Magic in the Forest of Angels

​“Sixty-five and sunny”: Our favorite weather forecast. Unfortunately, here in the City of Angels, “sixty-five and cloudy” has been the mainstay and it’s getting old. May Gray and June Gloom are in full force. And while this is certainly better than "a hundred-and-five and sunny", the clouds bring both the temperature and my mood down.

A friend had recently posted blue sky photos of Crystal Lake up in the Angeles Forest and I got a little jealous. So with the weather forecast there showing a cloud with a peak of sun, Tucker and I hopped into our trusty steed and headed eastward and upward.
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One hour later, we were off the grid and in the wilderness.

At an elevation of 5000 feet, we were no longer under the blanket of clouds. The sun shone brightly while the temps still hovered in the low seventies.

Unlike trails that are flatter on maps than in real life, this lake was far smaller than it appeared on the map.

I’m not complaining. I knew it was just a 1.7 mile hike around the lake… although the Alltrails map showed us going INTO the lake to complete it.

It wasn’t wrong. In order to do the full loop--to even get the trail uphill to avoid really getting wet, one would have to plod through the water or make a vertical climb up the side of the hill.

But that didn't stop us from going where we could without getting wet.

The view was delightful from every edge of the lake.

Saddened that we couldn't see what the world looked like from the that one portion of the lake, we returned the way we came and went around in the other direction for different views.

That too, became impassable. So we turned around. I saw what appeared to be a trail further upland from the lake, but Tucker seemed to want to return to the truck. I was sweatier than I suspected I would get and assumed it was because I am out of shape. But Tucker was panting heavily as well, far too much give the temperature. But then I realized the real issue: we were at 5000 feet of elevation.

​When we do Griffith Park, it may be a 1500 foot elevation gain, but we’re starting at 200 feet about sea level. We are never near 5000 feet into the sky. We’ve been shorebound far too long; we needed to acclimate, even for this short little jaunt around a mountain lake.

I let Tucker lead and we headed back to the truck. There is one major rule in our lives: if it isn’t fun anymore, then we stop.  He didn’t know I had still had a couple stops planned before getting back down to sea level, but I thought his fun meter would reset from a short drive.

The first stop was Crystal Lake Cafe. The property had cabin rentals and a store/cafe for full-on real hikers to replenish their packs and get a hot meal. Unfortunately, no one came to the window when we went inside, so I didn’t get try a hot meal. But we did get a photo op: a rare capture of the two of us in the same frame.

With no lunch, we headed back down the mountain, where I could see the blanket of grey a thousand feet below the mountain peaks. We’d be dipping back into that soon enough. But first, a stop which I meant to have on the ride up, but missed it: Lewis Falls.

With no real parking lot and just an extended turn off on a curve, I had come up on it too quickly on the way up. I almost missed it on the way down as well. Luckily, being a Wednesday, traffic wasn’t terrible so I was able to do a neat little three point turn and get a spot.
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Even at the bottom of the trail, there was rushing water.

The trail bordered the rushing downhill stream, giving us visual and auditory joy.

I don’t let Tucker drink from standing water, so he had been doubly disappointed with Crystal Lake since I wouldn’t let him stick his tongue in it. But this, I had no issue with. The water was rushing so quickly, I didn’t think any micro-anything could survive.

Tucker gave the water a rave review.

We went as far as the trail would go before it crossed into the stream. I spied two people up by the falls which I could make out through branches, but I didn’t see a way up from our our side of the raging river. There were two small logs about four inches wide which appeared to be the way across to a trail on the other side. I knew Tucker and I would not make it there and back without getting wet. Very wet. Possibly even falling in. Had the water been still, I might have had taken the chance.

I could see a small portion of the gushing waterfall, but had to admit defeat on this one. Tucker and I turned around, and decided to just take joy in our short .7 mile round trip walk through the woods where it was shady and delightful.

Seeing a familiar bark patten in front of me, I looked up, then stepped back, being sure to not end up in the river, and gazed up with awe. A sequoia stood proud and tall. Right here. In the Angeles Forest.

Redwoods are coastal and Sequoias are found in the Sierra Nevadas, so I was not expecting to see such majesty here. I can’t even find proof (other than seeing it in person) and I wondered if anyone knew about it or if I had mis-identified it. The branches with leaves were too high up to see clearly, but they didn’t look to belong to a Douglas fir. This was just one tree, not a full grove: the Lone Sequoia. I felt a pinch of sadness. These communal trees need one another.

I acknowledged the tree and gave it my respect, grateful to have encountered it. Then we headed back down, and I felt as if we were walking through the forests of the east coast. 

The downed trees (wait... is that another Sequoia?), and the rocks on the trails, and the rushing water beside us made me think of North Carolina.

I took one more video just to have if I need a moment of east coast stream action.

Driving back down the mountains, we dipped back under the blanket of grey. And there, off to the left was the reservoir I had sort of seen coming up, but now I decided to stop and really take a look. This is what I thought Crystal Lake would be.

The San Gabriel Reservoir appeared to be, in some parts, as wide as the Chattahoochee River in Georgia.

In one trip to the mountains, I felt as if I had been at a mountain lake in Mammoth, in a redwood grove in Northern California, down a trail in North Carolina, and now next to a river in Georgia. California really does have it all.

We’ve been home for over two years now, not called out on a tour of film duty since Portland in Fall of 2021. We’re itching to get on the road, to set up basecamp somewhere new and then venture out to see how others live and what great wilds we can explore and enjoy. But for now, we’ll keep reaching out from our little suburban homebase, and I imagine we’ll still keep being surprised by what magic is hidden deep within the Forests of Angels.