I just couldn't shake my lethargy. The only thing I figure may have contributed was another day of 95 degree heat. Nevertheless, a goal is a goal and discipline to do what you intend to do is a reminder of that goal, so I set out to at least get in some sort of hike for the day.
My new found hiking hero is Andrew Skurka. He's a speed hiker, averaging 3 miles per hour over most any terrain. I've been trying this the last few outings, and it's no small feat to accomplish this pace on a mountain.
If there's one trail I recommend you at least do the first mile of anywhere in Los Angeles, it's the back entrance to Mt. Lowe off Mt. Wilson/Red Box road.
The first mile is breathtaking. Large slabs of white rock stand tall on one side of the trail, while you look out over vast wilderness and endless valleys on the other.
There's a tunnel there about 200 feet long, which is pretty cool too. It's cut into the majestic mountainside, and it's pitch black at night.
Just on the other side of that tunnel, if you walk in another 3/4 mile or so, there's an awesome old tower of some sort. I've watched the sun set there before, and I think it would make an awesome place to pitch a tent for the night for an in-town impromptu adventure.
Today I decided to set out for Tom Sloan Saddle. It would be a fairly quick 4 mile jaunt downhill then back up again. Usually the moment I set foot on the trail, my spirits are lifted, I am in magical land, and I am ready! Today, however, I couldn't get out of my head. For about the first 2 miles, I had to write internal gratitude lists, focus on being in the present and put one foot in front of the other.
The sun was blazing hot overhead, but as I've mentioned before, I thrive in hot weather hikes like this! Long sleeves and a white bandana head wrap, alongside massive quantities of Gatorade keep me cool and comfortable. After about 2 miles, I realized I was traveling at a snail's pace, so I picked up my feet a bit, finally got on the adventure train and put some intention into my journey. The trail after about 2 miles becomes a single track trail that crosses dried up creek beds multiple times, involves a fair amount of short hops over shallow ditches where the trail has washed out, and ends up on a super-skinny single track along the bottom, which to me looked like someone had carved it out again only days ago.
It took me 3 hours to travel 4 miles downhill. Terrible!! I considered making the trek to Dawn Mine. According to my map, it would've been another 2 miles down the riverbed. Once again, however, I was only out for a day hike, and although I had cell service, it was now 4:30 pm. I really didn't feel like a nighttime hike today, as I wanted to get to bed early tonight.
That being said, I decided to create an awesome challenge for myself. Usually it takes me, when I am running, about 1/2 the time to get down as it does to get up. Hiking, it's been about a 2:3 ratio, with the uphill taking about 1/3 longer to climb. I decided to see if I could reverse that today, knowing that I dilly dallied all the way down.
The first 1/2 mile or so back up was slow going. The trail was just too iffy in spots, too narrow and too washed out. After that, however, losing the trail was the least of my worries, so I set out to see how hard and fast I could go. I practiced lifting my knees high, taking large steps. I was on fire! I was panting super heavy, my shirt was soaked. I always play a game with myself wherein I'm only allowed to stop every 20-30 minutes, depending upon the heat and the game.
Today I'd only brought two 32 oz bottles of Gatorade and a bottle of water, so I'd have to ration it and supplement it along with the water I'd made today from the one creek crossing filled with the lovely substance of life. Gatorade to me is my new addiction. When I'm hot out on the trail, I could literally drink a bottle that size every half an hour. That being said, I'm not interested in hyponatremia, nor running out of liquid due to my gluttony, so my Gatorade becomes the way I reward myself when I reach a goal.
I plowed up the hill, pushing hard, seriously labored breathing. At exactly 20 mins, as planned, I stopped. I allowed myself a full 1/3 of my bottle. OMG, heaven! Stopping gives me an opportunity to look around. Today, I looked back down at the bottom of the dried up creek I'd just left. A loud crashing sound made my hairs stand on end. Something large had just run down the opposite side of that creek and had now made its way to its bottom.
For a minute I stood there wondering. It had to be a bear, deer or mountain lion. From the sound it made it couldn't be anything else. I wasn't fearful of the first two. The third one, however, still looms large in my fear-banks. It would be the one of those creatures that could make it's way straight up the hill it had just taken me 20 minutes to criss-cross, if it desired to hunt me for dinner in only a few short minutes. I stood still, listening. No movement. Nothing.
I continued my walk up my path stopping every few feet to listen. Once again, nothing.
It occurred to me that whatever that was, likely was watching me the entire time I was down there, waiting for me to leave. It occurred to me that it was probably as afraid of me as I was of it.
With that thought, I pushed back up the hill. It was unlikely it was coming after me, and if it was, I sure didn't want to think about it.
I did a fair amount of research before I starting traveling out alone. In 30 years, there have only been 4 mountain lion deaths to humans in the Greater Los Angeles Area. There have only been 9 attacks. One of those deaths was indeed to a woman on this very trail.
The likelihood of getting killed by a mountain lion is less than getting struck by lightening, and I figured the likelihood of a lion killing a woman twice on the same trail even less. Besides that, I honestly don't like to waste my head space worrying about dying. I figure if it's going to happen, I ain't going to see it coming. I always carry a super sharp knife on my hip. If something attacks me, I'm going to die fighting. I don't yet own a gun.
The trail switched back over white rock and Yucca, then into forests of Oak and Manzanita. Although I appreciate the shade, the one thing they always bring is bugs--by the dozens. I hate those little stupid flies buzzing around my head. My arm becomes a veritable windshield wiper, back and forth, back and forth keeping the damned suckers out of my eyes and mouth. I hate those things!
I've covered myself in Deet bug spray in the past, and that seems to help, but something about putting massive quantities of poison on my head doesn't seem healthy to me. I vow to research better head wear and wearable mosquito netting, because these suckers have more than once almost ruined my trip.
I keep pushing up the mountain. Each leg is heavy and tired. I force myself to ignore my high heart rate, and I keep pushing at this blistering pace. I arrive about 1 mile out from the top, where the single track turns back into a fire road, and I am amazed. I am literally going to cut an hour off my time, and I'm going uphill! Yeah, man! I love this!
I notice another water tower that I didn't see on the way down snuggled amidst the brush here. Seems someone else thinks camping on top of these is a good idea. It has a small rock tower fire pit built on top of it. Yeah, this one is far better. It's more secluded. No one would ever know you were here.
The other interesting thing about this particular point, however, is that it has an amazing view of the City of Los Angeles. As a matter of fact, I still had cell phone service here!
I pushed the last mile up the hill back through the tunnel, gulping down my last drops of delicious Gatorade. I made the 4 miles back up in 2 hours, for an overall 5 hours put into an 8 mile hike. Terrible! I shouldn't have dawdled so much on the downhill. I do not know how Andrew Skurka keeps such a blistering pace day after 30 mile day. Well, there's always next time to give it a shot again.
Sweating profusely and swatting miserably at flies, I finish the hike ducking into my car in the hopes of leaving them behind. Aaaah. You can't get me here, suckers! One or two are now trapped in the car with me, but I don't care. As I pick up speed on the downhill in my car, I roll down the window, and they fly out one by one.
(Update. I wonder about the accuracy of my map. Tuesday I walked 3 miles at a super easy pace around the track at the local high school. I don't see how I could've been walking slower than that--even on the downhill, where I knew I was dawdling. I'll look at using a pedometer in the future to have certainty.)
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