Hopper Mountain National Wildlife Refuge

A few weeks ago I was was fortunate enough to be invited on a kind of guided driving tour of Hopper Mountain National Wildlife Refuge. In 1974 the US Department of Fish & Wildlife (formerly Fish & Game) obtained the Hopper Ranch, all 2,471 acres including the original ranch buildings, for the purpose of reintroducing condors to the wild and for the protection of that endangered species. Hopper NWR is nestled behind miles of Los Padres oil lease lands, and is bordered by private property, National Forest, and Condor Sanctuary boundaries. 

As it was explained to those of us on the tour, Hopper was to the few surviving wild condors as the Alamo was to the Texans, the last refuge. In the late '80's it was here at Hopper that the last surviving wild condors were trapped and placed into a captive breeding program. Eventually the captive population was robust enough to begin the gradual process of reintroducing breeding pairs back into their natural habitat, and this effort began at Hopper. At present there are about 230 condors living in the wild and on any given day there are likely to be a dozen or more condors flying into and out of the Refuge. Condors mate for life, and it takes 1-2 years to raise a chick. The nesting pairs tend to lay their egg in the same general area every other year, making the preservation of a safe habitat critical to the continued success of this critically endangered species. For many of those mated pairs, Hopper is that place.

The twisting, turning climb through the oilfields crested at a high overlook. Beneath us, rippling hillsides of windblown grasses descended into Hopper Canyon and the heart of operations there. Looking west and north I was immediately aware of all the looming summits of the Sespe backcountry, familiar peaks seen from a new angle. As we drove lower into Hopper we met a biologist intern parked along the road who'd been scanning with a radio telemetry receiver and had spotted one bird so far that morning (this tour occurred during the last Santa Ana winds and things were extra gusty up there which may have played a role in how many birds were up and where they were flying). Descending further into the canyon we drove past several deer and a large coyote. The place was definitely starting to feel like a nature preserve.

The heart of the operation at Hopper centers on the ranch house and it's various outbuildings. This is home base for the lead biologist, biologist interns, and volunteer staff. There is usually a round-the-clock intern presence, and volunteers are contacted for as-needed or prearranged work days. Parked in front of the ranch house are a number of atvs, governments trucks, tractors and other implements of destruction. The house is off the grid, runs on solar and septic, and water is pumped from an adjacent natural spring. Sadly this '50s era home and the outbuildings are slated for destruction next year, something about the walls being full of mice. New buildings will replace them, and while these will undoubtedly be more modern and efficient, I doubt they will retain the same charm as the old house.

During a lunch stop at the headquarters we met a couple biologist interns who'd just returned from a morning of work spent extending the old Angels Pass trail. They spent some time sharing live feed and recordings from nest cams, small cameras unobtrusively set at active nest sites. We were able to observe a couple chicks and the comings and goings of one or the other parent. It was a vivid reminder that just getting to these nesting sites, usually a small cave in a cliff wall, can be a very difficult prospect. 

After lunch we drove down to the aviary and veterinary facility called the Flight Pen. Wild condors are frequently lured into the pen for lead exposure testing and general check-ups. Though the building was established with the purpose of being a satellite veterinary hospital, staffing became problematic as condor specialists don't grow on trees and probably want to have some sort of life. The building is used primarily for catch and release nowadays, and if a bird requires medical care it is held there until a helicopter transport to the condor facility at the LA Zoo can be arranged. While there we got a nice fly-by by one of the stars of the Hopper Show. Later in the day we got another low buzzing by another bird who circled back a couple times just to make sure we all got a good look at him. 

I enjoyed our time up there at Hopper. I always like being in the wilds and despite the necessary staff presence, this place retains that wilderness feel. Our tour guide, Vince, is a condor legend who's probably forgotten more about condors than most of the "kid" biologists there will ever know. He was a straight champ, answering all manner of questions and filling in the blanks. He helped make the day a special one for the touristas. It was a good time in a beautiful setting. When I can reconcile my own selfish schedule I may look into finding a way to lend a volunteer hand up there. To find out more on tours and volunteerism, you can start @Hopper Mountain NWR. Also, check out the Friends of Condors page. It is evident that the staff here has a mission and a responsibility that they take seriously. They're good folks and they do good work.

Bear Haven and the Topatopa Ridge, Hines being the tallest summit.

Topatopa Peak (you can just make out the old lookout) and at lower right, Devils Heart.

Cobblestone Peak looming behind Whiteacre Ridge.

A volunteer scanning for a wing transmitter signal.

Photo: Skip Saenger

A rocky part of the Preserve referred to as the Pinnacles.

The Flight Pen (and following 2 photos).

The California Lead Ammunition Ban, Why It Matters

The California Condor remains critically endangered, with a wild population of around only 230 birds. They are a living relic, brought back from the brink of extinction by countless hours of dedication and purpose. The tale of this salvation is one of mistakes learned from, success and loss.

Photo: D. Stillman

The CA Condor population steadily declined throughout the course of the last century, causes being poaching, lead poisoning, and habitat loss. By 1987, when the political will to save the species was gathered, only 22 condors existed in the world. Though the condor has been saved, one thing has not changed, that being the very factors that brought the condor to it's brink of extinction in the first place.

On Easter Sunday of 1987 the last wild condor was taken into captivity. For the first time in tens of thousands of years the condor did not soar the skies of North America. The early years of the captive breeding program were fraught with challenges. Biologists had to learn everything about these birds, their behaviors, their physiology, and their reproduction. Efforts to reintroduce the condor to the wild began in 1992. These efforts continue to this day.

The condor is a unique and extraordinary animal. With a wingspan of up to 10ft in length, the condor can soar to 15,000 feet and cover up to 200 miles in a day. They can weigh up to 26lbs, rivaling the trumpeter swan as the heaviest of North American birds. Their anatomy is exquisitely adapted to their environment, and expressly designed for economy of travel. They have poor hearing, no vocal chords, a poor sense of smell, and incredibly acute long range vision. Their vocalizations are restricted to grunts and hisses. A condor's pale yellow pate can flush to bright pink when emotionally stimulated. Condors mate for life, and display distinct social behaviors with mates and when congregated at a food source. They are naturally curious about their environment, at times to their own detriment, often bringing bits of micro-trash (bottle caps, brass bullet casings, plastics, glass, etc...) back to their nesting sites. A healthy condor can live for as many as 50 years.

I recall the "wow" feeling of seeing my first wild condor soaring above the Sespe. Since then I have seen condors dozens of times, and for a while I just kind of took them for granted. My feelings for the condor have come full circle to that astonishment I first felt. I am grateful that there are those in this society that struggle to place value on the preservation and protection of wildlife. As a species we humans have asserted our belief that it is our right to destroy life, our own and the lives of those we share the planet with. We have been terrible stewards, especially since the advent of the Industrial Age. There is little chance that in my lifetime humanity will undergo a quantum shift in ideology, priorities, and economies. We will continue, as is our "right" to destroy habitat and call it "natural resources", continue to poison our own air and water, and continue to increase quarterly shareholder values. This does not mean that fighting for the issues that concern us and speak to our own values is not worth the effort.

Naturally, mankind is the greatest threat to the recovery of the California condor. The single biggest culprit is a behavior that can be changed--the use of lead ammunition. Lead core ammunition is an insidious toxin that percolates through the food chain. In humans, lead is neurotoxic, inhibits tissue development, and causes organ failure. This is also true of most organisms on the planet. Condors and coyotes are no different than us in that respect. Most multicellular organisms have not adapted to the absorption of heavy metals (lead, mercury, arsenic, etc...). The absorption of these toxins, whether gradually accumulated in micro doses or in a single large exposure, causes bodily failure and/or death. Once these metals are absorbed into the bloodstream the only way to get them out is through a therapy called heavy metals chelation. Chelating agents are compounds which bind with the metals in the the bloodstream forming molecules which can then be excreted. The most common chelating agent for lead toxicity is dimercaptosuccinic acid (DMSA). Chelating agents can cause kidney failure, irregular heartbeat, vitamin deficiency, and death. The captions below describe how condors and other scavenging animals commonly become exposed to lead.

This X-ray of a deer shot with lead ammunition demonstrates the scatter of the lead core of the bullet which killed it. These bullets are typically made of a lead "sabot" with a copper jacket. On impact the copper jacket peels away much like a banana while the lead core fractures and scatters throughout the body. The lead scatter is often distributed throughout the organ cavities and the viscera which are undesirable tissues that hunters leave in the environment after field dressing their kill. These tissues are then consumed by scavenging birds and animals.

This X-ray of a bald eagle demonstrates the accumulation of ingested lead fragments which, in this bird, caused death due to bowel obstruction. If the obstruction hadn't killed the eagle then surely the lead toxicosis would have.

Biologists and field volunteers monitor the health and wellness of condors in the wild by luring them to baited cages where the bird can be caught and examined. In the field, a simple blood test for lead values can be run, and a determination can be made regarding treatment. This is a never ending cycle.

Recent years have seen a push by hunters and biologists bring the problems associated with lead ammunition into the public sphere. Not only has lead ammunition been demonstrated conclusively to have a negative impact on ecosystems and wildlife but studies have shown that non-lead ammunition as hunting loads are as or more effective than lead based ammo. The trick is to persuade hunters and shooters to do the right thing. In 2007 the Ridley-Tree Condor Conservation Act (AB-821) was passed by the California Legislature, the purpose being to ban the use of lead centerfire hunting ammunition for rifles and pistols. A similar bill required non-lead shot for bird hunters. In 2011 (AB-711) was passed in California, making it the first US state to ban all lead based hunting ammunition. Slated for full implementation in 2019, AB-711 would ban lead ammo for hunting purposes only and shooters will still be able to purchase lead ammunition for non-hunting activities such as target shooting. The cost of alternative ammo to hunters is expected to be negligible, and it should be noted that excise taxes on guns and ammunition pay for conservation work nationwide.

In my teens I shot small-bore rifle at competition level. I have put many thousands of pieces of lead downrange. I stick mostly to pistols nowadays and all my ammo has been copper for at least the last decade. Though I have never had a taste for hunting I do not have anything against hunters who do so legally. In fact, I appreciate the conservation efforts of organizations like Ducks Unlimited. Nobody likes a poacher. With the level of knowledge surrounding the negatives of lead ammunition I don't see that there is any benefit in keeping it on the shelves, and while the industry is openly strategizing ways to torpedo the legislation, per Field&Stream magazine the National Rifle Association largely steered clear of this issue, focusing most of their attention on California gun rights proposals. It's time to get the lead out of shooting. 

A flier from HuntingWithNonLead.org. This is a nonprofit web page created by hunters for hunters.

One problem with AB-711 is that it only bans lead in centerfire ammo used while hunting. Centerfire cartridges are standard in large caliber rifle, shotgun, and pistol ammunition, but smaller calibers such as .17, .22, and .25 caliber bullets can only be found in rimfire loads and those guns have a completely different firing pin mechanism than centerfire guns. AB-711 bans lead in the centerfire bullets but doesn't address the lead in these smaller rimfire bullets. These smaller calibers are considered "varmint" loads, and varmint hunting describes a class of wildlife too small for larger bullets (jackrabbits, squirrels, etc...) and is, with some exceptions, legal year round without a license. The classification of "varmint" includes "nuisance"  or "pest" animals which includes coyotes and bobcats*. Most rimfire bullets are made of lead, and most of the animals killed with that ammo are left to the scavengers. Though this law is a very good step in the right direction, AB-711 doesn't expressly prohibit the use of all lead ammunition.

Michael Clark, the LA Zoo's condor whisperer, with Condor #400.
#400 was a breeding age female who was frequently treated for lead toxicity including having surgery four years ago. At the time of her death in April 2014 her lead values were 700mcg/dl. Biologists treat these birds with heavy metals chelation therapy when lead values in their blood exceed 25micrograms/deciliter. The CDC's value for safe lead levels in humans is 0.0mcg/dl.

Learn more about this issue:

Lead acutely threatens California Condors

Record 21 California Condors treated for lead poisoning at LA Zoo

YouTube: Micro Trash and the California Condor

YouTube: Veterinarian details lead toxicosis

Text of Bill AB-711 Hunting: Non-lead Ammunition
*AB-1213: Lead Ban, Bobcat Protection
Hunting With Non-lead
You Tube: Anthony Prieto, the non-lead hunter

Whiteacre Peak SVS, 11/30/13

Mark Jiroch and Jack Elliott taking in views of Topatopa Peak and Hines Peak, from the potrero below and north of Whiteacre's summit.

Just a sterling day, weather-wise and in all other ways. Jack Elliott and I were joined on our repeat ascent of the demanding and brushy Whiteacre Peak by another Ventura local with whom I've been corresponding, Mark Jiroch. He's laid some comments on the blog over the years but this was our first time out and he came as advertised, one lanky and lean Marine. For what it's worth, he is now officially a "friend of the blog". Welcome, Mark.

This time around our choose-your-own-adventure route was a bit brushier than on our previous visit however there did seem to be signs of several recent attempts to reach the summit plateau, namely a pretty well worked use trail all the way up to the Notch. I say "attempts" because both Jack and I were surprised that there had been no new signatures in the SVS summit journal since our last time here, so clearly people have tried the peak and gotten turned back at the Notch or in the brush tunnel directly above it. That's too bad because this hike, I am convinced, is one of the best day-hikes in the SLP, and the guys with me this day would agree.

We were subjected to the same meandering brush battles and rock scrambles on the summit plateau that Jack and I had previously experienced, though this time it was notably more overgrown. As we scrambled up on to the summit ramp we caught a condor fly-by. When I called it out, Mark was able to chimney up that slot with haste and catch his first glimpse of a condor in the wild before the bird turned and sailed out toward Cobblestone Peak. "Don't worry," I said, "he'll be back." And around 20 minutes later he did indeed return for a few lazy loops at about 50ft above us as we enjoyed the summit. After that cherry on the day we went exploring, uncovering more fossils than we had previously discovered, and we headed south across the bluffs for a ways. During that exploration we encountered bear tracks galore and some additional fossils, very clear indications of what had at one time likely been coastal mud-flat (below).

All in all we had a fun and adventurous day on the peak, the type of day that is difficult to replicate. I want to emphasize again that this one of those peaks that, despite it's strenuous and brushy nature, is oh so worth doing. There's plenty of space in that summit journal so get on it before it is overgrown so completely that getting there becomes impossible. 

I'll refer you to my and Jack's Whiteacre Trip Report for a more thorough description of the route and if you have questions on the nitty gritty you can feel free to email me at

david.stillman72@gmail.com

The sandstone bluffs of Whiteacre Peak. "The Notch" ascends the left-most (N) portion of the ridge.

Jack below the notch with San Rafael Peak on the center-right skyline. 

Wind caves abound in between the slabs of the summit plateau.

Jack clearing the awkward/sketchy jump to the summit ramp.

Condor pee on Whiteacre's USGS marker.

Another fly-by by a CA Condor makes 2 for 2 for Jack and me on this summit, and a first for Mark.

Jack Elliott and Mark Jiroch on the summit of Whiteacre. Topatopa Peak dominates the right side of this frame.

This lost condor beacon antennae decorates the slab below the summit.

A sedimentary layer of pebbled sandstone near the summit contains large bony fossils. (and below)

Fossilized tidal mudflat (probably).

Jack Elliott on a bluff south of the summit.

There are many wind caves and geologic oddities near the summit of Whiteacre.

Mark Jiroch descending "The Notch".

Large puma print. This month's National Geographic has a great article about the "return" of the  North American mountain lion.

A view east into the Agua Blanca Watershed. The big ridge above the drainage comes off Cobblestone Peak.

Whiteacre Peak at sunset, from near Dough Flat.

Whiteacre Peak [SVS](Condors and a whole lot more) 12/09/12

When Jack Elliott and I set out to tackle Whiteacre Peak this week neither of us could have predicted just how awesome the day would turn out. We experienced one of those weird Los Padres days, the ones where she really rewards your efforts.  I guess I have some explaining to do so I'll get right to it. Viva Los Padres. As with all my posts you can click on any image to enlarge it.

Our up to the ridge probably shortcuts an older established route. 

A couple weeks ago I took advantage of the vantage from atop Sulfer Peak to get a better perspective of it's northern neighbor, Whiteacre Peak. Whiteacre is actually a huge ridge of white sandstone bluffs looming above the trailhead at Dough Flat. The summit of the peak is a distinct prow of white stone jutting high above the plateau atop the bluff. What I learned while scoping out the peak developed into a route up the thing. Not having access to older maps which would show what used to be a trail to the summit I relied on what seemed to be the most direct approach to the peak. In the end, Jack and I stuck to the route I had identified and it worked out just fine, though our climb from the Alder Creek trail to the western part of the Whiteacre Ridge probably shortcutted the older, more established trail. Standing on Sulfer while gazing at Whiteacre I became convinced that I was perched on one SVS (Seldom Visited Site/Summit) peak and, though I wasn't sure at the time, I figured I had to be looking at another. That presumption was proven correct on this day, for whatever its worth. 

We started the day lucky and it just got better. There is this gate on Goodenough Rd that has been kept locked shut by the USFS for at least the last two years. Locking that gate meant having to walk an extra three miles of rutted and rocky road just to get to the existing trailhead at Dough Flat. I believe I once used this forum to rail against said gate closure. Anyway, the gate was open! Unbelievable but there it was. We drove right past that gate and on up to the TH. We got walking somewhere close to 06:30. 

We were pretty stoked to already be ahead of the game. We quickly reached the spot I had identified as our cue to hang a right and leave the trail behind. Without ceremony we started climbing a steep line up a shoulder of the bright cliffs which are just off to the right while hiking west from Squaw Flat. Having gotten atop that small cliff we continued pretty much due north across a shallow dip in the land before taking a short breather under the final slope to the western part of the ridge. It was here that we saw the first of many mountain lion prints that day. The forty-five degree hillside looming above us turned out to be a remarkably easy climb. The grassy slope, though steep, was criss-crossed with hundreds of deer trails which made it easy to switchback up. At times the animal paths overlapped so closely that they almost seemed like stairs. After about 400 feet of elevation gain we achieved a very brushy ridge.

Jack on the "grassy slope", ascending to the western ridge.

Click the pic to see the bounding deer on the grassy plateau, or potrero, or lea or whatever you call it.

Jack and I spent a few minutes bashing our way through a combination of charred manzanita, living manzanita, scrub oak and sage until the scrub segued into a hilly grassland, golden and beautiful in the rising sun. As we drifted into the waist high grass a young buck bounded across the scene. We strolled across the high meadow on animal paths, enjoying what was turning out to be a very nice morning. Eventually we neared the western face of the bluffs under Whiteacre's summit plateau. 

While planning this route, the only part that I wasn't really sure about was the proper way to get up onto the plateau from which the summit "monolith" rises. The only logical spot to gain that plateau seemed to ascend what I'm calling "the notch", an eighty foot slot that seemed doable. I wasn't positive on that last part until I saw a short length of blue rope hanging off a block at the bottom of the notch.

Looking back WSW across the potrero.

Lets talk about this "notch" for a minute. I now knew that I had guessed right in regard to getting up on top of this thing. That being said, it still needed doing. This slot is, from a climbers point of view Class 3, a steep scramble, just don't mess up. Add to that a profusion of treacherous and bloodthirsty vegetation which pushes back at you and the "notch" gets interesting. I scrambled up the easy move which the blue rope I mentioned protects. From a somewhat precarious and awkward position I had to do a bunch of eye-level brush-busting just to be able to get past that part. Two moves later the route took a dirty turn. I shimmied up a man-sized brush tunnel, eating brush for 20 feet before eventually emerging from the worst of the "slot". I should say that the brush tunnel is man-sized now that I created it.

Up the "slot" we go.

Jack, exiting the "slot".

A view of the bluffs under Whiteacre Peak.

Having scrambled through the "notch" we found ourselves atop a rocky mesa interspersed with bands of brush. We started east, busting through some pretty gnarly brush on our way to the peak. As we progressed toward the summit we found a fairly consistent track and made good use of the increasingly rocky summit. As we neared the summit we began seeing numerous and conflicting trail ducks. We eventually passed through a deep and alcoved cut in the rock, a 100 yard long "alley" which lead to a last cut back toward the summit. 

Looking due east at the summit.

It's at least possible that this may have been a Chumash grinding dish. Found on Whiteacre Peak.

Jack, having traversed the stone "alley" to the left, approaching the summit.

One final obstacle remains to achieve the summit, a leap across a deep gap that you wouldn't want to mess up. This minor jump is decorated by an old condor tracking beacon that has been wired to a rock, not sure what its about but we left it as it was. After the jump its a short slope up to a summit unlike any other I've climbed in the SLP. This is a real rock peak jutting out from above a dramatic line of bluffs. It took us a little over three hours to reach the summit from where we'd started, maybe six miles of actual travel. The top is adorned with an anonymous benchmark, elevation 5,100'. Next to the marker is a small cairn with the expected coffee can register and an SVS spiral pad. The last visitor signed the book on 04/28/2007. 

The views from up here encompass the whole of the Sespe backcountry. Visible peaks in the immediate neighborhood are Cobblestone, San Rafeal, Topatopa, Sulfer, Hopper, Oat, Haddock and that's just naming a handful. The peak offers unique perspectives of Piru, Agua Blanca, and Alder drainages. It's a cool place to hang out for a few minutes.

Still life with rusty wire and lost Condor tracking beacon. 

Whhiteacre Peak summit.

Whiteacre benchmark and summit cairn.

Jack, clearing the last obstacle to the summit, a sketchy little jump over a nasty drop. There's actually a climbing bolt at the drop, so I guess if you needed to you could rig a line.

The bolt mentioned in the caption above.

Benchmark: Whiteacre Peak

Seldom Visited Site/Summit.

The north side of the summit is pretty damn neat. Large rock formations laid down on the slope, of white and calico rock similar to the formations found at Piedra Blanca. The slope was sprinkled with oddly shaped towers and hoodoos, and it was on one of these that I discovered the fossil remains of some large prehistoric animal (Fossil Find: Whiteacre Peak). This was pretty exciting stuff. I hollered at Jack, who was shooting pictures of some nearby tanks that had held water since the last rain. Together we uncovered more fossilized bone spread out over a ten square foot area. Well, that's just badass!

Fossil bone. See link above.

Eventually we departed the summit. Only short distance from the summit I turned back to get a picture and that was when I saw the condors. A pair of the big birds were circling in low from the northwest. I pointed them out to Jack, found a comfortable place to sit and dropped my pack for the show. Both condors circled the summit and one swung wide and continued west over our heads while the other banked about fifty feet above Jack and glided back to the summit of Whiteacre where it landed. We watched the bird move about on the summit and eventually it settled, beak to the wind. There she (I want to say it was a "she") parked for at least 20 minutes. Eventually we saw it's mate, which had somehow circled back and now approached from the north. A few moments later the bird on the summit took off and so did we.

California Condor.

California Condor

California Condor atop Whiteacre Peak summit.

California Condor atop Whiteacre Peak summit.

A view back east, of the summit and the rim of the bluffs.

We hustled our way back across the bluffs, reversed our inelegant path down the "notch", and descended into the great golden meadow once more. Our walk out was quick and easy. 

If it was just the peak that was awesome I would have been happy just to share that, but understand that this day had some special juju on it. The route up the peak was burly and rough, it traversed through various and interesting terrain, had some adventurous scrambling and I can't say how much I enjoyed the who;e Whiteacre package. The fact that we found the fossils and saw the birds after we summited was just icing and sprinkles on our cake. What an amazing seven hours.

Jack, dropping out the "notch".

Jack, hiking out of the grassland.

Whiteacre summit on left, looking SSE.

Kitty prints.

Whiteacre Peak from the west.