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.
Some of the moutainsides of the switchbacks provided shade as well.
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.