One of the best things about living in LA is that you forget we have local outdoor gems. When you discover a new one, it’s a surprise and a thrill. I recently did a solo overnight in the Angeles National Forest at one such treasure, Crystal Lake. Located 45 minutes North of Azusa, it was developed as a weekend getaway. There is still a campground and a small store tucked away between 8,000 foot peaks. I chose to hike the ridge trail to the summit of nearby Mt. Islip and then drop down the back of the mountain to a small trail camp on the Pacific Crest Trail, which runs all the way through the Angeles. I brought my fishing gear, given to me by my grandfather, in the hope of catching something I could take home and cook up for dinner the next day.
Let me say this now: I do not recommend solo hiking to anybody. I prefer not to hike alone, but I hadn’t had my pack or boots on in seven months. I was getting twitchy. So when I got two days off together (a rarity in retail) I decided to take off. I took a number of precautions. I knew it was PCT hiking season and that there would most likely be several people at the camp that night. I took my emergency locator beacon and left a note in my car window regarding the dates I would be out and my intended destination. I left my license plate number, emergeny contact, itinerary, blood type and equipment description with a trusted friend who was under strict instructions to call the rangers if I hadn’t called by a specified time. Still, there is no guarantee of safety, so if you can drag a friend with you, do it.
I started climbing out of the canyon and immediately saw the first evidence of burn damage from the massive Station Fire that ravaged the area three years ago. Some slopes were barren but for the shells of burned trees and others were recovering with new vegetation. I startled a number of deer and was enjoying the hike immensely. Then I started to feel a blister growing on my heel. Drat. Being an outdoor retail professional, I did exactly the opposite of what I tell my customers everyday. I tried to hike through it thinking I could get to the summit before stopping. Finally, about two miles in I had to stop. I had a snack, not because I was famished but because it made me feel better, and treated my feet. Then I discovered that my pocket knife had dropped out of my pocket. I would have had another snack, but I had to save some for the next day. So I was already in a bit of a mood when I reached the ridgeline. The sun was beating down, but there was still a cloudy marine layer in the valley, so when I got to a vista point it looked like I was hiking miles above the clouds. My joy at the view was forgotten as I immediately lost the trail. There was a lot of burn damage on the ridge and it was easy to stray onto a deer path and find myself suddenly on an alarming precipice with questionable footing thinking, “this can’t be right…”. I lost the trail a few times in this manner, but simply checked my map and backtracked until I picked it up again. The highlight of the day was summiting Mt. Islip. At 8,250 feet, I had climbed 2700 feet to get there, so it felt like a real accomplishment. The view was breathtaking and after a long rest, I dropped into the trees North of the mountain and found Little Jimmy trail camp.
The camp lies on the Pacific Crest Trail, which stretches from Mexico to Canada over 2,650 miles. Every year, one thousand or so brave and somewhat odd souls decide to hike it in one shot. They are called thru-hikers and have a culture of their own. They give each other trail names (I met Gipci Girl, Hamburger, Lush, Challenger and Man Party). They drill holes in toothbrushes to shave grams from their pack weight, and they speak with hushed reverance of “trail magic”, happy, unexpected instances of kindness. It was in the spirit of trail magic that I had packed in five cans of beer for any thru-hikers I might meet. I set up camp, filtered water, distributed beer and made friends. The night was spent cooking dinner and listening to cheerful stories of hiking foibles, underwear-stealing coyotes, and fantasies about the food they would eat in the next town.
By the time I woke and got out of my tent the next morning, the thru-hikers had already set out. They put in twenty-mile days, so they have to get an early start! I practically jogged down the trail on my hike out. I was easier to spot the trail below me on the burned-out section and I even found my pocket knife about a mile from the trailhead. All the aches and pains of the first day were gone, and by the time I got back to the car, I was eager for a crack at the fish. For the first 30 minutes, I wasn’t doing well, but then a nice family with fishing gear offered me a beer from their cooler (trail magic!) and some expert fishing advice (angling magic!). Within an hour, I had caught four lovely trout ranging from eight to ten inches in length. They made for a delicious dinner when cooked in tandoori paste over my barbecue.
Though I probably shouldn’t go out alone, I am glad that I did for this trip. The challenge was mine alone as was the feeling of triumph. And had I been out with a partner I would not have been so open to meeting the thru-hikers or my fishing friends. Trail magic is real and can be found anywhere, even ninety minutes outside of Los Angeles.
Stay Wild!
Summer is here and with it come gear reviews in magazines and newspapers. Even if you don’t subscribe to Outside magazine, you’ve probably checked out online reviews before purchasing major pieces of equipment. This is good. There’s just one problem: you’ve been to the camping store and they don’t have the boot/ pack/ tent that received all the gotta-have-it gear reviews. Now what? Do you buy it online, sight unseen, and hope for the best? Maybe. There may also be other options that suit you as well or better.
Heather's Wild and Wonderful Blog 