Exploring Lower Piru Creek

Sure feels like it's spring in mid-February, don't it?

I guess that three storms is the only meaningful precipitation we're likely to get this "winter" so better make the most of it. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

Wheeler Ranch from across the way.

The lone sycamore at the mouth of the truly grand Canton Canyon.

Whitaker Peak Attempted via Sharps Canyon

Blue Point on the left with Whitaker Peak center right.

Once in a while those great ideas aren't.

The day preceding this one I'm about to write about was a complete bust. I'd scrambled up a nasty drainage looking for something that eluded me, something I'll be going back for now that I've had a chance to back off and look at it again. Today though, this one was going really well until it abruptly wasn't. I'll explain.

So close...

Whitaker Peak (not to be confused with Whiteacre Peak) can be found along the far western border of the Angeles National Forest, just a few miles northeast of Piru Lake. The traditional way to reach the summit, which also has a lookout and communication towers of the same name just a short distance away, starts from the Templin Highway adjacent to Interstate-5. I haven't been there yet and in looking over the route I noted that the entire way to the summit is simply road miles. Boooor-ing! I started looking around for a potential route to the summit that offered something of a challenge. Peering at the topos and satellite info led me to believe that a narrow slot canyon which takes off from Piru Creek might lend itself to such an idea. Sharps Canyon was worth a go.

First, just getting to the mouth of the canyon required a >6 mile bike ride. If there were sufficient water in the lake then the upper boat ramp would be open and the ride would only have been about 5 miles. Not the case. This lake road is kind of a pain in the ass. It has roughly equal measures of uphill and downhill whichever way one travels. I rolled through the long abandoned Blue Point Campground and pulled off just a short distance from Wheeler Ranch. A short scrum through ceanothus put me in a deep gully, the real start of my day.

This gully soon narrowed to a twisting slot canyon which seldom opened up wider than 25 feet. A small stream of brackish water trickled downstream through increasingly dense stands of willow and nettles. Fortunately for me the nettles weren't flowering just yet. The walls of this gully rose steeply to either side and were predominantly comprised of loose soil and cobbles with occasional bands of shale and poor quality sandstone. There were also portions of the drainage that consisted entirely of spongy mineral and salt deposits. Some parts of the gully narrowed to such a degree that I could almost reach each side of the steep slot with arms spread. In the wider, airier portions of the creek I struggled with thick brush, deadfalls and drift wood. It was within such a scenario that I got the jolt of a lifetime.

I had a tangled up jumble of drift wood to get through. I weighted a couple criss-crossed branches that could support me, stepped up, got my balance, and started plotting the next four or five steps which would get me past the wood pile. You see where this is going. I glanced down to check my footing and caught just a glimmer of movement under the wood heap in front of me. I didn't think anything of it, if anything I thought it was probably a lizard. I put a foot down on the next branches and right then the buzzer went off. I'd just put my weight on some sticks, a precarious perch, under which was a small portion of a large rattlesnake. And he was mad about it. My ankle was roughly a foot from the pointy end of this snake. I jumped but my foot got tangled up in some branches and I went down on the wood pile. I damn near panicked. I scrambled and thrashed off that wood heap as quickly as humanly possible and I'm sure that in better circumstances my antics would have been hilarious to watch. I don't know if that snake struck at me or not and I don't want to know, but I can tell you all that I've had at least six distinct times that by rights I should gotten bit by rattlesnakes. This incident was the closest I ever came. Freaked me the f**k out. 

What one thinks about once the excitement wears off a tad is what the hell would happen in the event of a rattlesnake envenomation. Never mind that I myself am living proof that they don't really want to bite you. What would I do? Here I am in narrow slot, with no cell service, no straightforward way to get out of there, unsure wether my SPOT would even work here never mind how long a real response and rescue would take. Such a situation would totally suck, be exceedingly painful and would likely be life threatening in a very short period of time. What would I do? I don't have an answer for that question. No coherent plan on file. I just do not know. It goes without saying that I hope you and I never have to find out what that situation is like.

California Damsel.

Some distance from that scene the canyon turned into a deep "V" slot. The brush thinned out and I thought I really was getting somewhere even though the nature of this slot had denied me a line of site to the peak from the get go. I entered a hidden garden of blooming wildflowers and bees and butterflies. The air smelled of young sage and green grass. My nerves settled down and I enjoyed a brief breakfast while watching a dozen California Damsels flutter here and there.

From this point on the canyon presented with variations of the same theme. Brush, wood piles, grassy straightaways, short waterfall scrambles, mineral rich earth, forests of nettle and willow, the odd sycamore or oak tree, shale slides, typical Piru stuff. It was in a high section of the drainage, just a mile under the summit that I hit an obstacle I could not bypass. 

Flowering sage. 

Some part of this route were quite pretty.

Entire walls of this canyon were made up of mineral and salt deposits.

In the end it was a twelve foot high waterfall that stopped me cold. I'm not a bad climber so I found this stupid little waterfall to be insulting. The canyon had narrowed to a slot with steep and high vertical shale walls and right in the middle of it was this little waterfall, just five feet wide and dressed in streamers of green algae. I stood there appraising the falls, trying to puzzle out how to get past it. The base material of the falls was neither shale nor sandstone but that same mineral deposit crap in the photo above, the stuff with the consistency of halva (you know, that Middle Eastern confection that you might get a yen for once every eight years or so?). Anyway, I tried six different ways to get up the thing. Water poured off the top, the algae was slick, and everything I clung to or toed off of crumbled beneath me. On my last try I got about eight feet off the ground and while lunging for a desperate knob at the top off the falls my feet just went out and I crashed in a wet and disgusted heap in the puddle beneath the falls. I was kind of scraped up, wet, and my ass hurt. Fine. That's just how it was going to be. I'd been denied. Sporting a rueful grin I put myself together and went back the way I'd come, paying special attention to those wood piles where the rattlers lurk.

Typical of the brushy portions of Sharps.

Juan Jose Fustero (left) and family lived near Rancho Camulos (on what is now Hwy 126). The elder Fustero,, who died June 30, 1921 may have been the last full-blooded Tataviam Indian, though he spoke the language of the neighboring Kitanemuk of the Antelope Valley. Juan is believed to buried under what is now Lake Piru.

Video: Piru Creek 05/20/12

To watch the video, click:

I understand that I should just watch the video and never go there. I realize that Piru Canyon is full of rattlesnakes, biting insects, nettles and poison oak which means that I'm perfectly content to just sit back and enjoy it from home.

Piru Creek, from Pyramid Lake to Lake Piru, 05/19&20/2012

 

 Let me just start by saying that this was one of coolest places I've visited in the Southern Los Padres. The Piru Creek drainage, between Pyramid Lake and Lake Piru is, with the exception of a few miles at either end of the route, as remote and untraveled as any place I've been through. I will do my best to give this place the respect it deserves. Piru Creek is an incredible journey.

 

Nico and I put in below Pyramid Lake at a pullout called Frenchman's Flat above Castaic. A decent use trail takes off from the parking area and this route aims directly at the Piru Canyon. We set off with a rising sun at our backs and transitioned into the canyon quickly. These early miles are an easy walk and the path quickly joins Piru Creek, moving  downstream through cottonwoods, willows, and easily avoidable poison oak. Several dirty and littered campsites dot this upper few miles of the creek, but after about an hour of walking we found that we'd descended into a rich, untrampled wilderness. 

Nico, using our preferred method of travel.

About the time Nico and I left the litter and unsanctioned fire pits of the first miles behind we were already happily sloshing through a narrowing canyon. By this time the use trails we'd been following had largely petered out, traveling through the creek itself was becoming more and more the most efficient way to travel. Remnants of trail can be found down this entire route, but we determined early on that any path off the creek has been commandeered for, and is maintained exclusively by bears. This was evident nearly every step of the day that we spent on the banks of  Piru Creek. Bear sign, prints, and scat were literally everywhere along this creek ( I do not exaggerate ).

 

The creek itself is generally shallow and broad, though in high water years this route would be incredibly difficult on foot. We enjoyed sloshing downstream as the temperature rose. Occasionally we were forced up out of the creek by a deeper pool or sections of bionic plant growth. After 3-4 miles in, the creek starts weaving back and forth, doubling back on itself entirely in places. In wider portions of the canyon the creek has created brushy plateaus on one side of the creek or the other, depending on which way the creek has turned. At these big bends in the creek we'd climb out of the water and into these areas which were characterized by rocky sandbars and profusions of brush. Most of the time this approach would shave some distance, meaning we could over-land until the next bend in the creek, at which point we'd either resume travel in the creek or cross to the other side and repeat the process. Often the cue to cross the creek presented in the form of  an impenetrable wall of reeds, or willow, or poison oak, but most often we were just able to sense that ahead was not the way and adjust accordingly.

One of a thousand brushy creek crossings.

The floor of this spectacular canyon is seldom wider than 200 feet and seemed, for the majority of the route, to average about a hundred feet wide. The creek frequently hugs one side of the canyon's deep walls. At one such spot I'd just rounded a corner and had started crossing water for the hundredth time that morning when I heard something snap off to my right. I glanced toward the source of the noise and said exactly these two words, "Holy shit...". I was being observed from about sixty feet away by a big ole bear. We locked eyes for just a second before he turned into the brush. I struggled to get my camera into play as the bear faded into the brush ( that's the best I got, below). Nico was only a few feet behind me and was able to catch up in time to see the bear casually retreating into the brush. We quickly crossed to the other side of the creek and hurried downstream a ways before the alarm bells were quieted. That was a big bear. I know that every bear is big in person, but this old boy with his mangy butt stood 4-4.5 feet tall at the shoulder. Big. We were happy to put some space between the two of us.

A crappy, on-the-fly shot of our bear.

A word about the brush situation...it's bad. This day of travel wasn't difficult in the classical sense, as in climbing a gnarly hill or pounding out massive miles. A good analogy might be to compare this to running up and down Matilija creek several times in a day. No two steps are alike. Step on a rock, step up to the next, down to the one after that, step sideways around a fallen branch, barrel through this plant, scramble over that boulder, and so on...and then there is the brush, which I'd describe as legendary. You have all the chaparral that we usually contend with on normal trails, but added to the mix are all the plants that dwell in the local creek bottoms, and these plants are healthy. Countless times Nico and I found ourselves thrashing through hundred foot sections of ridiculous, excessive growth. I was scratched and bleeding from a dozen cuts before noon. The combination of these two features, exuberant plant life and disorganized creek bed, made for consistently difficult travel. We stayed in the creek when possible, though that was frequently just as difficult given the mossy, unstable footing. We developed a kind of running joke in reference to the lack of any defined trail. When smack up against a towering wall of bullet-proof brush, and with no real indication of how to get through it, we'd resort to saying "Follow the bear!", which means that we'd resort to the Caterpillar D-9 bulldozer approach, a technique I refer to as the "brute-force ignorance method". I actually developed a technique that kind of worked in these situations, where I'd extend my arms out and coming together in a "V", trekking pole handles together as the point of this wedge, head down in the "V", apply full steam to the legs, and part the waters of this brush sea. Like I said, it kind of worked but really, nothing works as well in brush this dense as a good sense of humor.

The further we progressed into the canyon, the tighter it got. Nico working the brush.

How pretty is this? Loved it.

 

Nico eating brush, which builds strong bones and teeth. Part of any complete breakfast.

California Condor. We had several sightings of condors and saw one pair in flight.

 

Cobblestone Mountain from Piru Creek.

This watershed is very healthy. I mentioned that this place is owned by the bears, but let me expand on the local wildlife that we encountered. Let's start with the birds we saw: at least 60 ducks (mallards and two other species I haven't been able to ID), red tail hawks, harris hawk, a woodpecker, the biggest great blue heron I've ever seen, hummingbirds, quail and dove, and multiple sightings of california condors (singly and one pair), and a big horned owl flew overhead as I closed my eyes for the night. Aside from the squirrels and the bear, the only other mammalian interaction came on Sunday morning as we were packing up. A skunk came into our creek-side bivy after an all-nighter and, completely nonchalant about the humans in his house, crawled into a den under a big boulder near by. We saw enormous alligator lizards, horned toads, a big garter snake, and two rare reptiles: a five foot patch-nosed snake (gorgeous snake), and a beautiful western skink with it's electric blue tail. I get the sense that this canyon might be a last hold-out for other rarities such as the ring-tail cat (quatl) which I have only seen once in our neighborhood (that was in Tar Creek many years ago). Nico indicated that he'd like to again come this way for the sole purpose of wildlife observation and I agreed, it's that kind of place.

Big bear print. Click any image to enlarge.

Dead field mouse.

Dead crayfish.

I theorize that this beautiful CA King snake was killed by a bird. We hadn't run into people prints at that point, so I dont think this death was human related. I love king snakes so this was kinda sad.

Patch-nosed Snake

Long live the king.

Not my photo, but a very rare guy, a western skink.

A rare patch-nosed snake, about 5 ft' long. Very fast.

Large common garter snake.

CA Condors

A slightly better shot of the patch-nose.

At roughly the half way point between the two lakes, the creek enters a stunning gorge, the likes of which I have not traveled. Nico put it on a par with another place he's visited above Santa Barbara, but I've been through the Big Narrows on Agua Blanca, Devils Gate, Devils Gateway, Alder Creek and the Sespe Gorge, and I found that this mile long gorge diminished those other narrows in my eyes. The Piru Gorge travels, like I said, about a mile through a slot that isn't ever any wider than 50 feet and averages a width of 20-30 feet. The rock is mostly a conglomerate of colorful cobbles cemented into the boulders and walls of this stretch. The walls of the gorge are curvaceous, with numerous pockets and alcoves at the creek level. In one place a small spout of water spills into the creek from 40 feet overhead. This is a true slot canyon, very pretty, and worth every step it took to get there.

Piru Gorge

 

We spent some time appreciating the natural wonders of this remarkable gorge before continuing another mile further to the junction where Ruby Canyon drains into the Piru Creek. Ruby Canyon is rumored to have a couple waterfalls which wouldn't be in business now, at least there was no flow coming down the canyon. We did not investigate Ruby on this trip but I have a feeling I'll be headed up there at some later date.

We set up shop on about the only flat spot we could find that wasn't physically under water. It was a perfectly adequate place to call a halt. We'd been on the go since 04:30 due to the need for a car at either end of this route, and we'd been on the move for roughly 10 hours. Ruby Canyon on the Piru was a logical place to call it a day. As we each prepared our dinner du jour the sun had set, bringing forth a happy little cloud of bats, which are always entertaining to watch. I crawled in my bivy sac and thought about all we'd seen on this first of two days, and tried to put it to memory. It had been a big day filled with big adventure. 

Sunrise over Ruby Canyon.

Nico, back in the drink.

In the morning, after the coffee was drunk and the visit from the skunk, we saddled up and moved out. We were back in the creek, feet wet within 10 minutes, head deep in brush shortly after. We followed the circuitous turnings of the canyon, in and out of the creek, up and down over rocks, etc... After about an hour of this we rolled past an old bee keepers site called Ellis Apiary and soon we were able to pick up fragments of the old Jeep track that linked the apiary to Lake Piru below. We saw some old iron implements, the remains of  an ancient, rusted truck axle, and a battered gate circa 1940 that had been anchored into the rock of the canyon wall. We were now out of the brush and no longer near water. The road became a real road as we passed the entrance to Agua Blanca Canyon. Soon we rolled past the very pleasant Whitaker Ranch site and after that it was just a long, scorching walk out to the upper-most parking lot on the lake.

I can't say enough good things about this hike, but I am just about typed out here. Nico and I got along well on this trip, both relying on each other to find a way to get through this wilderness. I think I can speak for him when I say that this was one of those places that surpass all expectation. Just an awesome place.

On the drive out of the lake I experienced what I'm calling a "character building exercise". Both of us had driven up to the lake together, switched Nick's gear over to my truck, and drove back out. Entering the lake there is a kiosk which charges $13 for day use at the lake. After we'd dropped Nico's truck off we rolled back to the kiosk. I asked the really nice folks there if they'd mind refunding my $13 because all I'd done was drive in and back out. I explained what we were up to and they were happy to refund me. Now at the end of our trip and in Nico's truck, we drove out and he stopped at the kiosk. Nobody was in any hurry to come see what we were about so I suggested we keep driving. Nico took the high road and got out to talk to the folks at the kiosk. As he approached, a woman came out and shouted, "Are you my hikers?" and waved us through without charging us a second time. There's a lesson here and I suspect it's karmic in nature.