Free Beer, Sand, and Lizards

This describes my first three days in the San Gabriels, from the initial climb from Soledad Canyon Road to Camp Glenwood.

April 27, 2024; 14 miles

I started with a short hike to the Santa Clarita River.  There was plenty of water, but FarOut warns hikers to be careful of this water due to its agricultural watershed that includes livestock.  I had enough water to quench my thirst in the upcoming climbs, so I continued walking across the small river and across Soledad Canyon Road to the Indian Canyon Trailhead.

This is a deluxe parking area with a picnic area and privy to send hikers off on a 1000-foot climb, a 300-foot descent into Maddox Canyon where there is usually water in April, then a 1500-foot climb to the unused North Fork Ranger Station.  This took most of the day because the trail wound in a very circuitous path around the mountainsides, standard for the PCT.

There were a number of northbound hikers at the ranger station’s picnic area, and a couple were setting up tents.  I immediately headed for the privy, but when I got out, I spoke with an older Aussie and a younger Liverpudlian whose hair was all ginger and who had a heavy “streets of Liverpool” accent.  It was a bit like talking with Paul McCartney, not that I’ve done so, but harder to understand.  The Aussie said I should just go and stand by the gate and get a free beer and chips.

I went to the gate, as did a young woman.  I could see a heavyset, 40’s-ish man with a big, greying beard standing by the ranger’s house.  It was the famous “Ranger” Todd!  Sure enough, he came down, asked us if we wanted beer or soda, and brought out the goods.  My beer was a really good IPA made in Ventura, CA.  When I thanked Ranger Todd, he told me that he was really just a caretaker of the grounds – a ranger/fire station that was no longer used.  He used to provide water to hikers the entire hiking season, but this year he was limiting his water benevolence until after the seasonal streams start drying up in late May or so because he needed to conserve water for his own use.  So, his “beer benevolence” was an alternative way to provide trail magic.

I continued another 3 miles up into the mountains and found a camping spot just as it was getting dark.  I was near a dirt road and also near the trail, but it was the only spot that was level enough and free of sticks and rocks.

April 28, 2024; 16 miles

Since I went to sleep so late the night before, the morning hikers were saying, “Good morning!” as they walked past my tent – so I had to get up.  This day was rather uneventful, so I will reflect on the two items that seem to be the true definitions of southern California.

The first is sand.  No matter where you go – desert, beach, or mountains – the ground is all sand.  It’s like the entirety of southern California was lifted up from the beach and never changed.  Sure, it’s fine when you must leave #2 because digging a cat hole is very easy – unlike Appalachia, the Ozarks, or the Ouachita, where the soil is just a veneer over a pile of rocks.  But in most situations the sand gets to be a real problem – sand in your tent, even sleeping bag.  You shake it out, sweep it out, but it’s always still there.  Any water turns the sand into a brown slurry that grimes your face, hands, clothes, and even your food. The only respite is in the mountains where the growth of trees has turned the sand into a little bit of soily sand, but it’s still sand in my book.

The second definition of southern California is lizards.  I had no idea that everywhere you look lizards are darting about.  Southern California is literally crawling with them.  As you hike the trail they run across the trail – this way, that way, sometimes along the trail in front of you like roadrunners until they turn into the bush and disappear.  Some run straight and smooth while others – their whole bodies wiggle as they run.  The juveniles are so small and fast there is no way to get a picture, but the adults are slower and more curious, perhaps looking for lizard love.  They will actually do lizard push-ups for you, and that is when you can get a picture.

I tried to identify the lizards from web sources, but this is a difficult enterprise.  I guess that three of the pictures above fit the category of rock lizard, while the second from the top is in the category of horned lizard.  I saw one lizard that really struck my eye with a light blue tail.  This may have been a western skink.

Toward the end of the day, I crossed the Angeles Forest Highway (Forest, not Crest) at the Pony Park Day-Use Area.  There is also an operational fire station there.  Water is available, but only from the day-use area.  FarOut comments indicate that the fire station also has water spigots, but the fire officials get really mad if you use them by mistake.

I just kept going to the next camp site, which was nicely placed within a few hundred feet of a flowing creek.  The campsites weren’t exactly level, but if my head is a bit higher than my feet, that is fine.  It is only a sideways slant that is a problem.

I met two Scandinavian women there – the younger from Denmark and the older from Norway.  The older woman actually carried a hand-sized Norwegian flag attached to a short stick that stuck into her pack.  I told the women that I found the many Europeans on the PCT to be the most polite and friendly people on the trail, even though everyone so far shared those attributes.

April 29,2024; 17 miles

As usual, I was the last to leave the camping area.  I tend to not really get up until 6 AM, but by that time the sun has already risen.  Most hikers seem to get up at 5 AM or 5:30 AM with some rising even before that time.  I am the type who rises late and hikes until a later hour than most, the opposite of Ben Franklin’s adage.

This morning I ran across my first unfriendly type, actually spilling into the category of jerk.  I was on a climb and said hello to this incoming hiker.  He said hello – then after I had passed, he started ranting behind my back that I must be some unfriendly sort.  Evidently, he didn’t hear my initial hello.  Maybe I didn’t speak loudly enough, but I have noticed that hikers on a climb don’t always give the loudest acknowledgements.

I didn’t reply to this guy.  Maybe he is ex-military and expects, “Sir!  Hello!  Good morning to you!  Sir!”  My belief is that saying hello is a good thing to do, but to expect a certain response and getting mad if you don’t get it.  Well, that’s being a jerk.

This was another uneventful day in the western San Gabriels.  It’s like the Sierra Pelona, only higher in elevation.

It wasn’t until afternoon when I reached the Angeles Crest Highway, State Road 2, at Three Points, a parking area along this famous scenic road.

This 60+ mile road was closed due to snow at some point along its length, so the traffic was close to zero.  For the next 30 or so trail miles, you were looking down at or across the sides of mountains at this highway.

After several miles and crossing the highway twice, I arrived at Camp Greenwood with its camp building and outhouse that garnered a lot of coverage in FarOut comments.  Yes, I used the outhouse.  Always relieve yourself in a common area instead of dispersing #2 throughout the mountains.

I also liked the picnic tables at this site, so I decided to camp here.  Tomorrow starts the hike in the “real” San Gabriels with the National Monument expansion happening almost concurrently.