Rose Valley Falls

It's been a long time since there was enough water in the Los Padres to cause the Rose Valley Falls to be anything other than a dry cliff face, but the rains this weekend changed all that, at least temporarily. So I made a dash up the Maricopa Highway to Rose Valley on Sunday afternoon to scope things out before the multi-year drought currently gripping California reclaims its dominance. 

Trail Leading to Lower Rose Valley Falls



Moss and Lichen Grow Thick on the Trees Here

Creek Running Adjacent to the Rose Valley Falls Trail

There are two sets of falls at Rose Valley: a lower fall and an upper fall. The falls are reputed to be the highest in the entire Los Padres. Both are accessed by a short footpath that tracks south from the back of the Rose Valley Campground. The trail crosses the stream twice before gently ascending to the lower falls through a dense and gorgeous forest canopy. The day I visited, water music played in the stream and the forest was lush, cool, green, and drippy.

Stream Below the Falls

Falls Below the Falls

The formal trail terminates at the base of the lower falls. From there, you can continue to the upper falls by climbing the steep hillside using an obvious use "trail" to the left of the lower falls. The ascent involves a steep Class 3 scramble over loose dirt, rock, and roots to a vantage point high above the lower falls where views of the Rose Valley open up. The day I went the hillside was wet and the rocks were extremely slippery making the climb somewhat sketchy. The down-climb was downright dangerous. Given the fact I was solo, I shouldn't have attempted it. And at the end of the day, the upper falls weren't even flowing so there was limited reward for the risk taken.

Lower Rose Valley Falls

Water Flowing Over the Lower Falls

A Tangle of Tree Roots

Back at the campground, I spoke with a lady who had spent the previous night at the campground. In the past, Rose Valley had a reputation for being the Monte Cristo of the Los Padres and I was curious about whether times had changed. They haven't. The camper told me that despite the pouring rain, about 20 twenty-something young men spent the entire night in the campsite adjacent to her drinking by the fire and puking in the bathrooms. Remnants of their night of debauchery, including an abandoned tent frame and smoldering fire, was still evident as I left the campground. I guess that means Rose Valley is still in my no-camp zone.

Upper Rose Valley Falls

Ancillary Upper Falls

Ancillary Upper Falls

View of Rose Valley from Upper Falls

Back at the Lower Falls

Lower Rose Valley Falls

Lower Rose Valley Falls

Lower Rose Valley Falls

Foliage in the Fall Mist

Lower Falls Greenery

On my way out, the sun finally burst through the clouds allowing for unobstructed views of Piedra Blanca to the north and the Maricopa Highway as it winds its way south toward Ojai.

Piedra Blanca Formation

Piedra Blanca Close Up

Clouds Creeping Up the Maricopa Highway

Thorn Point: A Personal History

This piece was originally published in the October, 2014 Angeles National Forest Fire Lookout Association newsletter. It isn't a post about my experiences in the mountains, but it is a story of the Southland mountains so I figured it fit within the artificial parameters of this blog closely enough. Thanks to David Stillman for introducing me to Lorinda Poole and of course, to Rinnie herself for sharing so much of her personal history with me.  



Thorn Point Fire Lookout circa 1971. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

This is a story about the Thorn Point fire lookout. No, that’s really not accurate. This is actually a story about much more than that. This is a personal history of a young and inexperienced fire lookout that spent the summer of 1971 at remote Thorn Point surveying the vast Los Padres National Forest for signs of fire and smoke. The tower from which she made this survey merely serves as the backdrop for the story.

Of course, that is certainly not how I originally conceived this piece. When I first began this project, I was going to dutifully tell you all about the old, abandoned Thorn Point fire lookout itself. I was going to tell you that the lookout was originally constructed in 1933 and that it is one of five towers still remaining in the Mt. Pinos Ranger District. I was going to provide you with a wealth of dry, technical details about the lookout structure itself, like the fact that it consists of a 14’ x 14’ L-4 cab with a catwalk on a 20’ H-braced tower. I was going to tell you that the tower is located at 6,935 feet and commands unobstructed views of the Sespe Wilderness to the south, Pine Mountain to the west, Mt. Pinos and the San Emigdio Mesa to the north, and Cobblestone Mountain and friends to the east. And, I was going to let you know that if you are adventurous enough, you can still visit the Thorn Point lookout by way of a 3.5 mile hike ascending approximately 2,000 feet from the Thorn Meadows trailhead located at the terminus of Grade Valley Road (7N03).

But then I was introduced to Lorinda Poole. “Rinnie” as she is known to her friends, was a forest service brat whose parents and grandparents all spent time as fire lookouts. She grew up among gold miners, ranchers, loggers, and forest service employees in the Stanislaus National Forest near Yosemite National Park. Her home “town” consisted of a one room school house, community hall, chapel, grocery store, and cabins scattered throughout the trees and meadows. Two hours down a winding forest road sat the nearest town where Rinnie’s family could both obtain monthly supplies and catch up on “how the rest of the world was living.”

In 1970 at the age of 20, Rinnie left the Stanislaus for the more exciting pastures of Southern California. When her money eventually ran low, she ended up at the home of Hurston Buck, a close family friend from the Stanislaus who had settled in New Cuyama. Hurston, as it turned out, was the Fire Control Officer for the Los Padres National Forest and was responsible for managing the various lookout towers that dotted the vast Los Padres.   

A few days after arriving at the Buck home, Hurston asked Rinnie if she would “take a lookout for him.” Although she had not herself functioned as a fire lookout before, Rinnie was generally familiar the routine having spent her youth in and around the business.  As a result, all that it took was for Hurston to give her a brief refresher on her “10 Code” and the next day Rinnie was up in the Cuyama Peak lookout tower serving as the eyes of the forest service. Rinnie then spent the remainder of that summer at Cuyama Peak scanning the hills, valleys, and badlands below for signs of trouble. The fire lookout hook was set.

During the winter of 1970, Rinnie discovered that the forest service needed a lookout for the tower at Thorn Point the following summer. She excitedly jumped at the chance. Rinnie’s enthusiasm for Thorn Point stemmed partially from the fact that her father, as a 17 year old lad, was part of the crew that originally built the tower. Years later, he told Rinnie that the materials to construct the lookout were hauled to the site by mule train. According to Rinnie’s father, a crew of workers stationed near the trailhead at Thorn Meadows would load a string of mules with supplies and send them off on their own up the trail. When the beasts of burden reached Thorn Point, another crew of workers who were stationed there unpacked the provisions and then sent the mule string back down the mountain unaccompanied to retrieve another load. Mule train by mule train, the Thorn Point fire lookout was thus built.

In late spring of 1971, Thorn Point was officially Rinnie’s for the duration of the fire season. Before assuming her lookout responsibilities at Thorn, however, Rinnie spent some time training at Slide Mountain. “Training” in this context is a bit of a misnomer. It was more like baptism by forest fire. A forest service employee drove Rinnie to the end of the dirt road leading up to Slide and unceremoniously dropped her off with no training, no instruction, and no orientation. With no idea of what was expected of her, Rinnie made the solo trek to the empty tower where three separate radios awaited her—one for the Angeles National Forest, one for the Los Padres National Forest, and one for the crew that was constructing the dam at Pyramid Lake. Two or so uneventful days later, she was on her way to Thorn Point for the summer.

Entrance to Grade Valley Road circa 1971. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

Thorn Point from Grade Valley Road circa 1971. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

Even by today’s standards, Thorn Point is fairly isolated. Getting there requires some time and effort. Forty-three years ago when Rinnie first went in, the place was remote and getting there required real work. Starting from the Chuchupate Ranger Station, Rinnie was first driven by USFS personnel 8 miles down graded Lockwood Valley Road. Then, it was another 11 mile drive on dirt down Grade Valley Road to the trailhead at Thorn Meadows. At Thorn Meadows, Rinnie and her driver packed mules and mounted horses for the final 3.5 mile push up the single-track trail to her awaiting summer home on the Point.

Near the trailhead at Thorn Meadows circa 1971. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole. 

For the next several months, Rinnie, now 21, spent 24 hours a day, 7 days a week alone at Thorn Point. Every two weeks or so depending upon conditions, forest service personnel packed food, water, and propane into her by mule. Other than the folks that brought her supplies, however, Rinnie only saw two other people at the tower the entire fire season.

Conditions and the facilities at the tower were anything but luxurious, but Rinnie’s upbringing had prepared her well for the experience. The tower itself was equipped with a cot, a gas cooking stove, a small propane refrigerator that had an ice compartment large enough to accommodate two ice-trays, and an obligatory Osborne fire finder.  Beneath the tower sat a redwood tank that was used to store rain water collected from the roof of the lookout. Beyond the tower sat a one-room wooden cabin and red metal shed that functioned as a woodshed. The entire “complex” was encircled by a barricade of big rocks that hemmed the lookout in and formed a yard of sorts for Rinnie’s horse.   

Interior of the Thorn Point Lookout as it looks today.

Stand upon which the Osborne Fire Finder sat.

Old stove still in the Thorn Point Fire Lookout

Water (or more appropriately, the lack thereof) and boredom were Rinnie’s biggest challenges during the long, hot summer. Since there was no natural water source nearby, all of Rinnie’s water had to be packed in on mules by forest personnel. But because a 5 gallon plastic container weighed 40+ pounds, the amount that could be hauled in was necessarily limited. Thus, Rinnie was required to be creative in how she used this very precious commodity.

“Being by myself, I could conserve ways that if someone else was with me couldn’t be done too well. It depended on what chores, etc. I had to do as to what order I used and re-used the same water. If my hair needed to be washed, then I didn’t want greasy dish water…so hair came first, then the dishes, then my clothes, a dishpan out on the catwalk for the bath…and the last step for the recycled water was to pour it down on my poor horse to drink.”

The original map for the Osborne Fire Finder used by Rinnie. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

Rock formations outside the "yard" at Thorn Point. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

Rinnie's pack horse "Skeeter" at Thorn Point circa 1971. Photographs courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

The water in the redwood tank beneath the tower was for use in case of a fire. But on one occasion when Rinnie was feeling particularly grungy and hot, she succumbed to temptation and poached some water for an impromptu shower. This required a bit of ingenuity on Rinnie’s part. First she took a length of hose and connected it to the tank. She then filled the hose with water and laid it out in the sun all day to warm. Later that evening, Rinnie hung the hose over a small pine tree on the back side of the cabin and enjoyed the guilty pleasure of a warm shower. 

To help combat the tedium, Rinnie busied herself with sprucing up the tower cabin. She had the forest service pack in some paste wax which she used to transform the linoleum floor from a dirty black to its original dark green. She also painted all of the cupboards in the cabin with a can of red paint she found that the forest service used to paint its signs. Before the paint dried, Rinnie used an ice pick to engrave a mountain lion, fawn, and squirrel into the cupboards. She also etched pinecones and pine needles along the borders. Those engravings, indelible proof that Rinnie was there, have stood the test of time and can still be seen today by visitors to the tower.        

One of Rinnie's etchings in the cupboards at Thorn Point. Copyright © 2014 David Stillman. Used with permission.



One of Rinnie's etchings in the cupboards at Thorn Point. Copyright © 2014 David Stillman. Used with permission

Fortunately or unfortunately, the fire season Rinnie spent at Thorn Point was extraordinarily quiet. There were one or two illegal campfires in Grade Valley that season, but Rinnie does not recall any wildfires that summer in either the Mt. Pinos or Cuyama districts.

Near the end of her stint at Thorn Point, the forest service allowed Rinnie 4-days of R&R. Upon learning about her time off, Rinnie locked up the tower and literally ran down the trail to meet a forest service employee who drove her to Frazier Park. There, she caught a bus north to Stanislaus to go visit her folks for two days. She then caught the bus back to Frazier Park so she could complete her time at Thorn Point.

The bus going south got Rinnie back to Frazier Park much later than she thought it would and certainly much later than she wanted. By the time her ride dropped her at the trailhead at Thorn Meadows, dusk had firmly set in. Armed with only a small flashlight and the light of the moon, Rinnie began the 3.5 miles trek back to Thorn Point alone.

“I tried not to use my light to conserve on the batteries and use the moonlight all that I could. I remember coming up to the big switchback where the trail overlooks the rugged country of pinnacles that look like a different world than what I had just come through. That was the same place that stock always got a breather for a few minutes when packing supplies in. Anyway, I was just up from there a ways and starting to level out on the top of the ridge before you start through the big timber on the last trek of the trail and I heard this scream…a scream that I was familiar in hearing on some nights when in the tower…but…I wasn’t in the tower. I was still on the trail with a long ways to go with a small flashlight. I’m not real tall and my legs could certainly have been longer in my opinion, but long or short, my legs got me up that trail faster than I have ever thought I could go...out of breath, needing a rest…just kept on going…and…I didn’t get eaten, because here I am.”

Rinnie and Freckles Ascending the Thorn Point Trail circa 1971. Photograph courtesy of Lorinda Poole.

After leaving Thorn Point, Rinnie worked a number of other towers in both California and Idaho. In the summer of ’72, Rinnie was assigned to the Sierra Vista lookout located in the Sierra foothills approximately 4 miles as the crow flies from San Andreas, California. From 1981-1983, Rinnie assumed responsibility for the Blue Mountain lookout, a tower that her parents manned through the end of the 1980 fire season. In 1991, after relocating to Idaho, Rinnie found herself assigned to the Indian Mountain lookout in the Payette National Forest. Near the end of the fire season, she was re-assigned to Horse Mountain which sits on the Oregon-Idaho border and the brink of Hells Canyon. Her first day in that tower, she reported a fire.

Despite a lifetime as a lookout on the Stanislaus and in the Payette National Forest, Rinnie still harbors great fondness for Thorn Point.

“I don’t know if it was the time period in my life or because I knew my father got to help in its being built, but that mountain top with those scary big rocks tug at my heart every time I think of it. It seems I can remember every bend in the trail, from the ferns at the bottom of the trail, to the finely ground soil that didn’t give the trial much substance to the big outcroppings of pinnacles looking like a ‘no man’s land’ and then the final climb…through the large timber with open ground beneath…Oh, I loved that part of the trail whether riding my horse ‘Freckles’ or on foot.”   

Looking at pictures of Thorn Point today, and the deterioration of the tower that she called home during the summer of 1971, Rinnie is melancholy.

         “I haven’t wanted Thorn to be taken by fire…but honestly, the more I see what has

          happened to the other towers, I almost wish that a fire would take her. I think it

          would preserve her dignity instead of ending up like Cuyama Peak.”

View South from Thorn Point

View of the Channel Islands from Thorn Point

View north into the badlands from Thorn Point

The Thorn Point Lookout as she looks today

 

Taming Bear Canyon

I’ve peered down into mysterious Bear Canyon from the Markham Saddle on more than one occasion and wondered about the secrets it might hold. The topo maps all told me that there is, or at least there once was, a trail from the Tom Sloane Saddle to the Arroyo Seco that cuts directly through the heart of Bear Canyon, but post-Station fire accounts of the condition of that trail were few and far between. I’d read a snippet here, heard a mention there, but nothing that gave me confidence that the trail was still in regular use or even passable. Had Mother Nature in her shaggy exuberance reclaimed the canyon as her own personal paradise, or were folks simply keeping quiet about this jewel hidden in plain sight in order to keep me and my ilk out? I didn’t really know, but I was itching to find out.

So about a week or so ago, some kindred spirits and I decided to give Bear Canyon a go. The planned route involved an 18 mile loop starting from Red Box that took us up the Bill Reilly trail to the San Gabriel Peak-Mt. Disappointment divide, down to the Markham Saddle, along the Mt. Lowe fire road, over the Tom Sloane Saddle Trail, up to the summit of Brown Mountain, back to Tom Sloane Saddle, into and through Bear Canyon, out the Arroyo Seco to Switzer, and then back up the Gabrieleno Trail to the starting point at Red Box. We left a vehicle at Switzer as our bail-out point just in case Bear Canyon ended up being an unbearably time-consuming suffer-fest through deadfall, poisonous plants, and slippery rock.



Sunrise from Red Box





West Fork of the San Gabriel River (foreground) and Mt. Baldy (background)





San Gabriel Peak from the Bill Reilly Trail



We arrived at Red Box as the rising sun spilled salmon and magenta across eastern horizon. As we climbed the Bill Reilly Trail, the sky lightened and we were treated to inspiring views into the West Fork of the San Gabriel River and of snow-capped Mt. Baldy in the distance. Massive San Gabriel Peak stood silent sentinel in front of us. But this silence was soon broken by the mechanized sounds of chainsaws echoing in the forest ahead. As it turned out, crews were out curiously early that morning trimming back unruly Manzanita and everything else that grew within 20 yards of either side of the trail.  

Descending the San Gabriel Peak Trail, we were surprised to see a group of about 20 hikers congregated at the Markham Saddle. We were even more surprised to learn that there was still another group of 26 hikers coming up the fire road from Eaton Saddle. The first group was planning to bag a number of other peaks in the area that were not on our itinerary. The second group, however, was heading to Brown Mountain so we would have company. A lot of it. 

Water Tank at Markham Saddle

Upper Bear Canyon from the Mr. Lowe Fire Road

My Trail Crew Taking in the Views

From the Markham Saddle our route tacked west following the old Mt. Lowe fire road that skirts the north side of Mt. Lowe and the south rim of Bear Canyon. Eventually, this fire road doubles back on itself heading east for a short distance before dropping south into the Mt. Lowe trail camp. The Tom Sloane Saddle Trail continues west at this hairpin turn as an obvious single-track that descends to the Tom Sloane Saddle, a four-way trail junction at which the trail from the Dawn Mine to the south and the trail into Bear Canyon to the north intersect. The path then climbs an undulating ridgeline with a series of false summits before its terminus at Brown Mountain. The entire path from the Markham Saddle to the summit of Brown Mountain is obvious and easy to follow.

It was along this stretch that we were overtaken by a number of folks in the hiking contingent behind us. We weren’t moving particularly slowly, but these folks seemed oddly focused on getting to Brown’s summit before anyone else, including the remaining hikers in their group. A number of them were actually running down the trail in their hiking boots and with packs strapped to their backs. Hiking as competitive sport I suppose. When we ultimately reached Brown’s summit, I overheard someone mention that this hiking group had predictably lost track of 3 of their own.

Looking toward Brown Mountain from the Tom Sloane Saddle Trail

Descending the Tom Sloane Saddle Trail

Brown Mountain

We took some time on the summit of Brown to refuel and take in the expansive views. The hordes of hikers soon scurried off as hurriedly as they had come leaving us to wrestle with the sudden solitude. But the real fun was still in front of us, so we tracked back to the Tom Sloane Saddle in anticipation of our imminent foray into Bear Canyon.

Mi Trail Companeros atop Brown Mountain

Getting into Bear Canyon from the Tom Sloane Saddle is an easy descent down a plainly evident footpath that is in surprisingly good condition. There is a minor obstacle or two along the way, but someone has recently cut back the trailside brush making travel here pretty dang easy. Where the trail finally hits the canyon bottom, however, conditions change rather dramatically. In short, if there was once a trail here previously, it exists no longer.  Navigation involves climbing on, over, and under fallen trees, splashing back and forth through the creek, and negotiating a jumble of overgrowth which includes both poison oak and the notorious Poodle Dog Bush. Fortunately, there has been some work done in the canyon bottom with someone stringing bright pink and red tape along the creek bed to highlight the way forward.

Trail Into Bear Canyon at Tom Sloane Saddle

Cucamonga Man and Cecelia Dropping Into Bear Canyon

Looking Up Bear Canyon to the Markham Saddle

Trailside Conclave - Cucamonga Man, Cecelia, and Teke

Despite the rough sledding, the canyon itself is an untamed and beautiful place that feels remote because of its remoteness. Stately evergreens dot the steep canyon hillsides. A variety of deciduous trees populate the riparian bottomlands. Clear water cascades over falls and spills out of side canyons to join the main creek flow which courses toward the Arroyo Seco deeper down the canyon’s maw. And ferns, moss, and an assortment of colorful fungi carpet the moist canyon floor and colonize the innumerable fallen logs and slippery stones. It is one of the special places to be found in the vast San Gabriel Mountains.

Route Finding in Bear Canyon

Bear Canyon Fungus

More Fungus Amongus

Nearing Bear Canyon Trail Camp

As the trail neared idyllic Bear Canyon trail camp, conditions improved and the old path once again became discernible. Beyond the camp, conditions improved dramatically with the trail becoming obvious and fairly well traveled. That improved accessibility probably explains the group of 15 or so additional folks that we encountered enjoying Bear Canyon trail camp. Oddly enough, when we had begun the day, I was expecting to encounter far fewer people than you’d normally see on some of the more popular trails in the Front Range. As it turned out, and except for Echo Mountain, we crossed paths with as many hikers on this day as I can recall ever seeing on the trails. Who knew?

One of the Camp Sites at Bear Canyon Trail Camp

One of the Many Stream Crossing Below Bear Canyon Trail Camp

Pool Along Bear Canyon Creek

Trail Conditions Below Bear Canyon Trail Camp

Below the trail camp, Bear Canyon joins the Arroyo Seco. A short distance later, the trail climbs a couple hundred feet out of the canyon to join the Gabrieleno Trail just south of where Commodore Switzer’s historic trail camp was once located. From that point, it’s a gentle walk back up the Arroyo Seco to the canopied Switzer Picnic Area.

Arroyo Seco at Junction with Bear Canyon

Pool in the Arroyo Seco

When we finally arrived at Switzer, we paused and took stock of the situation. We had about an hour of daylight left and approximately 4 additional miles to cover. That meant that we would be getting back to Red Box after dark if we decided the complete the circuit. That wasn’t a huge deal, but other than for bragging rights, none of us found walking the remaining stretch to be that compelling of a proposition. So we loaded into the car we had strategically left at Switzer earlier that morning and made our way back to our starting point by way of the Angeles Crest Highway.

For additional information and pics of Bear Canyon, read Keith Winston's account of our day here at his informative blog Iron Hiker.