Santa Anita Canyon, Angeles National Forest

You could say that Mt. Wilson and I share a love, hate relationship, which has nearly turned violent on a couple of past occasions, including my first solo attempt at the peak last January when Mt. Wilson literally tried to kill me. This weekend, however, things worked out quite well, the Gods of Mt. Wilson smiled upon me, and I managed to make my way to the top and back down without any major incidents.

I’d been planning my triumphant return to the top of Mt. Wilson for months, though for one reason or another, things kept cropping up and keeping me from reaching the peak again. It’s not that the hike itself is all that difficult, but that it requires a significant mental commitment to complete. I’ve been back to base camp (Spruce Grove campground) quite a few times since my last ascent, but the relative comfort and tranquility of the area often makes it tough to motivate myself to leave. It may seem like a poor trade-off, abandoning the secluded beauty and peacefulness of Santa Anita Canyon for an arduous 2,500 foot elevation climb up to the top, but the view up there is entirely worth it.

I wanted to get back to the peak to get a look at the devastation wrought by the recent Station Fire so I could document the damage with my camera. I had attempted to do the same thing a couple months back, just after the fire, when I hiked up to Newcomb Pass during an aborted attempt at reaching Devore Campground, but the view was obstructed and the photos turned out like shit, which is why I’ve since updated that post with shots from this weekend’s trip.

Based on Chayacitra’s Google Analytics data, I could tell that I wasn’t the only one interested in seeing the burn zone, so I figured I would take one for the team and drag my tripod along on this outing, which is something I’ve never tried before. It was entirely worth the effort (not for the shots from the top, but for those taken down in the canyon), which has convinced me that, 1. I should always take a tripod along, and 2. I need a lighter tripod.

None of my shots from the top look fantastic, and I was pretty disappointed to find such terrible lighting conditions when I got up there, but the hazy skies and constant cloud cover didn’t stop me from  having a good time anyway. And even if the pictures do suck, as I’ve said before, the Station Fire and it’s aftermath still afford us with a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness impermanence, interconnectedness, and creation/destruction on a simply massive scale. I think there’s a great lesson in this fire for each of us, which is why I’ve been so intent to get these pictures taken and posted. So without further ado, here is their story.

I got up at 6:30 on Saturday morning and cooked up one of my famous omelettes to load up on some protein before finalizing my last second packing, then hopped in the car and sped off. I remembered at the last second that I was missing the most important backpacking food ever- bread, cheese, and grapes- but thankfully my local Ralphs was already open. I don’t know what had possessed me to plan on surviving with just cliff bars and trail mix this time around, but I’m damn glad I figured things out at the last second. There’s simply nothing like a good loaf of bread, some chipotle cheese, and a bag of grapes out on the trail.

I was even fortunate enough to run into some of the best customer service I’ve ever personally experienced, when the Ralph’s deli guy went completely out of his way to stop me from taking one of “yesterday’s” loaves of bread, replacing it with one that was piping-hot and literally fresh-out-of-the-oven. As it turned out, that loaf was so good at retaining heat that even hours later, in 40 degree temperature weather out in the middle of the wilderness, I was treated to a meal of hot bread!

When I arrived at the Chantry Flat parking area, the regular early morning Parking Rodeo was in full effect, with the Ranger playing parking lot attendant. It was a big mess, with a bunch of non-English speakers trying to figure out her instructions, and doing some of the worst parking I’ve ever seen. I was glad that I had packed all my stuff up beforehand so I could get on the trail quickly.

I totally screwed the pooch though and had completely forgotten to renew my Angeles National Forest Adventure Pass, which had apparently expired in November. I thought I had at least another month left on the damn thing, but apparently my timing was way off. I wasn’t about to sit around for an hour waiting for the pack station to open so I could buy a new one though, and since the tickets are immediatley forgiven as soon as one provides proof of their valid pass purchase, I figured it didn’t matter anyway.

Dam Along the San Gabriel River - Angeles National Forest

Though the weather was perfect and I had been expecting to have to wade my way through people, I found the trail itself to be relatively empty. Like usual, I was somewhat disappointed at the lack of spectacular views on the hike out, but I think I’m just spoiled, and that it’s unfair to compare Angeles with the likes of Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Saguaro, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia National Park, all of which I’ve been to in the past 3 months. While those places are all far more impressive than Angeles, none of them less than an hour outside of a major metropolitan area. And while the Angeles National Forest may not provide the most amazing scenery in the country, it sure is conveniently located for those of us stuck here in Southern CA. And for that, I absolutely adore the place.

My hike seemed a bit tougher than usual, but I think it’s partially because I haven’t done any proper backpacking since I visited Saguaro in October. Or it could have been the added weight of my new, heavier backpack, and the addition of the tripod, which as I stated above, I’d never carried into Angeles before. Either way, the 3.5+ mile trip didn’t take very long at all though, and I didn’t even have to take a single rest break, but I was definitely feeling the load on my back by the time I pulled into Spruce Grove.

Now that I’ve spent so many nights there, it almost feels like coming home when I arrive at the campground, and I was delighted to once again find it completely unoccupied. Apparently I’ve got some kind of amazing luck, because the local Ranger swears that the only time the place is deserted like that is when I’m around. I guess I just know how to pick the right weekends!

After arriving I unpacked enough to get my lunch supplies out and was totally shocked to find my loaf of bread still warm enough to release a stream of steam each time I cracked a new piece off the end. It made for a great meal, and an absolute treat, considering it was already cold enough that I had to put on my thermal pants, beanie, and fleece gloves. And it was still just 10:00 am! (Though I do get cold easily).

Once I managed to get warm I set up the tent and stowed my gear, then snapped a couple pictures of the campground so you could all see just what it looks like, and perhaps get an idea of why I like it so much.

Spruce Grove Campground - Angeles National Forest

Spruce Grove is definitely one of my favorite Southern California campground, mostly because it’s usually empty, right next to the stream (allowing easy access to filtering water), and relatively warmer than the surrounding area due to the thick tree canopy. I think I’ve spent something like 20-30 nights here now and I’ll definitely keep racking them up throughout this year, though with the loss of the Northern Angeles to the Station Fire, and my desire to start taking on longer trips, I may have to start looking elsewhere. Thankfully there are plenty of other trails around, and I think my next foray may be to head out East into the San Bernadino Mountains. Perhaps another shot at San Jacinto is even in order.

For now though, Spruce Grove remains my home base, and as every other time before, it served me quite well on this trip. Someone had been kind enough to do some pretty extensive fire-wood collecting, and little fire-wood burning, so I was even able to scavenge some excellent pieces of wood from the area immediately surrounding the campsite. I then collected up the obligatory load of tree branches, pulled them to pieces, and piled up what I figured would be enough wood to last a few hours.

As always, I enjoyed the process, and for the first time even remembered to use my gloves and rain jacket to keep myself from getting scraped up and filthy. It’s amazing how long it’s taken me to develop the skill, but I’m finally getting better at efficiently breaking down tree limbs and using their stress points and weak spots to break them up. I no longer decide how long I want each piece of wood to be, but instead go with the flow of the branch itself, and allow it to snap at the points of it’s own choosing. While I may not get the “perfect pile” or “perfect length” of wood each time, it sure saves me a lot of energy. And it certainly feels much more “Zen” to do it this way.

Fire Wood - Spruce Grove Campground - Angeles National Forest

After working up a sweat preparing the evening’s fuel I laid down and listened to the sounds of the forest around me, deeply enjoying the gurgling sounds of the local stream. A half hour or later I was ready to get to it again so I collected up my camera and tripod, then headed South along the trail, looking for potential photography subjects. I’ve shot this area probably 10-15 times now, but never with a tripod before, and even with the assistance of my K10D’s “Shake Reduction” technology, I’ve never managed to hold the camera steady enough for properly exposed photos. I’ve always had to trade off between sharpness and depth of field, which isn’t quite the way I like to pursue my art. And even though I’m shooting with a wide angle lens there’s so little available light due to the thick tree cover that my exposures typically require 1/4th a second or even longer- far too long for hand-held shots.

This time around, however, I was able to capture a few images that I really like, thanks to the help of my Amvona AT-L 101T Tripod. In particular, I was quite pleased to finally snag properly exposed and sharp photos of some mossy logs that I’ve been trying to shoot for over a year, but never had any luck with! Here are a few of my favorite shots from the afternoon.

Stream near Spruce Grove - Angeles National Forest

Fallen Leaf - Angeles National Forest

Moss Covered Log - Angeles National Forest

When I got back to camp I was pleased to see the area still unoccupied, but found myself starving, so I chomped down some more bread, cheese, and grapes, then filtered another CamelPak full of water. I’m still flabbergasted at the terrible design flaws in both my Katadyn Hiker Pro Water Filter and Camelbak water bladder though- neither or which have been designed for easy use. There are no convenient hand-holds, handles, or grips of any sort, making solo water pumping far more difficult than it should have to be. It’s never a problem with another person around, but it requires way too much of a juggling act to get it done when I’m alone. Unless each company makes significant strides in their designs, I will not be purchasing anything from them ever again. And if anyone out there knows of easier to use models, please let me know, because I’ve frankly had my fill with each of these (even though they’re both relatively new).

Exacerbating my frustration with operating such poorly-designed gear, one of the denizens of the local cabins (the closest one to Spruce Grove campground) had decided to do some serious construction work at just about the same time that I had fixed on doing some serious relaxation. Unbeknownst to me, though I was later informed by the Ranger, their cabin’s side paneling had not been properly finished and they were quite worried about getting it put fully into place before the first big Winter storm. It sounded to me like they were just pounding hammers to make noise for making noise’s sake, but I guess there was some method to the madness. Either way- it was incredibly obnoxious, keeping me from being able to relax, clear my thoughts, and get any good meditation in. All I could think about was throwing a rock through their cabin’s window (which I’m glad I did not do).

I ended up having to put in my earbuds and take a quick nap- hoping that they’d give up on the hammering after about an hour or so. But of course, they did not. That would have made things too easy for me! My next attempt to escape the annoyance was to head toward a gigantic rock pillar which I’ve planned to climb since I first saw it nearly a year ago, but never actually explored. I slowly made my way to the top, then walked out toward the ledge, sitting about 100 feet up off the canyon floor, meditating for an hour or so, and again enjoying the silence of the forest. I was just far enough away that the incessant hammering sounded more like some kind of distant drum or bass playing, and I was again able to relax and enjoy myself.

As the light began to fade, I hurried back to camp and decided to start up my fire since that’s no easy task even with a headlamp (which I conveniently lost in Death Valley, and had not yet replaced). My first attempt was an abysmal failure, the result of failing to properly prepare my fuel with enough light kindling. I always end up collecting up far too many large and medium sized logs, with way too little of the tiny, easy-to-light stuff, and even after a year of constantly reminding myself to do it right the next time, I still haven’t quite been able to broke myself of the bad habit. Without enough kindling it’s terribly difficult to get a fire to any sort of self-sustainability.

My second fire starting effort turned out to be far more successful,  thanks to a much larger supply of kindling, and the assistance of Coghlan’s Emergency Tinder. That stuff was excellent, incredibly worth it’s price, and far more effective than any of the other similar products that I’ve tried in the past. In fact I’d say this is the best product on the market right now, at least that I know of, and I’ve tried everything that REI carries. The only real drawback of the Coghlan’s stuff is that it’s difficult to use in cold weather, but with a bit of cleverness and a jacket pocket, that’s a relatively simple problem to overcome. It still took me a little over an hour to build up a coal-base hot enough to get my fire to sustainability, but once I hit that point it was all smooth sailing.

Soon after the fall of total darkness the local Ranger stopped by to check in with everyone and make sure that everything was in order. I’ve met him quite a few times and I always enjoy the chance to pick his brain and ask questions about the area. He’s been watching over Sturtevant’s Camp for something like 25 years now, so there’s really no one with a better understanding of that area. I was particularly curious to get his take on the Station Fire damage, and to find out if it was possible for me to get into the burn zone.

Unfortunately, as I suspected, the Ranger said that all trails to the area are now officially closed for some sort of “Reforestation” effort, and that this would probably be the case for some time to come. On the bright side though, even though I could get a decent view of the Northern Angeles from Newcomb Pass (where I was thrown out of last time), he let me know that the Echo Rock viewpoint on top of Mt. Wilson would be a far better bet. And even though my knee and hips had been giving me trouble earlier in the day, so much so that I had abandoned my plan to hit the peak, his advice rekindled my desire to get up there. After our obligatory discussion of the weather, the Ranger was on his way and I found myself again alone with my little fire- just the way I like it.

Fire Art Attempt - Spruce Grove Campground

Another Attempt - Spruce Grove Campground

I chomped down a gigantic cookie, continued working my fire, and tried taking pictures of the flames and the fire’s evolution. I have an idea for a series of photos that I’ll attempt the next time I’m backpacking, which involves documenting the beginning, middle, and final stages of an evening’s fire- similar to what’s posted above, though I’d like to produce a sort of time-lapse sequence capturing a fire’s entire life cycle. I think it could be beautiful! I was enjoying listening to the sounds of the canyon until a very peculiar owl call began to attract my attention. The sound was like none I’d ever heard before- a piercing call ripping through the silent night- soon commanding my total attention. I had wanted to investigate the noises, but started to get cold, tired, and even downright scared.

I had been thinking about some of the concepts from the Don Juan series of books written by Carlos Castaneda, and was attempting to perform one of the energetic meditations suggested for tapping into an area’s power when I first began to hear those weird calls. I had just been trying to “expose myself to power” when the first call rang out. I immediately froze up, sat completely still, closed my eyes, and just listened to the noises. Unfortunately I did that for so long that my fire ended up burning itself out! Having used up all my pieces of light kindling, my only options were to freeze my ass off or get in bed, so I chose the latter. I had been enjoying my fire already for 3-4 hours, so it was probably time to get to bed anyway, but it certainly felt like a defeat at the time.

Listening to the calls, which I think could be more accurately described as shrieks, howls, or even screams, I had the feeling of total certainty that they were not being produced by ordinary means (ie. owls), but by some sort of beings of the night- some kind of energetic entities. I figured that the destruction wrought by the Station Fire had probably driven some of the older, bigger, and badder entities out of the deep Angeles, and into the fringes of remaining forest- where I was now lay. I didn’t want anything to do with those potential terrors at that point, so I cut out all light, sound, and movement of my own, sitting totally still and just listening to the weirdness. After an indeterminable period of time I ended up falling into a very deep sleep.

I woke up the next morning around 8:00 AM, feeling excellent, without any of the previous nights soreness in my legs, hips, and back. I was quite confident that I’d be able to handle the hike up and down Mt. Wilson, but I knew I’d need to carbo-load first. I heated up my usual evening meal, the incredible dehydrated Macaroni and Cheese from Backpacker’s Pantry, which I promptly chomped down, then set to work on packing up all of my innesential gear. I knew I would be pushing daylight to just about it’s limits if I spent any significant amount of time at the top of Mt. Wilson, and I didn’t want to have to hike out in the dark (especially since I didn’t have a head lamp), so I packed up everything I didn’t need to take with me to the summit and stored it all neatly in my tent, which due to later time-constraints turned out to be an excellent idea.

It was a quick, but relatively difficult hike up to Wilson’s summit, fraught with the usual perils of numerous avalanche chutes leading to certain death. You see, the local Ranger has reminded me twice now that these are the steepest slopes in the lower 48 states, and there have been numerous body-rescue missions in the area to prove it. I can’t claim that I’ve done much hiking or backpacking outside of the South West, but based on what I have seen, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that these slopes really are the steepest, especially after paying so much attention to them each time I’m out there by myself. It’s never an issue when hiking with friends, but when I’m out there alone there’s a noticeably higher level of excitement due to the many opportunities for getting myself killed. Take a look at the slope in the following picture and you can get some idea of what I’m talking about.

Avalanche Chute - Mt. Wilson, Angeles National Forest

When I did reach the summit, for only my third time ever even though I’ve camped at the mountain’s base so many times now, I was rewarded with a completely unobstructed and nearly 360-degree view, allowing me to document the full damage done by the Station Fire, and giving you the opportunity to take a peak at the area without even having to leave the comfort of your own home. The following shot is my favorite of the series, with Mt. Baldy’s snow-capped peak in the top-right, the foreground showing the healthy Angeles, and the mountains to the left exhibiting the extent of the area’s devastation. For the other pics from this series, please see the following post: Aftermath of the Station Fire – Angeles National Forest.

Angeles National Forest - Station Fire Aftermath

I lingered at the fantastic Echo Rock viewpoint for about two hours, hoping that the cloud bank to the South would clear up, giving me the opportunity to capture those mountains under even lighting conditions, but alas, it never happened. Accordingly, these shots are nowhere near as nice as I was hoping they’d turn out, but I figure I’ll be making a return trip to the area relatively soon, so all is not lost. I was also quite pleased to find myself in good enough shape to bring the majority of my backpack’s weight, including both the camera and tripod (each of which are my heaviest piece of backpacking equipment on their own) the entire 2,500 feet up, without any serious problems. And just as I was packing up to make my way back down the mountain, I heard the sound of approaching humans, at which time I realized that I’d had the mountain to myself for the entire time that I was up there- just the way I like it.

Near Mt. Wilson Summit - Looking South East

The hike back down was far easier, and much faster than my way up, taking less than half the time and failing to produce any noticeable sweating or fatigue. I even had enough energy to stop short at the Half-Way sign and set up my camera to capture my only self-portrait of the trip, which I think turned out relatively well.

Self Portrait - Half Way Back Down Mt. Wilson

I arrived back at camp around 3pm and was pretty happy that I’d had the foresight to pack things up before heading for the peak, as I was now officially feeling tired and lazy. Light was already beginning to become an issue so I quickly broke down my tent, cleaned up the campsite according to my leave no trace style of backpacking, and got ready to take off. The day had been a good one, and I was only disappointed that I wouldn’t have time to stop by Sturtevant’s Camp for another conversation with the local Ranger, especially since I’d wanted to show him my photos from the peak. I’ll be keeping them on my memory card so he can get a look at them the next time I’m out there.

I made it back to my car relatively quickly, getting there just as the deep Twilight had begun to set in, which was quite a relief considering that things would have been somewhat complicated without a headlamp to rely on. I was then treated with my first twilight drive down the mountain and back into civilization, enjoying the view of the emergence of the evening’s first stars. It had been a great trip and even now I can’t wait for my next adventure. I’m full of ideas for how I want to shoot the canyon on my next trip out there and I’ll be sure to bring my new headlamp along so I can take my sweet time.

Angeles Fire Damage - Station Fire Aftermath

Station Fire Damage - Angeles National Forest

Station Fire Aftermath - Angeles National Forest

Angeles Fire Aftermath - Station Fire Damage

Angeles National Forest - Station Fire Aftermath

All shots were taken with Pentax K10D and DA* 16-50mm lens, by Tim Lavelle.

I figure these speak for themselves, but everything should look like the green forest in the foreground. I’ve honestly never seen anything like this, and the closest I could compare the area to looking would be that of post-nuclear Hiroshima or Nagasaki. There is nothing left out there. Miles and miles of forest burned to a crisp, leaving nothing but dirt and ash in it’s wake. This terrible tragedy could have been averted, had we allowed smaller forest fires to burn through the area in the past few decades, clearing up old debris and leaving room for new growth. Devastating forest fires such as this will continue as long as we keep interfering with Nature’s way.

These were shot on December 20th, 2009 from “Echo Rock” on top of Mt. Wilson. You are looking North / North-East. That’s Mt. Baldy in the right side of the frame of shot #5. It’s snow cap was deposited by a storm two weeks ago, but it’s melting quickly, and will most likely be gone in early January unless another storm rolls through. Fortunately, the San Gabriel River needed water badly, and this run-off has provided just that. Other than the area completely destroyed by the Station Fire, the rest of Angeles is alive and strong. And besides- that forest will return- eventually. It’s just that none of us will still be around to see it.

Nature works on a much longer scale than we do!

Mesquite Sand Dunes Self Portrait

Immediately after Thanksgiving dinner I wrote up one of my favorite posts yet, called “Taking an Inventory“, which you should check out before continuing through this one. I was forced to race through the post because I had to meet up with Sean in Santa Monica by a reasonable hour so we could get to Death Valley at a reasonable time the next morning. By reasonable hour and reasonable time, what I really mean is entirely unreasonable, on both counts.

After putting the finishing touches on my post and getting all my gear stowed in the trusty Civic, I finally left Irvine around 11pm. “Great”, I thought to myself, “I can hardly keep my eyes open and we’re about to drive 300 miles through the barren desert, in the middle of the night, on the worst driving day of the year. And all to reach a destination aptly named ‘Death Valley’. What the hell am I doing?”

But it was too late to turn back now. I ignored my better judgment, turned up the DJ Tiesto, and sped off to Santa Monica, where Sean’s house is conveniently located in the complete opposite direction of Death Valley, about 45 minutes entirely the wrong way. For such a long drive though (6 hours each way) the slight detour was entirely worth it. And Sean is no slouch, unlike some of our other travel companions. By the time I arrived at his house he was ready to rock and roll.

Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park

The drive out was mostly uneventful other than the occasional coyote sighting, a quick stop in Mojave (a far more depressing town than the desert bearing the same name), and the multiple times that we caught each other nodding off at the wheel. In fact, by far the most exciting moments were the getting lost parts (thanks Google maps!) and the minor annoyance that my phone couldn’t place us anywhere closer than “Within 8000 meters”, or the equivalent of 5 miles, of our actual location (nice touch Verizon!). We had to re-route no less than 5 times, but thankfully there are plenty of different ways to get to Death Valley National Park from Southern California. They even make the odd boast that they house “more roads than any other national park.”

Along the way, we each consumed an entire bag of food ending in “tos” (Cheetos & Fritos for the uninitiated), shared more than a few “I think we’re going the right way”s, and enjoyed some pretty damn impressive star gazing. Sean even tested out stealth mode on his car, driving without any lights on in the middle of nowhere- an experience I don’t necessarily want to ever repeat.

Dantes View, Looking North (Over Mos Eisley)

We finally saw our first “Death Valley” sign around 5:30 in the morning after entering the official Western boundary of the National Park. Some hair-raising, cliff-hugging, speed-racer style driving got us to Stovepipe Wells in a jiffy, where we found ourselves at a relatively crowded and not-so reasonably priced campground ($12), considering we only had about an hours-worth of good darkness left for sleeping.

We coasted to a stop in the parking lot between the campground and general store, resigning ourselves to sleeping in the car, which as usual, was not so much fun. We didn’t have a whole lot of options though, since we wanted to talk with the Rangers as soon as they arrived for duty at 8:00 am. Showing up at 6:00 didn’t leave us enough time to squeeze in any kind of real exploration or adventure, and we had no idea what there was to see in Death Valley anyway. We hadn’t done any research whatsoever.

Our first run-in with the Death Valley Rangers (which provided some of the most interesting experiences of the trip) was both quite profitable and highly amusing, especially because our informant seemed to be the crack-smokingest human being on the planet! Without exaggerating a bit, this man was capable of fitting something like 10 sentences into the time, space, and breath that your average human typically uses for just 1 or 2. Think of the Micromachines commercials guy and multiply him by two.

The Devils Golf Course

Ranger Methamphetamine gave us some great advice on how to spend our time in the Park, providing us with a couple of excellent maps for the occasion, which alone were entirely worth the $20 entrance fee. We used both maps extensively, though I think I preferred the Death Valley Backcountry Roads Map to the regular Visitor Map.  And for those of you with 4x4s, high-clearance vehicles- or more cajones than brains- you’ll definitely want to grab a copy of it.

In typical Tim & Sean form, we had planned absolutely nothing in terms of an agenda, other than the general destination and estimated time of arrival. As I learned on last month’s road-trip through Arizona and Utah [insert link here], flying by the seat of your pants is far more exciting and typically just as productive. Both of us have trouble with sticking to plans anyway, so why set ourselves up for failure – right?

To let you in on a little secret, Park Rangers really do deserve their minimum wage salaries (I kid!) because they actually know what the hell they’re talking about, unlike a lot of the people on sites like Virtual Tourist. I’ve found them to be the absolute best source of useful information on each destination I’ve seen in the past year. They’re the eyes and ears on the ground, and they know every little nook and cranny of the Parks that they protect. If I hadn’t talked to them at each of the major destinations I visited, I would have missed out on quite a few of my favorite spots

Badwater Basin Reflection

And Ranger Meth was no exception – in fact he was my favorite type of Ranger – knowledgeable, friendly, and outright hilarious. He let us know that our outlandish plan to “backpack Death Valley” was an actual possibility, due to certain rules like “You can camp anywhere as long as you’re at least 2 miles from a road”. Well – at least that’s what we thought he had said. It’s just too bad that it’s not the truth, as we would later come to find out. (And for the record, he did tell us the real rules, we simply heard what we wanted to hear).

The first stop on our shiny new, Ranger-informed agenda was to head down tourist row (South Western Death Valley) where we’d be able to see all the sites “from the post cards”. A few minutes later we were standing at Zabriskie Point which fellow Pink Floyd fans should recognize, looking out over a magnificent view. I managed to waste it by leaving my circular polarizer in the car, so these shots didn’t turn out nearly as nice as they could have, but I’m still relatively happy with them as is, and I learned a valuable lesson in the process.After shooting the scenery, digging the desert vibe, and taking some Chinese teeny-bopper-style photos of ourselves jumping in the air, we were back in the car and speeding off toward the next destination. And what a destination it was. Dantes View is what they call it, and it’s absolutely incredible!

Badwater Basin - Simple Salt Formations

Sean accidentally came up with a much more motif-appropriate name for the place though, calling it “Devil’s View” both as an homage to The Inferno (I actually made that part up while writing this) and for theme unity with the whole “This place will kill you” meme established by “Death Valley”. Whatever it’s name the view from the top is just magnificent.

And it’s also quite famous, though I didn’t recognize it at the time. The shot below is nearly identical to a scene from the original Star Wars, when Obi Wan and Luke are looking down over Mos Eisley Spaceport from the surrounding mountains.Neither of us were expecting much from Dantes View, but I’m damn glad we took the chance to visit! And if I’m being honest, I also had no idea that Death Valley was so damn big until we got up there. The perspective from Dantes (at 5,475 feet above sea level) afforded us a perspective on the scope and size of the Park, especially since most of the Valley floor lies right around sea level.

Badwater Basin - Structures of Increasing Complexity

For those of you not paying attention, that’s a 5,000+ foot elevation differential. And even though the pictures don’t really do it any justice, this place is huge, and I mean absolutely massive. It’s hard to explain the sheer size, scope, and desolation that Death Valley inspires, but it delivers on all three counts in a major way.

And when it all boils down to it, Death Valley itself couldn’t have been given a better name. Not that it’s a literal valley full of death (in fact I don’t remember seeing anything dead at all), but that it contains so little life. As far as I could tell, there’s pretty much nothing but ants and shrubs out there. We heard no coyotes, saw just a couple birds, found very little sign (animal droppings), and heard absolutely no noise other than that which we created.

Badwater Basin - Intricate Salt Crystals and Pinnacles

And I really mean that last part about the noise too. It’s not like there was “just a little bit of noise” or even “some quiet sounds”. There was nosound whatsoever! Nothing. Not an insect’s chirp, a frog’s croak, nor a coyote’s howl. All I heard was the sound of the wind-blown dust and sand, of which there was plenty (as my sleeping bag, tent, and camera gear can attest to).

After Dantes we came back West and even further South toward some of Death Valley’s really unique natural wonders. It was here that we saw some things which, to me at least, make Death Valley entirely worth visiting. This place is a must-see destination. It is absolutely out of this world. And the best time to be there is right now.

Badwater Basin - Mountainous Looking Formations

Next up on our tour was the Devil’s Golf Course, probably the weakest of the major Death Valley destinations, yet still one that really shouldn’t be skipped. It’s a gigantic Salt Pan, and one that given a perfectly appropriate name in terms of both theme-cohesion (“Devil’s”) and appropriateness of description (“Worst Golf Course Ever”). Apparently it derives from an old National Park Service guide book stating that “only the devil could play golf” on its surface. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to try.The place may also be bad luck, considering that both Sean and I experienced major camera failures there. Looking back on it though, I think we were both just underwhelmed by this location- partially because Zabriskie Point andDantes View were so incredible, and also because our cameras stopped working.

We only lingered here for about 10 minutes before racing off to the infinitely more spectacular Badwater Basin, which was far more impressive and exciting. I snapped one of my favorite shots of the trip just as we arrived, catching a pretty reflection of the sky in the only pool of water I saw during the entire trip.Arriving at Badwater Basin, also known as the point of lowest elevation in the entire United States at -282 feet below sea level (yes, that’s a negative),  I totally thought we were in for another major let down.  We were debating whether or not we should even walk out into the area, but since we had nowhere else to be, and nothing better to do, we kept exploring. Much like the rest of the Park, Badwater Basin turned out to be chock full of surprises!

Badwater Basin - Salt Formation Fault Lines (Don't They Look Oceanic?)

We followed behind a snaking line of tourists on a well-traveled path that soon gave way to some of the most interesting scenery of the entire trip. I was just blown away by the cavalcade of increasingly intricate crystalline structures strewn about the valley floor. I got some of my favorite shots here, and would suggest that this spot is a definite must-see as part of any trip to Death Valley. Just make sure to walk out far enough into it though, otherwise you’ll be likely to leave severely disappointed.

The entire Basin is covered with a variety of salt-crystal structures, looking something like a massive natural kaleidoscope. I won’t try to describe it in words beyond that attempt, except to say that it was absolutely mind-blowing. The formations were so detailed, so delicate, and so different from anything that I’ve ever seen before that I was filled with awe, amazement, and wonder that something like this could even exist. The world truly is an incredible place, and the Badwater Basin is a perfect example of its awesomeness.

Badwater Basin - View of the Valley (Looking North)

Sean remarked that “Man could never create something like this, no matter how hard he tried”, and he was dead on. The entire area was absolutely fantastic. I was so taken by the Basin that I plan on returning with my tripod for a full on photo shoot. I’d just love to see the long shadows on this terrain, and the prospect of catching a gorgeous sunrise or sunset here has got me chomping at the bit to return.

We spent quite a while at Badwater Basin, only leaving after we’d become distinctly aware of the rapidly setting sun. We had a long drive ahead of us- down past Ashford Canyon, just about 25 miles South of Badwater Basin. We had planned on hiking in “two miles from the nearest road” to set up a back-country camp for the night. We had been told about a secret parking lot down there which “someone” (the exact word used by the Ranger) had “blocked off with rocks”.

Badwater Basin - Alternate View (Again Looking North)

With a wry grin, he suggested that we simply “move the rocks and park in the dirt lot”. We were then supposed to hike the requisite two miles West where we could then legally camp near the base of the foothills bordering the edge of the park. We managed to find the parking lot without any trouble, but the impending darkness looked to be an entirely different issue. We started to worry a bit about just how little time we appeared to actually have before total darkness.

Fortunately, “2 miles” from the nearest road becomes a subjective measure when hiking through Death Valley in fading light, 50 miles from the nearest Ranger Station, and at least a mile from the closest human being. Accordingly, we made it to camp substantially faster than we had thought it would take us. We also managed to catch a pretty awesome sunset along the way.

Sunset Over Death Valley - Near Ashford Canyon

Home for the night turned out to be a small rise in the center of a massive wash, way out in the middle of nowhere and about 200 yards from a large patch of low-growing shrubs. I had wanted to set up camp amongst those shrubs, but Sean vetoed the idea due to irrational concerns over catching the Hantavirus. To his credit, our site provided excellent views of the entire valley floor, and we had both expected it to offer at least a modicum of protection from the wind, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Once Sean got over the Hantavirus obsession, we broke the rules to collect a little dead wood for a fire that turned out to be the smallest, yet most awesome I’ve ever had the opportunity to enjoy. We were both blown away by its ability to keep us warm, even though it was so small. It seemed to be just the right size, and even seemed like it could last all night since it took so little fuel to keep going. It’s warmth and glow kept us quite comfortable for a couple of hours, lulling us into a false sense of security.

After hours of total stillness, the desert unleashed a furious barrage of wind attacks which caught us entirely by surprise. Our previously cozy and perfectly controlled little fire transported itself from a comfortable position at my feet to a much less convenient one directly on the side of my tent. Literally. And my tent is by no means fireproof- its materials aren’t even “flame resistant”!

The Following Morning - Looking West From Camp

It was at this point that I started to feel a bit panicky, having convinced myself that I was under attack by some sort of supernatural force- like one of Don Juan’s “inorganic beings”. Thankfully, Sean had not flipped his own lid and was perfectly capable of springing into action. He quickly put out the fire with some dirt, then deftly maneuvered my tent so that it was better positioned to deal with the oncoming wind gusts.

Just as we finished moving the tent, my flashlight crapped out completely, and I was left with pitch blackness. I immediately jumped into my tent, beginning what would become a night-long vigil as I listened to something patrolling around outside, patiently waiting for me to emerge so it could attack. I felt certain that stepping outside would have resulted in my being torn to shreds by whatever force was prowling around out there. I didn’t get a lot of good sleep that night, but I certainly had myself one hell of an interesting time.

We finally got up the next morning around 10 or 11, far later than we had planned. After spotting a super-sized storm building up directly over our location, we quickly got to packing up. Our idea was to head back North to Stove Pipe Wells, stopping to check out the few remaining post-card destinations along the way, then backpacking out onto the famous Mesquite Sand Dunes for the night. But Nature had other ideas in store for us.

Artoo's Arroyo - From Star Wars: A New Hope

On the way to our next stop, I had an interesting thought, which was that on this particular trip I seemed to be playing the part of the Lawyer from Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Sharing my observation with Sean, he responded “Does that mean I get to be Johnny Depp?” Priceless.

Our entire day was pretty much ruined by severe cloud cover and an impending downpour, complete with sporadic drizzle, and absolutely horrendous light for Photographic pursuits. We had gotten up so late that we even had to skip a couple sights too, among them the Natural Bridge, which I now deeply regret. We also mistakenly thought that the Artist’s Drive & Palette would be worth visiting, but the light was so poor that most of the colors on the canyon walls were hardly discernible, and even in great lighting, I’m not so sure that this place would have been all that exciting anyway. So it goes!

Sean Driving Through the Storm

The Artist’s Drive, however, does house a famous spot called “Artoos Arroyo” which sort of salvaged the day for me. I didn’t realize it while we were out there, but I took another shot nearly identical to that framed in Star Wars, which is actually pretty cool. I guess I also got a decent shot of Sean driving, in which you can see the clouds building up through the windshield. I also like the cliched self-portrait that I took, but I’m really not all that proud of any of the photos that I shot that day. It’s unfortunate, because Death Valley is so spectacularly beautiful, that even a single day lost is a major waste.

I do think that the Artist’s Drive might have been a sight worth visiting if the lighting had been better, or if I hadn’t already been spoiled by the Red Rocks in Sedona, the hoodus of Bryce Canyon, and the gigantic scale of the Grand Canyon, all of which I’d visited just weeks beforehand. To be fair- I’ve seen some pretty amazing stuff lately, and while most parts of Death Valley definitely compete with those places, the Artist’s Drive left a bit to be desired. I’ll leave it up for the jury to decide, but let’s just say that this was the only part of the Park I don’t feel compelled to revisit. Above is the aforementioned shot of Sean, and below you can see my self-portrait.

Self Portrait - Shot As We Entered The Artist's Drive (Timely, or Just Ironic?)

When we did finally make it back North to the Stovepipe Wells sand dunes, our plans were thrown for a loop. The sky looked far too ominous to venture out onto them without first consulting a Ranger for an updated weather report. I may be an idiot, but I’m not that careless. Unfortunately, the new Ranger on duty (not the same one we’d talked to the day before) had nothing but bad news for us.

“You boys are heading out into a miserable muddy mess”.

“Could we make it to Sequoia National Park tonight?” I inquired, in desperation. I was grasping at straws in an attempt to save the trip.

“Tonight? What are you gonna do? Drive over the highest mountain range in the lower 48? There’s no road through there.”

I had forgotten that Sequoia was on the other side of Mt. Whitney from us.

“Besides, the storm should clear out tonight.”

“Thanks” we muttered and left, dejected, but still undecided on a course of action. At least there seemed to be a chance that things could get better, as the Ranger had pointed out.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Glowing Sand at Sunrise

But just then, Sean spotted another Ranger in the parking lot and decided to try his luck again. I had a gut feeling that this was a bad idea, but for whatever reason I kept it to myself. Perhaps I was just desperate to get some good news and a nod of approval for our idiotic plan, but what we got from this guy was the complete opposite of that. Looking back, I should have stopped Sean when I had the chance.

As we approached him my body stiffened up and the hair on my neck stood straight and tall. I felt absolutely terrified, though I’m still not sure why. Perhaps it was because the Ranger had an incredibly stern look about him, or maybe it was just the gigantic pistol on his hip. As we approached to within around 15 feet, I swear I saw him unlatch the holster. It was at that point that I fully realized we’d made an absolutely enormous mistake.

“Could we ask you a question?” Sean started in.

“…” He just sort of stared at us with a disapproving look.

“You can ask.”

“Do you think it’s safe for us to camp out on the Dunes tonight?”

“There’s no camping outside of a campground in a National Park”. He had hardly let Sean finish the question before snapping back.

“But we…”

“There’s no camping outside of a campground in a National Park,” he repeated again, with more force than the first time.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Long Shadows of the Early Morning

Sean and I looked at each other, bewildered.

I started in with, “One of your colleagues told us earlier today that…” but he cut me off immediately. This guy was clearly not in a good mood, and he wanted nothing to do with us.

“There’s no camping outside of a campground in a National Park”. As he said it for the third time, he waved his hand over the word “Ranger” painted on the side of his truck and let us know that he had  “a ticket book right here to prove it”.

Whoa buddy, we get it. Conversation over.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Morning Light

We walked away even more upset than before. I snapped at Sean for putting us through that, telling him that we should have cut our losses earlier, since we’d already been told not to camp out there anyway simply due to the weather. Now we’d been informed that both our plans for that evening and our trip on the previous night were illegal, would get us fined, and possibly even kicked out of the Park. Bad times in a major way.

We managed to prepare for departure within minutes of our arrival, but not quickly enough to beat the setting sun. It was well past twilight by the time we started to strap the packs on. We then noticed what appeared to be some pretty serious rain falling across the valley on the other side of the dunes, but heading directly our way- and quickly. A solid sheet of water, mist, and fog, obscured the view of the mountains to the East. Our moment of hesitation lasted long enough for yet another Ranger to drive by in his jeep. I decided the risk was worth it this time, and flagged him down, hoping for another weather update.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Long Shadows

“You guys are right. It’s definitely raining over there.” he responded to my initial inquiry. “And the thing about this place is, we either get no rain at all, or a total downpour. I wouldn’t advise heading out there tonight.”

“But are we allowed to? We’ve heard two completely different stories…”

“We’ve got a lot of,” he fidgeted uncomfortably, pausing for an extended beat as he searched for just the right phrase, “turn-over in the Park. We’re not always exactly on the same page. Let me look it up so I can make sure I don’t get you guys into all sorts of trouble.”

We were just happy to get more than a “Screw off” out of him at that point, considering the quality of our last Ranger encounter. Sean and I looked at each other with amazement as he walked back to his Jeep to grab the rules book. At least we had a chance!

And if I can make a quick side note, I didn’t realize it until writing this up, but it sounds to me like there might be some sort of Civil War brewing amongst the Rangers in Death Valley. This particular Ranger’s comment about “turn-over”, the staff being “not exactly on the same page”, and the suggestion to park in the dirt lot near Ashford Canyon which had been blocked off with rocks from Ranger Meth makes me wonder if there’s not some serious dissension amongst the ranks.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - A Sheltered Alcove of Shrubbery

While the young Rangers encouraged us to backpack out into the wild, move things around, and generally just do whatever we needed to have a good time, the older crowd seemed pretty much intent on destroying all chances for having any fun at all! Thankfully both Sean and myself aren’t very big fans of doing what we’re told, so we didn’t let it get in the way of our having a good time.

And either way, Civil War or no, it was refreshing to speak with this Ranger, who took the time to converse with us, actually examine the rules book, and explain to us that we’d simply misinterpreted the statements made by his colleagues. Apparently the real rule in Death Valley is that you can camp “2 miles from any road” outside of the corridor established between the Stovepipe Wells Airport and the Ashford Mill.

With that in mind, we hadn’t broken the law the night before, we’d simply heard what we wanted to hear when receiving instructions. What the Ranger had really said (and what we recollected after looking at the map, upon which he’d left annotated instructions) was that we couldn’t actually camp on the Dunes, but that we were to head quite a ways North of them- past the Airport, and well within the acceptable zone for backcountry camping. Duh!

But to get back to the story, while standing out there in the dark and watching a virtual wall of rain bearing down on us, we agreed that backpacking was out of the question. Instead, we went back to the Stovepipe Wells campground, bought ourselves a site, and picked up some fire wood from the general store. Then we had ourselves one hell of a fire, which we lounged around in comfortable camp chairs while watching the storm move across the Valley. We never got much rain, but the wind picked up at just about the same time as it had the night before, sending us off to bed a little earlier than I would have wanted.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Graceful Lines

Sean woke me up just after sunrise the next morning and let me know that it was time to head out to the Dunes.

“I’d rather rest a little longer” was all that I could muster.

“I’ll come back for you then. After I check them out.”

I was in the car 30 seconds later. And I’m glad I got my ass in gear because I would have been furious if I’d missed out on that part of the adventure.

The Mesquite Sand Dunes turned out to be the star attraction of Death Valley, producing some of my most remarkable photos of the entire trip, and providing some incredibly outlandish experiences. The hike out onto them, and really the entire experience with the dunes themselves, was just interesting as all hell.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Perfectly Oceanic In Appearance

Walking through that desolate area, which appeared so much like an ocean in both form and movement, yet was completely the opposite in terms of composition, was absolutely mystifying. And as we approached the ridge lines of the larger dunes, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get lost in such a beautiful, yet unforgiving and outright hostile environment.

Mesquite Sand Dunes - Golden, Glimmering Sand

The wind arrived with the same force that had attacked us on each of the previous nights, but we faced an entirely different problem out in the sand since we had absolutely nowhere to hide. We were entirely exposed, and knew fully well that we’d fall victim to whatever the storm God’s decided to throw at us- but luckily they held back. As it was, simply turning my back into the wind was enough to shelter my sensitive parts, and more importantly, my camera gear.

I watched as sand poured from the tips of each dune, quite similar in appearance to the spray of water that flows off the tips of crashing ocean waves. These sand dunes perfectly represented impermanence in both appearance and character, providing me with a great lesson in humility by allowing me a glimpse of the real shifting sands of the universe. I truly enjoyed just being able to spend some time in their presence. The following shots were taken over a period of a few hours, during two separate trips out into the sand. I was blown away by the Park’s beauty, and I hope that these photos will encourage you to make the journey out there, because it’s entirely worth the effort!

Devore Campground's Surroundings

The photo above is a view of the Angeles National Forest surrounding Devore Campground, showing the damage from the Station Fire. It was shot from the top of Mt. Wilson, on a later trip than the one described below.

Two weeks before this trip, the Angeles National Forest was finally reopened. I attempted to hike into Devore Campground, but was told that the area was closed by a Forest Service Employee who found me at Newcomb Pass. Devore campground will likely be closed for quite a while as the surrounding area was completely destroyed by the fire. Here are further photos of the damage: Angeles National Forest Fire damage.

October, 2009

I arrived at the Chantry Flats parking area around 7:15 on Saturday morning and it was already starting to get crowded. Strapping on my pack, I began the descent down the large paved access road leading down into Santa Anita Canyon. This is a great area for hiking and backpacking, easily accessed by the Gabrileno Trail, which traces the course of the San Gabriel River.

When I arrived at the trailhead, I was surprised to find no Ranger posted. I had wanted to ask about the conditions in the area, as my internet searches had failed to uncover specific details about damage, closures, and safety conditions. Looking back, I should have called ahead to ask about conditions on the ground, rather than expecting figure it all out on the fly.

The first sign of trouble came  in the form of a weekend-warrior type heading back up from his morning hike. He stopped to ask where I was headed (Hikers often seem quite curious of Backpackers). After I told him Devore, he informed me that everything to the North had been completely destroyed, using the word “obliterated” to describe the damage.

I was dismayed, but still intent on seeing things with my own eyes. I continued hiking North along the Gabrilena, winding my way along the North Fork past Sturtevant Falls, Spruce Grove Campground, stopping for a few minutes to rest and refill my camel pak at Sturtevant’s Camp. About half a mile short of Newcomb, I ran into a backpacker coming the opposite direction.

He stopped when he reached me to say hello, folded his trekking poles under his arms, and wiped beads of perspiration from his sunglasses.

“How’s it look up there?” I inquired.

“Not too good” he retorted with a grimace. “It’s all grey, and it makes me sad.”

Our short discussion revealed that everything to the North and West of Newcomb had been completely incinerated.

His plan had been the same as mine, but executed 24 hours in earlier.

“How bad is the campground itself?” I asked cautiously.

“I didn’t make it that far.” He had stopped at the fire line, setting up dry-camp at Newcomb and settling in the for the night. I wasn’t ready to accept defeat that easily.

“Do you think I could still stay at Devore?”

“I don’t see why not. There’s nobody out there to stop you.”

We wished each other luck and went our separate ways. I was dismayed by the news, but still figured that I could make it to the campground and get some great pictures of the surrounds. I’ve never seen the aftermath of a gigantic forest fire first hand, and figured it could create some interesting shots.

Arriving at Newcomb Pass around 10:15, I dumped my gear on the picnic table and did some scouting around. One of the first things I noticed was that Newcomb’s sign posts had all been ripped out of the ground and laid down on their sides. A fire road had also been plowed right up the side of the hill, where large trees and dense forest had previously stood.

Newcomb Pass - The New Fire Road

I climbed the very steep first few meters, onto what looked like a clearing that I hoped would provide a sweeping view of the valley to the North, providing a good view of the area. I never found that great a vantage point, but the little that I could see didn’t look very promising.

South of Newcomb remains a rich forest, a veritable sea of green, with lush hillsides and a dense canopy, like that of the foreground in this post’s first image. But to the North and West, there’s virtually nothing left but ash. Skeletons of wood where the trees formerly stood, blowing dust, and barren hillsides. It’s a wasteland now, and all because of our overly excessive fire management policies.

Before the Station Fire, Angeles National Forest had not been allowed to burn for nearly 50 years- promoting excessively overgrown underbrush, and a great deal of fuel. Our misguided insistence on stopping all fires in the area promoted this problem, turning the forest into a ticking time bomb.

The photo below shows the results of this carelessness. The lesson of this tragedy is not that forest fires are the enemy, but that the problem lies in man’s intervention in the natural cycle- even when made on behalf of “preserving” the environment itself. The more we attempt to protect it, the more damage we seem to do.

Looking North from Newcomb Pass

Though the scene was disheartening, I still thought I could camp Devore since I had seen a line of trees in the valley, following what I was certain to be the path of the West Fork River. The campground sits immediately on it’s banks, so I figured it may have survived the destruction. I hiked back to the picnic tables where I had left my gear, ate a lunch of rolls, smoked gouda, mozarella string cheese, and grapes, and weighed my options.

“It’s probably worth the risk of exploring”, I thought to myself, “especially considering it’s only 10:30 and I’m just 1.6 miles away. It really could still be there, but even if it isn’t, I’ve still got plenty of time to return, so I might as well find out.”

But it wasn’t meant to be. When I approached the trail-head I found it barricaded by tree branches and blocked off with a gigantic mound of dirt. The sign noting the mileage to Devore was replaced with one reading “NO —–ING”. I couldn’t figure out what it said, but it was pretty clearly an indication of a no-go.

I resigned myself to emulate the backpacker I’d met along the trail and set up dry-camp at Newcomb. I wasn’t happy about having to abandon Devore, but was definitely looking forward to a great view of the night sky from the newly cleared fire access road.

Dry Camp at Newcomb Pass

I laid down on my sleeping bag for an afternoon meditation. I was perfectly happy with staying at Newcomb, and while the devastation to the North was certainly upsetting, I kept in mind that it was simply nature’s way of clearing out the old garbage and making room for the next generation.

I tried to do the same with my own mind, releasing attachment to thoughts and instead simply listening to the world around me. I must have fallen asleep at some point, and was woken up by a stranger’s voice.

“You can’t camp here! You’re not even supposed to be here!”

It was one of the local Forest Service guys, and apparently, he wasn’t too happy about my presence in the area.

“Where were you planning on going?”

“Devore…”

“That area’s shut! It might not look like it, but the fire came through here. It’s still far too dangerous. You can’t stay here.”

“I didn’t see any signs…”

He cut me off. “They’re patrolling the roads, arresting trespassers, and giving out citations to anyone in the area. The hillsides are crumbling, we’ve got rockslides and tree limbs falling all over the place, and there is heavy bear activity right now. You need to leave now!”

He advised me to return to Spruce Grove and I agreed that I would. I turned away to start gathering up some of the things in my tent, then began to ask another question before realizing that he had already disappeared.

On the way back to Spruce I took a break and sat on a rock overlooking the valley toward the East. I felt quite peaceful, and the forest around me was extraordinarily silent. The fire seems to have affected the spirit of this place. It’s as if the entire Angeles is still cringing in pain.

Much to my chagrin, I found another group of campers staying at Spruce’s upper sites (my favorite spots), so I contonued down to the southern section where I’d never stayed before. It’s not as nice as the upper sites, sitting much closer to the trail and on uneven ground. I won’t be using those sites again if it can be avoided.

After assembling camp for the second time that afternoon, I ate another roll, a handful of grapes, some cheese, and two packets of ramen. It may seem like a feast, but I was still starving at the end of it since I’d burned up so many calories by that point in the day. I laid down in the tent and turned to my iPod for some relaxation, drowning out the people around me who weren’t as excited about listening to the sounds around us.

Getting up early the next morning, I had a quick breakfast of Blueberry Oatmeal and then hiked out. I had failed in my objective to reach Devore, but still enjoyed myself in the process.

I would have liked to explore Devore in greater depth (I’ve only stayed there once) as it seemed like a much older, more mysterious, and more interesting part of the forest than where I usually camp. I still want to return, but realize that it may never be a possibility at this point.

This trip taught me an important lesson, which is to make every second count. I shouldn’t have waited so long to return to Devore, and I haven’t done the same with other destinations- as my many recent Trip Reports can attest.

Summary Stats:

Time: About 30 hours

Mileage: 14.8

Photos: Very few

Concluding Thoughts:

Hiking into an area that was just burned by one of the worst forest fires in Southern California history is apparently not entirely safe, even for an Eagle Scout who does things like this all the time.