Falling Rock Canyon

Lower Falling Rock Canyon

Falling Rock Canyon is one of those places that I felt the entire local hiking community had visited except me. I had looked at it on maps and glanced at it numerous times on my way up Icehouse Canyon, but I had never ventured into its rugged and shady depths. Some other peak or destination always took precedence. So last weekend I decided to fill that embarrassing gap in my San Gabriel Mountains experience. There's a ton of good route descriptions on-line so I'll dispense with that. To paraphrase Cracker, what the world needs now is another route description, like I need a hole in my head.

I rolled into the parking lot at Icehouse late to find it packed to the gills as usual. To my great fortune, however, there was an open spot right of front which I dutifully snagged. A good omen. Out of the car and up the trail that was heavy with weekend warriors like myself, I broke ranks with the herd just beyond the first switch-back and dropped into the stream-bed. There I was compelled to pause for a moment to absorb the colorful foliage and listen to the water music from Icehouse Creek. Leaf litter littered the ground and obscured the faint path forward, so I just aimed for the obvious gash in the side of the canyon whose entrance was choked with fallen rocks. Yeah, this had to be the way.

Icehouse Canyon

Sunburst in the Forest

Entrance to Falling Rock Canyon

Once in the confines of the canyon, I quickly encountered the first and second dry waterfalls. After a false start that left me more exposed than I was comfortable with, I gingerly backtracked a bit, tacked left, and then ascended some scree before rejoining the canyon above the second falls. Here, the narrow canyon climbs steadily up before moderating some in its higher reaches. This is a really an enjoyable stretch, one of the nicer places I've been in the San Gabriels, so I slowed my pace here as I picked my way through the rocks. I was only going as far as Sugarloaf so there was really no need to rush things.

The route descriptions I had read told me that I would ultimately exit Falling Rock Canyon on the right at the first scree field. Cairns marked the spot I was told. In short order, I came upon a cairn at the base of a steep slope coming in from the right that I told myself could be characterized as a scree field. Looking at the hillside, it was evident that folks had either been up or had come down here so I surmised this was the exit point. Thus, I began to climb but with some uncertainty.

The sledding here was tough. The angle was very steep. The rock was loose and crumbly. And every two steps forward resulted in one step back. I soldered on for about 20 minutes and then stopped to take stock of the situation. This didn't feel right. Either everyone else is more capable than me (which I admit is a distinct possibility), or I had taken a wrong turn. So I slowly made my way back into the canyon bottom resigned to the possibility that I might not make it to Sugarloaf.

But the day was still relatively young, and I was already here, so I figured there was no harm in continuing up the canyon just to see what was there. After rock-hopping for a bit in the slowly narrowing canyon, a bigger and more defined scree field spilled in from the right. There was no cairn to mark the location, but looking up it appeared to top out at a saddle. With nothing to lose, and a new belief that this must be the place, I began picking my way up the rock pile.

As it turned out, this in fact was the place. After a relatively short but steep rock slog, I topped out at a saddle between Ontario Peak and Sugarloaf. Here, a distinct use trail veered northwest toward Sugarloaf and the southern ridge route to Ontario was in view. I stopped to take in water and peer into the deep recesses of Cherry Canyon.

Lower Falling Rock Canyon

Looking Down Falling Rock Canyon

The Correct Scree Field

Use Trail to Sugarloaf

The North Side of Ontario Peak

Mt. Baldy from the Saddle

View South Into Cherry Canyon

From the saddle, it was just a short hop, skip, and jump over a false bump or two to Sugarloaf. On the flat, rocky summit I found a well-maintained register which I dutifully signed. Flipping through the pages I saw several names I recognized. Hikerhodi was in there several times. Dima Kogan had logged in after scaling Ontario Peak from Cascade Canyon. Feeling inferior, I put the register back in its canister home and enjoyed the fine scenery that Sugarloaf affords. To the northeast, the 3 Ts were plainly in site. Telegraph Peak loomed particularly large. To the northwest across Icehouse Canyon, Mt. San Antonio dominated the skyline. And to the south, was a unique look at Ontario Peak.

After lazing about for awhile, I picked myself up and made my way back to the saddle. Then it was a quick scree-ski into the shade of Falling Rock Canyon and a rock-hop back to Icehouse. In the car and out of San Antonio Canyon, I realized the Claremont Craft Ales was conveniently and dangerously nearby. So of course I made a visit to sample their Grapefruit IPA before calling it a day. For you beer aficionados, Claremont's Grapefruit IPA is decent, but I'd personally use a lighter hand on the grapefruit if I was brewing. I did sample their Mosaic Dry IPA which I found to be exceptional. I'll probably order that on my next visit. Cheers!

Upper San Antonio Canyon

The 3 T's - Thunder, Telegraph, and Timber

Ontario's Peak's North Side

Mt. San Antonio, Up Close and Personal

Telegraph Peak 

Grapefruit IPA at Claremont Craft Ales

Dough Flat Walkabout

The Striated Bluffs of Whiteacre Peak

Many years ago, when I first came to Ventura County and before I got my Los Padres "forest legs," I made the long drive out of Fillmore up Squaw Flat Road (6N16) to see Dough Flat. I don't really know what compelled me back then since Dough Flat is generally not touted as much of a scenic destination, but I had noticed 6N16 stabbing deep into the Los Padres National Forest from the south on maps and I was intrigued by the relative isolation of the spot. So I made the drive just to satisfy my curiosity. When I arrived, a couple of rag-tag characters were loitering about the small gravel parking area. They stared me down as I rolled through like I had interrupted some nefarious activity, so I just kept moving. At least that is how I remember it now. In truth, they were probably just a couple of dirty backpackers who were surprised to see someone else make the trek to Dough Flat. Regardless, I stayed away for a couple of decades as the place just didn't spark my imagination or feel that inviting.

Last weekend I decided to return to the scene of the original crime. Half of the adventure in going to Dough Flat is getting there. Squaw Flat Road, which begins in Fillmore as Goodenough Road, is initially paved. As the road wends its way north and gains elevation, that pavement deteriorates eventually turning into gravel. The lower section of the road, which is routinely used to access the numerous oil leases that dot the area, is fairly well maintained. Past the last oil lease about 1/2 mile before roads end however, the track steepens a bit and becomes considerably more rocky. It's all negotiable without 4-wheel drive, but the going is slow.

View Across the Sespe Creek Drainage and Into the Condor Sanctuary

Bluffs Along the Whiteacre Ridgeline

When I arrived at Dough Flat this time I found the parking area completely empty. A sense of isolation came over me as I pulled on my boots and began up the Alder Creek Trail. Before I even reached the wilderness boundary, I encountered huge piles of scat on the path which I would continue to see throughout the day. This is undoubtedly bear country although it really doesn't look like it. I always imagine bears in lush green forests ribbonned with flowing water and festooned with lakes. This is definitely not that. It is an arid and inhospitable place of rust and tan and prickly plants.

I didn't really have an agenda for the day other doing a bit of exploring. I first wandered up to Squaw Flat and kicked around at a guerrilla camp I found there located in a clump of trees. After that, I continued up the gently rising path to the split with the trail out to Ant Camp and scouted routes up Pts. 4082 and 4706. The left fork of the trail took me out to Cow Spring Camp where I lunched at the fairly unattractive trail camp and searched without success for the spring after which the place is named. Water is so yesterday in this parched landscaped of the new millennium. I did, however, locate a Forest Service benchmark (EM 22) trailside around Stone Corral next to a rock formation I dubbed the Backcountry Throne.

Trailhead Signage en Espanol. The English language version is vandalized.

Entering the Sespe Wilderness

Whiteacre Peak from the Alder Creek Trail

Squaw Creek Drainage

Point 4082 from Squaw Flat

View South toward Dough Flat

Point 4082 (left) and 4706 (right)

Doubling back to the trail split, I followed the track out toward Bucksnort Spring to see if I could find water there. A trail guide I have from the late 1980s said that the spring was "fouled and useless." But that guide was written in an era when cattle and mountain bikes had free reign of the land. Now it is wilderness and a condor sanctuary.

Over a small rise and up a drainage, I spied a knot of green that looked out of place in the sea of brown. This was clearly Bucksnort Spring. I followed an obvious use trail up to where the spring is supposed to be where I found another guerrilla campsite, but no surface water. The greenery was no mere happenstance, however. There is water here, but it must all be subterranean at this stage.

On the way back to the parking area I scouted Sulphur and Whiteacre Peaks. Both are in the Condor Sanctuary and technically off limits, but I know they have both been scaled by intrepid adventurers who shall remain nameless. Suffice it to say that of the two, Whiteacre is the easier to access. Anecdotally, Sulphur, which is further away, has to be attacked from the Tar Creek side since any approach from the Pigeon Flat area is reputed to be chocked with brush. But the forest service has been forced to close Tar Creek because people don't know how to behave in the backcountry. So until that changes, Sulphur Peak seems to me a very difficult proposition.

View North to the Sespe Backcountry

Cow Spring Trail Camp

Forest Service Benchmark EM 22

The Backcountry Throne

Back at the parking area I found myself still completely alone. Not really surprising given the effort required to get to Dough Flat and the lack of an immediate "wow" or payoff, that many forest visitors are looking for and expect. Of course, I was completely content with the solitude. I pulled out my chair, removed my boots, cracked a cold beer, and listened to the light breeze rustling through the scrub and the faint but perceptible hum of the land.

Blue Sky

Cow Spring Area from Stone Corral

Native Flora

Winston Peak, Winston Ridge, and Point 6850

Winston Ridge from the Backside of Winston Peak

When I look at topographic maps, I'm always intrigued by the ridges that project like fingers deep into blank spaces on the map. I like the openness of ridgelines and the idea of wandering alone along their sometimes narrow spines, peering into the deep canyons that invariably flank them. Places like the Ross Ridge, Copter Ridge, Pleasant View Ridge, Pine Mountain Ridge, Kratka Ridge - they all appeal to me and hold my imagination. There are a ton of these ridgelines in the San Gabriel Mountains to explore, some of which I know I'll never get to.

Winston Ridge is one of those ridges. It and it's namesake peak are named for Pasadena businessman L.C. Winston who, in 1893, got lost in a blizzard here and froze to death. His remains were apparently found in 1900 along what is now known as Winston Ridge.   

Saturday I explored some of this ridge which skirts the transition zone from forest to high desert. My route took me from Cloudburst Summit up the well worn use trail to Winston Peak, down the northeast side, around the west side of Pt. 6903, up onto the ridgeline, and out to Pt. 6850. Although I saw no one during my time out, this route obviously sees regular traffic. The use path to the summit of Winston Peak and back down to the saddle south of Pt. 6903 is very well trod - almost an established trail. The same holds true for the use trail from the saddle to Winston Ridge and out to Pt. 7003. Beyond Pt. 7003 and out to Pt. 6850, the use trail is less traveled, but still obvious and easy to follow. Continuing northwest from Pt. 6850, the path peters out considerably, the terrain steepens, and things get a bit more wild.

I found no benchmark or register atop Winston Peak. I also found no benchmarks along Winston Ridge, but I did locate the register at Pt. 7003 and dutifully logged in. Based upon the register entries, Pt. 7003 sees sporadic, but continuous visitors.

This is a short trip so I lingered a bit at Pt. 6850 enjoying the scenery and the solitude. On the return, I contoured around the north side of Pt. 6903 and then followed the Pacific Crest Trail back to Cloudburst. This gave me some variety on my way out and allowed me to avoid the steep and loose use path back to the summit of Winston Peak. 

View Toward Mt. Pacifico from Winston Peak

Looking North from Winston Peak Toward the Pleasant View Ridge

Phos-Chek on the Pleasant View Ridge

The Winston Ridge as seen from Winston Peak

View Into Little Rock Creek Canyon from Winston Peak

Squaw Canyon from the Back Side of Pt. 6903

Pleasant View Ridge - Another View

Winston Peak from the Winston Ridge

Looking Into the Little Rock Creek Drainage from the Winston Ridge

The High Desert from Winston Ridge - Pt. 6306 in the Foreground

Typical Conditions Along the Winston Ridge

Pt. 6850 from Near Pt. 7003

Looking South Toward the Front Country from Winston Ridge

Witness Post on the East Side of Pt. 6850

Witness Post AAW-26

Looking Back at Pt. 7003 from Pt. 6850

Looking Northwest from Pt. 6850 - Pt. 6235 in the Foreground

View West toward Mt. Pacifico from Pt. 6850