Cuyama Hills

It's spring on the Central Coast and the brief colors of this too-short season are on full display. In the foothills above New Cuyama the sun was up, the day hot, the bees and butterflies and lizards out doing their thing. As for me, I worked a rambling circuit through feral canyons and over several low ridges of weathered sandstone. I saw a pair of deer, a falcon and mated red tails, spooked a great horned owl out of a wind cave in a crumbling tower of sandstone. No particular agenda or destination in mind, no pressures, no problems. Just a nice day outside with only my camera for company. Go out and get some while there's still a bit of green on the hills.

Aliso Canyon Road.

Agua Blanca Backcountry

Here are some photos from an extraordinary day of off trail rambling. The area in question could be described as the wind blasted high country between Whiteacre Peak and the Agua Blanca drainage. I, and two mates, set out from Goodenough at sunrise, pounding through road miles. In time we switched gears, leaving the road for a brushy dragon's back ridge climb. This difficult ascent gained 1,500ft in just 0.85 miles. Hampered by the angle and the human repellant brush, the climb took more than an hour to complete, but this unorthodox route provided a quick access to the top of the hulking Whiteacre massif. 

From that point we turned north, busting, scraping, and crawling toward the wind blasted sandstone plateau behind Whiteacre. The going was rough, taxing. After a time we discovered and explored a tiered series of dry waterfalls, each tier taller and more beautiful and unique than the last. The lowest tier was tucked into a deep hollow of green oaks and spruce. As I explored the dramatic overhang beneath the middle of these three falls my comrades above were treated to the sight of six condors circling.

We climbed out of that sculpted terrain and onto a huge plateau of gently rolling sandstone. Over the ages the wind has eroded the surface rock leaving behind scatterings of harder, more ferrous stone strewn this way and that. Club-like tufas of weathered sandstone stood lonesome, patiently waiting for the day when their supports weathered away and gravity took hold. Wind scoured caves dominated any vertical surface, some being the size of a two car garage. We discovered a dramatic and bulbous arch, the likes of which I've not seen. In the sandy gullies between formations we saw numerous bear prints. This was a place of nearly alien beauty.

The brush mauling we suffered was a reminder that with some ingenuity and grit, going off-trail in the Los Padres is not only possible, but can be hugely rewarding. Enjoy the photos.

The TWO?!? Harris Tunnels?!?, Red Reef Trail

First off, I want to say that I'm so friggin' happy to be back on my feet that I want to do a little happy dance. But Homie don't dance, so instead I did 20 miles. Ha! Take that influenza virus!

Like most men I'm an absolute child about being sick. I hate it. Every sniffling minute of it is one big pity party.  But that's behind me now and to celebrate I bring you all an interesting riddle, one discovered quite by accident, as fortune would have it.

Apparently there are two (!) Harris Tunnels!

I did not know this.

Before I get to the Tunnel stuff I have to mention a few things about the day. Basically, the morning was glorious. Not surprisingly the Piedra Blanca/Sespe trailhead was packed with vehicles. I pulled into the last available slot and left the lot at 0700. Within a mile I was feeling perfect, just humming along. The sun was coming up, cresting the ridges downstream. Little birds were fluttering about, chirping. The morning air was brisk enough to require a little extra insulation. A quiet rushing noise rose from the creek on my right. A gentle sunrise breeze rose. The morning crystal clear. Things were as good as could be.  

I trucked right through the early miles, looking forward to reaching the junction at Bear Creek, where the Sespe Trail stars getting really scenic. Along the way I noticed numerous tents camped in the many unsanctioned sites sprinkled along the length of the creek. Here and there a thin streamer of smoke would curl out of the cottonwoods as I silently passed early risers. Clearly there were many, many people camping along the river this morning.

Eventually I reached the stretch of trail that crosses back to the north bank and starts a repetitive cycle of gently looping climbs and dips that circle around low shoulders of the hills above. Atop each little rise was a fresh view of the dramatic landscape ahead. It's easy for me to forget how pretty this stretch of country can be, how colorful the geology, how brightly the early sun beams off the serpentine curves of the Sespe. Eventually I reached the junction for the Red Reef Trail. I crossed the Sespe heading south and started up the tight little canyon which that trail ascends.

About a mile up the trail the canyon narrows dramatically, framed on either side by steep bands of red sandstone. The trail runs next to a small stream and sunlight dapples through the oak trees and occasional spruce. The canyon gets even tighter and around a twist in the trail one approaches what everyone knows as the Harris Tunnel.

This unusual feature was necessitated by the geology of the canyon. Over time the little creek had eroded a notch for itself in a huge, upthrust strata of sandstone. For the creek this was a completely sufficient solution but getting horses through the rocky creek would be a non-starter. The answer to this problem came in the form of drill holes bored in the rock on the east side of the problematic creek, these holes being packed with a judicious amount of dynamite or blasting powder. The result is a brief tunnel about 8ft high and 8ft wide. A rider would have to dismount and lead the horse through but otherwise the problem had been solved.  

This project was completed in 1907 by TJ Harris and RJ Harris. Says so on the wall of the tunnel, chiseled in their own hand. Another fun fact, there is an old site in Middle Sespe called the Harris Ranch, clearly the two are related. And that should be it right? Not so fast...

The south facing view of Harris Tunnel.

Harris Tunnel, looking north.

I stopped for a late breakfast at an open spot on the creek, got bored, and started doing what I'm programmed to do, which is to start poking my head in holes and scrambling over rocks and busting through brush and generally being a boy. An hour later I was a couple hundred feet up the east slope of the canyon wall when I spied what really looked to me like an old trail. Hmm. I dropped down a little bit and yeah, this wasn't some animal track. This was a real trail. Or, as I found out, remnants of a real trail. I picked up the path and started following it north toward the Sespe. It was overgrown and perilously washed out in places but a few minutes later I rounded a turn and twenty feet away was another tunnel. A big, round tunnel through red sandstone. I was a bit surprised to say the least. From this distance I could even see the marks left by the rock drilling for blasting. I wandered over to this feature and had a look see.

The first thing I did was walk through the tunnel and out the other side. I followed the forgotten trail a bit until it became impassable before returning to my find. First, this tunnel was actually two arches of rock. I concluded that the center of the roof had caved in at some point and made a natural skylight. Again I noted the bore holes. Unlike the Tunnel everyone agrees is "Harris Tunnel", this one didn't have any names chiseled into it, though I did find this one to be the more architecturally and esthetically pleasing to the eye. Pretty dang cool if you ask me.

Here's what I'd like to know: does anybody out there know the story behind this second tunnel? It's just a guess but I'm pretty sure this tunnel precedes the one on the Red Reef.

The "other" Harris Tunnel.

After that I couldn't think of anything else to do here so I went back down to the Sespe. It was so pretty in the creek there that I was reluctant to just cross and get back on the highway-like Sespe Trail. Besides, I could hear people on it from a quarter mile away. Sounded like it was crawling with tourists. I decided to stay in the creek for a while and avoid the masses. The day was warm by now and I stopped to splash my face and take in the sights. I'm glad I did because I was most of the way back to Bear Creek by the time the creek forced me back up to the main trail and into a mass of trudging troglodytes, slouched over with ill adjusted packs, yammering about how being in the great outdoors is so stress relieving. Blechh!

I'm not exaggerating when I say that on my way out I passed at least seventy (70!) people on the trail! I'm not exaggerating because I was counting heads and gave up at seventy! By my estimate there were probably close to two hundred people strung out along that trail and planning on an overnight stay. Probably a hundred people fighting over dipping a toe in the single pot of scummy, sulphury water at Willet Hot Spring. Ahh well, I'm sounding curmudgeonly. Must be my age or something. Pretty good to be back at it though. Take care. See you out there. And don't get that virus that's making the rounds, it's bad for your health.

No Name Canyon

I need a break from the Sespe for a bit. I've logged four recent trips into the Trout Creek morass and added this (today's) bit of scrum to the mix. Off-trail drainages have been a recurring theme lately. Partly I figure it's wise to knock these places out before the marijauna growing season starts up again.  Encounters of the narco kind aren't my idea of fun, and I've concluded that every little drainage in the SLP, no matter how remote, hosts such sites. Also, these drainages are kind of fun in their own sadistic way. But they sure do dish out a beating. 

The itinerary for this day included an exploratory recon up an unnamed drainage on the south side of the Sespe and just west of Bear Creek. This gully has caught my eye on occasion. The entrance from the Sespe is framed by a clustered jumble of highly eroded red-brown formations. This feature is fairly easy to thread but it does narrow down to a neat little slot. On either side of the slot are pocketed strata which rise like a small gorge to either side of the gully's outflow. In other words, this slot is a natural gate.

I, and Josh Weir, slipped through the gate and proceeded a mile up an extremely brush choked gully. Due to the recent rains, and the fact that this gully drains off a northern slope, every rock was slicker than snot. Muddy feet and slick rocks made for a tough go. The day was not without injury. As the drainage continued its winding course upstream we gradually passed into a zone of oaks scattered with a few sycamore trees. The brush remained a persistent hazard and we were often forced out of the creek onto muddy slopes in order to bypass particularly troublesome tangle or deadfall. 

After a while the trees grew taller and more abundant. The way forward became dark, dank and wet, the rocks blanketed in green moss. The gully steepened and water cascaded down numerous little falls. We climbed upward between immense boulders, sometimes over or under them. We slipped on slick rocks and dead leaves. Our pants were soaked and muddy from the knee down. 

We eventually climbed into a huge and deeply shadowed gorge of grey stone. This feature is very visible from the Sespe Trail and forms a dramatic "V" over the drainage.  Near vertical cliffs rise above a small hollow for several hundred feet on each side. The small space in between these walls was crowded with oaks, sycamores, and large boulders. Several old spruce trees grew in the upper part of the gorge. 

Farther up from the spruce trees the drainage devolved into a mess of manzanita and scrub oak, so we returned to the little hollow in the bottom of this upper gorge. We sat under the trees and had some breakfast and conversation, though Josh talks enough for both of us and I was mostly content just to listen. A quiet breeze stirred the sycamores and dried leaves rustled and fell. The little creek burbled through the rocks. Upstream a jay squawked. It was a good morning, grey and overcast, moody. Excellent exploring weather.

  

A view across the Sespe to Thorn Point.

Sespe Creek after the rains (and below).