Trial and Error on Cobblestone Mountain, AKA "The Valentine's Day Massacre"

Back down in the shade, choking on a bad gamble.

So close!

What theee Hell! I keep having to do my summits twice to get it right. 

24 miles and +8,000ft and for what?

So I can do it all over again. That's what.

*This writing is purely cathartic and not meant to be a guide to this approach to the peak. I will provide a more specific route description when I am able to complete the route.

02/24/14 For successful trip report, visit: Redrum Ridge

Cobblestone, just across the way from the endless ridge out of Agua Blanca.

The idea here was to do Cobblestone Mountain from Tar Creek Rd via Ant Camp on Agua Blanca Creek. The route could be classified as Cobblestone's Southwest Spur and the idea for doing this actually came in the form of an invitation from Jeff C of Santa Clarita. He'd done a lot of legwork both indoors and on the mountain to identify this route as a possible way of reaching the summit. He'd invited me to join him and when our schedules didn't work out he gave me a green light to take a stab at doing it solo. I went. I lost.

A view down Agua Blanca from high on the summit ridge.

The day started with the eight mile slog into Ant Camp (at this time of year the road to Dough Flat trailhead is closed which adds an additional 3 road miles to each way). Ever since being approached by Jeff I had been obsessed with this plan. Cobblestone is one of the biggest, baddest peaks in the SLP and there is no easy way to get the summit. It's just all around hard. To be able to tick it in a day from the south would be a neat feather to put in one's cap. To that end I studied the route, made adjustments to gear, even trained two long sessions on the StairMonster early in the week, ate right, and really dialed in my nutrition for the days preceding the event. Somehow I blew through the first eight miles in 2:15. Everything was clicking.

I did some recovery work on Agua Blanca Creek, gassing up on quality calories and water. I stashed more recovery goods creekside and started on the "real" part of the day. The route ascends a ridiculously steep S-shaped ridge that climbs across the south face of Cobblestone and loops back west to the summit. Many portions of the ridge are steep and brutal. I fought through some brush on the way up the lower sections and achieved a part of the ridge that looked straight across and up toward the summit. Here it became glaringly obvious where the crux of this climb would unfold. East of the summit is a sixty degree climb of comprised of three individual steps which deposit one a mile east of and about 500 feet of elevation below the summit. After enduring that fight, which I can only describe as "evil", I was within an hour's work of the summit. By this time the temps were in the 80's and the day was still getting warmer. Whatever minute breeze I'd had abandoned me. I'd started up from Agua Blanca Creek with 4.5 liters of water and had gone through over 3. I sat down in the shade and did some hard calculations on my water situation and the prognosis wasn't in my favor. I had a choice to make.

Whiteacre Peak from the Southwest Spur.

I was faced with a gamble. I was at what I considered to be my "reserve" based on all the factors involved: temperature, distance to the objective, distance back to a water source on the creek, and how I was feeling. To make this choice responsibly requires a great deal of self honesty and experience in the heat. I thought about it and determined that I would gamble on there being water at Cobblestone Spring, which lies ENE of and roughly 500ft below the summit. I figured that though I was feeling pretty blasted by this point, if I could get some additional water I'd have no problem achieving my aims. I gambled and lost. I fought my way across the ENE slope, battling through ugly brush thickets until reaching what used to be called Cobblestone Spring. Nothing. Dry as a bone. That sealed the deal for me. The summit wasn't in the cards. I could not reconcile my goal within a margin of water safety that I could (quite literally) live with. With under a liter of water left I turned my back on the summit and started down.

The route follows the right hand ridge up and right before turning back left to the summit. Taken from the nasty little climb out of Ant Camp. 

Back on Agua Blanca I resuscitated myself with Water, water, calories, and water. One of these days, maybe after I knock this route out, I will explain what I use to restore life to my challenged system. It's a system that is well thought out and based on science and an understanding of sports physiology as it applies to endurance efforts. After that the day was just a long haul out to the truck. 

Hostilities will recommence shortly. 

Miles to go...

The Big Narrows, Los Padres NF, 10/14/2010

Another of life's big questions is now resolved...I know what the hell the Big Narrows is! It's a big, narrow gorge. Knowing the answer to that particular riddle helps me sleep better, except for the poison oak reaction I'm enjoying. Speaking of poison oak, a disclaimer; I'm writing under the influence of my patented poison oak pharmaceutical cocktail: Atarax, Solu-cortef, Valium, Zyrtec, Zantac, Benadryl and Vicodin. So if this entry seems a little hazy, I beg your pardon.

This last weekend I went up into the Los Padres on a recon, the purpose being to unravel the mystery of the Big Narrows, a place about which nothing has been written since the early 70's, no pictures, no trip reports, nuthin'. There once was a trail down Agua Blanca Creek but that has long been lost and forgotten. Every inch of the Southern Los Padres is straight up, straight down, and mean, but a such an impressive collection of topo lines is suggestive of a significant gorge (well, that and the fact that the place has a name but nobody knows what's there). Obviously the place needed to be rediscovered, if only briefly.
I set off Friday morning from Squaw Flat in the company of Eric & Frank of Ventura County Canyoneering Club. The grade climbing out of Squaw Flat ain't fun but we blasted through it in just two hours to the Alder/Ant Camp junction, after which we knee-banged down the hideous slope into Ant, arriving in about three hours from leaving the truck.


The last time I visited Ant Camp I was 12 years old, 26 years ago. Not much has changed in that time. The mighty oaks in the vale still stand tall, massive, and proud. The grassy meadow is a little slice of pastoral heaven, and the place just has an all-around good vibe. Very quiet and peaceful. The nearby Agua Blanca is the water source for the camp and it's waters are as pure and sweet as any I've had.
After getting settled Frank dug up some horseshoes and posts that had been left at the site. This was an interesting diversion, but as the sun set, the dinner stuff came out. Grilled animal (brats with mustard and sourkraut in my case) and a conspicuous consumption of coffee and firewood sealed the deal. We sacked out to the owl hoot, crickets, and the rustling of various critters that inhabit the night. In other words, I got the best sleep in weeks.
I stayed in the sack until the sunlight convinced me it was warm enough to venture forth. Coffeed up, apple in hand, I threw together a kit for the day's struggles. I had no illusions about how overgrown and unpleasant the lonesome Agua Blanca Creek would be. Any place that has been that abandoned for that long was bound to be a hideous trek and knowing that, I came prepared for a struggle.
Our pleasant jaunt in the creek turned evil in about 10 minutes after leaving camp. A rock shifted under me and I ate shit into a bunch of brush... an inauspicious start to the day, but the tough get going. We picked our way down the canyon looking for the first point of interest, the Tin Can Camp. This was a cabin constructed long ago using pounded out water barrels for siding. Eric showed me a USFS report that slated the cabin for removal in 1974 and indeed, for once our local boys in brown seem to have done what they said because we could find no sign of the place.
The farther downstream we progressed, the longer forward progression seemed to take. There were remnants of trail that had been commandeered by wildlife for travel purposes of their own, and therefore we spent alot of time meandering into and out of the brush choked, deadfall ridden creek. At one point we encountered the deer remains of a mountain lion kill, and ran across plenty of bear sign.
Route finding on the way to the Narrows was a joke and try as we might we couldn't avoid scrambling, burrowing, and crashing through miles of goatf**k brush. At around 4-5 miles of this (my estimate) we started entering an area of progressively tighter gorge, the walls of which rose an estimated 500 feet from the creek. The actual Narrows was long, I would say about 3/10's of a mile of twisting, turning ancient gorge. Spectacular yes, worth getting there? If it weren't for the venomous oak, that deciduous plant that's so difficult to ID this time of year after the leaves have shed, I'd say you'd have to have a burr up your ass to attempt it.

As for the question of which way to approach the Big Narrows, having done the Devil's gateway route from the Lake Piru side just this year, I'd suggest taking the downstream from Ant Camp route, especially if you're brave enough to through-hike the Agua Blanca to Piru Lake.

Somehow we were able to return upstream to Ant Camp in almost half the time it took us to get down to the Narrows. By this time we had gotten a feel for how the creek worked and our route finding improved dramatically. Sometimes things just work out.
So, to recap, the trip down to Ant Camp is no big deal (though the hike out is a calf burner). The scramble to the Narrows is poison oak city, overgrown, and generally unpleasant. But do-able. I would question my motives before heading down there, unless, of course, I just had to see a remote, off-trail place that you know ahead of time will suck to get to.
Despite the discomforts I had a great weekend, enjoyed the company, ate great food, and really enjoyed the Ant Camp valley. Follow up with the vccanyoneeringclub for more info on this trip.
Above: A brand I left on the picinic table at Ant Camp (that's a "three peaks" sigyl)

Below: Somebody else's clever "dino-rock" campsite art.