Black Bob Canyon

While scrolling through maps, hunting for obscure places I haven't yet visited, the name "Black Bob Mine" caught my attention. Even more interesting, a study of satellite imagery showed several small structures and a primary building at the site. Furthermore, there appeared to be a trail which descended from the summit just west of Tecuya Mountain. This point could be accessed via Forest Rte 9N21, and though numerous questions remained, I felt I had enough beta to make the jump.

The first thing I noticed upon arriving at that "trailhead" just west of Tecuya was that there wasn't any trail. I found this strange because the trail shown on the topo had indicated that this was where I ought to start. Whatever. I dropped over the edge and started a rapid, steep, dusty and loose descent into a mixed forest of scrub oak and jeffery pine. 15 minutes later I stumbled upon a narrow and twisty motorcycle track which I guessed was what had become of the trail.  Following this route led deeper into the forest, down the spine of the eastern ridge of Black Bob Canyon. Visibility was consistently obscured by the density of the forest, though at several points I had partial views right (E) into Dead Man Canyon and deep into Tecuya Canyon. The track continued to descend at a very steep rate, and I came to appreciate that getting a motorcycle up or down this route would require considerable skill, and would be pretty damn athletic.

A look (kind of) into Tecuya Canyon

After forever the ridge sort of settled down into a rolling bit of hilly scrub and yucca. At a break in the brush I was able to lean over the lip and get a glimpse into Black Bob and was heartened to see, far below,  a tin roofed structure that looked an awful lot like what I expected to find. I continued down the ridge on the MC trail, long after the point that I felt I had passed the cabin somewhere below, and now behind me. I had started wondering if this MC trail actually went down to the cabin when I came a cross a short stretch of barbed wire stranded on ancient wood posts. Following the fence line led to a small clearing where the trail continued north down the ridge, but to the left I saw a smaller track take off into the forest. Aha!, I thought, here we go.

This slender thread of a trail cut back to the south, steeply descending across the rippling eastern slope of Black Bob Canyon.  I dropped through yucca spotted desert, a steep angle falling away beneath my feet, following the curves of the canyon. This went on for a good bit before I rounded another barb wire festooned turn and there below me, tucked under some oaks, lay a tin roofed two story cinder block shanty and two out-buildings. 

Approaching the house I passed the remains of an old table saw.  The small out-building I had initially taken for an outhouse was actually a generator shack.  The lower level of the cabin was actually a double bay of garage type space. Rusty mining equipment, spare parts, wire, barrels, and several dozen 5ft drills were strewn about the space. I hiked upstairs for a look. 

An old tub and a stand for a push-pedal sewing machine.

The house was a simple affair, one small bedroom, a tiny living space, a kitchen and a cramped bathroom. The whole house was strewn with the mouse tattered remains of a life long abandoned. Ancient publications, old spice jars, box springs, busted furniture, a pot belly wood burner, can openers, coffee cans, rat poison... I could go on and on. The old wood burning stove had been modified in an ungainly MacGyverism so that it used propane. Half-assed electrical work dangled from the ceilings. A 1960s fridge tilted into a corner. Mouse droppings everywhere. I stepped outside to an adjacent cold storage, cut into the hillside just behind the house. In this space were numerous intact jars of visibly recognizable foodstuffs, preserved by hand. Home-canned cauliflower, beans, carrots, fruit, etc..., still recognizable through the dust of ages. 

Having looked all over the place I concluded that the last time anybody had actually resided here had been right around 1970.

This is the stove that had been converted to LP. See the gas line running just in front of the burner top.
[Lorinda has informed me that this gas conversion was a new phenomena in stove tops beginning in the late 1920's]

What this old contraption could be was beyond me. (Lorinda informed me it is a road grader)

I had passed an old iron sign as I walked up to the house, and during the whole time I'd been poking around this sign had been tickling the back of my brain because I knew nothing about any "hiking trail" out of this canyon other than the route I took to get there. Such a route was not to be found on current topo maps. But this sign was firmly sunk in the ground in the opposite direction I'd approached from. Hmmm. The trail beyond the sign headed up canyon in the direction I wanted to go, and looked at first glance like a real phenomena. What the hell... I gave it a go, and was quite pleased with the result, for a while at least.

So my new exit trail meandered into the forest, headed straight up the floor of a narrowing Black Bob Canyon. The first "plus" was that I was climbing the canyon under a canopy of old oaks, and the shade was much appreciated. The second "plus" was that this hike out was kinda pretty. I'd been enjoying myself for quite a while when the track suddenly broke out of the forest and threaded through a small vale of chokecherry, the berries ripe on thorny vines. Minutes later the track to an abrupt right hand turn and started clawing a direct line up the western ridge of Black Bob. This climb was a haul, gnar, 2,000ft in less than 2 miles. I trudged up from the canyon floor, exchanging oaks for pines, and popped out on the forest road just a short 3rd of a mile from where I'd parked.

This had been an interesting little day. There is essentially zero information on-line about the who/what/and when of this mine, though it sure made for a remote excursion.

Chokecherry meadow.

Cuddy Valley from Tecuya Mtn Rd.

Lorinda Takes Us Back to the 1930s, Lockwood Valley (Part I)

Lorinda and her husband John, Frazier Park, 1971 (and below). Click any image to enlarge it.

It wasn't that long ago that Rinnie (Lorinda) introduced herself to us with her tale of serving two summers as the Lookout at Thorn Point. Those of you who've been up to the old lookout have seen a little piece of Rinnie in the carved engravings she left on the wood cabinets in the lookout cabin. For the rest of you, visiting The Lady From Thorn Point will give you some of the back story on Thorn and her history with that part of the forest.

Rinnie grew up in Stanislaus, near Yosemite. Her grandparents Herb and Ruth worked mining claims in the Lockwood/Frazier Park region starting in the late 1920's, as did her father Ned. Ruth worked intermittently to bring a little bit of the feminine touch to that rough world, sometimes cleaning a miner's cabin or taking in laundry (there is one funny tale from her story that I'll share at a later date). Ned helped construct the Thorn Point tower where, somewhat by chance, Lorinda was able to "man" the lookout. Here, she has sent additional family photos which give us a glimpse back to a time which precedes even the idea of the the Los Padres as a region deserving of National Forest regulation and management, a time when one could quietly discover some "color", and just as quietly file a claim with the nearest Land Office (what would now fall under the purview of the California Division of Mines and Geology). 

Placer mining started in the Frazier Park area as early as the 1840's. This was a wild and wooly time, with the US Cavalry at Fort Tejon chasing marauding indians, and white cattle rustlers fattening stolen Spanish cattle in the rich meadows at Mutau Flat before pushing them east to Santa Maria. Mining in that day was an even rougher sport than it is today, conducted between personalities instead of corporations, as is the case in modern times. Placer mining requires controlling the water, and I imagine that more than a few unfriendly feuds erupted over that resource, especially as ranchers moved into the area. 

Real mining in Lockwood Valley began in the late 1800s when the Frazier brothers set up shop in Lockwood Valley. Of the early mining operations, the only one to produce any significant quantity of ore was the Frazier Mine, which was producing 300lbs of rock a day at it's peak (equalling about $100 of gold per ton). That ore was milled with an old style wheel turned by a mule (called an arrasta). Warren Frazier (who was the brother principally responsible for developing the mine) was a binge drunk and lost the mine to some investors from San Francisco on a bad deal. The mine was blasted shut in the late 1890's.

Ore mining operations moved into the area in the 1930's and though nobody ever hit a rich lode, the local press was breathless with excitement about the possibilities. There were a number of mines which sprang up overnight (Stauffer, Esperanza, Gold Dust, Bunker Hill, Harris, Sibert, Hess, Maule, Fairview, etc...). At the same time Cuddy Valley, Pine Mountain Lodge, and Frazier Park were being marketed in Bakersfield and Los Angeles as a mountain resort for hunting, fishing, camping, and recreation. This generation of mining operations continued through the 1930's. The resort and recreation investments never really took off either, and were never a financial threat to similar communities in Big Bear and Arrowhead. Very little remains of those mines as the US Forest Service removed much of the old equipment and mine works in the early 1970's (destroying history in the interest of public safety). All that remains is talings piles and various namesake roads.

Lorinda's grandfather Herb and his son (her father Ned) both worked the Gold Hill Mine. Let's all give her a big "Thanks!" for the pictures and a taste of local history.

Rinnie's grandmother, Ruth, Seymore Creek, Stauffer Mine, Frazier Park 1931.

Stauffer Mine works, 1932.

Ned Poole in the middle (Rinnie's father), and grandma Ruth. Ned helped build the Lookout at Thorn Point, where Lorinda eventually spent two seasons on fire watch. Taken at Penn State Mine, Frazier Mountain, 1938.

Stauffer Post Office, Frazier Park, 1925.

The Stauffer Mine, Frazier Park, 1932.

Ruth, Lockwood Valley, 1931.

Lockwood Valley's first Ranger Station, 1931. The region's first ranger was named Reyes. A peak was named for him, and his descendent, Bob Reyes, still runs cattle on the family ranch in Santa Barbara Canyon.

Imagine this. Lockwood Valley's first schoolhouse.