With mid-winter only weeks away, the weather finally cooled enough for Tucker and me to get out on the trails of Southern California. We don’t do well over 75 degrees in the sun, so we don't venture much around our immediate basecamp.
Besides weather, geography plays a part in our seasonal adventures. Most hikes in the Angeles Forest are canyon hikes, meaning one has to drop a thousand feet in elevation from the trailhead and then muster their way backup at the end. I prefer to do my hardest hiking at the start, not the finish. But with the roads running along the ridgeline, there aren’t many choices.
Mount Lowe looked promising. There was no immediate drop, but there was some incline to vast vistas of the mountains.
In only half an hour’s drive, we were at the trailhead, learning about the railway that once ran through here.
Besides weather, geography plays a part in our seasonal adventures. Most hikes in the Angeles Forest are canyon hikes, meaning one has to drop a thousand feet in elevation from the trailhead and then muster their way backup at the end. I prefer to do my hardest hiking at the start, not the finish. But with the roads running along the ridgeline, there aren’t many choices.
Mount Lowe looked promising. There was no immediate drop, but there was some incline to vast vistas of the mountains.
In only half an hour’s drive, we were at the trailhead, learning about the railway that once ran through here.
The ledges are steep; I don’t think I’d trust a train on this mountain in earthquake country. I barely trusted myself.
The path was a bit rocky for Tucker, and certainly not something I’d try on a summer day.
The only real shade came at the tunnel, something unusual for our wilderness hikes. We find stairs aplenty, but never a tunnel.
On the other side was more of the wilds.
The path did dip a little, but not enough to make me worry I wouldn’t get back up later.
Some of the moutainsides of the switchbacks provided shade as well.
Some of the moutainsides of the switchbacks provided shade as well.
At the summit, we found the National Forest had placed more information about the spot.
It’s fascinating to me that a hundred and a half years ago, people came up here all the time. They built cabins in the canyons and left the Los Angeles basin for the wilderness on a regular basis.
But I suppose much of the Los Angeles basin was also wild at the time. Or at least farmland. There was no real to “get away”; this was just part of home. My trusty steed had only gone 29 miles to get here. A horse probably clocked fewer miles, although it would have been a full day’s ride. But that’s just what life was then: you took the time to enjoy the world around you.
The views, even today, are magnificent.
But I suppose much of the Los Angeles basin was also wild at the time. Or at least farmland. There was no real to “get away”; this was just part of home. My trusty steed had only gone 29 miles to get here. A horse probably clocked fewer miles, although it would have been a full day’s ride. But that’s just what life was then: you took the time to enjoy the world around you.
The views, even today, are magnificent.
So much is still untouched by human hands, mainly due to the extreme inclines and rough terrain. Nature’s biggest defense against humans is just making it hard to get there. We’re a pretty lazy species on the whole these days.
The only evidence of humans is the radio and cell phone towers along the peaks (and old telescopes to look at the mountains with).
And the houses in the far distance, beneath the clouds, indicate civilization, an area large and flat enough for a settlement.
But if you look in the right direction, you’ll find only nature.
And that’s what we always come for: Nature.
If we’re not called away for another job soon, we hope the winter is long so we my climb out of the valley and touch the sky in this Forest of Angels as often as possible.
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