Copter Ridge Lateral - Bitterroot Point

 

Another outing with Sean "Cucamonga Man" Green and DavidR to an obscure point in the San Gabriel Range. This time, the goal was Pt. 7,296 at the terminal end of a lateral finger coming off the southeast side of Mt. Hawkins. The USGS topographic maps reference this point simply by its elevation. It apparently has not been formally christened. Because we found Bitterroot growing along the ridgeline, I'm calling the finger Bitterroot Ridge and its related fingernail Bitterroot Point.

Photo courtesy of Sean "Cucamonga Man" Green

The day started at the Windy Gap trailhead in Crystal Lake Recreation Area. A shorter route is possible from Dawson saddle, but with the Angeles Crest Highway closure, this was the only realistic option. I pulled into the spacious parking area at 7 a.m. and was fortunate to get a spot. The lot was crammed full as was the surrounding campground. I've never seen the forests like this. There's people everywhere. And with them has come trash and graffiti and vandalism and break-ins. Every sign post, bathroom, rock, and tree trunk has either been defaced or destroyed. My car has been broken into twice. You can say what you want about increased access, and sling all the insults like "elitist" or "gate-keeper" you want, but objectively the democratization of the outdoors has not been a net positive overall. 

Fortunately, the blue morning was clear and beautiful and as we made the gentle climb away from the huddled masses, we were treated with stunning looks into the Crystal Lake basin. The tread here is in decent shape except a couple of spots that have been washed out by this season's heavy snow melt. About 2.5 miles and 1,800' later, we topped out at the notch where it was refreshingly breezy. They don't call it Windy Gap for nothing.

The path here intersects the Pacific Crest Trail as it traverses the San Gabriel range in an east-west orientation. Just west of this point, the PCT passes by reliable Little Jimmy spring and trail camp before descending to Islip Saddle. This is the route north-bound PCTers follow. We tacked east and followed the PCT against the grain for approximately 2 additional miles to the summit of Mt. Hawkins at 8,850'. Along the way, we encountered a couple of late season snow patches as well as a few downed trees blocking the way, but nothing that wasn't easily navigable. This is classic high-country territory dominated by conifers and sublime views of the Hawkins Ridge and the high desert to the north. The absence of distant road noise from the closed ACH was an extra-added bonus.

At Hawkins, we took a break, fueled up, and prepared ourselves for the drop down Copter Ridge and then into the unexplored. From the summit of Hawkins, the views are quite good and we spent a few moments identifying familiar landmarks like the Hawkins Ridge, the Islip Ridge, Mt. Waterman, the Twin Peaks, Triplets, Mt. Lawlor, Mt. Deception, Mt. Disappointment, San Gabriel Peak, Mt. Markham, Occidental Peak, Mt. Wilson, and the Ivy League Peaks (Harvard and Yale). We then cached some water and started down Copter Ridge which is now dotted with cairns and scarred by a not so faint use trail.

The standard route to Copter Ridge takes you straight south down the ridgeline to its terminus as Pt. 7,499. Around the 8,200' contour, we abandoned that trajectory and branched left (southeast) to follow the subsidiary ridge leading to Bitterroot Point. This is the point of no return. This is where you need to decide whether you have the juice to climb back out or not. Because if you commit, there is no easy way out. From this point, it's an additional 1,000' of elevation loss that is quite steep in places. Fortunately, the terrain is hospitable and open which makes travel less difficult than it might otherwise be. As you make your way toward the point, the Ross ridge looms in the immediate foreground while Pine Mountain, Dawson Peak, and the north side of Mt. Baldy sit sentinel in the rear-ground. 

The ridge bottoms out at a grassy depression before a rocky outcropping that sits atop a small rise. This is Pt. 7,296 aka Bitterroot Point. Although the point is obvious and distinct, the ridge continues gently downward past this point into the depths of the Iron Fork. We paused here for a spell to enjoy the accomplishment, take in some food and water, and place a register. Then reluctantly started to retrace our steps back up the ridge.

Similar to upside-down hikes like Ross Mountain and Copter Ridge, the crux of this route is on the return trip. From Bitterroot Point, it's 1,000' of gain back to Copter Ridge and then another 600' back to Hawkins. The climb is mellow to start but then steepens significantly as you continue upward. The steepest section is immediately before you reclaim Copter Ridge. DavidR charged up the ridge like a big horn sheep, but I found myself having to stop every 25-50 yards to gain my breath and let the lactic acid in my legs dissipate. Back on Copter Ridge, the terrain moderates some, but I found that the last 600' of gain getting back to Hawkins to be the most physically demanding portion of the day. 

Back on top Hawkins, we reclaimed our cached water and lounged in the brilliant high country sunlight. When we were good and ready, we took the "shortcut" off the summit and rejoined the PCT for an easy, yet long stroll back to the trailhead. To finish the day, we stopped at the Crystal Lake Café to drink carbonated beverages laced with caffeine and sugar in the shade, shoot the shit, and exaggerate the details about the day's exploits. 

Stats for the day: ~13 miles, 4,600'

In Search of Black Jack

 

In 1887, Owen and Jason Brown, the sons of famed abolitionist John Brown, climbed an unnamed peak in the front country of the San Gabriel Mountains which they christened Black Jack Peak. The appellation simultaneously referenced the black porphyritic rock of which the peak was composed as well as the 1856 Battle of Black Jack during which John Brown attacked the camp of pro-slavery forces led by Henry C. Pate near Baldwin City, Kansas. The Battle of Black Jack is considered by many to be the first unofficial battle of the Civil War. 

Historian Hiram Reid described Black Jack Peak as a "spur" from Strawberry Peak with a sharp, distinct pinnacle that is composed of "black spar." Beyond that general description, he does not identify the specific peak to which reference is being made.

 

The Hundred Peaks Section of the Sierra Club claims that nearby Mt. Lawlor is Black Jack. According to them, what is now known as Mt. Lawlor was originally named Black Jack, but the name never stuck because of its negative associations with John Brown's bloody Kansas raid. So in 1958, the U.S. Forest Service, at the suggestion of Lloyd Austin of Switzer's Camp, renamed the peak Mt. Lawlor to honor prominent Los Angeles attorney Oscar Lawlor. 

The problem with the Sierra Club's conclusion that Lawlor and Black Jack are one and the same is that aside from the black rock, the former doesn't match Hiram Reid's description. Lawlor has a flat, table-top summit whereas Black Jack has a "distinct pinnacle of its own, very steep, rugged and sharp." Depending upon vantage point, it's also somewhat of a stretch to call Lawlor a mere "spur" of Strawberry. Regardless, the Sierra Club view (which echoes that of famed historian John Robinson) has managed to carry the day and is now the commonly-accepted truth.

Unless you're an adventurous and intellectually-curious fellow named Sean "Cucamonga Man" Green. If you're that guy, you're suspicious. You've scoured the topographic maps and looked through the historical record (such as it is) and you think that John Robinson and the Sierra Club may have gotten it wrong. Instead, you think it possible the sub-peak 5,521 on the south face of Strawberry is in actuality Black Jack. Unlike Lawlor, it can rightfully be characterized as a spur of Strawberry given its location and proximity. It also more closely hues to Reid's description of the peak as a sharp pinnacle, especially if viewed from the Colby Canyon side. The only question is whether 5,521 is composed of black, porphyritic rock. So you organize an exploratory outing to 5,521 to find out and invite a bunch of your old pals to tag along.

We met at Red Box at 6:00 a.m. and started up the Strawberry Peak trail. The group of seven was led by Sean, and included Nate, JeffH, the Iron Hiker, Guy, and Scoops (who sported a bow-tie around his neck in a nod to the hardy hikers of old who trod these trails in wool sport coats and top hats). We followed the Strawberry Peak Trail past the Lawlor saddle to roughly the 5,400' contour where we then left the beaten path and started cross country.  

This is where things got a bit spicey. There is no path proper to peak 5,521. Between us and our objective stood a sea of thorny ceanothus, woody manzanita, deadfall from the 2009 Station Fire, and other spikey shrubbery. This is tough and inhospitable country, a place John Muir appropriately described as "most ruggedly, thornily savage." The only way forward was to create a way forward. So we donned body armor, pulled out the loppers and machetes, and started hacking and clawing our way through the dense overgrowth. As the crow flies, it was only about one-half mile to the summit of 5,521, but the going was slow and sometime painful as we stumbled and were repeatedly stabbed by chaparral yucca that proliferate here. 

Ultimately we reached a minor spur ridge beneath Strawberry where the brush subsided and the way forward became a bit easier. We gratefully sheathed the machetes and then followed some faint game trails all the way to the narrow summit. There Nate informed us that perhaps one-third of the rock was porphyritic, but most of it wasn't overtly black. The views, however, were quite good, especially of Strawberry that loomed over us to the immediate north. 

So is 5,521 the peak the Brown boys named Black Jack? It still isn't clear. The peak matches Hiram Reid's description in many respects, but it is clearly not "composed entirely of a porphyritic rock called 'black spar.'" But Lawlor isn't a perfect match either. Although its level summit does have a significant amount of black rock, it typically wouldn't be described as a sharp pinnacle. Confirmation therefore must await further research and/or new information.

Despite the residual uncertainly, we christened 5,521 "Black Jack Peak" anyway. If it is the original Black Jack, then its rightful name has been restored. If it isn't the original Black Jack, then it is Black Jack now. Sean came prepared with a jar and register that we all signed and left on the summit for other intrepid explorers. Meanwhile, the path the we hacked through the thick brush is already being reclaimed by mother nature and will shortly be lost to time like much of the history of Black Jack.