A Summer of Trails

“It had nothing to do with gear or footwear or the backpacking fads

or philosophies of any particular era or even with getting from point A to point B. 

It had to do with how it felt to be in the wild. 

With what it was like to walk for miles with no reason 

other than to witness the accumulation of trees and meadows, 

mountains and deserts, streams and rocks, rivers and grasses, sunrises and sunsets. 

The experience was powerful and fundamental. 

It seemed to me that it had always felt like this to be a human in the wild, 

and as long as the wild existed it would always feel this way.” 

--Cheryl Strayed 

Copyright © 2017

by Ralph F. Couey

I haven't written about hiking for some time, mainly because all those posts began to sound the same. It is still difficult for me as a writer to adequately translate into words what these wilderness wanderings do for my spirit. So I thought I'd just summarize my trail activities for the last few months.

In June, we went to Casa Grande, Arizona for three months. Yeah. Arizona in the Summer. I know. Anyway, we stayed in a nice home in a retirement community a few miles south of town. The community was kind of isolated, with miles of nearly-empty desert in all directions. That was my first target. Starting out just after sunup, I was able to explore those sand-covered roads. That particular area contained little wildlife, which was okay because that desert is liberally populated with rattlesnakes and scorpions. To the northeast of the community were the four Toltec Buttes, a couple of hundred feet high, which made for a nice quick climb. There are canals that run here and there, carrying that substance without which life would not be possible there. I alternated those hikes with walks around and through the rather large community. Three weeks in, I felt I had acclimated enough to the heat to try something a little more ambitious.

South of Casa Grande is one of those mountains that rise suddenly from the desert floor. They are striking sights, especially at dawn and sunset when the low angle of the sun's rays highlight the mountain's topography. The mountain is covered with the symbol of the Sonoran Desert, the Giant Saguaro cactus. There are a good collection of trails, starting with one that circles the base, and others cut into the mountain's sides at three different levels. I was on the lookout for critters, and I did encounter one Sonoran Rattler that announced it's presence as I walked the trail below the rock where he was perched. Rattlers are big. Even bigger at eye level. But the only real hazard I encountered was the cholla. These are cacti that drop ping-pong sized orbs completely covered in needle-sharp spines. There were several occasions where I had to stop, remove a boot and use a pair of pliers to remove the spines that had poked all the way through the tough leather uppers into my tender feet. After the boots were cleared, I removed my socks and used the tweezers out of my first aid kit to pull the spines out of the side of my foot, and socks. That got old pretty quickly. Mainly though, it was the heat. That first month included a stretch of about a week when temps soared above 120 degrees. Fahrenheit. There's something that's just soul-crushing to turn on the eleven o'clock news and hear that it's still 110 outside. Needless to say, my distances that week were short.

Despite the drawbacks, there is an innate beauty to the desert. It is rugged, and hazardous, but that's part of the charm. Walking among the Saguaro, you feel like a pioneer.

Around Labor Day, we left Arizona for Colorado, and after a quick three-week turnaround, were on the road again, this time for San Dimas, California. And after winter in Colorado and summer in Arizona, we finally got the seasonal thing right. Well, almost. The second week here, we were caught in an historically ferocious Santa Ana, which drove the temperatures into the low 100's. Locals complained, but after Arizona, we found it to be almost pleasant.

Where we're located along the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, is home to several quaint and attractive communities. San Dimas, La Verne, Glendora, and a few others are fun to walk and very easy on the eye. Walking these streets, I understand those innate qualities that make up a physical community. Then, just about the time you begin to think how nice it would be to live there, you look up the real estate and are saddened to see that a small craftsman-style bungalow, about 1,100 square feet will set you back about three-quarters of a million.

I had to take a week off when my knee started acting up. After seven days of rest and advil, I was ready to head back to dirt.

There are two types of trails here. Canyons and mountains. I did two of the former, the Antonovich Trail, and the Marshall Canyon Trail before tackling two San Gabriel trails, Claremont Wilderness, and Cobal Canyon Mountainway. The latter actually climbs into the mountains, and not into a canyon. These trails consist of two halves, a steep, tough climb of 800 to 1,000 feet, and then a faster descent where the biggest hazard is executing a face plant on the wide dirt track.

Mountains are cool, wherever they are. The San Gabriels are a coastal chain, so they're not nearly as tall as their Colorado counterparts. Mount San Antonio, are as it is colloquially known, Mount Baldy, tops out at just over ten thousand feet. Mount Wilson, where Edwin Hubble's telescope still scans the heavens, rises to 5,700 feet above Los Angeles proper. Where Colorado mountains are covered with conifers and deciduous, the San Gabriels, and the neighboring San Bernardinos, are covered with what could best be described as scrub. There are a couple of reasons for this. First, Southern California, despite the comfortable Mediterranean climate, is still a coastal desert. The lack of rain through most of the year doesn't support the growth of large trees. In the sheltered gorges, you can find some twisted oaks, but everywhere else are short tree-like shrubs that rise maybe 6 or seven feet at most. Also, as I understand it, these mountains are subject to wild fires, that tend to keep the groundcover in a constant state of recovery. But the views, once you hump up to the top, are tremendous, and well worth the workout. There are signs about warning about recent sightings of cougars, and to be watchful for bears and rattlesnakes, but the days I was up there, a lot of people were sharing the experience with me, and critters don't generally stick around large groups of humans.

We've enjoyed our time here, and I've reveled in the joyful hiking possibilities which abound in this area. But we're just past the halfway point on this contract, and will be on the road again after the holidays. Our next stop won't be known for awhile, but hopefully it'll be someplace with plenty of dirt trails.