tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77259293279563659422024-03-13T23:17:27.033-07:00David StillmanNec Aspera Terrent
(Difficulties Be Damned)David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.comBlogger383125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-43069573467519039732015-05-21T08:06:00.000-07:002017-02-26T09:40:30.720-08:00On Sabbatical and/or Retirement?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Please pardon my absence. Everything is fine, and for those who've expressed concern, while I appreciate the sentiment I can assure you that there's nothing to worry about. I've recently decided to take a break and devote some time to other interests, namely sculpting and spearfishing, motorcycle adventure travel, and Native American rock art (among other things). </div>
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I've seen so much of the Southern Los Padres over the years that it's not inconceivable that I may be experiencing a degree of burnout. Then again, maybe I'm out there doing all my usual stuff and neglecting to tell anyone about it.</div>
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What this writing may be is a notification of my retirement from penning this page. I've been contemplating the idea of retirement for a while now. First, I don't write this page to bolster my self esteem, so it's not about satisfying a craving for attention or supporting my "fragile male ego". While I do enjoy writing these posts and sharing new experiences, and while it is true that through this page I've gotten feedback and ideas and met some really great people, there do remain some persuasive reasons to quit. Foremost among these is that I am mightily tired of so many people knowing what I've been up to. I am, at heart, a misanthropic introvert who doesn't much care what people think of me as long as they don't hinder what I want to do. That being said, there seems to be a subset of readers (including archaeologists, the USFS, USF&W, and the WWP) who are actively looking for a way to say "Gotcha Bitch!" when I stray into private property or into the Condor Sanctuary or when I poke my nose into some place I probably don't belong. If I am in fact retiring from writing this rag then I am getting those people back right now because you know what? I have every intention of going where I like, seeing what I want to see, and if I have no compulsion to share those destinations then I really will have become the ghosting brush ninja. So my methods haven't changed, I'm just deciding wether or not to have any kind of on-line presence at this point (I will be keeping my Flickr page for sure). That just about covers whatever I felt I had to say on this subject.</div>
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Meanwhile, do the voodoo that you do.</div>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-82733432017667359012015-03-27T11:12:00.002-07:002015-03-27T11:14:09.707-07:00Cuyama Hills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's spring on the Central Coast and the brief colors of this too-short season are on full display. In the foothills above New Cuyama the sun was up, the day hot, the bees and butterflies and lizards out doing their thing. As for me, I worked a rambling circuit through feral canyons and over several low ridges of weathered sandstone. I saw a pair of deer, a falcon and mated red tails, spooked a great horned owl out of a wind cave in a crumbling tower of sandstone. No particular agenda or destination in mind, no pressures, no problems. Just a nice day outside with only my camera for company. Go out and get some while there's still a bit of green on the hills.</div>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-3198531021310507952015-03-23T10:25:00.003-07:002015-03-23T12:40:51.221-07:00Agua Blanca Backcountry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here are some photos from an extraordinary day of off trail rambling. The area in question could be described as the wind blasted high country between Whiteacre Peak and the Agua Blanca drainage. I, and two mates, set out from Goodenough at sunrise, pounding through road miles. In time we switched gears, leaving the road for a brushy dragon's back ridge climb. This difficult ascent gained 1,500ft in just 0.85 miles. Hampered by the angle and the human repellant brush, the climb took more than an hour to complete, but this unorthodox route provided a quick access to the top of the hulking Whiteacre massif. </div>
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From that point we turned north, busting, scraping, and crawling toward the wind blasted sandstone plateau behind Whiteacre. The going was rough, taxing. After a time we discovered and explored a tiered series of dry waterfalls, each tier taller and more beautiful and unique than the last. The lowest tier was tucked into a deep hollow of green oaks and spruce. As I explored the dramatic overhang beneath the middle of these three falls my comrades above were treated to the sight of six condors circling.</div>
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We climbed out of that sculpted terrain and onto a huge plateau of gently rolling sandstone. Over the ages the wind has eroded the surface rock leaving behind scatterings of harder, more ferrous stone strewn this way and that. Club-like tufas of weathered sandstone stood lonesome, patiently waiting for the day when their supports weathered away and gravity took hold. Wind scoured caves dominated any vertical surface, some being the size of a two car garage. We discovered a dramatic and bulbous arch, the likes of which I've not seen. In the sandy gullies between formations we saw numerous bear prints. This was a place of nearly alien beauty.</div>
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The brush mauling we suffered was a reminder that with some ingenuity and grit, going off-trail in the Los Padres is not only possible, but can be hugely rewarding. Enjoy the photos.</div>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-7998332747820925402015-03-13T07:58:00.000-07:002015-03-13T07:58:18.010-07:00Rattlesnake Falls<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk1ZJFsbN0rIYd1_q6eQx-rHGu2YAEToqhzkyTTzIDiAfb669-BoeGd3sfXhyphenhyphenmm9VON7KLFtts_YNjgv9N2ueY2IM07_5KdEkKwDXqippok-whYOU6I72wbFqSYymv8mX9aiy1uNmImo/s1600/DSC00877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk1ZJFsbN0rIYd1_q6eQx-rHGu2YAEToqhzkyTTzIDiAfb669-BoeGd3sfXhyphenhyphenmm9VON7KLFtts_YNjgv9N2ueY2IM07_5KdEkKwDXqippok-whYOU6I72wbFqSYymv8mX9aiy1uNmImo/s1600/DSC00877.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rattlesnake Falls.</td></tr>
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Here's a nice little overnight getaway, a trip into the Sisquoc to a remote waterfall called Rattlesnake. Spring is short and the greenery goes fast. In trying to make the most of it I was joined by Nick Bobroff and Jack Elliot. We took off out of Santa Barbara Canyon, climbed up to Sierra Madre Ridge, descended Judell Canyon to Heath Camp where we dumped most of our gear, and continued downstream a couple miles to this sweet little horsetail falls.</div>
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The falls, about 80ft in height, was tucked way back into a deep culdesac that receives very little sun. A large apron of calcific deposits covered in forest green moss fell beneath a twisting spout. A quiet cascade of aerated whitewater cut the apron in a single streamer which splashed into a dark, chest deep pool. We lazed in the shade on that warm afternoon. Nick, a former lifeguard, was the only one to test the waters, verdict: "cold". I've gotten a bit old for polar bear antics in shady alcoves. Had the sun been on the water I would have joined him, but since that was not the case Jack and I sat back and had a good chuckle at this demonstration of baptismal bravery.</div>
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In the evening we ate tasteless freeze-dried "delicacies" and burned an excessive amount of firewood while being serenaded by the local owl and what must have been the world's loneliest frog. The stars blazed bright in the crisp night air and as the fire burned low we wandered off to bed. </div>
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In the frosted pre-dawn I crawled out of the bag just far enough to crank up the pocket rocket and boil some coffee. I lay on my side listening to silence while sipping a steaming cup. The others rose and we quickly threw our kits together and moved back up Judell, topping onto Sierra Madre Rd two hours later, another nice outing behind us.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wide open desert. Judell Canyon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading downstream from Heath Camp toward Rattlesnake Falls.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGwKgbH5Nf5NMqFdbgBO-_PR9BRgCDYKVx78E5OBX1Ma6EYfgDs0hhpszO6rXYhqDT1R8pba4MtxtuxdIhGspDm_4_U98C44MerNO8L6AlZ6TGW8xdq6HzjJ3CqXdL029dLv9HvVhiBAI/s1600/DSC00861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGwKgbH5Nf5NMqFdbgBO-_PR9BRgCDYKVx78E5OBX1Ma6EYfgDs0hhpszO6rXYhqDT1R8pba4MtxtuxdIhGspDm_4_U98C44MerNO8L6AlZ6TGW8xdq6HzjJ3CqXdL029dLv9HvVhiBAI/s1600/DSC00861.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two-tailed Swallowtail <i>Papilio multicaudata</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sisquoc.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick, admiring his new favorite oak.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-63287549146985534372015-02-24T21:26:00.000-08:002015-02-25T07:24:28.727-08:00Just Back: The Pacific Northwest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIcTvE7Cx6LsljrVqBuaWA7pBpHCFYp1LkZ3l4rDFBKW9VezcuAcQHsZJT966L6w2o7cZgUndfyDP0Q87pFpdvWJw1MKG_M4B8urAwclhkwHfd3_7wjsA_S3yVFxuU231cg3cwkMSO3Y/s1600/DSC00780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIcTvE7Cx6LsljrVqBuaWA7pBpHCFYp1LkZ3l4rDFBKW9VezcuAcQHsZJT966L6w2o7cZgUndfyDP0Q87pFpdvWJw1MKG_M4B8urAwclhkwHfd3_7wjsA_S3yVFxuU231cg3cwkMSO3Y/s1600/DSC00780.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Baker from Skagit Valley, WA.</td></tr>
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I've been away for a week. This was originally intended to be a snowboarding trip but this winter's ridiculously resilient north pacific jet stream has largely bypassed the west coast, leaving places like Mammoth, Tahoe, Mt Hood, the Washington Cascades, and Whistler begging for anything that might be snow. At Mt Baker, one of my favorite powder kegs, they're just pushing the snow around to make runs. It's bad, but the tickets were booked, and it was a good opportunity to visit with my parents and see some other sites. In other words, we were good little tourists. Enjoy some photos from our trip. Feel free to click any image to enlarge it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNftVop6rnIUS-ML-vUJZaIgM6VWe4II0tbeA8KF1GGmc6Kkywm4HOr7Gfcc_n8LbBy4t-NZnOHRLKbO6ZWdkmXZVeNIIWpKHaC5cdU-7Jx4CtKfdpIOpJJuME3OmMsjEM9GAN4G2iYCA/s1600/DSC00560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNftVop6rnIUS-ML-vUJZaIgM6VWe4II0tbeA8KF1GGmc6Kkywm4HOr7Gfcc_n8LbBy4t-NZnOHRLKbO6ZWdkmXZVeNIIWpKHaC5cdU-7Jx4CtKfdpIOpJJuME3OmMsjEM9GAN4G2iYCA/s1600/DSC00560.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whatcom Creek, Bellingham, WA.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2TC3x404YGQdiwdZs4YhMPGAE-C2hGKMjIr9C_SwlUWFrMW1c8ZGNaOc1JSkaxku9KDmhd_filRuTCAvSQhvnsIhYY6Msv2FTauESx-c6vdO67CW2dYEXckTFbDtjm8zcqd_l8eEM88/s1600/DSC00568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2TC3x404YGQdiwdZs4YhMPGAE-C2hGKMjIr9C_SwlUWFrMW1c8ZGNaOc1JSkaxku9KDmhd_filRuTCAvSQhvnsIhYY6Msv2FTauESx-c6vdO67CW2dYEXckTFbDtjm8zcqd_l8eEM88/s1600/DSC00568.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Totem Poles, Vancouver, BC. [and below]</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruth at the Capilano Suspension Bridge Park, BC.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJuJfZXojM06tRf65suiyjxzfeT9KF_nEXntafFbu8Km-atR0DLg_kL2tUt8Qx7vpW5vOx1u-xMZU7dYsg3oDa3nCQ58kWvVWOEJuJ4pykMwxaIlQknsEUhokCyQj6kf-_yV-b_z8aSA/s1600/DSC00491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJuJfZXojM06tRf65suiyjxzfeT9KF_nEXntafFbu8Km-atR0DLg_kL2tUt8Qx7vpW5vOx1u-xMZU7dYsg3oDa3nCQ58kWvVWOEJuJ4pykMwxaIlQknsEUhokCyQj6kf-_yV-b_z8aSA/s1600/DSC00491.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pass Lake, Widbey Island, WA</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNII6YSh1UieoLELK1X5BMMVP6uHJ9_dza_qywpoGdg0Kd4SzK70xvyoWD6KgVMjrvtrcDPArHr_y1IG1BGX2NOipHoDCvo7O-rLVqDqCf7WAL3x4AX-z_pMB8jUB2eMAQT4CdLB2nM28/s1600/DSC00825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNII6YSh1UieoLELK1X5BMMVP6uHJ9_dza_qywpoGdg0Kd4SzK70xvyoWD6KgVMjrvtrcDPArHr_y1IG1BGX2NOipHoDCvo7O-rLVqDqCf7WAL3x4AX-z_pMB8jUB2eMAQT4CdLB2nM28/s1600/DSC00825.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puget Sound from Chuckanut Drive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiUWdcXY0CLilTTEyABd_bc0Bqd05mnZhnAyd-XZBPbT0_kDmml5cOsxf05GNE0CqhpuvmOfKA9bUEW7p8txMUBLGkKWeHmjchIiuYGseMA6mcTu_j0h0FFUg8kgweGjb-v080bp99Sk/s1600/DSC00500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiUWdcXY0CLilTTEyABd_bc0Bqd05mnZhnAyd-XZBPbT0_kDmml5cOsxf05GNE0CqhpuvmOfKA9bUEW7p8txMUBLGkKWeHmjchIiuYGseMA6mcTu_j0h0FFUg8kgweGjb-v080bp99Sk/s1600/DSC00500.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deception Pass Bridge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpEgWtEGkFUURdU9PrCdzamYTT3frc1EECiLOFm-SQKpB9xdE1Atn7fv5YjjrAvYrW8KRSSH7bzTZD068DDF-jNd7BkQwXMm99qDqy5tOpc7n0rwuqqUQVJ9DyXyTJ3kMUeNAjBPiQdI/s1600/DSC00520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpEgWtEGkFUURdU9PrCdzamYTT3frc1EECiLOFm-SQKpB9xdE1Atn7fv5YjjrAvYrW8KRSSH7bzTZD068DDF-jNd7BkQwXMm99qDqy5tOpc7n0rwuqqUQVJ9DyXyTJ3kMUeNAjBPiQdI/s1600/DSC00520.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Point Wilson Light House.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkrI3SS1arvbvZdrm8upxQbZzOXv6oW1ohjcsKFYzcbL0F-PcYOVObwvUCYJmcVQIyTUTm0tVMLevZmsIqJBgIiSbmRM6TWavh42hWIyhaWy__QIO_bLWJUrny7VLe9naJMAA9nYf6Os/s1600/DSC00531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkrI3SS1arvbvZdrm8upxQbZzOXv6oW1ohjcsKFYzcbL0F-PcYOVObwvUCYJmcVQIyTUTm0tVMLevZmsIqJBgIiSbmRM6TWavh42hWIyhaWy__QIO_bLWJUrny7VLe9naJMAA9nYf6Os/s1600/DSC00531.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexanders Castle, Point Wilson, WA.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzyBByjVHwAu3v0K3TuHVxNoLWLmz5lrZV3DXxUB0oln-LaMQGeutA_2Q7JldGZXNhdPWO0r8LuPUxPDuUUWtrIweNoaFIX8O8ihLiryL6WZoVa5oDVwQD0RBOBjLaCuBIEzSrvy_evo/s1600/DSC00808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzyBByjVHwAu3v0K3TuHVxNoLWLmz5lrZV3DXxUB0oln-LaMQGeutA_2Q7JldGZXNhdPWO0r8LuPUxPDuUUWtrIweNoaFIX8O8ihLiryL6WZoVa5oDVwQD0RBOBjLaCuBIEzSrvy_evo/s1600/DSC00808.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puget Sound from Larrabee State Beach, WA.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsXkAIBAcxj4R-WQ64EM9ZqhIFZucD_RLwZ7DasRVWIMcsbI2LWhS8xj64mBXmlVtrBeKcEB37gvGtj82UEfrtXb3rspk7YmMdvVrq_JVhQZlqDlLaPku1m16YemhxvpJHF-nHRhXtfg/s1600/DSC00537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsXkAIBAcxj4R-WQ64EM9ZqhIFZucD_RLwZ7DasRVWIMcsbI2LWhS8xj64mBXmlVtrBeKcEB37gvGtj82UEfrtXb3rspk7YmMdvVrq_JVhQZlqDlLaPku1m16YemhxvpJHF-nHRhXtfg/s1600/DSC00537.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Washington ferry landing on Puget Sound.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCACiyO3DB2i47ipwwd0BGtwhqG5JjJbwPTRWYzv1OZoylwUf3YGk6F4cPRaO5Nxar58yquiF2vtxPlZRASsVaVFvSFxX1-cd59X3jYdx54zUGc4uHViDbGnVgl7VzSajN4dZIdVIydts/s1600/DSC00643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCACiyO3DB2i47ipwwd0BGtwhqG5JjJbwPTRWYzv1OZoylwUf3YGk6F4cPRaO5Nxar58yquiF2vtxPlZRASsVaVFvSFxX1-cd59X3jYdx54zUGc4uHViDbGnVgl7VzSajN4dZIdVIydts/s1600/DSC00643.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown Vancouver, BC.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6giV22mZ9gICZ3Kzn9taAUGhIcJkSgdKlru-YtxjikTpu6nB5BD2eeuAACc7qifEakLepwl-uSgXqtfaGwvfZ5olNZGWYa32HiKUysv3s1fMlJ5yObxt_0YiVNPNAc22ezU0_sTDyLvc/s1600/DSC00723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6giV22mZ9gICZ3Kzn9taAUGhIcJkSgdKlru-YtxjikTpu6nB5BD2eeuAACc7qifEakLepwl-uSgXqtfaGwvfZ5olNZGWYa32HiKUysv3s1fMlJ5yObxt_0YiVNPNAc22ezU0_sTDyLvc/s1600/DSC00723.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bald Eagle(s), Skagit Valley, WA. [and below]</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the permanent Northwest Native Art collection at the Seattle Art Museum (SAM). [and below]</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bellingham Bay, WA.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6UfQYxVwswZl_poUwa0YlXx9xjM8hB9t1dOQTEx-LWioJoXW-ZU3jMpoJTWtn4zPB0ktneehIoJITyiLO84YCc8F3747A-xZdqYDlnHkb7xxeHjhy0IUNVxnY3_bggG8QLm7OdNgF2E/s1600/DSC00692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6UfQYxVwswZl_poUwa0YlXx9xjM8hB9t1dOQTEx-LWioJoXW-ZU3jMpoJTWtn4zPB0ktneehIoJITyiLO84YCc8F3747A-xZdqYDlnHkb7xxeHjhy0IUNVxnY3_bggG8QLm7OdNgF2E/s1600/DSC00692.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seattle Skyline.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Rainier</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpQ4scJ9TIZFRH4Zgyg65sqzbdmzDr_zuHiTc3fp-hilhETgllPW-PVA63M5lGq3gOMP4A05qzjPZe2DHgYGYzfEcDk53nBeykyFIVGkW0g0LIJZ7On3qBe6n0ORC8EhP8BhI7ToOJgQ/s1600/DSC00765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpQ4scJ9TIZFRH4Zgyg65sqzbdmzDr_zuHiTc3fp-hilhETgllPW-PVA63M5lGq3gOMP4A05qzjPZe2DHgYGYzfEcDk53nBeykyFIVGkW0g0LIJZ7On3qBe6n0ORC8EhP8BhI7ToOJgQ/s1600/DSC00765.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The North Cascades.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilj5_odfD06dzdqB2NHfRBfpVZ7CTU2hRbpuSjka4uw5zKoDiCKQVw1lrkYkRDCluLrYmoVEKjLhj53i3-16bIpzgB04q-Wl3Z1IxNHvrIp8Ub6Wp2nmpWX7yETBedQyalT_ovnu7u1z8/s1600/DSC00790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilj5_odfD06dzdqB2NHfRBfpVZ7CTU2hRbpuSjka4uw5zKoDiCKQVw1lrkYkRDCluLrYmoVEKjLhj53i3-16bIpzgB04q-Wl3Z1IxNHvrIp8Ub6Wp2nmpWX7yETBedQyalT_ovnu7u1z8/s1600/DSC00790.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flocking snow geese, Skagit Valley, WA.</td></tr>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-3405567856541048412015-02-15T10:59:00.000-08:002015-02-15T10:59:42.715-08:00Mockingbird Cave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is painted beauty hidden deep in the heart of Riverside County. I had to go see this for myself because I don't normally associate Riverside with the word "beauty".</div>
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This site is located in a spring fed gulch amid a moat of fancy horse properties. Scrubby oak trees and tall stands of cat tails frame the tepid stream from the spring. A scattering of granitic boulders and several larger formations dot the slopes on each side of the spring. One such formation is a collection of ground level boulders crowned by two large capstones, and beneath these are two very colorful panels of polychrome art.</div>
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Large circles or shields accompany a number of crosshatch designs. Several elements here appear (at least to me) to have a celestial connotation. The work is bright and colorful, rendered in red, white, and a blue/black.</div>
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On the opposite side of the creek is a flat granite slab with four bedrock mortars. This slab, just feet from the spring, has been described as a "birthing rock. A short pillar beside the the slab has two faded red pictographs of diamond chains on golden water streaks. A short distance away is an additional BRM.</div>
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I was impressed with this site. The colors remain bright and crisp. Obviously any site with a consistent water source would have been an invaluable commodity in this desert region, and the depth and development of the BRMs speak it's prolonged use.</div>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-84189992515804377422015-02-15T10:36:00.000-08:002015-02-15T10:36:12.387-08:00Exploring Lower Piru Creek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sure feels like it's spring in mid-February, don't it?</div>
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I guess that three storms is the only meaningful precipitation we're likely to get this "winter" so better make the most of it. </div>
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The Piru watershed seems to be the place where one can take every uncomfortable and unpleasant thing the SLP has to offer and upsize it. Ticks, poison oak, venomous reptiles, brush, heat, rough terrain, etc... Piru has it in spades. </div>
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I was joined by Nico and Stephen for a combo cycling/off-trail exploration of the Blue Point/Canton Canyon arena. We mountain biked far into Canton, which is a dramatic dry wash of a place. An old jeep track weaves up the north side of the wash. There are sporadic groves of oaks, and lots of intriguing rock formations, even the remains of an old inholding. The trail is good enough that cycling is is an easy ride. We spent a good deal of time checking out the various rock formations with an eye to rock art, to no avail. </div>
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Another part of the day was spent exploring the remains of the long decommissioned Blue Point Campground. We explored up the eastern draw which empties into Piru Creek. Here we found overgrown conditions and a nice collection of large sandstone wind caves. Done with this particular area we splashed back across Piru Creek to the road and explored a similar series of caves on the western side of the creek. The campground itself has gone completely feral over the years and it occurred to me that the USFS ought to just take everything out and let the area revert to it's primordial self. </div>
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Further up the road we met and chatted with the long time owner of Wheeler Ranch, Joe. He's a nice older guy, was curious about what we were up to. He seemed real relaxed, and if you've seen the beautiful little spread his charming cabin sits on you'd understand why. We did a bit of exploring atop a mesa which overlooks his place.</div>
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If you're into Piru and flowers, nows the time to be out. Dozens of species of flowering plants have been tricked into an early spring bloom. The hillsides are green and lush. The birds are out. All in all it was a beautiful day for a mellow tour. Just beware, people are already reporting rattlesnakes being out and about.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheeler Ranch from across the way.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lone sycamore at the mouth of the truly grand Canton Canyon.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-20166229268117630622015-02-11T11:18:00.000-08:002015-02-11T11:18:30.932-08:00Off Trail in the Cuyama Badlands<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This isn't really a post about a trip report. It's more an explanation of what I've been up to.</div>
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The photo above was taken on the way to somewhere in the Cuyama badlands, a day which offered a beautiful, rain spattered hike into the colorful ridges and gullies beneath the north slope of Sierra Madre Ridge. The point of this hike, besides the adventure and exercise, was to find a little known rock art site. A Chumash rock art site.</div>
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A few weeks ago I was asked what percentage of day trips I go on that never make it onto this page. At the time I said 30% but looking back over the last few months the number is actually closer to 50%. What's missing you ask? The answer to that is that I am no longer going to post anything related to Chumash rock art, and in fact I have taken down all my posts to this page which related to Chumash rock art. There are several reasons for this change.</div>
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The most persuasive reason I have for changing my approach to what I post is that I have gradually come to understand that the rock art in the Tri-Counties region has exactly nothing to do with my cultural heritage. I'm not Native American, have never pretended to be Native American, and have no desire to emulate the local Native Americans. But that doesn't mean that I don't have a conscience. There are plenty of areas in Southern and Central California that have highly publicized and easily accessible rock art, and I've seen a lot of it and will continue to post such sites, but I've also been at this long enough that I have begun to sense a subtle difference in perceptions and attitudes toward Chumash art versus similar art by other cultures. </div>
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This difference is difficult to define or quantify but it's there. I think it largely has to do with the competing priorities between the Nuevo Chumash, the Forest Service, the elites within academia, and lay enthusiasts. While it is the lay enthusiasts (like myself) that scour the internet and academic papers for information on these sites, and actually do the difficult work to go out and see them, there is no real effort to use such people as a resource. In fact, the moment one of these lay people starts publishing Chumash art on the internet they find themselves pressured to remove those postings by Chumash advocates and academics. It is easy to understand the Chumash point of view, but the barely veiled hostility and a general air of exclusivity excreted by those in academia toward those who are actually putting in the effort to see these sites as they exist today is rather repugnant. To the best of my knowledge there is no coherent effort to incorporate the more accomplished of the lay people into any effort to protect or document or preserve these sites. An example of such an organization would be the long defunct Partners In Preservation. Instead of being invited to contribute, the lay "experts" out there are dubbed pariahs the moment they step out of the closet and publish. This syndrome is very cliquish, very elite, and very off putting. I find those attitudes a distraction from my overall purpose, which is to document adventure and discovery within the Southern Los Padres.</div>
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There is a lot that people such as myself might be able to offer given the opportunity and a minimal amount of training.</div>
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When I first began posting Chumash art on this page I took a lot of heat from various quarters. I rapidly evolved my approach to publishing, justifying my continued publication of the art at such sites by not using the site's given name or any identifiers (landscape or otherwise) which could be used as an aid in finding these sites. Within a relatively short period of time the hate mail stopped but word of my activities continued to be muttered about within the "in" crowd. Even those measures that I implemented to protect the locations of sites was insufficient to quell the attitude that I was some renegade guerrilla of the rock art world (that's a laugh). I have allies and ears, and word would reach me that this or that individual had said something uncomplimentary about my activities and that those sentiments were circulating within certain circles. Whatever. I work with heart surgeons. I have a thick skin. But I'd be dishonest if I didn't admit that this high school b.s. never got to me.</div>
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I write this not in an effort to garner sympathy but quite the opposite. Rock art has been very good to me. I've made numerous contacts and gained new friends because of my interest in rock art. Many of the people I correspond with have attitudes similar to those I've expressed here. I appreciate their ongoing support and friendship. I will continue to ferret out the locations of these sites, hunt them down and photograph them, but I won't be posting anything from these sites on this page anymore. This is my decision and a conclusion I reached on my own, that being that this is not my cultural heritage and my editorializing on such art is unnecessary.</div>
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I'd like to reassure the readers of this page, many of which who have been with me the whole time, that I'm not going anywhere and that I will continue to bring the forest to this page. It's going to be the same quality of stuff I've posted all along, minus the rock art. Understand that if you see a gap in postings it's likely I've been out tracking down local rock art. </div>
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P.S. This little rag I put out turned over 250,000 hits this week. That's not half bad for a niche blog that doesn't use web exposure services or host ad space. I appreciate your interest, your comments, and the friends I've made along the way. Thanks.</div>
David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-85991194953465805942015-01-18T19:04:00.000-08:002015-01-19T17:22:17.532-08:00Access Lawsuit: Matilija Canyon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpmzX-Ae_IQXGQ_LkBByhebThtpwZHH0qlWuNFp-sBilzktBtIZSEkDi9TjvhFZtyPkClBVV9InCF5LUq7LWDWtevIqWxa8di4ajZNvMTWd2yFj15JNdZIUvPmjgwkM8o689U9z5TabY/s1600/IMGP2402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpmzX-Ae_IQXGQ_LkBByhebThtpwZHH0qlWuNFp-sBilzktBtIZSEkDi9TjvhFZtyPkClBVV9InCF5LUq7LWDWtevIqWxa8di4ajZNvMTWd2yFj15JNdZIUvPmjgwkM8o689U9z5TabY/s1600/IMGP2402.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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The access problem at Matilija will finally be going to court, or at least to negotiated settlement. The first I heard of this happy development was a 15 second blurb on KCLU and then in an article in the VC Reporter. The issue of private property rights versus access to Matilija which the public has enjoyed since the early 1900's will finally be decided. Back in 2009 the land owner, Mr Buz Bonsall, decided to deny access through his property. This created enough of an uproar in the community that the Forest Service and access advocacy groups got involved and things settled down for a while. But the issue has continued to simmer without any clear resolution.</div>
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During the 2009 crisis I used this blog to pen a rant about public access to the Forest in general and against Mr Bonsall in particular. The writing was juvenile and provocative but with a title like "The Matilija Nazi Drops The Hammer" the post continued to generate a huge number of hits and responses for the next few years until I took it down. Some time after that writing he started pestering Craig Carey for my phone number which Craig, to his credit, wouldn't have handed it over even if it had been in his possession to give. But Buz wanted to talk to me. Eventually I called just to see what he had to say. I remember the conversation clearly because a.) he sounded drunk, and b.) he just rambled on and on and I couldn't get any sense of what the hell he wanted. It was very strange.</div>
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In the years since I have received tales of Mr Bonsall verbally accosting people and intimidating folks just out for a day by the creek. In one such confrontation, a friend of mine, out for the day with his gal, was approached by Bonsall and two other men. Bonsall made it crystal clear that they were on his land and that he considered them trespassers. While I haven't had such an experience myself, I have heard various versions of stories like this (some of which have a more menacing tone) from people I associate with. I have also noticed that at least one of the signs which the Forest Service posted in 2009 in an effort to ensure that visitors stayed on the fire road leading to the canyon proper had been vandalized and "No Trespassing" had been written where the map was supposed to be. </div>
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Getting back to the law suit, I get the impression that this could have been settled fairly equitably back in 2009. First, a bypass trail from the parking area could have easily been created. A foot bridge could have been built to cross Matilija Creek and a trail could have been created which ascended the opposite side of the creek from Mr Bonsall's ranch house and out buildings. This project would have been fairly cheap and the Forest Service could have used volunteers to construct the trail, and nobody would be walking right through the driveway of Bonsall's ranch residence anymore. For whatever reason this type of solution was never enacted, but the land owner is the one with the perceived rights and the perceived grievance so I suspect that Mr Bonsall was not interested in anything that resembled negotiation toward a solution for any party but his own.</div>
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To shed some more light and perspective on this development I will laboriously type every single letter of the article <b>Lawsuit filed over access to Matilija</b>, 01/15/15 <b>VC Reporter</b>, written by Chris O'Neal.</div>
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A coalition of conservation groups and Ojai residents calling themselves the <i>Keep Access to Matilija Falls Open </i>has filed a lawsuit against the owners of land they say should be open to the public.</div>
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The lawsuit filed in Ventura County Superior Court is aimed at restoring public access to the falls, which the group says has been difficult since 2009, when the owner of the property crossed by the trail leading to the falls began confronting hikers and posted "No Trespassing" signs.</div>
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Jeff Kuyper, Los Padres Forest Watch executive director, says the trail has been used by locals and travelers alike, dating back over 100 years.</div>
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"People have used it since the 1900s and there's always been a trail there from since anyone can remember," said Kuyper.</div>
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In 1979, the land was purchased by current property owner Buz Bonsall's family, but it wasn't until 2009 that Bonsall began attempting to keep hikers off the trail, according to Kuyper.</div>
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"Some people felt that they were being harassed for something the public has been doing for over a century," said Kuyper. In a press release about the lawsuit, the group claims that Bonsall "began to aggressively confront hikers and took steps to prohibit access in the area" and threatened to cite hikers for trespassing.</div>
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The coalition said that it believes that the group has strong evidence that a permanent public easement through the property should be granted. In California, all that is required to determine where an easement should be placed is that the land had been open and accessible to the public for a period of five years, uninterrupted. Alistair Croyne, conservation director with Keep Sespe Wild, says there is ample evidence that this has been the case.</div>
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"That area has been popular with Ojai residents for over a hundred years," says Croyne, who says it's been difficult finding people who remember hiking on the trail before 1979 [*I can help with that], but there are documents, maps and guides that detail the trail from decades before the purchase. "It was a surprise to everybody when the property owner started to turn people back who were hiking up there."</div>
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"I think the landowner trying to stop access now sort of flies in the face of public access that has been established," said Ventura County Supervisor Steve Bennett, who represents District 1. "The best outcome is the landowner and the group negotiating an appropriate settlement that everyone can live with."</div>
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Kuyper says that the lawsuit is a last resort and that negotiations began several years ago but the parties failed to reach an agreement. Kuyper is unsure of the reasons for the property owner's actions, but guessed that it was due to the increase in traffic.</div>
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"People learn about a relatively easy waterfall to access - whenever you have more people you tend to get more trash and a small amount of people who don't respect the area," said Kuyper. "That can give everyone a bad name."</div>
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Bonsall has 30 days to respond to the lawsuit. In the meantime, Kuyper hopes the two can come to an agreement.</div>
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"It's always easier to sit down at the table and see if a solution could be worked out, but we just weren't able to get anything down in writing," Kuyper said.</div>
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Bonsall declined to comment.</div>
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So I'd like to offer a toast to these champions of freedom and liberty, and you all should too. If this writing gets back to the pro-access side of the argument and it is determined that I can be of any assistance, by all means, contact me. My first recollection of Matilija was an outing with my father and another guy. I was five years old and it was 1978. Anyway, I really appreciate these efforts and I'm glad there are people and organizations with the will and the resources to secure access for the rest of us.</div>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-34019569402737961092015-01-17T20:38:00.000-08:002015-01-18T08:57:39.932-08:00The TWO?!? Harris Tunnels?!?, Red Reef Trail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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First off, I want to say that I'm so friggin' happy to be back on my feet that I want to do a little happy dance. But Homie don't dance, so instead I did 20 miles. Ha! Take that influenza virus!</div>
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Like most men I'm an absolute child about being sick. I hate it. Every sniffling minute of it is one big pity party. But that's behind me now and to celebrate I bring you all an interesting riddle, one discovered quite by accident, as fortune would have it.</div>
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Apparently there are two (!) Harris Tunnels!</div>
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I did not know this.</div>
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Before I get to the Tunnel stuff I have to mention a few things about the day. Basically, the morning was glorious. Not surprisingly the Piedra Blanca/Sespe trailhead was packed with vehicles. I pulled into the last available slot and left the lot at 0700. Within a mile I was feeling perfect, just humming along. The sun was coming up, cresting the ridges downstream. Little birds were fluttering about, chirping. The morning air was brisk enough to require a little extra insulation. A quiet rushing noise rose from the creek on my right. A gentle sunrise breeze rose. The morning crystal clear. Things were as good as could be. </div>
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I trucked right through the early miles, looking forward to reaching the junction at Bear Creek, where the Sespe Trail stars getting really scenic. Along the way I noticed numerous tents camped in the many unsanctioned sites sprinkled along the length of the creek. Here and there a thin streamer of smoke would curl out of the cottonwoods as I silently passed early risers. Clearly there were many, many people camping along the river this morning.</div>
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Eventually I reached the stretch of trail that crosses back to the north bank and starts a repetitive cycle of gently looping climbs and dips that circle around low shoulders of the hills above. Atop each little rise was a fresh view of the dramatic landscape ahead. It's easy for me to forget how pretty this stretch of country can be, how colorful the geology, how brightly the early sun beams off the serpentine curves of the Sespe. Eventually I reached the junction for the Red Reef Trail. I crossed the Sespe heading south and started up the tight little canyon which that trail ascends.</div>
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About a mile up the trail the canyon narrows dramatically, framed on either side by steep bands of red sandstone. The trail runs next to a small stream and sunlight dapples through the oak trees and occasional spruce. The canyon gets even tighter and around a twist in the trail one approaches what everyone knows as the Harris Tunnel.</div>
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This unusual feature was necessitated by the geology of the canyon. Over time the little creek had eroded a notch for itself in a huge, upthrust strata of sandstone. For the creek this was a completely sufficient solution but getting horses through the rocky creek would be a non-starter. The answer to this problem came in the form of drill holes bored in the rock on the east side of the problematic creek, these holes being packed with a judicious amount of dynamite or blasting powder. The result is a brief tunnel about 8ft high and 8ft wide. A rider would have to dismount and lead the horse through but otherwise the problem had been solved. </div>
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This project was completed in 1907 by TJ Harris and RJ Harris. Says so on the wall of the tunnel, chiseled in their own hand. Another fun fact, there is an old site in Middle Sespe called the Harris Ranch, clearly the two are related. And that should be it right? Not so fast...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The south facing view of Harris Tunnel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harris Tunnel, looking north.</td></tr>
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I stopped for a late breakfast at an open spot on the creek, got bored, and started doing what I'm programmed to do, which is to start poking my head in holes and scrambling over rocks and busting through brush and generally being a boy. An hour later I was a couple hundred feet up the east slope of the canyon wall when I spied what really looked to me like an old trail. Hmm. I dropped down a little bit and yeah, this wasn't some animal track. This was a real trail. Or, as I found out, remnants of a real trail. I picked up the path and started following it north toward the Sespe. It was overgrown and perilously washed out in places but a few minutes later I rounded a turn and twenty feet away was another tunnel. A big, round tunnel through red sandstone. I was a bit surprised to say the least. From this distance I could even see the marks left by the rock drilling for blasting. I wandered over to this feature and had a look see.</div>
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The first thing I did was walk through the tunnel and out the other side. I followed the forgotten trail a bit until it became impassable before returning to my find. First, this tunnel was actually two arches of rock. I concluded that the center of the roof had caved in at some point and made a natural skylight. Again I noted the bore holes. Unlike the Tunnel everyone agrees is "Harris Tunnel", this one didn't have any names chiseled into it, though I did find this one to be the more architecturally and esthetically pleasing to the eye. Pretty dang cool if you ask me.</div>
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Here's what I'd like to know: does anybody out there know the story behind this second tunnel? It's just a guess but I'm pretty sure this tunnel precedes the one on the Red Reef.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "other" Harris Tunnel.</td></tr>
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After that I couldn't think of anything else to do here so I went back down to the Sespe. It was so pretty in the creek there that I was reluctant to just cross and get back on the highway-like Sespe Trail. Besides, I could hear people on it from a quarter mile away. Sounded like it was crawling with tourists. I decided to stay in the creek for a while and avoid the masses. The day was warm by now and I stopped to splash my face and take in the sights. I'm glad I did because I was most of the way back to Bear Creek by the time the creek forced me back up to the main trail and into a mass of trudging troglodytes, slouched over with ill adjusted packs, yammering about how being in the great outdoors is so stress relieving. Blechh!</div>
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I'm not exaggerating when I say that on my way out I passed at least seventy (70!) people on the trail! I'm not exaggerating because I was counting heads and gave up at seventy! By my estimate there were probably close to two hundred people strung out along that trail and planning on an overnight stay. Probably a hundred people fighting over dipping a toe in the single pot of scummy, sulphury water at Willet Hot Spring. Ahh well, I'm sounding curmudgeonly. Must be my age or something. Pretty good to be back at it though. Take care. See you out there. And don't get that virus that's making the rounds, it's bad for your health.</div>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-9615443830617507212014-12-25T12:05:00.000-08:002014-12-25T12:05:43.470-08:00No Name Canyon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I need a break from the Sespe for a bit. I've logged four recent trips into the Trout Creek morass and added this (today's) bit of scrum to the mix. Off-trail drainages have been a recurring theme lately. Partly I figure it's wise to knock these places out before the marijauna growing season starts up again. Encounters of the narco kind aren't my idea of fun, and I've concluded that every little drainage in the SLP, no matter how remote, hosts such sites. Also, these drainages are kind of fun in their own sadistic way. But they sure do dish out a beating. </div>
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The itinerary for this day included an exploratory recon up an unnamed drainage on the south side of the Sespe and just west of Bear Creek. This gully has caught my eye on occasion. The entrance from the Sespe is framed by a clustered jumble of highly eroded red-brown formations. This feature is fairly easy to thread but it does narrow down to a neat little slot. On either side of the slot are pocketed strata which rise like a small gorge to either side of the gully's outflow. In other words, this slot is a natural gate.</div>
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I, and Josh Weir, slipped through the gate and proceeded a mile up an extremely brush choked gully. Due to the recent rains, and the fact that this gully drains off a northern slope, every rock was slicker than snot. Muddy feet and slick rocks made for a tough go. The day was not without injury. As the drainage continued its winding course upstream we gradually passed into a zone of oaks scattered with a few sycamore trees. The brush remained a persistent hazard and we were often forced out of the creek onto muddy slopes in order to bypass particularly troublesome tangle or deadfall. </div>
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After a while the trees grew taller and more abundant. The way forward became dark, dank and wet, the rocks blanketed in green moss. The gully steepened and water cascaded down numerous little falls. We climbed upward between immense boulders, sometimes over or under them. We slipped on slick rocks and dead leaves. Our pants were soaked and muddy from the knee down. </div>
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We eventually climbed into a huge and deeply shadowed gorge of grey stone. This feature is very visible from the Sespe Trail and forms a dramatic "V" over the drainage. Near vertical cliffs rise above a small hollow for several hundred feet on each side. The small space in between these walls was crowded with oaks, sycamores, and large boulders. Several old spruce trees grew in the upper part of the gorge. </div>
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Farther up from the spruce trees the drainage devolved into a mess of manzanita and scrub oak, so we returned to the little hollow in the bottom of this upper gorge. We sat under the trees and had some breakfast and conversation, though Josh talks enough for both of us and I was mostly content just to listen. A quiet breeze stirred the sycamores and dried leaves rustled and fell. The little creek burbled through the rocks. Upstream a jay squawked. It was a good morning, grey and overcast, moody. Excellent exploring weather.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view across the Sespe to Thorn Point.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sespe Creek after the rains (and below).</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-40207137989910303842014-12-18T14:08:00.000-08:002014-12-18T17:41:58.555-08:00Busting Sticks Over Frazier Park<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week, before this latest series of rains, I wanted to do a little exploring in the high country north of Frazier Park (AKA Tecuya Ridge). Of course the roads that ascend to the ridge will be closed for the next several months so getting up there is a bit of a hike in itself. I looked the maps over a bit before settling on a direct but steep climb straight up from Frazier. </div>
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The morning air was crisp and cold at the time I set out, the sun just climbing over the eastern hills. After a mile of mixed road and motorcycle trails I had hit the wall atop my selected canyon. This little bit was where things would begin to feel like work. The climb was stiff, gained 1,000ft in 0.5miles, but after clearing the canyon I had a gentle ascent through rolling grasslands and deadfall trees which led to the ridge crest.</div>
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This portion of Tecuya Ridge had burned in a brief wildfire which started in late October of 2011. Though the fire had been quickly contained, a large swath of the ridge had gotten scorched and now, three years later, the grasses and desert scrub were retaking the south facing parts of the ridge while those mature ponderosa and jeffrey pines that had survived the blaze on the shady, north side were rebounding with greenery. I landed on the motorcycle track that traverses the ridge and paused for a little breakfast.</div>
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The birds were out, the breeze was cold, and I didn't have much of a plan other than to explore a bit. So that's what I did. I kind of roamed here and there, over hilly shoulders and into shadowed canyons, stopping frequently to admire trees or to listen to the breeze, to watch paired ravens play on the wind. The day was perfect that way, no need for a plan or a trail, time spent simply ghosting through the woods.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on Frazier Park from where I started, the fire station on West End Way.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-78079128670312395492014-12-11T08:32:00.000-08:002014-12-11T08:32:36.659-08:00Trout Creek, Round 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Really, there's not much left for me to say about Trout Creek, that unpleasant and overgrown minor drainage which has occupied far too much of my time of late. It is rare when I'll divulge the reasons behind an exploratory recon, especially when there's a possibility that such intelligence gained might result in a larger "win", but since I am now pretty convinced that this idea of mine isn't worth doing I'll go ahead and spill the beans: </div>
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I've been looking for a direct way to ascend the south face of Thorn Point, in a day.</div>
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I think I could probably do it, but it would likely be dangerous, would require a partner and a second vehicle at Thorn Meadow, and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be "fun". I've learned through these explorations that Trout Creek has a deficit of redeeming qualities. I think I ought to shelve this idea, for a while at least. My hit list has too many other interesting ideas to justify spending any more time on this project.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The South Face of Thorn Point</td></tr>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-78636517053224669152014-12-09T14:55:00.001-08:002014-12-09T19:20:32.007-08:00Deer Creek, Santa Monica Mountains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here's a day that deviated dramatically from the original plan. Jack Elliott and I had traveled down to County Line with the intention of going spearfishing but upon arrival the conditions were junk. The water was choppy, the kelp laid over in the current, and the water clarity wrecked by a heavy shore break. Fortunately we'd both brought our dirt kits for Plan B. </div>
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I'd once heard a rumor that there was a something or other, Chumash in nature, somewhere up Deer Creek Canyon. Most of the drainages along the Central California Coast which empty to the sea used to be ideal real estate for Native living. The combination of fresh water and ocean access, a temperate coastal environment, and easy access to the hills made this coastline a highly desirable and seemingly easy place to forage, fish, and live... at least until the Spanish arrived with their crucifixes, slavery, and exotic pathogens, that is.</div>
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Most of the creeks which empty to the sea bear the signs of long-term Chumash habitation, some as year round villages, some as more seasonal or transient sites. Many of these village sites are under brick, mortar, and asphalt, as in the low lying coastal areas of Ventura, Carpinteria, and Santa Barbara. A common sign of long term use in such areas are large scatterings of seashell and bone shards called midden piles. A look at these coastal middens give an immediate insight into aspects of the native diet and food resources. A middens pile in these coastal environs will be riddled with fragments of clam, mussel, and abalone shells. </div>
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So having shelved our original plan for the day we drove to the top of Deer Creek Canyon and weren't all that surprised to stumble into such a place shortly after ducking into the canyon. Sea shell shards were strewn among the leaf litter in a wide circumference around two bedrock mortars. This site lay on a small flat, nicely shaded by mature oaks, and immediately adjacent to the watercourse. After a wider sweep of the area we determined that there was no accompanying rock art in the vicinity. We returned to the truck and drove back down Deer Creek Road a little bit and pulled out. Here we walked over to the rim of the canyon for a better look at the lower aspects of the drainage, just to get a better idea of wether we'd missed any significant rock formations lower down the creek. Several hundred feet below us we spied a cluster of large boulders begging for a thorough look. We walked back up to the truck, kitted back up, and dropped off the rim of the canyon into a scruffy terrain of rocks and brush. </div>
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Arriving at the boulders in the creek we scoured them for any signs Chumash, to no avail. Being kind of dumb people we decided "What the hell? Why not finish out the canyon?". Now, the dominant life form in Santa Monica Mountains watersheds is, you guessed it, poison oak. In short order my prognosis was grim, I'd have to drown myself in a bath of Tec-Nu solvent for a day or so. Of course, lucky devil that he is, Jack seems immune to that infernal plant. Jerk. We finished out the canyon fairly quickly, mostly because it wasn't any fun and there wasn't anything of interest worth stopping for. Arriving at the bottom of the canyon we emerged back onto Deer Creek Road. This left us an unpleasant two mile road climb back to the truck, and naturally, being so close to LA's unkind masses, a desperate thumb hung at oncoming cars did no good whatsoever. Humbug.</div>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-43541299274216849182014-11-27T16:14:00.001-08:002014-11-27T18:52:15.947-08:00Wasting Away Again In Manzanitaville<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike Shields enjoying the natural wonders of Trout Creek.</td></tr>
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Happy Thanksgiving everybody. I just got back from shooting some fish off County Line, which is how I am recovering from this strange odyssey of brush ninja meanderism. Salt water immersion is good for a minor case of poison oak. Nothing from this day is worth a recommendation. Some days are just like that. I contemplated not even posting this one but figured that I could write this as some kind of public service "<i>don't go here</i>" announcement.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thorne Point, from above the Sespe.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The green line follows this day's wandering weirdness. Don't try to make sense of it.</td></tr>
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The day was initially about a resumption of my exploration of <a href="http://davidstillman.blogspot.com/2014/11/a-preliminary-exploration-of-trout-creek.html">Trout Creek</a>. I have (or <i><b>had</b></i>) a reason for this recurrent interest in an otherwise unpleasant drainage. In light of my recent experience there I am still undecided about wether to give up on that particular notion. Mike has his own interest in the area, a lingering and unresolved matter which I'm sure is nagging at him like a toothache. For the time being I'll remain vague about these concerns, hopefully <i><b>maddeningly</b></i> vague.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We pretty much went all over most of the terrain in this photo.</td></tr>
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Back to the day in question, we pounded down the Sespe River Trail out of Rose Valley. Mike had identified an old dozer track that looked like a promising way to access the upper half of Trout, so we kept on truckin' right past where Trout empties into the Sespe. Mike's guess was good, a stout little climb which put us over a ridge and into a scrum of brush which we descended into the middle part of Trout. By the way, Trout Creek is a misnomer... there's no trout there.</div>
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We headed up Trout for a bit before climbing out of the west side of the creek to investigate a bouldered flat, didn't find anything of interest, dropped back into the creek and proceeded further upstream. Things got ugly mighty quick. "Ugly", in this case, is a descriptor which I've employed as an understatement. Take the ugliest horse you've ever met, mate it with a triceratops, expose the offspring to gamma radiation while in utero, name the baby Bertha, and then you see the analogy I'm trying to make. Even in this remote and thoroughly fucked up drainage we found a marijuana grow site. It's true. These people have staked a claim in every watershed in our forest that doesn't have a trail running up it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4OB-qj8zAqtgZuWfQBpIY2HxJxp7bJHob8zQH_ctxqdpGUhOihaHXli40M_x9UQb5JsDPQ4NDkYxYPGB64902c33BM-5CQSBlW4WLBWvQOJs9avlDZNnY-rWM3rWTpI9JW1q5l1MVxM/s1600/DSC06732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4OB-qj8zAqtgZuWfQBpIY2HxJxp7bJHob8zQH_ctxqdpGUhOihaHXli40M_x9UQb5JsDPQ4NDkYxYPGB64902c33BM-5CQSBlW4WLBWvQOJs9avlDZNnY-rWM3rWTpI9JW1q5l1MVxM/s1600/DSC06732.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvBJmG88uDg3rNJzSaSzLnNLrcB7PMYQtPTkRfyE48tqyzmdEyh8MupSPVeLDq5cGDXh8w_kT6gXznwbPPQz0qLRiIm20Yu1FxeorDBb0WmR9WriEO8_3ZV3l_kM7XRvjjnMgRJSDXQU/s1600/DSC06735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvBJmG88uDg3rNJzSaSzLnNLrcB7PMYQtPTkRfyE48tqyzmdEyh8MupSPVeLDq5cGDXh8w_kT6gXznwbPPQz0qLRiIm20Yu1FxeorDBb0WmR9WriEO8_3ZV3l_kM7XRvjjnMgRJSDXQU/s1600/DSC06735.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Hell.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WoO-b37mE6GgXBYSCOGzGBrXAgp3wWuscHNWRZNx5_TwZz90sCq5NzIirGqJl3JFcUSL-7pxzsdllbskAqTrAdzBk5acGfpi0ZGSjt9LwphcQj59b_wPzCWh-6ETbanPXDgCt44539g/s1600/DSC06749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WoO-b37mE6GgXBYSCOGzGBrXAgp3wWuscHNWRZNx5_TwZz90sCq5NzIirGqJl3JFcUSL-7pxzsdllbskAqTrAdzBk5acGfpi0ZGSjt9LwphcQj59b_wPzCWh-6ETbanPXDgCt44539g/s1600/DSC06749.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another pot site. </td></tr>
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We traveled far up Trout until we were basically under Thorn Point, not that we could see any of that peak through the jungle we had ensnared ourselves in. By that point we were fed up with vines and sticks and brush and deadwood, and without any real goal for being there we started questioning why this had happened to us in the first place. I mean, we're intermittently nice people! What did we do to deserve this? With that thought we turned it around.</div>
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Sadly, descending and escaping from the creek led us in a whole other direction, one which changed the <i>type </i>of brush but not the quantity. I swear, this forest has developed a taste for human blood. So, stupid guys that we are, we worked up this bright idea to pioneer a new route out of this mess and back to the Sespe. We worked eastward up a twisty wash, crawling on hands and knees through numerous brush tunnels, fighting tooth and claw to advance our new found cause. My rich and colorful brush dialect became a monotonous kind of droning, accented by the sounds of lumber snapping and nylon shredding. We escaped from this pernicious gulch, climbed to a saddle, and there before us was a hideous sea of brush. Before continuing we turned back the way we had come and issued a big "Fuck! You!" in that general direction. We dropped off the saddle and in about ten minutes found ourselves reversing the same kind of crap we'd been doing all day. Another inglorious gully. I hung back for a bit and watched Mike struggle with this latest iteration of hell. I have to say it was great entertainment, though Mike didn't appreciate my laughter. Sorry Mike.</div>
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Some time later we encountered a deer track that diagonaled up and out of our little Eden. We'd had enough. Follow the deer. This path was better than many of the regular trails in our forest. In short order we topped onto a slender dragon's back ridge which descended steeply into the Sespe. This was easy street and it wasn't long before we turned west on Interstate Sespe headed for home.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer tracks, the handy bypass routes of the SLP.</td></tr>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-23364950228324242262014-11-22T09:32:00.002-08:002014-11-22T09:32:45.107-08:00Busted.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-mfJ8cGBsHbdV2PYE7FwK8bIkEpr2-1YkBJSmk1gElhjukSCWdw7InsbCiyd5Ke_LnMrsl7ntrBNXF9zI1eYEQvaHwmlH7-SCNuLNwKVaqDoiJ55lSEyXbO7MnCVDRb3nmtyjjrCke4/s1600/Image1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-mfJ8cGBsHbdV2PYE7FwK8bIkEpr2-1YkBJSmk1gElhjukSCWdw7InsbCiyd5Ke_LnMrsl7ntrBNXF9zI1eYEQvaHwmlH7-SCNuLNwKVaqDoiJ55lSEyXbO7MnCVDRb3nmtyjjrCke4/s1600/Image1.jpg" height="252" width="400" /></a></div>
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Some of you have noticed that the post detailing the descent of Deadman and Tecuya Canyons has been removed. Several days after posting that trip I got nasty-grams from both the Kern County Sheriffs Department and the Wildlands Conservancy (AKA the Wind Wolves Preserve) because I'd been trespassing on their land the moment I stepped foot into Tecuya Canyon. The ensuing conversation with the manager of the Wind Wolves wasn't particularly harsh but it was made crystal clear that if I set foot in the place again without prior authorization they will prosecute. I'd always wondered how zealous those folks were about their patch and now I know. Apparently they take their mission seriously.</div>
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This is by no means the first example of me being called out for providing evidence that I'd been somewhere I shouldn't have. Also, I'm beginning to think that various groups and agencies, or activists within them, are paying some attention to whatever mischief Stillman is up to. There have been plenty of days in the sticks that I've chosen not to share and this day should have been one of them. The takeaway from this episode is, a.) know when you're trespassing, b.) don't put it on social media, and c.) if caught, play nice and don't make things worse than they already are. Undoubtedly someone will comment that the real lesson is not to trespass in the first place... well, duh. </div>
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I still think there are too many fences in the world.</div>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-28973954460792633532014-11-12T10:08:00.000-08:002014-11-12T10:08:01.406-08:00Argh!!! Winter Road Closures!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dammit!!</div>
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A tank of gas and 3 hours wasted! </div>
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Before you say I shoulda called the Mt Pinos Ranger District, yesterday was Veterans Day so they were closed anyway. There's a lesson here. And I was really in the mood to do what I'd planned too.</div>
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Well shit.</div>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-48870414168811125232014-11-04T16:39:00.000-08:002014-11-04T16:40:56.788-08:00A Descent of the West Fork of Piedra Blanca Creek<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj48wt0_pwb-KtjJFpW1wgWdT4YPIViGgIdDOhk4VD0xgf9P236oSMP0y3cQOtt9PtX39kBnsEmt5en3xM1deN3aTH0G1IOLMCXPLsDSKL9RaboQwXsYo_DUjWe9DILjdUTarIvL3Hpk/s1600/DSC06594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj48wt0_pwb-KtjJFpW1wgWdT4YPIViGgIdDOhk4VD0xgf9P236oSMP0y3cQOtt9PtX39kBnsEmt5en3xM1deN3aTH0G1IOLMCXPLsDSKL9RaboQwXsYo_DUjWe9DILjdUTarIvL3Hpk/s1600/DSC06594.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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Amazing.</div>
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Jaw dropping.</div>
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5 Stars.</div>
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A virginal forest of arboreal delights.</div>
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I think I'm in love.</div>
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Can it get any better than this?</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click any image to enlarge it. I think you should.</td></tr>
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This descent has been on my list for quite a while. For years I've not been shy about asserting that the Reyes Ridge hosts the best of our forest. There are beautiful places and hidden gems all over the place, but the high country between Pine Mountain and San Rafael Peak are where my heart lies. Cedars and pines and dark hidden places and moss lined creeks and rocky buttes and blue jays and bears... my kind of paradise.</div>
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In an enduring effort to know this region as well as anybody I've been eyeing a number of places that people just don't go, which leads to what went down on this day. <a href="http://yankeebarbareno.com/">Jack Elliott</a> and I left the Sespe/Piedra Blanca trailhead on a crisp and clear sunrise. We burned up the miles through the Piedra Blanca and Twin Forks campsites, downshifted up the grinding climb out of the creek, and crested into Pine Mountain Lodge two and a half hours later. We stopped at the old campsite for a time, steam rising off our backs, sweat turning to frosty wet in the forty degree air. After a bit of breakfast and some basking in the chill sun we tightened everything down for our real raison d'etre. I had an inkling what this descent would be like, but in the end my own preconceived ideas fell far short of the gorgeous reality below.</div>
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We followed the sandy wash out of Pine Mtn Lodge, headed downstream and west. In short order we were oohing and aahing at the huge trees, shallow pools, and sculpted slabs framing either side of the creek. It seemed that we were instantly transported into a primordial forest of Disney-like character. I was just beaming inside. Oh hell yes. This place was a true beauty. We continued downstream through a subtle turn to the south, sunlight dappling through the forest canopy, water trickling beside us, and soon we reached a small branch coming in from the west. Here the creek was a shallow brook turning back to the southeast, coursing through grasses, huge cedars, alder and spruce everywhere, massive boulders randomly parked along the stream. Heavenly. All through this uppermost portion of the creek we'd had little trouble, a well worn bear trail guiding the easiest path forward.</div>
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Deeper into the southeast turn of the creek we emerged from this eden into a new iteration, a broad avenue of boulders framed by cedar forested slopes. Electric green moss grew on many of the larger boulders. Birds zipped through the trees. Gravelly sinks lay where water would pool in wetter years. We rock hopped along, pausing frequently to just take it all in. Occasionally a natural dam of deadfall wood presented a worthy obstacle but by and large we just bounced along unhindered. And it just kept going.<br />
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We gradually descended into another elevation of forest, a different stretch populated by old growth trees, alder, spruce, and cedar, but more densely spaced than in the previous mile. Again there was water in the creek. This was a magic mile which provoked many more exclamations of goodness. Somewhere in it I rounded a large tree and just 50ft away was a big ole bear (below). I hand signaled Jack and together we watched that bear for a while. He knew we were there and moved up the slope a bit, completely unalarmed by our presence. At one point he turned around to look straight into us for a good 15 seconds before vanishing into the forest. In the creek below, the water was muddied, and big wet paw prints revealed where he'd come from.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bear.</td></tr>
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A bit later we encountered a fractured cliff face which was easy to descend. Water dripped from cracks all along the base of this falls, and lush ferns grew out of the rock on its shady side. In the center of the falls was a deep and mossy grotto. It was early afternoon by this time and we broke for a snack. I observed that this drainage just seemed to go on and on without end. Neither of us were disappointed by this, but we both knew that somewhere below, once we'd descended into the chaparral zone, things were bound to get ugly. An hour later we encountered a 30ft waterfall which was easily bypassed, but that falls seemed to be a message that the beautiful sights and scenes were about to come to an abrupt end. Indeed, soon after we were in a scrum of extraordinary proportions.</div>
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Somehow we prevailed over the forces of nature. Undoubtedly the prodigious use of profanity helped grease the way. Suffice it to say that the last hour before popping out at Twin Forks was unpleasant, wet, and tiring. I got garroted by a thorny vine, slapped in the eye by a tree branch, poked in the eye by another, and was totally ensnared in a brush trap which, while fighting out of it, rudely ejected me face first into a pool of water. Good times. A small price to pay however, considering the forested Disneyland we'd beheld.</div>
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*The terrain in this drainage is not technically all that difficult, but a good head for solving descent "puzzles" would be helpful in saving time and energy. That being said, this drainage <i><b>feels</b></i> long. Hell, it<i><b> is</b></i> long. We were both pretty worked by the time we popped back out onto the PB trail. There are consecutive miles of boulder hoping, scrambling, down climbing, up climbing, butt sliding, crab walking, elbow crawling, tree climbing, log walking, and brush fighting involved. Before we even entered the brush zone just the realities of this rocky descent had beaten us up but good. Given the nature of the terrain I would advise following parties to be on guard for that insidious sloppiness that comes with being tired, for there are one million and one ways to injure oneself in an environment such as this. But go, go and leave no trace. The beauty here rivals anything in our forest.</div>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-41388348348209137722014-11-01T10:07:00.000-07:002014-11-01T10:07:13.223-07:00A Preliminary Exploration of Trout Creek <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QZMuKI6cNwSvnCo596fuxziXpRYPevOTwfNYM3nuLadLmqofNCtbotDfvkrFk_O2SNrCVQfhQOaTGjE188H259si7-jt6C2ojyqVupnTFZp4w-_26AgrTYcNKprWbqdoMJMfmA8_2EA/s1600/DSC06516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0QZMuKI6cNwSvnCo596fuxziXpRYPevOTwfNYM3nuLadLmqofNCtbotDfvkrFk_O2SNrCVQfhQOaTGjE188H259si7-jt6C2ojyqVupnTFZp4w-_26AgrTYcNKprWbqdoMJMfmA8_2EA/s1600/DSC06516.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thorn Point cresting a sea of brush.</td></tr>
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With only a half day to ramble, and responsibilities haunting my clock, I decided to do a brief recon of a little known and thoroughly feral drainage called Trout Creek. Anybody who's walked the Sespe River Trail has probably rolled right past this innocuous feeder creek without giving it a second thought. What makes it somewhat intriguing to me is that I'd never heard a single thing about it, even though it flows from directly beneath the prominent south face of Thorn Point. </div>
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Now that I've spent a morning getting to know this little mess of a creek I am feeling compelled to go back and take a day seeing just how far up there I can get. I can say that the lower half of the drainage is a nightmare of brush, nettles, poison oak, tangled limbs and deadfall trees. It's not fun. It is, however, unique in one key way; there is no evidence of humanity in that drainage, not even the expected remnants of a Mexican grow operation. This in itself is remarkable given that every time in the last two years that I have felt I was sufficiently "up a creek" I have stumbled into the ubiquitous black irrigation hoses.</div>
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Though I only had a few hours to work with I was able to proceed upstream until I was at roughly the same latitude as the Piedra Blanca Rocks, which lie a a mile or so to the west. Perhaps the drainage opens up a bit beyond where I had to turn back. Perhaps not, and Trout Creek remains an extraordinarily clogged little stretch of forgotten drainage. In reflecting on the morning and it's unpleasantness I have concluded that I may not be quite done with this one yet</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thorn Point and Trout Creek.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the open ground was a morass of yucca and wild rose.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the nicer parts of Trout.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a bit more typical of this drainage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thorn Point, from where I had to turn it around.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-67102592184636814372014-10-22T18:45:00.000-07:002014-10-23T05:38:31.292-07:00Munson Creek and Unnamed Drainage<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCKso10VFMhcX7ArVNMAfss8MEYzDLvDoD-ZkUHEaqmhdqe88-t8CoqF38DzVUhvhG1RmZLBJyOQBPhPs78E96XJZn_Jq7KmYyd0qEFsqxU6R2ImRh6npIlbd6BvCOGzPX4RXh6wO_Ls/s1600/DSC06488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCKso10VFMhcX7ArVNMAfss8MEYzDLvDoD-ZkUHEaqmhdqe88-t8CoqF38DzVUhvhG1RmZLBJyOQBPhPs78E96XJZn_Jq7KmYyd0qEFsqxU6R2ImRh6npIlbd6BvCOGzPX4RXh6wO_Ls/s1600/DSC06488.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://yankeebarbareno.com/">Jack Elliott</a> traversing out of upper Munson Creek.</td></tr>
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This short day of off-trail shenanigans turned into a bit of a blood-letting. The point was to go explore a lengthy band of jutting sandstone which transects Munson Creek, explore the creek itself, and descend back to Hwy 33 using an adjacent unnamed drainage. We managed all that and uncovered a bit more.</div>
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First, I need to say that I'm so friggin happy it's Fall that I could pee myself. So nice to feel a briskness in the early morning air and a chill in the deeper shadows, to know that the day isn't going to be hampered by heat, and to sense that weird quality of autumn where the shadows are a little longer and the angle of the sun is a little lower. There's an essence in our forest that changes with the Fall, the air and light and animal sounds and crackling grasses and dribbling creeks all speak of a hope for rain. I'm almost ready to commit to saying that this is my favorite time of year in these parts. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click image to enlarge.</td></tr>
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Munson Creek has been on my list for quite a while. I'm not sure why I've put it off for so long. Maybe it is because I've never heard anything spectacular about the place. Maybe it's because of a pronounced history of illegal marijuana farming. It might be because there aren't any real trails or intriguing mysteries to resolve. Whatever, it is but a fond memory and some superficial scratches now. These days I lean toward appreciating the experience as much or more than whatever destination may await me.</div>
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Jack and I hit it at sunrise, meandering up a short stretch of brushed up creek bed. After a bit we came to a subtle fork, a thinner branch of the creek that snuck in from the northeast. I'd already identified this branch as something i'd like to explore as it took a easterly route to a fantastic stack of sandstone. We trudged through the brambles until reaching a small flat. Immediately above us were two towers of stone which were bisected by a disorganized trough of large boulders. We had a merry time busting through brush and scrambling over and around the rocks. At the top of this mess we slipped into a gaping crevice, the result of a huge face of stone which had calved off the larger formation. This crevice was a natural passage between the larger formations. We exited into an oak forest on the north side of this lower band of Munson formations.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "crevice" which ushered us through to the north side of this lower band of rock.</td></tr>
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Immediately upon stepping out of that narrow slot we stumbled upon an abandoned marijuana operation. Further investigation revealed a large area that had been under cultivation either within the this most recent season or a year previous. I'm leaning toward thinking that this had been recent based on the lack of leaf litter on all the trash and implements we discovered.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tools of the trade (and below).</td></tr>
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We did a bit of exploring to the east. I rock climbed into an alcove eighty feet off the deck, and found myself having difficulty reversing those moves. Got the ole adrenal glands pumping, that's for sure. After that episode we turned west, following a huge rock formation down to the proper Munson Creek. From a high point over the creek we had fantastic views to the east and west of this same band of jutting rock as it continued parallel across the foot of Reyes Peak. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFHdky3XxqCiPW-soENEovA4FZAv2b2_wpd0u7ZnUkNW-NbW9qrI6pDzroSze8KDkwZeyB6Bx82AoEQ7KQYGs7V1T5fqQD-D3kiVgloHyNFQfPwRAg-M1g_KbiWQwNZPPeg6nVrj-lmI/s1600/DSC06433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFHdky3XxqCiPW-soENEovA4FZAv2b2_wpd0u7ZnUkNW-NbW9qrI6pDzroSze8KDkwZeyB6Bx82AoEQ7KQYGs7V1T5fqQD-D3kiVgloHyNFQfPwRAg-M1g_KbiWQwNZPPeg6nVrj-lmI/s1600/DSC06433.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAx7AFRzMws_XWCsFMlBAE7676n9OtM0dbJS3SHXmw1BJg_6e7lG2wijKH5fCbqbwR3x3d_rFB3CRkSzTNEYDJuu4diCdjU2ema7AolyyrDNEWcPqxwWwnYqg_rH-C6DjX3ELEzPyTTPs/s1600/DSC06440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAx7AFRzMws_XWCsFMlBAE7676n9OtM0dbJS3SHXmw1BJg_6e7lG2wijKH5fCbqbwR3x3d_rFB3CRkSzTNEYDJuu4diCdjU2ema7AolyyrDNEWcPqxwWwnYqg_rH-C6DjX3ELEzPyTTPs/s1600/DSC06440.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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We dropped into Munson Creek again and turned upstream. Things got mighty brushy and unpleasant despite the existence of an old narco trail to follow. We zigged and zagged through the drainage, busting brush in places, getting busted by brush in others. This went on for a fair bit before we came upon a small and sheltered waterfall. Naturally, this clear little falls had black irrigation line draped out of it, presumably the same line that fed the pot grow well downstream. Beyond the falls the brush thinned out and the drainage climbed up under Reyes. Here we backtracked and started the process of climbing out of Munson and into another canyon just to the west.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxw2Kcd08PV8L7mJ3iI3pJ4wFi78bb-XeN6wPcwyA7xKO6I0vCP-eD40nEnVd_3S_SGVj5H6r6sj-_2inlBo_tJCldrlrzVqVOKJhZn56UuIVJei1Zv2Mea7EnK8Y7ulVcjKIMPqgKOw/s1600/DSC06460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxw2Kcd08PV8L7mJ3iI3pJ4wFi78bb-XeN6wPcwyA7xKO6I0vCP-eD40nEnVd_3S_SGVj5H6r6sj-_2inlBo_tJCldrlrzVqVOKJhZn56UuIVJei1Zv2Mea7EnK8Y7ulVcjKIMPqgKOw/s1600/DSC06460.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The falls on upper Munson Creek is tucked beneath these rocks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look back down Munson Creek.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVd7W-NbJ-55GXXynEFDOPhc9WrfU-OT7_Yypi7qBcpQKBoSboXPiNxYxkdionMPtAhefMLJA92x22KisXMYCbHl6TggoD4EtAl00RZEkF6Fgsg-hu-pGav7hkikKeVQR_RIphM5mIZQE/s1600/DSC06473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVd7W-NbJ-55GXXynEFDOPhc9WrfU-OT7_Yypi7qBcpQKBoSboXPiNxYxkdionMPtAhefMLJA92x22KisXMYCbHl6TggoD4EtAl00RZEkF6Fgsg-hu-pGav7hkikKeVQR_RIphM5mIZQE/s1600/DSC06473.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack, climbing out of Munson.</td></tr>
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Our scramble out of Munson was inelegant, a clawing climb until we reached another series of huge rock fins. Atop these, and safely out of Munson, we stood gazing down into a distant potrero framed by the same band of jumbled sandstone which transects lower Munson Creek. The next question was how to get down there. From the looks of it we'd have to go full brush ninja. So we did. The racket of brush snapping, hurled insults, imaginative curses, fleeing wildlife, all of it would have been hilarious to hear from a safe distance. By the end of it I was bleeding from a dozen places and looked forward to enduring a week's worth of the usual questions and the resulting comments in my dealings with everybody else who's not me. I usually just say I spent the day off-trail, this is both foreign and unfathomable to people. It's like saying you spent the weekend juggling fourteen ginsu knives. People just don't get it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the sights, that pretty little meadow below.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuZKaamL3Mopv32A8tLul5LgdmAJGp8GylN2KuFAUVCXKfPTTK0ajCHDv5tD38mtC9zmfdnCbEXIptuqVm6KryJlypGv4Yz1EEVaNZ1xPeKiMchGCNBQsfAnwppctsXbl88SYLLW_eDM/s1600/DSC06497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuZKaamL3Mopv32A8tLul5LgdmAJGp8GylN2KuFAUVCXKfPTTK0ajCHDv5tD38mtC9zmfdnCbEXIptuqVm6KryJlypGv4Yz1EEVaNZ1xPeKiMchGCNBQsfAnwppctsXbl88SYLLW_eDM/s1600/DSC06497.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donated blood at the office.</td></tr>
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Even amusing descents come to an end, and we shook the sticks out of our ears as we strolled into that large meadow. There is one really unusual feature about this little valley, that any water draining off the potrero drips over a series of white slabs, funneled into a narrow slot which terminates in a decent waterfall, but it's what's in the water that grabs the attention. I've seen several natural salt seeps in the forest but nothing on this scale. Everywhere these slabs are crusted over by an eighth inch frosting of granulated salt crystals. All around are stagnant pools of brine, so salty that the water glares white in the sun. The salt content of some of these pools is so high that the actual salt has precipitated out and settled on the bottom. This was a fascinating type of place. Additionally, I explored back east a ways, checking out the ever present rock towers. Later, we found a way down the waterfall at the bottom of the meadow and continued a short jaunt downstream to the highway. </div>
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Well it was another fine day out there in our wilds. Go out and get some.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FOeTngTwPRCCatcWCmbeMavWibktdkZYhBd5tW4MGHhC64aYP41ja4aOZzAk7gG5zSz6_IMcoRgiX9NhXdS2k45d307oBQ-FsCEnnFk8aqJoAIBIEyGsKs26u5tgQiabvWSu9eSiOaQ/s1600/DSC06499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FOeTngTwPRCCatcWCmbeMavWibktdkZYhBd5tW4MGHhC64aYP41ja4aOZzAk7gG5zSz6_IMcoRgiX9NhXdS2k45d307oBQ-FsCEnnFk8aqJoAIBIEyGsKs26u5tgQiabvWSu9eSiOaQ/s1600/DSC06499.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHJbt4CtL6I9y1naA3goaksyjuaGqSw5AjhVP02ZL9ABYjxe0vmbQxw58rbEU2Kv_Aqg7HL1qTbONKn_T6JJcwtkjo-dCHkUikNW3rKc91sX15i0G3HbpdwYZaNu0pPU-oFkoNnRJoFM/s1600/DSC06500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHJbt4CtL6I9y1naA3goaksyjuaGqSw5AjhVP02ZL9ABYjxe0vmbQxw58rbEU2Kv_Aqg7HL1qTbONKn_T6JJcwtkjo-dCHkUikNW3rKc91sX15i0G3HbpdwYZaNu0pPU-oFkoNnRJoFM/s1600/DSC06500.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salt, salty salt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck_i3j3EnMjRN9XTnqBzXjz3Inb9X9I39tO8VXA9phejYFRqcDwWXyALkNgNd0U-AEY7gMceiYIaCce4TMwaK-A10iPNAS9vacVk19AbK3c410ubkGgYFZkMQEzJxwmL93IiYfWdWYV0/s1600/DSC06508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck_i3j3EnMjRN9XTnqBzXjz3Inb9X9I39tO8VXA9phejYFRqcDwWXyALkNgNd0U-AEY7gMceiYIaCce4TMwaK-A10iPNAS9vacVk19AbK3c410ubkGgYFZkMQEzJxwmL93IiYfWdWYV0/s1600/DSC06508.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salt slabs beneath the meadow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzffu8gwZOscKGpqz_uXEq79ba25Zj6M7iGhWpfpZM9d0nI3N8dWCgSvl5okk1ib8l9odefKmyRrbPzxw0QWWog-vCUn-pwes185cdb45Oy3gKikS6DkcsiFhjws3K9rTGlJR1XPvO4xA/s1600/DSC06513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzffu8gwZOscKGpqz_uXEq79ba25Zj6M7iGhWpfpZM9d0nI3N8dWCgSvl5okk1ib8l9odefKmyRrbPzxw0QWWog-vCUn-pwes185cdb45Oy3gKikS6DkcsiFhjws3K9rTGlJR1XPvO4xA/s1600/DSC06513.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The falls beneath the potrero, just a shallow pool of stagnant water beneath.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-26469137729132310042014-10-09T09:44:00.001-07:002014-10-09T16:53:48.442-07:00Lunar Eclipse "Blood Moon", 10/08/14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMjLHEsOv0TSIxlz0hB1fjgcDiQRUJJf3VoRRuar6eUNsCuIom5k6fn9l2XTpt1l7nF3aPBatclFwH1OzT4MgHmS9miF7H0XNd3-ifOseq4Cqqts_PxgUZneKXl8LYaznbIEaK71gshI/s1600/DSC06405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMjLHEsOv0TSIxlz0hB1fjgcDiQRUJJf3VoRRuar6eUNsCuIom5k6fn9l2XTpt1l7nF3aPBatclFwH1OzT4MgHmS9miF7H0XNd3-ifOseq4Cqqts_PxgUZneKXl8LYaznbIEaK71gshI/s1600/DSC06405.JPG" height="281" width="400" /></a></div>
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In the wee hours of Wednesday morning our planet's shadow cast a shade on the full moon, a rare-ish event. It is called the "Blood Moon" due to the occurrence of an eerie reddish pall on the moon, which is caused by atmospherics. The event began in the 01:00 hour and peaked locally, with the moon just a dark shadow of itself, by 04:15. Quite a sight. </div>
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These photos were shot on a Sony NE-X F3 using a telephoto lens and the camera's integral digital zoom.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZXHrT0Bqf6nh7Pco9Pv351z27_qJyxNUP4YvOxKUkJGBqQrEwwF6cD7gpdqo8izBKDpSxsqkei3RczkC4e2_S93lY5UzQpLvnQyRe5I5BRHNqoDqPg88HmJV82hPgNSNW3oM7Evh9A4/s1600/DSC06410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZXHrT0Bqf6nh7Pco9Pv351z27_qJyxNUP4YvOxKUkJGBqQrEwwF6cD7gpdqo8izBKDpSxsqkei3RczkC4e2_S93lY5UzQpLvnQyRe5I5BRHNqoDqPg88HmJV82hPgNSNW3oM7Evh9A4/s1600/DSC06410.JPG" height="262" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-43922832106810586202014-10-03T17:02:00.002-07:002014-10-03T19:48:07.068-07:00Horse Thief Canyon and Environs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NOejw7XSCAiHENAFvhW0Xtc4w2uXIMQ1YoKX8yaG-od4ikIbWO5u8I48VUQgUPwRf6VHjTo83rKPsKvc61G9xdpFNRmiC_FO7saLlLsm7WAmYirRSdv5RoECX4MDCrqg3wQrHhWPA34/s1600/DSC06327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NOejw7XSCAiHENAFvhW0Xtc4w2uXIMQ1YoKX8yaG-od4ikIbWO5u8I48VUQgUPwRf6VHjTo83rKPsKvc61G9xdpFNRmiC_FO7saLlLsm7WAmYirRSdv5RoECX4MDCrqg3wQrHhWPA34/s1600/DSC06327.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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What a delicious day. Didn't feel that way when I woke up but man, what a great day this loop turned out to be. The Santa Ana winds were gusting out of the east, that strange quality of arid, lower latitude sky, the lengthening shadows of fall. All of it, combined with the terrain I chose to travel, made for a stunner of a day of off-trail antics.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPQvUaLp1KLHnRQHv4kdYxMiiyap0VSG0k9clrTq1uH8AymdPXxmzpwR16D2_6ySfgITm3PRVNyopCgS5fjKR_MdTbyyiI1GFE04X6xZTrTBSEhbqUn-QcZvS4anGgLXKrIWYE5mBmGM/s1600/Horse+Thief+Loop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPQvUaLp1KLHnRQHv4kdYxMiiyap0VSG0k9clrTq1uH8AymdPXxmzpwR16D2_6ySfgITm3PRVNyopCgS5fjKR_MdTbyyiI1GFE04X6xZTrTBSEhbqUn-QcZvS4anGgLXKrIWYE5mBmGM/s1600/Horse+Thief+Loop.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
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Horse Thief Canyon drains off the eastern edge of the ridge on which Thorn Point sits. It twists and turns through eroded sandstone bluffs and feral meadows, eventually emptying into the southernmost part of Mutau Flat. The surrounding landscape is a confusing jumble of steep sided ridges, plunging gullies, sandstone cliffs, manzanita, and cedar, all overshadowed by the epic cliffs of Thorn Point. This area is one of the most dramatic landscapes in our forest, and one of my favorite places to roam.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74EVCVKWjI7J-v3KDnnrQwM1ndWu_j0tj-7wGEK5X3kAwV5UYW7brL27MqbaIBXyhinuowvezmv_2OC2UKEWVjE5uqbOS6F3MO4DldI5Gkp4YQl880j6xYYUz50J_py3c6B7VKXlY2Sw/s1600/DSC06331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74EVCVKWjI7J-v3KDnnrQwM1ndWu_j0tj-7wGEK5X3kAwV5UYW7brL27MqbaIBXyhinuowvezmv_2OC2UKEWVjE5uqbOS6F3MO4DldI5Gkp4YQl880j6xYYUz50J_py3c6B7VKXlY2Sw/s1600/DSC06331.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dropping off the other side of Thorn Meadow was like entering another world entirely.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrvH3qmmq5lsGHkJS_O58B6QKOwcPm3cgXQeSTCpuIysmdnkYrHcUkicz4cOVKuziqfxOnCsbNOALU3s0AZGBlW2o9Ch2Ymv6a_msTBpBOLeYPgy6ajVu7llb3Fzi5wg2VOr-i9HAjiI/s1600/DSC06334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrvH3qmmq5lsGHkJS_O58B6QKOwcPm3cgXQeSTCpuIysmdnkYrHcUkicz4cOVKuziqfxOnCsbNOALU3s0AZGBlW2o9Ch2Ymv6a_msTBpBOLeYPgy6ajVu7llb3Fzi5wg2VOr-i9HAjiI/s1600/DSC06334.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first falls I encountered (and below).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgycaLhnKX_MPM3qzrtsStlJfc44KJS50u5nVkO5eU1E02x3tStsuZYauLdkrvit3CL9pRe1WaybTZVGpIttPoLDtz0qWn2a3oxgLZvSFsOsLGAist8KwxVOYfnmbN2bLJps4YNmI0EjTw/s1600/DSC06335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgycaLhnKX_MPM3qzrtsStlJfc44KJS50u5nVkO5eU1E02x3tStsuZYauLdkrvit3CL9pRe1WaybTZVGpIttPoLDtz0qWn2a3oxgLZvSFsOsLGAist8KwxVOYfnmbN2bLJps4YNmI0EjTw/s1600/DSC06335.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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I took a very indirect route into Horse Thief, by design. An overview of the area directly east of Thorn Meadow (where I parked) shows a remarkable basin of steep drainages and deep washes. Some of these gullies have cut through bedrock resulting in dramatic waterfalls, seasonal and currently dry. I set out due east from Thorn, tracking up an old hunters route, climbing through loose soil and pines. Cresting on the ridge some 400ft above Thorn, the route faded, petering out into a thready animal track dominated by the paw prints of a passing cat. Rather than follow this ridge to a point where I might descend into Horse Thief I instead launched straight off the other side, carefully descending into a forested gully. Once reaching the floor of this mini-canyon I turned right (S) and back-tracked up the drainage a bit to a vertical dry falls. Done there I turned downstream and followed the gully roughly east encountering, a short time later, another hidden away falls draining in from the right. This was a very pretty hollow, shaded, framed by cedars, butterflies flitting here and there as they stooped to sip from a meager seep of water which eked out of the 30ft high falls. Ten minutes later I was again hanging a right, this time into a third branch gully. This was the one I'd come to see, a gracefully arcing amphitheater of cobbled sandstone, 40ft high and significantly overhung at it's deepest point. Climbing out and up above that dry falls led to a series of glaring white slabs sculpted with shallow erosion channels. From here I connected a couple small ridges headed south, ultimately arriving at a photogenic overlook which provided keen views both up and down Horse Thief.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTetFGe0_JfWRGoc4GRgbqkoMGNquyN87-VGQ5OVG3jlhe-Vauh1tPvPBQ3PZnEU39XIZy5WJxIKkJNV0HaB7fdxEZ0NwAbu4xU23OhLqXrQCQYOArrUkOfDKmlbWhAOswqyrAe6z9jlg/s1600/DSC06337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTetFGe0_JfWRGoc4GRgbqkoMGNquyN87-VGQ5OVG3jlhe-Vauh1tPvPBQ3PZnEU39XIZy5WJxIKkJNV0HaB7fdxEZ0NwAbu4xU23OhLqXrQCQYOArrUkOfDKmlbWhAOswqyrAe6z9jlg/s1600/DSC06337.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second falls, the one with a hint of water (and following 2 photos).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmd3fMvnPlK155NUpyq2c3KlnD1ICb68Xfzt-Ix4pmOwAT8hEVaFOVBSUqPsZi4bWrUMZwhetVL8m8SPW-8UdNmp7FnqiLL4cUskCyQA-hCkGNv99sFgEA9lA-wgKdYWsN9mcP5xEiHcw/s1600/DSC06341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmd3fMvnPlK155NUpyq2c3KlnD1ICb68Xfzt-Ix4pmOwAT8hEVaFOVBSUqPsZi4bWrUMZwhetVL8m8SPW-8UdNmp7FnqiLL4cUskCyQA-hCkGNv99sFgEA9lA-wgKdYWsN9mcP5xEiHcw/s1600/DSC06341.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Z9KsJNaFjadtB1AeXxsYSZP9ttcMdSnCWq9Jt-Smb95RtfK-_gNTxPtrxpOLQ_OtV30zn86Sva0VUpzNYZIHGNTL1d1bkXxvB8PcMAfQiyFD7nxhjgPEbsbY02l4u4_rBNPAEOZRdZY/s1600/DSC06343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Z9KsJNaFjadtB1AeXxsYSZP9ttcMdSnCWq9Jt-Smb95RtfK-_gNTxPtrxpOLQ_OtV30zn86Sva0VUpzNYZIHGNTL1d1bkXxvB8PcMAfQiyFD7nxhjgPEbsbY02l4u4_rBNPAEOZRdZY/s1600/DSC06343.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUlfSlm8s7CsdKhtf_4h1RlMiuF8y995swUGytUhDBmNsA-ugp-WmpznZatr2Oz5kBQuBbtKU_M6xKdUXJpjs7CpzTCpk13PjJRQV5RBOSNZXFg7cxAYiywbKy9K0zgP8KzrBTR66j4I/s1600/DSC06351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUlfSlm8s7CsdKhtf_4h1RlMiuF8y995swUGytUhDBmNsA-ugp-WmpznZatr2Oz5kBQuBbtKU_M6xKdUXJpjs7CpzTCpk13PjJRQV5RBOSNZXFg7cxAYiywbKy9K0zgP8KzrBTR66j4I/s1600/DSC06351.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The third falls hidden deep in an amphitheater (and below).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQS6KjU0G7agH5x2-X442rsOp0NOW58w5hKiS42yDMDgeWNldTfXkjjveWN3uslsjBs7xWSa7-gr9sIbXwsl6j5ESRLJlOhd-1WpDMWAKYRhWGX9uVoimkezMt1BoG22mR4GE6AzeNeq4/s1600/DSC06346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQS6KjU0G7agH5x2-X442rsOp0NOW58w5hKiS42yDMDgeWNldTfXkjjveWN3uslsjBs7xWSa7-gr9sIbXwsl6j5ESRLJlOhd-1WpDMWAKYRhWGX9uVoimkezMt1BoG22mR4GE6AzeNeq4/s1600/DSC06346.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SQhBaZSUjOpmRm8qNDCPhcpr1bAX0_TARB1VwGpS6d3X8hEWCtdzdl-UCqTRK5kB-USxTDq7-AW_tWd6bKLtcXV0kwhyxKEG1cQ0cGaNv70pMugf86OljZSRacMvYAchxdwtTSePSBw/s1600/DSC06360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SQhBaZSUjOpmRm8qNDCPhcpr1bAX0_TARB1VwGpS6d3X8hEWCtdzdl-UCqTRK5kB-USxTDq7-AW_tWd6bKLtcXV0kwhyxKEG1cQ0cGaNv70pMugf86OljZSRacMvYAchxdwtTSePSBw/s1600/DSC06360.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The slabs atop the third falls (and below).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj49qIDU-PXlvAg3NQMW8sniPrrqaRNKuJFCpZs8Iird5gpzWI4MC9Z0u1Gvlra9j9W6TShdytaAIgUL03zpBbG24XXWHBCTdXam-2Ox3eFFm_tM7Fb7EKiTcgzqZ0F_ONTkspiIIBEsKc/s1600/DSC06357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj49qIDU-PXlvAg3NQMW8sniPrrqaRNKuJFCpZs8Iird5gpzWI4MC9Z0u1Gvlra9j9W6TShdytaAIgUL03zpBbG24XXWHBCTdXam-2Ox3eFFm_tM7Fb7EKiTcgzqZ0F_ONTkspiIIBEsKc/s1600/DSC06357.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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With clear views into Horse Thief I decided to hook left on the ridge (E), paralleling the canyon from the ridge top. Eventually I descended over a large butte of rock and dropped into a pretty meadow on the floor of the canyon. Here I continued east, following a deer track through dry grasses sprinkled with mature cedars. Lower down canyon I crossed the deeply cut wash, finding a tenuous animal track which climbed out the other side and up to another meadow. Blue jays squawked and a large squirrel bounded from tree to tree. This place had a primordial, untouched feel to it. Really, I'd had that feeling ever since departing at Thorn, but this canyon felt truly wild. Needless to say I was enjoying myself immensely.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFX-Pc4e4yCTdbgtv2hUaqlordfVIVcBYAQ2Wupk2Mkk_zK3p6-Zzzp_-SEKh-ah7GW2-wZVwimc9SoN9H1K7de2qPNw_ut8llq0m3pvnQaZHioRO7fqJs1M0Rpt46QrWRKiTdkhOm9w/s1600/DSC06372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFX-Pc4e4yCTdbgtv2hUaqlordfVIVcBYAQ2Wupk2Mkk_zK3p6-Zzzp_-SEKh-ah7GW2-wZVwimc9SoN9H1K7de2qPNw_ut8llq0m3pvnQaZHioRO7fqJs1M0Rpt46QrWRKiTdkhOm9w/s1600/DSC06372.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first look up Horse Thief. Thorn Point dominates the skyline.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj95iyb3lPRzKl9ziX_B02EhPp4cLecvl2BbkghUQ2N4UjKcEr72VoN-hxfqa03PWzcS4ekWHa-xG7zoNJhF5xTyUsnKv1mDQoOsOU65KyEu1HrZ0OMD_YwpV2zDI012aAZ9TvWo9NvbM/s1600/DSC06373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj95iyb3lPRzKl9ziX_B02EhPp4cLecvl2BbkghUQ2N4UjKcEr72VoN-hxfqa03PWzcS4ekWHa-xG7zoNJhF5xTyUsnKv1mDQoOsOU65KyEu1HrZ0OMD_YwpV2zDI012aAZ9TvWo9NvbM/s1600/DSC06373.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The meadows of lower Horse Thief Canyon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljiBFAwqs_Xm2u1aJNnVvUs196KBqmEQVIbePHHdLXPNdN-WPLOZ7HHAOr9HbAI1MOzsWxhE7PzXFZLfKZTSNHGAmST9XooSIkNuPWaahO56NuFvpF6oreCdcWENVmbaFs9zCKE_V_aI/s1600/DSC06377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljiBFAwqs_Xm2u1aJNnVvUs196KBqmEQVIbePHHdLXPNdN-WPLOZ7HHAOr9HbAI1MOzsWxhE7PzXFZLfKZTSNHGAmST9XooSIkNuPWaahO56NuFvpF6oreCdcWENVmbaFs9zCKE_V_aI/s1600/DSC06377.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the canyon floor, untrodden meadows (and below).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BPoQy8WS5KETjUr09m-0gevh9JY1TofOYHM1GOEKA6le-iZWgZ4mzWO-Yd5CLtg0uVZGocfR-81kHmG8X6CikKebCBis7lfFgjkAQY11IN-kjsFcvSiwZ9gHOzr6Owj3MLd5L4dCsAw/s1600/DSC06375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BPoQy8WS5KETjUr09m-0gevh9JY1TofOYHM1GOEKA6le-iZWgZ4mzWO-Yd5CLtg0uVZGocfR-81kHmG8X6CikKebCBis7lfFgjkAQY11IN-kjsFcvSiwZ9gHOzr6Owj3MLd5L4dCsAw/s1600/DSC06375.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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Eventually I turned around and retraced my steps. I continued up the canyon past where I'd dropped in. The upper portion of Horse Thief narrowed considerably and gone were the broad meadows and open views. I was forced into the wash, wide and easily navigable. Later the wash started getting tight, and numerous smaller drainages had started showing up on the right and left. Manzanita and scrub oak started reaching into the drainage and I decided it was time to climb out of the canyon and exit the day. I picked a gully of crumbly gold sandstone that opened up after a hundred feet of brushy stuff, becoming a fun and semi-sketchy exit up to a point on the ridge where I could connect with my entry line and drop back into Thorn. </div>
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Just had myself a super day out there. May you soon have the same.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2J8IJnDu6AoUmG7t6RhcA_hYL9AHdQQjOiu2WHhEokQdcl1ov1zaN8sz9o7FgkzS7go5UdufGWLNDUDjZtO6wcgT8Wd3GMpf8H94W3jz3LINkmekYk9BQ69VA7W9HzfqNlbEvhNXujI/s1600/DSC06384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2J8IJnDu6AoUmG7t6RhcA_hYL9AHdQQjOiu2WHhEokQdcl1ov1zaN8sz9o7FgkzS7go5UdufGWLNDUDjZtO6wcgT8Wd3GMpf8H94W3jz3LINkmekYk9BQ69VA7W9HzfqNlbEvhNXujI/s1600/DSC06384.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A portion of my exit route.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDDPQIq9sQj7MT4GrbNjFUPE9dKrPn-yUZCtWtgHkAizqVd8VKKdDqqGcsOFGH5aQTxnkYlYA3pxvqt681u4rJVuBi_72Z1bI5My_7lmd_FMkRCTwXEOAJjcUALf8livHLOEsYSwsK5E/s1600/DSC06389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDDPQIq9sQj7MT4GrbNjFUPE9dKrPn-yUZCtWtgHkAizqVd8VKKdDqqGcsOFGH5aQTxnkYlYA3pxvqt681u4rJVuBi_72Z1bI5My_7lmd_FMkRCTwXEOAJjcUALf8livHLOEsYSwsK5E/s1600/DSC06389.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A last look down Horse Thief Canyon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OSnNnQ4pQF4Sxz4_c5RSBJg7wy9J40Yv3mOwntt8Yw7IoxWYoQN4JJodKJCsbGyvS1zKHGNtIjcLbznRYHmjMbpIQ8fAjauLzXeHHiDsPmtl8b9_wdmQtJWzPRFcNUIJd5Ew3pxv3yU/s1600/DSC06370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OSnNnQ4pQF4Sxz4_c5RSBJg7wy9J40Yv3mOwntt8Yw7IoxWYoQN4JJodKJCsbGyvS1zKHGNtIjcLbznRYHmjMbpIQ8fAjauLzXeHHiDsPmtl8b9_wdmQtJWzPRFcNUIJd5Ew3pxv3yU/s1600/DSC06370.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And finally, looking down from the ridge into Thorn Meadow. The Mt Pinos ridge looms in the background.</td></tr>
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David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-65359086382531108052014-10-03T15:24:00.000-07:002014-10-03T15:24:43.977-07:00Join me for an evening of SLP chatter, slides, and more<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijj35ScJPBpk9XWzBxbHsr3jSdBexXMY_Y5qNtPsNMSJJ_PGKfwPAoGdaG7scAE-JYSq0nBmzJwrMV96OL6Jlx6NZeEka6fjzSb50iwTxxYZSPIGQoQateYHU_HwsFhXgHmlTb3oej-A/s1600/Flyer.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijj35ScJPBpk9XWzBxbHsr3jSdBexXMY_Y5qNtPsNMSJJ_PGKfwPAoGdaG7scAE-JYSq0nBmzJwrMV96OL6Jlx6NZeEka6fjzSb50iwTxxYZSPIGQoQateYHU_HwsFhXgHmlTb3oej-A/s1600/Flyer.PNG" height="400" width="321" /></a></div>
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So yeah, I got talked into a talk. I'll touch on a few gems, places of interest, off-trail fun, generally share some experience and try not to put anybody to sleep. I'll follow with a slide show and wrap it up with a Q&A. I know this is only scheduled for an hour but the nice folks putting this on have assured me that it's okay to go over if that's how it shakes out. I hope to see some of you there and hey, let's have a good time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNo3kyjp-PyPYgHSw0wgDbOYklnT__IiFUoxC4JyYukCC24-KuskN11Mwbu7hDDGpWbuePWBOu7AxiR3WgQTShYCy4W1INOJXjNvB30N9LEiOKNpPaMwbhm-2kshdc4TjN7p_U23DaDBk/s1600/Library.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNo3kyjp-PyPYgHSw0wgDbOYklnT__IiFUoxC4JyYukCC24-KuskN11Mwbu7hDDGpWbuePWBOu7AxiR3WgQTShYCy4W1INOJXjNvB30N9LEiOKNpPaMwbhm-2kshdc4TjN7p_U23DaDBk/s1600/Library.JPG" height="145" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-77759907505234460162014-09-27T20:10:00.003-07:002014-10-01T19:29:50.256-07:00Black Bob Canyon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3fIkFI6BlnGCxnxyM41e78KZMdEN3Icdn7D_X6S-wP5y5OD4f2MpC9eFzHBduXThQKSQJ7vLwaw7FNVy6w8h4cqWFhlf8uG9dHZT6K9ObwX6CcqBjy6Y3PLdVKm0H_Puy8ItwonMRjA/s1600/DSC06294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3fIkFI6BlnGCxnxyM41e78KZMdEN3Icdn7D_X6S-wP5y5OD4f2MpC9eFzHBduXThQKSQJ7vLwaw7FNVy6w8h4cqWFhlf8uG9dHZT6K9ObwX6CcqBjy6Y3PLdVKm0H_Puy8ItwonMRjA/s1600/DSC06294.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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While scrolling through maps, hunting for obscure places I haven't yet visited, the name "Black Bob Mine" caught my attention. Even more interesting, a study of satellite imagery showed several small structures and a primary building at the site. Furthermore, there appeared to be a trail which descended from the summit just west of Tecuya Mountain. This point could be accessed via Forest Rte 9N21, and though numerous questions remained, I felt I had enough beta to make the jump.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCeC6eHMtXvdFfSnz7utBH9fYD9PtpW96FuxV5va7ID9LfRofh50dfshCmyQFNG2y1rCAV96F8VtUKoXQjp2mGP2gbAXMZcjf1XZevqRDtEETGQ8H63Szl9PMe5ILDakw0lyS52gAE3s/s1600/Black+Bob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCeC6eHMtXvdFfSnz7utBH9fYD9PtpW96FuxV5va7ID9LfRofh50dfshCmyQFNG2y1rCAV96F8VtUKoXQjp2mGP2gbAXMZcjf1XZevqRDtEETGQ8H63Szl9PMe5ILDakw0lyS52gAE3s/s1600/Black+Bob.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7tLLFTedN4YfPngT4RwuS6aR00WrWd2wRQMnYqW8krCVw58vmgMb_eDr3GZUZEQKJw49Khe2WICEFrjZRChZZVZhtmIAEPipL7_MS2KXbyYUHPZwsELbU2ikz-fvxOrxRiaQbbjr_E8/s1600/Black+Bob+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7tLLFTedN4YfPngT4RwuS6aR00WrWd2wRQMnYqW8krCVw58vmgMb_eDr3GZUZEQKJw49Khe2WICEFrjZRChZZVZhtmIAEPipL7_MS2KXbyYUHPZwsELbU2ikz-fvxOrxRiaQbbjr_E8/s1600/Black+Bob+2.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
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The first thing I noticed upon arriving at that "trailhead" just west of Tecuya was that there wasn't any trail. I found this strange because the trail shown on the topo had indicated that this was where I ought to start. Whatever. I dropped over the edge and started a rapid, steep, dusty and loose descent into a mixed forest of scrub oak and jeffery pine. 15 minutes later I stumbled upon a narrow and twisty motorcycle track which I guessed was what had become of the trail. Following this route led deeper into the forest, down the spine of the eastern ridge of Black Bob Canyon. Visibility was consistently obscured by the density of the forest, though at several points I had partial views right (E) into Dead Man Canyon and deep into Tecuya Canyon. The track continued to descend at a very steep rate, and I came to appreciate that getting a motorcycle up or down this route would require considerable skill, and would be pretty damn athletic.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhHe9nZaPmSspgSsM0tMV5qbWv-kcQ2N5IENSJoWUgHt9KikvyL48NnKyfBVjQnc0__n63RvCb9DT1MiELqQu8T3zvQashiBSqznSWNIKbrWkAq2DQqSvtnjWSmHANhGF-o3U5XxPnu4/s1600/DSC06291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhHe9nZaPmSspgSsM0tMV5qbWv-kcQ2N5IENSJoWUgHt9KikvyL48NnKyfBVjQnc0__n63RvCb9DT1MiELqQu8T3zvQashiBSqznSWNIKbrWkAq2DQqSvtnjWSmHANhGF-o3U5XxPnu4/s1600/DSC06291.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look (kind of) into Tecuya Canyon</td></tr>
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After forever the ridge sort of settled down into a rolling bit of hilly scrub and yucca. At a break in the brush I was able to lean over the lip and get a glimpse into Black Bob and was heartened to see, far below, a tin roofed structure that looked an awful lot like what I expected to find. I continued down the ridge on the MC trail, long after the point that I felt I had passed the cabin somewhere below, and now behind me. I had started wondering if this MC trail actually went down to the cabin when I came a cross a short stretch of barbed wire stranded on ancient wood posts. Following the fence line led to a small clearing where the trail continued north down the ridge, but to the left I saw a smaller track take off into the forest. Aha!, I thought, here we go.</div>
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This slender thread of a trail cut back to the south, steeply descending across the rippling eastern slope of Black Bob Canyon. I dropped through yucca spotted desert, a steep angle falling away beneath my feet, following the curves of the canyon. This went on for a good bit before I rounded another barb wire festooned turn and there below me, tucked under some oaks, lay a tin roofed two story cinder block shanty and two out-buildings. </div>
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Approaching the house I passed the remains of an old table saw. The small out-building I had initially taken for an outhouse was actually a generator shack. The lower level of the cabin was actually a double bay of garage type space. Rusty mining equipment, spare parts, wire, barrels, and several dozen 5ft drills were strewn about the space. I hiked upstairs for a look. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLd_sOgPgOTPwMSfRFhv6TFxjJaPLbCsJG2hXoSAETmd6z9wcKvSaLpjzN54RDOuA1XWvsaBUKGVApseMMrxiPkC4Zd2GtC979PMjgQ0t0jAjz5DRCgo5EeNsIG_atOcnPPjakSuFwdpc/s1600/DSC06299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLd_sOgPgOTPwMSfRFhv6TFxjJaPLbCsJG2hXoSAETmd6z9wcKvSaLpjzN54RDOuA1XWvsaBUKGVApseMMrxiPkC4Zd2GtC979PMjgQ0t0jAjz5DRCgo5EeNsIG_atOcnPPjakSuFwdpc/s1600/DSC06299.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old tub and a stand for a push-pedal sewing machine.</td></tr>
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The house was a simple affair, one small bedroom, a tiny living space, a kitchen and a cramped bathroom. The whole house was strewn with the mouse tattered remains of a life long abandoned. Ancient publications, old spice jars, box springs, busted furniture, a pot belly wood burner, can openers, coffee cans, rat poison... I could go on and on. The old wood burning stove had been modified in an ungainly MacGyverism so that it used propane. Half-assed electrical work dangled from the ceilings. A 1960s fridge tilted into a corner. Mouse droppings everywhere. I stepped outside to an adjacent cold storage, cut into the hillside just behind the house. In this space were numerous intact jars of visibly recognizable foodstuffs, preserved by hand. Home-canned cauliflower, beans, carrots, fruit, etc..., still recognizable through the dust of ages. </div>
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Having looked all over the place I concluded that the last time anybody had actually resided here had been right around 1970.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the stove that had been converted to LP. See the gas line running just in front of the burner top.<br />
[Lorinda has informed me that this gas conversion was a new phenomena in stove tops beginning in the late 1920's]</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6g85kWCyGI7oroOTvYktUelOThsfh-x9-YaHPFRm87fglaT4eZdYCPZKfBZmUDfFOINmeyoS703mG9rbnoEG-jLxgibAzR3NxRgX_iN4hz3D41_hXnQVNDFH_LR4Is0qHn5hs19V30E0/s1600/DSC06311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6g85kWCyGI7oroOTvYktUelOThsfh-x9-YaHPFRm87fglaT4eZdYCPZKfBZmUDfFOINmeyoS703mG9rbnoEG-jLxgibAzR3NxRgX_iN4hz3D41_hXnQVNDFH_LR4Is0qHn5hs19V30E0/s1600/DSC06311.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What this old contraption could be was beyond me. (Lorinda informed me it is a road grader)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADMEN19Wu69wUpdKrAJzCAVnutXMYj3V_jgdhRu8RV9eZlpIDVpvKsHYpAMNx0bg9_TcqcyWXIvFnlQot1KODyyYExrbn_zq_iVUIcEK8aUAp0uTt5IFioFBFdVvsXeJrp_t-PIIySX8/s1600/DSC06312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADMEN19Wu69wUpdKrAJzCAVnutXMYj3V_jgdhRu8RV9eZlpIDVpvKsHYpAMNx0bg9_TcqcyWXIvFnlQot1KODyyYExrbn_zq_iVUIcEK8aUAp0uTt5IFioFBFdVvsXeJrp_t-PIIySX8/s1600/DSC06312.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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I had passed an old iron sign as I walked up to the house, and during the whole time I'd been poking around this sign had been tickling the back of my brain because I knew nothing about any "hiking trail" out of this canyon other than the route I took to get there. Such a route was not to be found on current topo maps. But this sign was firmly sunk in the ground in the opposite direction I'd approached from. Hmmm. The trail beyond the sign headed up canyon in the direction I wanted to go, and looked at first glance like a real phenomena. What the hell... I gave it a go, and was quite pleased with the result, for a while at least.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Ux7hAkV0Kwejx4LtW-w-utgtupy9HHQ26uiOoCweZ6pvh4F54q1R3yZCAi0Mplnzcb6Y_DpVw1JWDeE9hf01gLVrSCdcc_3bfcVKy3Pa-0ezT5KCqz8malwCB2Q1t5ts-kXzOnzhWwI/s1600/DSC06314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Ux7hAkV0Kwejx4LtW-w-utgtupy9HHQ26uiOoCweZ6pvh4F54q1R3yZCAi0Mplnzcb6Y_DpVw1JWDeE9hf01gLVrSCdcc_3bfcVKy3Pa-0ezT5KCqz8malwCB2Q1t5ts-kXzOnzhWwI/s1600/DSC06314.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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So my new exit trail meandered into the forest, headed straight up the floor of a narrowing Black Bob Canyon. The first "plus" was that I was climbing the canyon under a canopy of old oaks, and the shade was much appreciated. The second "plus" was that this hike out was kinda pretty. I'd been enjoying myself for quite a while when the track suddenly broke out of the forest and threaded through a small vale of chokecherry, the berries ripe on thorny vines. Minutes later the track to an abrupt right hand turn and started clawing a direct line up the western ridge of Black Bob. This climb was a haul, gnar, 2,000ft in less than 2 miles. I trudged up from the canyon floor, exchanging oaks for pines, and popped out on the forest road just a short 3rd of a mile from where I'd parked.</div>
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This had been an interesting little day. There is essentially zero information on-line about the who/what/and when of this mine, though it sure made for a remote excursion.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWc8gLmp8ViYSf3bXsqy_z8Wf-qYgg991NwOf03f_6p65gMBiIipsngrDW5mUSMjAu-8_tANzhZ-rr7tp-9o3MEFhA0hZLuXBQ5unfuUVN4mF8VxeRi6F2MdxvuNJ8Rl_P4qu91nDvqw/s1600/DSC06317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWc8gLmp8ViYSf3bXsqy_z8Wf-qYgg991NwOf03f_6p65gMBiIipsngrDW5mUSMjAu-8_tANzhZ-rr7tp-9o3MEFhA0hZLuXBQ5unfuUVN4mF8VxeRi6F2MdxvuNJ8Rl_P4qu91nDvqw/s1600/DSC06317.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54fcYECDMlI1XLN6L5WjdUl9rJ45Q6_Nqgn-RR_nArf1Y-N8j1s1tRSPaZanqnvw9P1plFEbF-lWzxmMgVf1DhnVqPZhl2JarK7D_LeU-IEFGJODMnH8zubZwKrxN0CML6B4cNF4_dxo/s1600/DSC06319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54fcYECDMlI1XLN6L5WjdUl9rJ45Q6_Nqgn-RR_nArf1Y-N8j1s1tRSPaZanqnvw9P1plFEbF-lWzxmMgVf1DhnVqPZhl2JarK7D_LeU-IEFGJODMnH8zubZwKrxN0CML6B4cNF4_dxo/s1600/DSC06319.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWRvR4O_JrP3MuXq1LeJGkq0ynNxXcM1oyMXMS_pveJLX6sVrKRpI7jVqGMFtUmGJIWxABmfSi9CYl-yv-et-C0BKNsXFEEBVynPwAWxy6VpCwpNDzh7ZleRGS4qxB1lixRrpyZCb7Qs/s1600/DSC06320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWRvR4O_JrP3MuXq1LeJGkq0ynNxXcM1oyMXMS_pveJLX6sVrKRpI7jVqGMFtUmGJIWxABmfSi9CYl-yv-et-C0BKNsXFEEBVynPwAWxy6VpCwpNDzh7ZleRGS4qxB1lixRrpyZCb7Qs/s1600/DSC06320.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chokecherry meadow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTYICAv3bbXbLE_hGwPoeHhXYWv9AlSTajRoXFKs8APTQtqJpdgrcT3YGSsWY4WmBFTFR4wm3pD2B7OMcsUsS6eKQ9wc1cTLOpCO48aC88rRtNhmz_59fCddCWra4jm7FUH4mabvZzqEo/s1600/DSC06324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTYICAv3bbXbLE_hGwPoeHhXYWv9AlSTajRoXFKs8APTQtqJpdgrcT3YGSsWY4WmBFTFR4wm3pD2B7OMcsUsS6eKQ9wc1cTLOpCO48aC88rRtNhmz_59fCddCWra4jm7FUH4mabvZzqEo/s1600/DSC06324.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuddy Valley from Tecuya Mtn Rd.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7725929327956365942.post-4576126693716395402014-09-22T14:48:00.002-07:002014-09-22T14:48:41.683-07:00Snooping around in Stone Corral<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WUgmNSvCObSQbD7o4a5mZiVDd67Obb4xqmKDO29vz_j_4Z6BmRXTgr6Egenx7BfCJ38WNabhG5n9-MlHvUJqukvZ-U74BxPkPOl6uny8RxK0l0TJJYmp_aYvEHl8zW_nf5tE5N6ln7U/s1600/DSC06243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2WUgmNSvCObSQbD7o4a5mZiVDd67Obb4xqmKDO29vz_j_4Z6BmRXTgr6Egenx7BfCJ38WNabhG5n9-MlHvUJqukvZ-U74BxPkPOl6uny8RxK0l0TJJYmp_aYvEHl8zW_nf5tE5N6ln7U/s1600/DSC06243.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sulfur Mountain from the Alder Creek Trail.</td></tr>
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This hellion of a summer is drawing to a close at the same time that my house remodel is wrapping up. I am very pleased about both these circumstances. It's definitely time for me to get off my butt and resume business as usual.</div>
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A step in re-acquiring my taste for brush was initiated this last weekend when I spent some time tromping around in a little visited landscape of brush and rock called Stone Corral. I had genuine motives for looking the place over; I'd always been interested seeing the Stone Corral view of Topatopa and Devils Heart Peaks, been curious about some of the drainages pouring into the Sespe from there, and generally curious about what (if anything) there might be hiding in the rocks and gullies that I've always been to busy to explore. Also, this was a bit of recon for future, as yet unformed plans.</div>
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The views across the Sespe were indeed remarkable. The rock formations and gullies were entertaining and somewhat interesting, though nothing about the area is truly intriguing. By the end of the morning I'd had my fill and was content with the day. But it had been good to be out and getting scuffed up again. In those rare moments when the household hammers have fallen silent I've been working up an enticing list of things I'd like to accomplish and places I'd like to see in the coming months. Hope you'll stick around for the stories.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Epic in scale, Topatopa Peak as seen from Stone Corral.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RzmKt9thudTHpMZNt79uGzrWoELEdG6kE0QkwgY0YlJvkciwS4Dtw3vD112GwwInyHvq-bLkwq-HGMSSixdzFDsv3RpMX9hA2UukWZGZD2izS0d5n39ER0oMLMIlK-iU-no9aewJgts/s1600/DSC06250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RzmKt9thudTHpMZNt79uGzrWoELEdG6kE0QkwgY0YlJvkciwS4Dtw3vD112GwwInyHvq-bLkwq-HGMSSixdzFDsv3RpMX9hA2UukWZGZD2izS0d5n39ER0oMLMIlK-iU-no9aewJgts/s1600/DSC06250.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice little mule deer, spooked out of a gully by my approach.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzeirtw1noBQgXR6zaP5GXOiZUd1pmZhLIRD6j2s-hfKQY_ZNVAotcTZXys-YNKT5_KUmLsLNVT2jgcNcjSroPBMc-ICpcB_p0USKGCnAcEIcGD758QH18nD0ggR-YvJR-ywMbEJJ5CE/s1600/DSC06270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzeirtw1noBQgXR6zaP5GXOiZUd1pmZhLIRD6j2s-hfKQY_ZNVAotcTZXys-YNKT5_KUmLsLNVT2jgcNcjSroPBMc-ICpcB_p0USKGCnAcEIcGD758QH18nD0ggR-YvJR-ywMbEJJ5CE/s1600/DSC06270.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoBM6xLklMMUCKxHuiRhgNXRYp1QvTC7aq_V7wnEvB85iWz9NkUfamaI9FLYC3JqvbYvX1_rKljLmJIMSH5l4zGIehRQveKfvVbfvo6HPdTSyND9AZpCq6vpTqlh-byDg9zmGhSzx_i4/s1600/DSC06271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoBM6xLklMMUCKxHuiRhgNXRYp1QvTC7aq_V7wnEvB85iWz9NkUfamaI9FLYC3JqvbYvX1_rKljLmJIMSH5l4zGIehRQveKfvVbfvo6HPdTSyND9AZpCq6vpTqlh-byDg9zmGhSzx_i4/s1600/DSC06271.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUQ9P-eKHxvJuHoy1z3Bzqon9Ij0jbUGf7Yafrl8Q20-2piSC_tkP6SdewnBrrV-aqE1_6o4z23DxDT-h4IjIt7e4ERbvAyCvMH0n0nvbgWqAO8ATn_mK0eUrx2ZNfVsarCr0Gp5NOjA/s1600/DSC06279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUQ9P-eKHxvJuHoy1z3Bzqon9Ij0jbUGf7Yafrl8Q20-2piSC_tkP6SdewnBrrV-aqE1_6o4z23DxDT-h4IjIt7e4ERbvAyCvMH0n0nvbgWqAO8ATn_mK0eUrx2ZNfVsarCr0Gp5NOjA/s1600/DSC06279.JPG" height="106" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topatopa and the Stone Corral drainage.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ytZmk78GgzI59_eidfCyRNb842C1FiFoUYSK15rioEaB4QW596XXvawGwhgNN-wBSZkMtXM3xlMH4_sdywITQ51FQRG10Vzn0hfZ7wLViWti7N-RoCnooxgslsPtmhOl8FUQYvBwq8Y/s1600/DSC06280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ytZmk78GgzI59_eidfCyRNb842C1FiFoUYSK15rioEaB4QW596XXvawGwhgNN-wBSZkMtXM3xlMH4_sdywITQ51FQRG10Vzn0hfZ7wLViWti7N-RoCnooxgslsPtmhOl8FUQYvBwq8Y/s1600/DSC06280.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look northwest toward Thorn Point, San Rafael Peak and McDonald Peak.</td></tr>
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<br />David Stillmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04883591383974327072noreply@blogger.com2