A Look Inside A Mexican Grow Operation

               

I spend a lot of time off trail. So do Mexican pot farmers (Narcos). Over the years I have run into numerous (>30) sites where these people have left behind their hoses and bits and pieces of things which indicated prior grow operations. They seem to be everywhere in the Southern Los Padres. At times I think these people know more about our forest than I do.

It alway starts with finding a hose.

As I understand it, the way these operations work is that the cartels select people (almost always Mexicans, as opposed to El Salvadorans or Hondurans, etc...) to perform this task. The reason for choosing a Mexican is that the cartels can keep an eye on these individual's family and therefore use them, coercively, as collateral for the servitude. The cartel will make an offer which really isn't an offer, providing a trip across the border, cash for supplies, maps, the seeds to start the operation, and a promise of payment to the family who stays behind. There is also a discussion of what will happen to that family should these services not be rendered satisfactorily. Invariably, these growers are desperately poor and have no other options. The cartels know this and prey upon those whom they can develop leverage over. This creates the conditions for a suitably motivated grower.

As I found out one cool pre-dawn on the Sespe, some of them speak english. This was the day I ascended Devils Heart Peak. I was still very early into that heinous day, taking a break after having rapidly descended Tar Creek to the Sespe. I was sitting on the creek having some breakfast when I saw some movement across the water. I stayed very still, thinking that I was about to see some wildlife. Instead what I got was a little hombre in camo pants with a cheap backpack hopscotching across the creek toward me. He was within only 10 feet of me when he about jumped out of his socks, seeing me. He spent a good two seconds doing what I had done with him, checking me for a weapon. He remained very anxious but asked if I had been there all night. No, I said, just for the past 20 minutes. He still seemed like a cornered animal but encouraged me to have a good day and quickly split up Tar Creek. For a while I wondered where the hell he'd come from, but now I think I know the answer to that question.

The grow site in these photos show the remains of the most elaborate of these operations I've ever run across. It always starts with finding the hose. In this case nearly a quarter mile of black vinyl water line snaked from an upstream pool (now bone dry). The downstream end of the hose terminated in a plastic lined, man-made catch basin (below).  Water was then gravity fed from this basin a short distance away to supply approximately two acres of cleverly camouflaged grow area. I say this with a bit of admiration because what this grower had done was manicure over 100 young manzanita plants, by trimming all but a single stalk, so that they grew straight up at a height of 6-8 feet, providing a light canopy which allowed just a bit of shadow for the marijuana plants while disguising the site from the air. 

Man-made, plastic lined catch basin. Cut branches laid over the hole disguised this from the air.

These trimmed manzanita cleverly allowed in enough light for the marijuana plants while allowing for some camouflage from the air. 

I found the actual campsite tucked under a scrub oak offering very crude living conditions for the grower. These remains included MiracleGrow, a sprayer, miscellaneous trash, a sleeping bag, a couple school backpacks, part of a propane burner and some cookware. No effort had been made to make the place anything more than barely livable. About 300yds away from the primary plantation I discovered more than 200 plastic cups filled with local soil. These cups were neatly arranged in a patch of sunlight and were clearly intended as planters for seedlings (below).

This valve was the terminus of the irrigation hose. The marijuana plants were watered by hand.

This cheapo sleeping bag had been blown or dragged away from the actual campsite and into the pot farm.

This is what remains of the grower's camp.

Solo cups used to start seedlings. He used local soil, and the 5 gallon bucket was probably used to haul water to the site, which was well away from the actual grow site.

Inevitably some of you will want to ask wether I carry a weapon when I go off-trail. The answer is, "Rarely." Carrying a weapon is a highly individual thing. I'm enough of a snob to think that most people have absolutely no business owning a hand gun, all while adamantly asserting my own right to the same. I have a range of hand guns and at times I have indeed carried, but only while solo hiking in deep dark places like the Dick Smith Wilderness, places where the wildlife is big and unpredictable and a lot of things can go sideways in a hurry. In that sense, I view a hand gun as a tool and something I have no intention of using... but I'm glad it's there for the "Just in case." factor. They say you never need a gun until you need one. As this subject pertains to stumbling into narcos, my feeling is that when two people with guns meet under these conditions it dramatically increases the odds that a confrontation will result, and those results could be deadly. For either side. Remember, these guys don't want to be seen and/or discovered, which creates dueling circumstances and choices for both involved. I lean to the side that says I should play it cool and act like exactly what I am, just a guy out for a walk who happened to run into this other guy. All that being said, these instances are each unique and unpredictable in their own way. I am convinced that the average drive-in campground is a far more dangerous place than the situation I described earlier. I am always prepared for that particular scenario.

Cara Blanca (attempted) 01/09/14

There is a big difference between quitting and being a quitter. It's about being able to say to yourself, with 100% honesty, that you gave it your best shot. Attempting something and failing is a part of life, and if you don't occasionally fail to meet your own goals, then you haven't set the bar high enough. I didn't get my summit this time out. That doesn't mean I didn't try my damnedest, nor does it mean that I've conceded defeat. It just means that my route didn't work out. But Cara Blanca and I aren't done with each other just yet.

Green=Up/Red=Down

After blazing through the standard Matilija trail I started up West Falls Canyon and the day really got underway. This was my second time up there in recent days, and though my first trip up this remote canyon had been interesting and entertaining, I had not neglected to closely scrutinize the south face of Cara Blanca while there. This 60 degree pyramid of gleaming white sandstone had always captured my attention and was a peak I felt deserved to be climbed. At home I studied my own photos, topo maps, and wildly out of date satellite imagery with an eye toward ascending her. I concluded that there might be a way to climb the peak from it's southeast flank. 

West Falls Canyon

The ravine on the eastern side of the south face. Ugly.

Bring on the brush. About a half mile up West Falls Canyon I departed the creek and started up a loose, steep, and alarmingly brushy slope. Progress was difficult pretty much from the get-go. Loose rock skittered away beneath me, forcing me to cling to the overhead brush. In the thicker brush I basically hand-over-handed myself upward from one bush to the next. At times I had to tunnel under the brush, or back-track when I hit a wall so tangled and interwoven that passage was essentially impossible. This stuff was as bad as any I had ever encountered. I found some daylight in a rocky patch of the slope and planned my next push, which would bring me into the primary ravine on the eastern side of the peak and from there the slope, while steeper, looked a bit less of a mess. 

It took me the next half hour to traverse into and out of that ravine, a distance of only about 500 feet. It was just brutal. I took a thorn to the ear and a gnarly scratch to my right eyelid. I got tangled up in brush, took a spill and ended up in yucca which penetrated my leather gloves and the US Army BDU pants I was wearing. My shirt was torn, and the exposed skin of my wrists between the shirt sleeves and my gloves was getting pretty shredded. On the west side of the ravine I took a break to dig out the yucca thorns. That done, I took a good long look up the peak from where I was and wasn't all that encouraged by the view. I had a loose scree slide, talus, and yucca in the immediate future but above that I could see only brush.

I found a rib of highly untrustworthy sandstone and ascended that for about 150 feet before I had another band of brush to deal with. Ever since clearing the ravine the grade had been a consistent 50 degrees and the going had gotten increasingly tough. I cleared the brush again and encountered a long stretch of Class IV sandstone which was so decayed as to have the solidity of a dirt clod. This was disappointing. I'd hoped to have better stone higher up but it wasn't meant to be. I exited the slabs to the right and got back into the totally horrendous brush. I managed to ascend another 200 feet by utilizing brush as hand and footholds on the steep slope, not the most reliable climbing medium. To make things even harder, I had to bludgeon my way higher through that brush. Before long I was really getting exhausted. By this time I was maybe a 100 feet below being even with the top of the white face of Cara Blanca. This wasn't working.

The top of the white slabs of the south face of Cara Blanca behind the yucca, and where I quit.

I used my heels to kick out a shelf of dirt that I could sit down on and rest for a bit while I took stock of where I was and what I was going to do. I finally conceded that the brush between me and the summit was too much for me. I recall thinking that if the peak was going to get ascended from this direction it would take a harder man than me. I made peace with the peak (for now) and set out to find a better way down than the one I ascended. This would prove impossible, and my descent route was, in fact, even more of a mess than the way up.

Monte Arrido Peak and Old Man Mountain from the steeps of Cara Blanca.

A look down the Matilija watershed. Divide Peak and Peak 4864 center right. SubPeak 2 in the immediate Left foreground.

Before descending I traversed east across the south side of the peak, passing under rotten slabs and ascending again until I was under what I've labeled "SubPeak 1", which is a point made of the same sandstone that decorates the pyramid of the South Face. The eastern edge of SubPeak 1 terminated in a sheer drop onto the sixty degree gullies of the east face of the peak and offered a view into the north branch of Matilija Creek. I descended this sheer edge until I'd reached the nob of SubPeak 2. From here I dropped into what is possibly the worst brush I've ever encountered, which is saying something. It was bad. On the way down that hellish slope I tried to think of various descriptors, cuss words, and adjectives I could link together to create an image for you. All of them fell short of the magnitude of the seething hell this descent was. Eventually I broke through the brush and crashed into the creek below. Pull all the sticks out of me and insert a fork instead. I'd had enough for one day. It was a good fight. You just gotta love the LPNF.

The steep slab face of SubPeak 1.

The South Face of Cara Blanca from the east.

Two weeks later I got the summit (Trip Report).

Cream Puff Peak (SVS), with Hines Peak and Topatopa Bluff, 06/02/13

I've felt myself getting a little soft lately. Haven't felt like I've put down anything all that hard in a while. So why not make it 3 summit day? And while I'm at it, why don't I make it a time trial? I've kind of gotten away from timing myself but this route is always a great test of one's general level of toughness and stamina. The Suffer Machine and then some.

I'll get to the stats at the end. 

This is a route I know so well that it's easy for me to quickly settle in and bang out the miles, adjusting  my rhythm with each familiar grade. Not having to do much other than march up this thing. I left the trailhead at Sisar at 06:00, moved quickly up canyon and through the woods under White Ledge Camp where I stopped for a couple minutes. I sat in the morning half light under that little camp's green canopy of alder and sycamore. A couple minutes after my heart rate had normalized it was time to pace out the next two mile climb to the ridge. I knew I was firing on all cylinders when I glanced at my watch and did a bit of comparison arithmetic. The numbers were right where I wanted them to be. I blew by the tank trap at the end of Nordoff Ridge Road and followed the line eastward until I stood under Hines Peak.

Hines Peak (L) and Cream Puff Peak (R)

There are two different ways to approach linking these peaks, one of which was new territory for me. The way it was recommended to me was to top out on Topa Bluffs and descend over to Cream Puff, do that peak and finish with Hines before heading out. I prefer to knock off the biggest, baddest bruiser of the day at the outset so I used what I know works for me. Hines would come first and Topa would be the last. I shattered my record for Sisar to Hines by 20-something minutes. Next, a date with a pastry parlor.

Cream Puff Peak SVS is that steep sloped thumb off the starboard wing as you cruise east toward Hines. I've walked by it at least a dozen times and only a couple times did I consider heading up it, and then I found out that it was a claimed and named summit. Furthermore, that name was Cream Puff! Now I had to do it! Those of you who've climbed in more than a couple places understand our fixation with crafty and ridiculous names ("Hobbit in a Blender" or "Poodles are People Too" come to mind). There's often a story behind the good ones. In the summit register on Cream Puff is a plastic package lid from a big tub of yes, cream (not creme) puffs! While on the summit I meditated deeply on this mystery, cream puff wrapper clenched tightly in hand, eyes raised in prayer to the Great God Cream Puff of Arcadia California, prayed for an insight into nascent origins of this most lavishly christened crag. I had a vision.

Here's what I got: Two guys sitting on the summit. They have this tub of Costco cream puffs for some reason. They're also pretty stoned. I know this because nobody but stoners buy Costco cream puffs. One of them has a mouth full of cream puff. The half empty tub lies between them. The other guy exhales a cloud of blue smoke, coughs a bit, swats away a fly and asks the first guy "Hey man, what do you think we should name this peak? Like, nobody's been here, right? So it's, like...ours to name! Right?" The other guy's just crammed another cream puff in his face so he's trying hard not to suffocate on the powdered sugar coating while giving his friend a thumbs up. "Riiight! (nodding violently) That's what I'm sayin! Ours to name bro! So...umm, what do you want to name it?" Cream Puff face can't answer because he's just mastered the proper rate of nasal breathing required to stay alive while attempting to swallow another cannonball of dough. "So what do we name it? Hey, you okay?" Cotton mouth and cream puffs are a bitch. It doesn't go well, and the Heimlich maneuver is used to separate the man from the cream puff before order is restored to the name selection process. After all that they'd be obligated to call it Cream Puff. I wouldn't have named it Cream Puff. 

Zoltan's Throne maybe.

Hines Peak

Cream Puff Peak from Hines Peak

So getting back to Hines. A Class II slip and slide with some rocky nonsense at the top. Been here many a time. I didn't stay for more than a few minutes before turning back on my route and descending back to the Red Reef. Next up, Cream Puff.

Cream Puff Peak from under Hines

Bigelow's onkeyflower

Grinnell's pestemon

The climb up Cream Puff is even steeper and looser than the path up Hines. I would venture to say that trying to get up here without trekking poles would be frustrating. This is a 50 degree shale slide and there isn't really a route up it, more like a shadow of possible assistance left by those few who had come before. Basically you climb straight up the f**kin thing. Despite it's being only a 400 foot climb from the trail, this little peak makes you earn it, and by the time you top out you won't be thinking about is as a "afterthought" or "gimmick". This peak offers really neat perspective, a nice addition to my catalog of mental summit shots. I particularly liked the views of Hines and the north edge of the Topatopa Ridge. This peak is well worth adding to any linkup along this ridge. I liked it. 

This gives you an idea what passes for "trail" on this slope.

Cream Puff Peak (SVS) 6,486'

A view due north with the Red Reef in the foreground and Thorn Point in the distance.

After a few minutes with the register I skated down to the Red Reef and resumed westward travel. Back under the north side of Topa Bluffs I climbed the gawdawful steep track up to the summit of Topa. I didn't hang out.

Looking back from Topa at Cream Puff. Just the tippy top of Hines is visible behind cream Puff from this perspective. The massive Topatopa Ridge is jutting out in the distance. I didn't like that place.

Topatopa Bluff

I popped a caffeine tab and jogged off of Topa, kept jogging when I hit the road, and jogged all the way down to White Ledge where I dunked my head for a few minutes and let myself cool down a bit. So I was sitting on a log next to the main fire ring in the camp and I could swear I kept hearing little bird chirps! Not up in the trees with the other birds but right next to me! I was baffled, made a joke to myself about the seldom seen western pygmy voice-thrower finch. Couldn't figure it out until I finally stood up and looked straight down into the fire pit. There I saw a pair of scarcely fledged sparrows. They were in bad shape, had been hit by some kind of parasitic insect that incubates larvae in other organisms. The tops of these little bird's heads were just drilled with huge holes. These little guys were hosed and after trying and failing to get decent film or video I backed off and left them to their fate. There were what I assume was a father/son duo camped there. I spent a few minutes speaking with him before I was able to get moving again.

Barely a trickle from the spring at White Ledge Camp. Water is available in the adjacent creek but probably not for long.

I stropped a couple times for pictures but otherwise I jogged the whole way out to the truck.

Here's how the day went:

06:00 Left from Sisar TH

10:09 Summit Hines Peak (4:09)

11:19 Summit Cream Puff Peak (5:19)

12:37 Topatopa Bluff (6:37)

15:04 Sisar TH (9:05)

22-23 miles

>7,000 feet gained

Yellow Mariposa lily

Tick.

I cannot believe how many people I just saw at Tar Creek 05/27/13

12/10/13: The US Forest Service will be enforcing access restrictions to Tar Creek soon. TC is part of the Condor Sanctuary established as critical habitat to this endangered bird and other wildlife. Epic numbers of visitors, and the trash and graffiti they have left behind, has led to the acknowledgment by the Forest Service that access must be curtailed and enforced. For more information on the impending action visit: Tar Creek Closure.

Monday. May 29. Memorial Day, in the year of someone's Lord, 2013. 

Ruth and I needed sun and water and exercise. She picked Tar Creek. I hmmmed on that for a bit and made it clear that there would be at least a few dozen people in the canyon. We went anyway (this is kind of like Steven Wright's classic one liner, "My wife and I tried a new restaurant, we had reservations but we went anyway.") and boy, was I wrong! Way wrong.

Extra. Wrong.

How about well over 100 people! In that little place! 

So I'm starting this post with nice happy pictures before getting to the unchecked masses.

As for Tar, I've never seen it this dry before July, but it isn't even June yet. Essentially, Tar has no flow. And after this weekend I'm not sure anybody'd want to swim in it anyway.

I spooked this boy back into the trees before some jerk came along and threw a rock at him.

This photo is undoctored. That is the actual nuclear waste green going on at Tar this week.

The bottom falls has become a vertical flower garden.

There are 52 people and 1 dog in this picture.

There are 31 people in this shot.

30 in this shot.

31 vehicles in just this shot.