Sunset Trail, Laguna Meadow, and More

A couple weeks ago, two friends and I set out on a Jim Duggan adventure to the Laguna Mountains east of San Diego - and an amazing adventure it was. Jim is a horticulturalist for the Getty Museum Central Garden, a wonder of the art and plant world, and an expert on San Diego hiking. I can remember the first time I looked over the edge to the Getty Central Garden, a Wow! experience, unforgettable like where were you when you heard Kennedy died.

Everyone goes to the Anza Borrego desert for early spring flowers. How many know about the spectacular mountain meadows and hillsides of the Lagunas in springtime? Our mission was Noble Canyon in late April to hike and see the flowers.  The original trail was put in by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930's.  Why aren't we putting people to work these days with lasting projects like this?

 

We set off through  pine and oak forests, Kathleen (pink shirt) covered head to toe due to severe allergy to poison oak, Jim in his trademark shorts regardless of rattlesnake risk.  While our trail head was Penny Pines leading onto the Noble Canyon trail, Jim cut off at one point to our destination, the Sunset Trail skirting Laguna Meadow.

 

We climbed to a ridge with view to a beautiful valley below which may be Filaree Flats. 

Still everywhere is evidence of the wildfires that raged through this area almost a decade ago.  I worried about all the critters that must have been crisped, but Kathleen reassured me that many smaller animals went underground, the larger ones were able to flee, and not many carcasses were found after the fire.

Life renews itself in the spring., like these sprouting black oak leaves.  The very baby ones are still red.

Farther on, the long Laguna Meadow opened up and I got a Wyeth Christina photo of Debra.

After heading into the forest ridge down to Big Laguna Lake in the distance, we headed back along the edge of the meadow, Jim and Kathleen stopping to examine, photo and note the botany of the area.  Deb said later she was grateful for their stops.  He's a hard guy to keep up with.

 I took a few flower photos of my own,

we headed back to the trail head, and climbed into the car to head north on Sunrise Highway.  Hillsides on both sides of the road were filled with Ceanothus, the California version of lilacs, and magenta western redbud. How many times can you say Wow!

We got out again at the Pedro Fages Historical Marker,

which reads,

On October 29, 1772, Colonel Pedro Fages headed east from San Diego searching for army deserters.  It was the first entry by Europeans into Oriflamme Canyon.  From there, Fages and his men travelled on through Cajon Pass, around the Mojave and the Central Valley, and eventually reached Mission San Luis Obispo.  As a result, he discovered the Colorado Desert and the San Joaquin Valley.

Whoever placed this marker was clearly having a Columbus discovered America moment.

Colonel Pedro Fages commanded the original Spanish army sent to stake a claim in California.   Along with Father Junipero Serra, they all climbed the Presidio hill in 1769 and planted the cross for Spain.  

You gotta wonder about a guy willing to head this far out into uncharted- for them - territory looking for a few deserters.  I wondered how they made their way, fed themselves,  and kept on track until I read this letter written by Don Pedro to Don Jose de Galvez.  If you're from San Diego, take the time to read this part of our history.   You've also gotta wonder about anyone who would desert in an unknown land into the back wilderness of San Diego County.

An old road could be seen going east, crossing into Oriflamme Canyon, used by travelers and stage coaches in the 1800's, but we turned west along an unnamed trail with wonderful tree skeletons,

and a view toward Cuyamaca Reservoir.

We were all walked out for the day, ready to turn back, when Jim pointed out a stripe through the valley below.

"Part of the old road where it turned to go into San Diego", he said.  

History, it's everywhere.

Wreaths Across America 2011

The second Saturday in December every year volunteers turn out to lay wreaths on headstones of our veterans in national cemeteries. Over 1,100 volunteers turned out on this beautiful sunny day in San Diego to lay wreaths at Fort Rosecrans and Miramar cemeteries. Fort Rosecrans has veterans from the time of the Mexican American war, 101,000 graves in all. Miramar opened just last year after Fort Rosecrans ran out of space, and prime real estate it is, overlooking San Diego on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other.

This year I didn't get many pictures since the growing-up-too-fast grandgirls and I were working most of the time signing in volunteers. Not an easy task as the list was not alphabetized! The photo shots would have been much like last year's Wreaths 2010, except that we had one of those envy of the country sunny San Diego days from the start.

Last year we laid wreaths in the area around the ceremony site, but this year all 1100 volunteers walked a half mile to the far end for our section. If it weren't that the way was through a cemetery I thought this could be a good workout route. Not only was the view spectacular, it was inspiring to be part of this cross section of San Diego come to pay tribute and who included Scouts, high school service groups, college students, employee groups, Blue Star mothers, at least two sheriff deputies, Children, Sons, and Daughters of the American Revolution, families, veterans, and active duty military among them.


Hayley, Jennifer, and I took our wreaths to lay, and when they were finished I asked who were their veterans. One of Hayley's was a female World War II veteran and we assumed she must have been a nurse. When we pulled back the wreath to check her branch of service - a surprise! She was a spy! Betty E Schneider. Born 1921, so she would have been only 20 years old when the US joined the war. We imagined she must have been German speaking. We tried looking her up on Google. Nothing. What a story she must have!


Next December, wherever you are, take time on the second Saturday of the month, lay a wreath on a veteran's grave. Take your children, or children, take your parents. Take your friends. Leave your cell phone, iPod, iPad and the rest at home.


As this Freedom Rider's jacket reminds us, we should stand for those who stood for US.

Secret Canyon: A Night to Remember

Yesterday morning, five buddies and I set off for a 16 mile day hike on the Secret Canyon trail down the gorge of Pine Valley Creek in the eastern mountainous area of San Diego. Never mind the difficulty was rated as strenuous, that it was February, and that rain - maybe a thunderstorm with hail - was expected, we were a stalwart band of a mountain climber, a marathoner, a kick boxer, and three strong and experienced hikers. Bring it on!

With a good start at 8:05 AM and overcast weather, Linda Case, her friends Roger and Sharon, my friends Wayne and Kathleen (from the West Highland Way) and I entered this beautiful and rugged canyon.


I noted ours were the only cars in the trail head parking lots, but chalked it off to most people not liking to hike in the rain. Good! We would have the trail all to ourselves.

Besides the hike, I was looking for a couple things along the way, the huge Pine Valley Bridge completed in 1974,


and a never completed flume built in 1895 to bring water from a reservoir in Pine Valley to a tributary of the San Diego River, and then on to the rapidly growing San Diego new town. Sections of the old flume were used to construct our trail into Secret Canyon, a name evidently that refers to its inaccessibility until the trail was built in 1992.


Discarded clothing, backpacks, trash and water bottles became increasingly evident along the trail. Linda climbed down to retrieve a backpack at one point. It contained only a stone from the trail. After putting two and two together we realized the strewn clothing and trash came from "coyotes" and their illegal immigrant clients.


For these first few miles, other than off and on rain, the hike was uneventful. The view down into Pine Valley Creek was spectacular.


Our little group was bonding, and we didn't realize how literal this would be by the end of the trip. Our first clue came with taking a wrong trail down into Nelson Canyon, winding up instead in a maze of "coyote" trails, remnants of migrant camps, and having to bushwhack up through chaparral looking for the hikers' trail. Kathleen, usually a strong hiker, tweaked her knee over the rough terrain, and it became increasingly painful to walk.

The next few hours were spent scrambling rocks, jumping streams, hiking overgrown trails, and trying to sort our hiking trail from the coyote trails. We were soaked from the rain, wet vegetation, and creek crossings, but by 4:30 PM we reached the confluence of Pine Valley and Espinosa Creeks. From here it should be only a mile and a half to two miles out of the canyon, but the trail ended and there was no other visible trail or navigable terrain. We backtracked, checking out three false leads up over the mountain with no luck. Just more "coyote" trails.

Nightfall came by 6:00 and we realized we would be spending the night in the canyon, and what a long night! Wayne and Roger gathered dry grasses to make a dry sleeping palette and we settled down for the night, spooning in a tight bunch to conserve body heat. Eleven hours of off and on cold rain, temperatures that dipped to the 30's, thoughts about how we were going to get ourselves out of the canyon, wondering when family would start to search, hoping beyond hope that relief would come during this wretched, unending night and knowing it wouldn't. Only Roger, the ex-Navy man, slept a bit.


About midnight, we heard voices approaching our bivouac but realized they were Spanish speaking, a "coyote" and about 6-8 illegals who stopped to check us out. It was a scary minute, but Linda was a sheriff and black belt in karate and Wayne was a kick boxer who got his knife in hand just in case. The "coyote" pack was able to convey they were going to Los Angeles to look for work, and we stated simply we were "camping". What must have gone through their minds at six gringos lying on the ground in the cold and rain, and calling it "camping".

At daylight, with Girl Scout cookies for breakfast, we set out to backtrack to find the main trail and from there, hopefully, find our way out. At 7:50 came that welcome sound of a helicopter, first one from the San Diego Fire Department followed a few minutes later by one from the Sheriff's Department. After checking that we had no injured, we were directed back to that creek confluence to meet up with Search and Rescue. From them, we learned the three ways out of the canyon were impassable due to the recent rains, and they guided us about a quarter mile up the creek, sometimes wading in icy cold water up to the butt, to the helicopter. We were pre-warned a lot of people would be at the landing area and there were - Search and Rescue, Sheriffs, Fire Department, Border Patrol, a Mobile Command Bus, ambulance, ASTRAE, television media, even a bus from the Salvation Army. It looked like they were pretty determined to find us.


Regarding our worry about when some type of search and rescue would come to show us the way out, we learned that Linda's sister, daughter, brother-in-law, and husband set out at 7:50 that night and attempted to hike down the beginning and ending of the trail in the dark. They set off a Border Patrol alarm for illegals and the Border Patrol joined the search for another two hours. About 1:30 AM, the family contacted the sheriff. ASTREA, Fire and Rescue, and even the Coast Guard were contacted for a helicopter at 2:00 AM but the cloud level was too low. By 4:00 AM the volunteer San Diego Sheriff's Search and Rescue showed up with dogs, horses, quads, ambulances, food from the Red Cross for everyone, fuel truck for the helicopters and the complete command post. They popped the doors on the vehicles left at each end of the trails for the dogs to sniff personal items and set off with the dogs on the trail. Unfortunately, the scent was lost after a while due to the rain.

No one could find a sign of us during the night until - guess what - while scouting for us the illegals were apprehended and said they came across some crazy gringos "camping" at about midnight. With that the Border Patrol was able to get an approximate location and the rest is history.

We are grateful to all those involved in getting us out of the canyon, and to those who keep us in shape to have our adventures. To a person, we hikers agreed this was the most physically miserable night of our lives. To that, my daughter added "aren't you glad you have a home and a warm bed". And to that I added, "yes, and what doesn't kill you, makes you better looking".