of a plunge to get that relaxing waterfall white noise. After relaxing on some nearby boulders for a while, I packed up, hiked out, and headed home ... where I promptly drank about a gallon of water.
Distance Hiked: 9.1 miles
Total Footsteps: 18,067
How Much I Love The Huge Numbers The 'Footsteps' Statistic Creates: Very Much.
As always, more pictures on Flickr.
Labels: hiking
that one guy you know, 8:02 PM
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