Munson Creek and Unnamed Drainage

Jack Elliott traversing out of upper Munson Creek.

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.

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. 

Click image to enlarge.

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.

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.

The "crevice" which ushered us through to the north side of this lower band of rock.

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.

Tools of the trade (and below).

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. 

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.

The falls on upper Munson Creek is tucked beneath these rocks.

A look back down Munson Creek.

Jack, climbing out of Munson.

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.

In the sights, that pretty little meadow below.

Donated blood at the office.

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. 

Well it was another fine day out there in our wilds. Go out and get some.

Salt, salty salt.

Salt slabs beneath the meadow.

The falls beneath the potrero, just a shallow pool of stagnant water beneath.

Haddock Peak and Environs 11/14/13

The other day I had a darn good bouldering session at the Picnic Area and Happy Hunting Grounds on Pine Mountain. Pulling down on 80 grit sandstone is always good for what ails me and I enjoyed the cool and crisp aura of fall while shredding my tips. Enjoyed it so much, in fact, that I resolved to come back again for a little 12 mile stretch of the legs a couple days later. Mountain therapy is good for the soul. I consider it my version of going to church. 

It has dawned on me while scrolling back through recent posts that I haven't done a helluvalot in our beloved forest for a while, and though I've kept busy at the rock gym and powering around on my shiny new Santa Cruz (which is now quite dirty and has a warped back wheel), nothing is better for me than sole power, pun intended. Me and miles, miles and me. We go together like fleas and hounds. Time to get back to it. I already knew exactly where I was supposed to go, the high and piney regions of the Reyes Wonderland. 

I started from the Reyes trailhead (as opposed to Chorro Grande) and headed over to the summit. This part of the day has two brief but steep climbs through forested slopes. In between these little steps are open areas of ridge-top with classic views of the coast, and looking toward the interior of the Cuyama Badlands. This ridge also hosts some interesting wind-twisted trees, some of which are quite amusing. The climbers out there might be interested in the Astroid Belt and the Mothership, which are just off the trail if one knows where to look. I topped out on the familiar summit of Reyes in what seemed like mere moments. 

Frazier Mountain in the distance.

After a short time I headed downhill and east, picking up the main trail toward Haddock a short time later. There isn't really a use trail coming off Reyes in that direction but unless there's snow on the ground that trail is hard to miss. Down on the cool and shadowy north side of Reyes I settled into the rhythms of the path and let my mind wander. There's been a lot going on up there lately. I kept my head up and paid attention to my surroundings with a bit more awareness than usual. I didn't want to miss a thing and concentrated on taking in my surroundings, focusing on every aspect of this beautiful forest. I have a newfound appreciation for these moments of solitude. I've spent too much of my energy over the years concentrating on the destination and not the journey. I was stuck by a weird concept, that I've just blazed through so many places and taken them for granted that from here forward I can continue my explorations with a rekindled awareness of the beauty and mystery of such places. I was also hit on the head by the notion that I was truly grateful to live so near to such a pretty place. It was much like the sensation rediscovery.

Looking down the Potrero John drainage. Been there, is muy dangeroso!

Reyes Peak from the east.

Haddock Peak from the west.

I reached Haddock and spent a few minutes there before turning back the way I'd come. I headed back to Reyes at an uncharacteristically mellow pace. I took time to appreciate the views one at a time. From one place I could look over to Frazier Mountain, another stop afforded views of Cerro Noroeste and Grouse and Sawmill and Pinos. At times I could view the summit of Cuyama Peak with it's flanks shrouded in a gauzy haze. I pulled out numerous times along the ridge to gaze out toward the islands or peer down the Potrero John drainage. I peeled off the trail and checked out various buttes and rock formations. I found where several deer had bedded down under the overhang of a huge calico formation. I paused to watch a squirrel be a squirrel. At last I found a pile of boulders hanging off the north side of the ridge which allowed views down into Beartrap Canyon. Here I sat for a while feeling the cool fall air moving around through the pines. I observed several small birds and was content to just sit and watch the world.

Haddock Peak Summit.

It was on this day that I came to the conclusion that I had to write the post which precedes this one. I felt very calm and unusually comfortable in my own skin. I compiled the history and the ideas that I wanted to convey in that writing and spent a good bit of time contemplating whether I should write it and what motivation was compelling me to do so. In time I had fleshed out the details of that essay and I concluded that it was something I had to do. The response to that post has been a bit overwhelming and I have written numerous emails in reply to people who have had similar life experiences and troubles with emotional disorders and substance abuse. It was heartening to not feel as alone, but those letters also highlighted just how common abuse and molestation is, and the lifelong impact left on its survivors. I've come to the conclusion that we live in a sick society, one that largely sweeps these distressingly frequent traumas under a rug, leaving the survivor to carry this burden around like a ball and chain, and that those people are pre-programmed by experience to seek comfort in a bottle or some other self-harming behavior. I was also surprised by the number of people that felt that I'd rattled something in their tree which provoked the hard questions of addiction. Not only does our society not want to hear of these issues, it does not really want to have a serious conversation about abuse and its effects, addiction in general, and especially not mental health. There are some seriously misplaced priorities in this nation and the media and marketing machine we're hooked on doesn't want people to give it any serious thought, and consequently the stigmas of the above disorders remain largely ignored in the national conversation. Abuse, addiction, and mental disorders just aren't sexy enough for primetime. It's shameful. And the cycle continues, worsens by the day in fact.

...from the pines to Anacapa...

Another peek at Haddock, from the east.

I just want to encourage everybody to take their time out there. Maximize the experience and be in the moment. And be good to one another.

Pine Mountain Road has re-opened as of 08/30

Pine Mountain Road finally reopened two days ago. A nice new ribbon of asphalt weaves upward where car eating sink holes and tooth rattling washboard once reigned. Of course the flip side of paving a road is the increased traffic it will soon see. Getting the Prius up the mountain is now not only possible but easily accomplished. No new camp sites, facilities or other amenities have been added and the camping situation there still seems pretty lezes faire as long as you post the Adventure Pass on your vehicle.

So boulderers rejoice, better late than winter for the reopening of our local high country. Somebody needs to bring a new spiral pad up to the Reyes register FWI.

Enjoy some pics from 09/01/13. I went with the Ansel Adams hi-contrast B&W today.

Two easy, but breezy evenings on Pine Mountain, 10/20&21/12

Ruth and I wanted a quiet weekend away from home so we threw a bunch of stuff in the truck and bolted up to Pine Mountain as soon as I got out of work. We had all the appropriate equipage: puffy down jackets, firewood, a big tent with a queen-sized air mattress, lawn chairs, dutch oven etc... Camping at Pine was just the right call for the weekend. We woke up late both days, hiked around on Reyes a bit, enjoyed good food and enjoyed the company of the millions of birds that inhabit the ridge. It was a relaxed weekend, breezy and cool, with the promise of colder days to come. Anyway, it was just camping so there's not a lot to write about except that I just came up with a pretty sick idea for my next free day which ought to be right around Halloween. I have the feeling that this will be "One of Those Days", and some of you might recognize what I mean by that. Anyway, please enjoy a few shots from a nice weekend.

Moon and Sun, together in the same frame.

Sunset off Goleta, from Pine Mountain.

Fire Flowers (pine cones, actually).

Looking south from atop The Mothership (climbing area). 

The view southeast toward Rose Valley, Ojai and Ventura. Socked in.

What I hope would be my "final meal": filet mignon cooked on a wood fire, by me, with a sparky horseradish creme and shared with Ruth.

A sea of clouds.

Panorama south from Reyes Ridge.

Middle Lion, Rose Valley.

There were actually three of these ladies near the Piedra Blaca TH.