It all started last summer, when I hiked with my dad and my husband to the top of Mt. Rose, which is in Nevada, overlooking Reno on one side and Lake Tahoe on the other. I was pretty darn proud of myself, climbing that mountain, thinking what great physical condition I've gotten in that I could do that and not really feel the effects. It made me feel invincible! So when I got home to Southern California, I began to research the hiking opportunities and lo and behold, there are mountains here too! Well duh. I've only been looking at them for the 16 years that I'd lived here, but I never really thought about actually going to them.
I found myself a nifty little website called Everytrail.com, where hikers, explorers and adventurers such as myself can record trips using GPS devices and cell phones with GPS capability, and post them on the site. I found lots of Southern California posts with directions, maps, stories and pictures that stoked my fire to get out there and start exploring the backcountry of this area. I've even added some trips myself, if you look over to the right of this post, you can see my Everytrail widget, just click on that sucker and check out where I've been. But I digress...
Now, there are lots of hiking options here in Southern California that don't involve much climbing, but still remembering how great it felt to conquer a mountaintop, that seemed to be the idea that was stuck in my head, replaying over and over again. My research into suitable destinations yielded several options, each as inviting as the last. I decided for my first mountain hike here in So Cal that I would head up Mt. Wilson. It's about an hour drive from my home, the13 mile round trip description of the hike seemed reasonable, and the elevation at the top was "only" 5712 feet above sea level, that's nothing compared to the 10778 feet at the summit of Mt. Rose! No problem! Riiiiight.
I planned from the beginning to take on this hike alone. This might seem strange to some, or even dangerous. After all, there are bears and mountain lions out there, and who knows what crazy people you could meet off in the wilderness? But having spent a great deal of my youth out exploring the backwoods above my beloved Tahoe, hiking, fishing, cross country skiing and biking with no one else along for the trip, I didn't really think anything of it. After all, in all those years I never encountered anything more dangerous than squirrels. So I felt confident that a little day hike on my own was no big deal.
In the days leading up to my hike, I made sure I was prepared for what I had planned. I packed a backpack with essentials (first aid kit, extra clothes, water, flashlight, etc.), bought an "Adventure Pass" (required for recreational use of 4 Southern California national forests), studied my trail guides and maps, and started to get excited about the upcoming adventure. Until the day arrived. I woke up that morning to the sound of rain on the roof. Darn. Ok, I thought, I'll just have to bring a rain poncho. No biggie. Then I found a space blanket we had lying around, and stuffed that in my backpack "just in case". As I drove across the valley, my car was sprinkled intermittently, but by the time I got to the trailhead at Chantry Flats, the sun was out and the clouds were parting. I grabbed my pack, locked up my car, and headed out.
The first part of the hike was downhill on an old forest service road, easy going for the first mile. At the bottom of the hill there was a creek, surrounded by a lot of little cabins that I discovered on later research were built in the early 1900's, and are still lived in today, though I didn't see many of the residents. The trail split about a mile and a half in, I took a quick side trip to see Sturtevant Falls, which was a point of interest that had come up on many of my searches for places to hike. I sat for a few minutes to take in the idyllic scene, and to drink water and eat energy bars and Butterfingers I'd smuggled out of my kids' trick or treat bags. I took some pictures and enjoyed the view before heading back out to the main trail.
I continued on the trail for one mile, two miles, and more. It climbed up gradually, cutting through thick woods of oak and more or less followed on one side or the other of the creek bed. As I went along, the clouds that had dissipated earlier began to roll back in, and I began to notice that other than the trail in front of me and behind me, there wasn't much of a view. I saw some lovely fall colors on the trees over the path, and even a little brown salamander making his way across the trail, but didn't see much else in the way of scenery. It began to rain on and off, not enough to soak me, but enough to make my clothes just a little bit damper than I liked. And oh yeah, I was sweating. A lot. Hiking uphill with a heavy load on your back will do that to you. I stopped at Spruce Grove Campground, which the trail goes right through the middle of, for a quick break. Up until this point in my hike, I had only seen one other person after leaving Sturtevant Falls, and began to notice a strange sense of aloneness. That's not even a word. But it's the best description I can think of. I attempted to munch on more Butterfingers and Clif Bars while several rowdy squirrels perched on branches over my head, shrieking and chucking large acorns at me. I think one of them whizzed on me, which was my cue to pack up and get going again.
A short distance from Spruce Grove, there was a trail split. I followed the sign with the arrow pointing to the left, noting "Mt. Wilson, 3 miles". Only three miles to go! Pfft, that's a measly 5k, no big deal there, right? And that is where reality began to have fun with me. Very soon after starting on this part of the trail, it went from "gradually ascending" to "oh jeez this is steep". And it didn't relent even one little bit for the next three miles. At first it was just one long stretch of up, up, up and more up. Then the trail hit the steepest part of the mountainside and broke into switchbacks crossing back and forth across the steep mountain face. Now, I thought I'd prepared for this. I had finished an 18 mile run the previous week, so I knew I wasn't lacking in stamina, yet I felt like I was dragging my feet through mud with each step. I guess that 5k isn't such a cinch after all when you're going straight up instead of flat! Yeesh. And at some point my ankle began to hurt. Great, I thought, just what I need.
I got to a sign that said "halfway point", 1.4 miles to Mt. Wilson, and sat down on a rock to rest. That halfway mark was referring to the old Sturtevant Camp, which is still there (and open for rental, apparently, according to their website), that I had passed earlier. So now I was thinking, Oh my God, I still have a mile and a half of this to go! Aaugh! So much for "a mile is no big deal". I got up off my butt, shoved my big feet up the trail, and counted my blessings that there was no one around to hear me growling and grunting my way up the last part of it.
I think it took me just under an hour to get that last mile in. And what a mile it was. Phew. But after what seemed like an infinite amount of switchbacks, stomping, climbing and just the teensiest bit of swearing, I saw a fence, and this sign.
6.7 miles back to my car. No biggie, it's all down hill from here! But wait, there's more!
My original plan had been to find a picnic area once I reached the top, eat lunch, and take a different trail back to Chantry Flats. It was all so well described in my guide! The trail shown here ended shortly after the sign, and I began to see the buildings that housed the telescopes of the Wilson Observatory. I headed out on paved roads and looked for the picnic area from my guide. I quickly discovered two big problems with this plan. One, there was no cell service there on top of Mt. Wilson. I had assumed that a huge complex like that as described in my guides would have cell service, but I had zip, nothing, nada. I tried to load maps on my GPS app, but got nothing. The other big problem I had was that the fog had rolled in something fierce. Not long after arriving on the mountaintop I found myself surrounded by fog, not able to see even 20 feet in front of me. Now, I wasn't lost. I knew where I had been and could find my way back. But I didn't want to go back the way I came because the path I was supposed to take back down the mountain was supposed to be wider and less precarious than the one I had taken up. So I walked around the observatory complex at the top of Mt. Wilson, studying the maps posted on the buildings there, hoping for a clue to find the trail that had been described in my guide, but couldn't find a thing. Stupid cell phone. I decided I needed to head back down the way I came or else risk taking an unfamiliar route in the fog and possibly dark (as in, Oh, Yeah, I forgot that we set our clocks back a week earlier and now it's dark at 5. Big DUH). By this time I had busted out my space blanket too, because I was freezing my tail off in my sweaty shirt and sweatshirt, and it must have been just under 50 degrees up there at that time. So I must have looked quite the sight to the guy who had driven up there to work on the TV towers at the top of the mountain. He pulled over to see if I was ok, and I asked him if he knew where the trailhead was to get down. He said no, and asked if I wanted a ride back to my car. Let's see. It's cold. I'm kinda wet. My feet hurt. My ankle hurts. I'm hungry (never got to have my picnic), I'm not lost, but maybe, yeah, I'm not really going the right direction either. It's foggy. It's getting dark. Ok, so I accepted the ride. What a nice guy. He said his name was David. So wherever you are, David, thank you for rescuing me from the brink of Mt. Wilson and the great fog bank of November 2012.
So now I've got another bee in my bonnet, this time to go back and do it right. I thought I'd been prepared, but it's always the little things that get you in the end. The weather. The time change. Trusting my technology to guide me instead of tried and true paper maps. And, of course, my assumption that over 4000 feet of elevation gain would be "no big deal". I had thought Mt. Rose was a big deal, but looking at the details of that hike, it starts at nearly 9000 feet elevation, so by the time you reach the top, it's only around 2100 feet of elevation gain. No small feat, but nearly double that and that's what you get when you hike Mt. Wilson.
I'll be doing it again, and yes, I'll be doing it alone. But this time, and all the times I venture out after, I'll be sure to plan ahead, think of the small things, and never assume Mother Nature is on my side. Because she's the worst enemy us would be adventurers can have. She can also be our best friend. The trouble we go to to prepare for these trips is only worth it because of the rewards we get in the end. The views. The sense of accomplishment. The memories and stories that we have to pass on to those around us. I look forward to the next round, I hope the story of it will be better and more encouraging than this one. But despite the negative parts of this trip, I have one major thing to take away from it. And that is, I DID IT. I MADE IT. Even though I wanted to stop more than once along the way and turn back, I didn't. That is something I will always have to keep with me, and it will be my motivation to keep going in the future. As I continue to discover every day, anything is possible, if you just keep going and don't give up, no matter how long it takes.
Thanks for reading, see you next time!
