Hike Mount Baldy to Wrightwood – North Backbone Trail

Mount Baldy as seen from the Baldy Bowl Trail. It’s a steep climb to the “Bowl”, let alone the summit. However, the alpine scenery and bright blue skies make it entirely worth it.

Hike Mount Baldy to Wrightwood via the North Backbone Trail.  This trip takes you from south to north, traversing the San Gabriel mountains eastern high country.   The terrain is high and dry, passing amongst wind bent pines, colorful outcroppings of rock, and views in all directions while taking you through stunning alpine scenery.

Total Distance =   Approx. 12 miles one way

Initial Elevation Gain =  3,900′  the first 4 miles to Mt Baldy.   Once on the North Backbone trail, which’ll take off northward at the 10,064′ summit,  there is an initial 1,300′ of steep descent down to the first saddle.  Next there’s 900′ of climb to Dawson Peak followed by 400′ of drop to the next saddle.  Finally there’s a brief climb of 450′ to the gentle summit of Pine Mountain.   Now and finally, there’s a good 1,400′ drop down to the last little saddle before climbing up a couple hundred yards to the end of the North Backbone trail.   In another 1 1/2 miles of level trail walking you’ll reach the upper end of the Acorn Trail where there will be  1,600′ of drop into Wrightwood.   Over the length of this hike your total Gain will be 5,250′ and the total DROP will be 4,700′.

Map to take:  Tom Harrison’s “ANGELES High Country” map, 2018.  Nothing against map apps, I just happen to really like having a physical map as well as bringing an orienteering compass, too.

Joanie and Chris just a short distance up San Antonio Canyon from Manker Flat Campground. That’s San Antonio Falls just off to the right of my shoulder.

This last Monday, my wife and I drove around to San Antonio Canyon above Upland, from our home in Wrightwood.  I’d been thinking about hiking up Mt. Baldy from the U.S. Forest Service Manker Flat campground and had been kicking this idea around for about a week.   As some days went by,  got to thinking that it’d be really nice to just keep on hiking from Baldy’s summit to Wrightwood via the North Backbone trail.  Easy, speasy.

All of this area, including the North Backbone trail,  I had hiked years earlier, meaning in some cases,  some decades ago…    It all seemed so easy in my head and being that it was only going to be a day hike, there wouldn’t be a heavy pack to lug up and down the ridge tops.   That’s it, a cinch!  I’m now pushing 59 years and still hiking, yet there’s no denying that the hikes take a wee bit longer and the recovery the day after is longer .  Yeah.  Well, as things turned out,  we got started a bit later than planned, meaning like almost 11:00 a.m.  Nonetheless, it ended up being a great day to hike!  My wife was going to drop me off at the Manker Flat trailhead and we’d meet up later in Wrightwood.

The Sierra Club’s “Ski Hut” was built back in the 1930’s. After a couple of really steep miles, the Baldy Bowl Trail passes just beneath this beautifully maintained cabin.

I’d wanted to show Joanie San Antonio Falls, which she’d never seen before, and peer down at some of the little cabins hidden along the little creek.  This meant walking the gated fire road,  which is unfortunately paved,  up to its’ first switchback at the base of the falls.  It can be sort of hot and exposed, like it was the day we went.  Still it was worth seeing the Falls.  We said our goodbyes out under the bright blue sky and off I climbed up the fire road which had now become dirt.  It’d be some ten hours before we’d meet up, again,  on the other side of the range in Wrightwood.

View looking toward Baldy Notch from Mt. Baldy Bowl. This photo was taken just minutes after passing by the Sierra Club Ski Hut.

The turn off for the Baldy Bowl trail came up quickly on my left.  That’s where the work began.  Two things that came to mind and became readily apparent in no time at all was:  1.  How much steeper the trail was than I had remembered it and 2.  Just how big Mt. Baldy really is, no matter which way you go up it.   It’s really a tall, broad mountain, especially by Southern California standards.  Throughout the climb, despite the frequent standing up rests to slow the heart down and catch my breath,  it was absolutely beautiful looking out over rugged San Antonio canyon.  The trail climbs quickly up through oaks, mountain mahogany, manzanita and of course, shading pines and white fir.  Just before reaching the Baldy Bowl, named by early x-country skiers in the early 20th century, you pass under the Sierra Club’s ski hut.  Available to overnight stays by reservation only,  this place is meticulously maintained and obviously loved by the membership.  No one was there that day and I just kept hiking along, grateful for the icy cold stream that lay just moments ahead.  There are strips of meadow flowers hugging the stream banks both below and above the trail.  Flowers and willows crowded together along the tumbling, silver thread of water.  The section where the trail crosses through the bowl is a complex of boulders, many the size of small cabins.  It’s slow going and requires taking your time to read the trail, watching for clues as to where to meander next.   Constantly, there was this sense that I was in the Sierras, and yet,  somehow this San Gabriel mountains scenery felt, looked and even had that scent of Sierra rock and pine.   All too soon, the trail leaves the Bowl and begins to switchback up through Jeffrey and Ponderosa pines.  Soon the lodgepole pines began to make their presence and so did someone else.

A solitary Big Horn sheep on the west side of the Baldy Bowl. This is a female or commonly known as a ewe. Often elusive, these creatures are able to easily scale the steepest and loosest of high country slopes.

It had been years since seeing a bighorn sheep.  Like always, it was never my eyes that would detect these elusive creatures.  The sound of a few pebbles breaking loose from the hillside caught my attention and there she was!  A few minutes later, another ewe peered at me from behind a fallen tree.  She and her lamb were grazing on about a 45 degree slope on the edge of the Bowl.  A double gift for sure.  Occasionally I’d stop at the end of a switchback and take in the changing view of the ridge line (Devil’s Backbone)  coming in from Baldy Notch.   By now I’d reached the broad ridge top defining the west side of Baldy Bowl, the immense scale of the smooth talus slope dropping steeply off the south side of the summit had become apparent.    The trees, pretty much all lodgepole, were twisted and sculpted by the centuries of storms blowing in off the Pacific.

One of the trail signs at the summit of Mt. Baldy. There’s no lack of directional signage here, a good thing.

One thing that really caught my eye along the whole route were the really well made and maintained trail signs.  Not only are there good directional signs along the way, there are even square steel posts with reflective tape on them, often giving you a good sense of where the trail would be should it be dark or there be a mantle of snow on the ground.   This trail has really been well thought out.   Another detail that became subtly apparent after some time was the lack of litter.  My route was especially pristine and free of trash.  There’s definitely a sense of stewardship going on up here.  I hadn’t brought a watch, so never did determine just when I summited.  That was purposeful and there was this wonderful relief at not having to know.  Probably at least several hours had elapsed before making it to the top.  There were probably no more than a dozen people sharing the trail up to the top that day.  Really peaceful.   Found a spot near the summit marker (elev. 10,064′) to sit down on my tired haunches, looking out to the north  and down into the Fish Fork.

Here’s the monument marking the summit of one of the most popular peaks in Southern California.

While taking in the view, a fit 30 something man with a solid build and neatly cropped red beard approached, asking if he wasn’t spoiling my solitude.  Of course not!  Pull up a boulder and sit down.  Pretty soon I learned where he’d been, as his IPA cracked open and quickly vanished.  Sam had started out at the Heaton Flat trailhead way down in the East Fork before heading up to Iron Mountain, one of the most isolated and difficult peaks to reach.   From there, he worked his way across West San Antonio Ridge to the summit of West Mt. Baldy.  From here, he’d drop down to Manker Flat and find his hidden mountain bike and take that back to his car by pedaling over the Glendora Mountain Ridge Road!  That’s the caliber of company you can sometimes run into on higher peaks…   Soon I was off and heading down the North Backbone Trail toward Blue Ridge and Wrightwood beyond.  Gotta tell you, taking trekking poles was one of my best moves of the day.  The descent was extremely steep down to the first saddle north of Mt. Baldy.  Spots where I definitely would have slipped just from fatigue, were pretty easily walked down with the aid of the poles.  This is a trip where you’d be glad to have a set of them.

Here’s the view looking toward the North Backbone trail from Mt. Baldy’s summit. That’s Dawson Peak straight ahead, just off to the right of the steel sign. Pine Mountain is further out, on the left of photo. Hiking this ridge is the key to traversing the San Gabriels to Wrightwood.

The climb up to Dawson Peak went well.  There’s lots of rabbitbrush along the way.  The trail weaved in and out of the thick yellow blossoms, giving the late afternoon light a feeling of autumn.  Mountain mahogany and twisted rock outcroppings kept things interesting as well.  There was a great view down toward the Cajon Pass with commuters making their sluggish drive back toward the desert.  A freight train could be seen climbing the serpentine railroad tracks as well, tiny in comparison to the arid landscape.  All this activity was silent, visible, yes, yet no sound whatsoever.  To my left, grand scenes of the Fish Fork and Mount Baden Powell, continued to dominate my senses.  A refreshing and constant breeze out of the west kept me cooled down.  Once on top of Dawson (elev. 9,575′), I signed the summit register and continued on down a gentle descent through sun – polished plates of schist.  Talus, I suppose.  Beautiful stuff that sounded like ceramic dinner plates clunking together under my boots at times.  There were even these beautiful, hidden, forested and shaded flats just below the trail at times, spots that would make for a perfect campsite.  Untouched.  Just before reaching the saddle between Dawson and Pine Mountain, I saw the old and seemingly untrammeled Fish Fork Trail coming in from my left.

Trail junction for the seldom trod Dawson Peak Trail in the upper Fish Fork. This is the upper end of what appears on Tom Harrison’s Angeles High Country map as being the 4 1/2 mile route down to Fish Fork Campsite, probably one of the most remote places in the San Gabriels. The elevation at this spot is 9,200′.

There’s even an old graying wooden sign indicating the way down.  I’ve always wanted to follow this trail which drops down to Fish Fork trail camp, probably one of the most isolated haunts in our range.  That old feeling came back somewhat suddenly, mixed with wonder at how good things still are in the backcountry here.  Pristine.  And since it’s hard to get to, at least for me, nothing’s trashed.  A constant truth throughout the ages.  Thank God. Amen.

A section of the North Backbone trail, looking back toward Dawson Peak. The ridge line on the horizon, seen off to the right is part of the Mount Harwood / Mt. Baldy massif. This picturesque “flag” tree in the foreground is one of many found along these high country slopes and ridge tops, sculpted over the centuries from the high winds blowing in from Pacific winter storms.

Soon I was climbing yet, again.  This time it was up to Pine Mountain (9,648′).   Weaving amongst more pines and mountain mahogany,  the sun continued to drop further and further down across the mountains, casting longer and longer shadows in the gentle wind.  Up on top, the summit register of nested red cans was easily found in a cairn of rocks.   The desire to linger here awhile longer was resisted by the nagging feeling to at least get to Blue Ridge and the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) before it got dark.  So, reluctantly, off I dragged my now tired self down a gentle slope amongst a thick forest of lodgepole pine.  The deepening pools of shade penetrated the forest in a way that reminded me of being a little boy, maybe six or seven, running through the giant sequoias where our family used to camp every summer in a tent cabin.  I missed people that I hadn’t thought about in awhile.  They all came back for a bit and I reveled in this.

As the sun sunk lower and lower in the west, I made my way along the top of the ridge to the north of Pine Mountain, dropping toward Blue Ridge which is visible to the right.

After a short while, the ridge top timber all but left, becoming a sharp edged knife of rock, bathed in orange golden sunlight.  Take your time here, Chris, something kept gently telling me.  I was tired and starting to get sloppy, not quite so nimble as hours earlier.  Eventually the ridge got easier and right before sun had set below the horizon, a beam of that gold light struck some dangling cones hanging from an ancient sugar pine.  This hike kept getting more and more gorgeous, nostalgic in a way.  In the graying light, I made a last little climb up to the dirt road (East Blue Ridge recreation road) to the northern terminus of the North Backbone Trail.

The gold light of early evening illuminates several sugar pine cones along the North Backbone trail. That’s the Mojave Desert in the background, while distant ranges still bask in the sunset.

I scurried up the slope behind the road, following a scratch trail that led to the PCT.  Turning left (west) and continuing at a pretty fast clip, I arrived at a spot just to the west of the large slide above Wrightwood.  The lights of homes were now twinkling in the early evening darkness.  Time to get the flashlight out.   I continued on in the dark, amongst and under the tall white fir and pines. Still no one around.  Perfect.  Here and there you could make out the silhouette of Pine Mountain to the south.   A short time later was the turn-off for the Acorn Trail, which would descend about 1,600′ feet down into upper Wrightwood.  Up here, it was possible to reach Joanie by radio, and yes, you guessed it….  Without a bit of shame, I took the ride back to our home in the little red Honda while Joanie told me about her day.  Why the hell not?  Who wants to walk on pavement I say to myself.  That ride was heaven on earth.  And so there you have it, it’s possible to walk across the highest point in the San Gabriels in a day!  The next day my thighs felt entirely spent while walking on the little stone paths around our yard.   And yet, looking back on it all, such as all good hikes,  it was definitely worth it.

Hike Circle Mountain, Wrightwood, CA

Hike Circle Mountain without having to leave Wrightwood!  If you live in or near Wrightwood, this local mountain is in just about everyone’s skyline on any given day.  The view along the way, not to mention at the summit, is a superb 360 degree panorama.  In less than a mile, you’ll climb about 800′ to the top.  Some parts of the trail are hard-packed sand and super steep.  It’s easy to slip, especially on the descent, so I highly recommend bringing trekking poles.

Excerpt of U.S.G.S. 7.5′ quadrangle showing the terrain from the east end of Wrightwood up to Circle Mountain. The ranger district boundary line from Lone Pine Canyon Road (BM 6,078) to the summit (6,875) is the hiking route to the top.

The route starts at a shiny white, heavy duty Forest Service fire road gate, at the crest of Lone Pine Canyon.  If you live in Wrightwood, it’s that gate on your right hand side when you reach the very top of Lone Pine Canyon Road before coming back into the village from the freeway.   You might even know the area at the fire road gate as “Helicopter Hill.”

Joanie stops to wait for me on the steep, sandy path. The summit is still a ways off.

Just walk around the gate and follow the fire road eastward for a few minutes before reaching a barricade of boulders, marking the drivable end of the world’s shortest fire road.   From here, the little sandy path drops down a little and continues along the exposed the ridge top before your climb begins in earnest.  After the initial steep climb, the trail levels out a bit before you begin the second pitch.  The Blue Cut Fire really burned off a lot of brush, including scrub oak and a number of pines.  Despite this, plants are coming back.  There are hardly any places to duck out of the bright sun, so bring a good sun hat and plenty of water.  You’ll pass by clumps of Poodle Dog Bush, recognized by its’ ragged leaf margins and pungent scent.   Also, look for Fremontia (flannel bush), chamise, yuccas and buckwheat.  The chaparral that grows here is subjected to day after day of intense sunlight.

Chris pauses by a trail cairn of “balancing rocks” on the way up Circle Mountain. The burnt thickets of branches are from the Blue Cut Fire. Scrub oaks are slowly making a come back in the scorching sun.

Here and there, as you climb, you’ll spot Jeffrey and Ponderosa pines with fire scars at their bases, yet their crowns blaze deeply green against the cobalt blue sky that only the high elevation can provide.

This view toward the southwest highlights some of the highest peaks in the eastern San Gabriels. From right to left: Pine Mountain, Dawson Peak and Mount San Antonio (Mt. Baldy) obscured by the pine trees. That’s Lone Pine Canyon Road in the right hand foreground.

Looking back up the Swarthout Valley toward Big Pines. The eastern portion of Wrightwood is in the immediate foreground. The main road heading straight through the pine forested landscape is Highway 2, the Angeles Crest Highway.

Something to know about Circle Mountain, is that its listed on the Sierra Club’s Hundred Peaks Section “peak list.”   The list was created by Weldon Heald back in 1941.  Throughout the decades, those attempting to bag all 100 summits, make a visit to our backyard mountain.

After reaching the summit, Joanie and had our lunch in a little glade of grasses amongst a grouping of tall pines on the north side of the mountain.  From there we looked off into the hazy distance of the Mojave.  The gentle summery breeze combed through the green boughs above.  A little bit of heaven just minutes from the start.  As we descended, the treat of one of the most unique views of Wrightwood and its’ Swarthout Valley was laid out before us.  This little hike, though steep, is one worth making the time for.

Joanie Kasten signs in at the summit register. Look for a U.S. Forest Service pre-attack marker and this little cairn of rocks while up on the broad summit.

 

Western Fence lizards are out at Tin Can Point

 

This turquoise colored fence lizard (Sceloporus occidentalis) was seen out in the warmth of early Spring at Tin Can Point. Tin Can Point is just up from Fern Lodge Junction on the Gabrielino Trail. It’s the first switchback you’d encounter after the trail passes through the canyon live oak forest and then enters the chaparral, just a few minutes up from the trail junction.

A beautiful fence lizard basks in the gentle warmth of early Spring at Tin Can Point.   See inset of the Chantry Flat – Mt. Wilson Trails map, below, to see where this point is.  As of this writing,  a cold wet pacific storm is dropping nearly six days of chilly rain and snow in much of the San Gabriel mountains.  Big Santa Anita Canyon dam has received over 5 1/2″ of rain in the last week.  Something I just learned recently about these Western Fence lizards is that their populations have the effect of reducing the incidence of Lyme’s disease in the ticks that live in the chaparral,  such as found covering much of the slopes of the Big Santa Anita Canyon!  Apparently, a protein in the lizard’s blood kills the bacterium in the tick’s gut, which is good news for hikers and even their dogs during the spring and autumn months.

Like most reptiles, Western Fence lizards hibernate, at least for a little while each winter throughout their habitats which are wide-spread throughout California.  As for food, these lizards eat spiders and various insects such as mosquitos, beetles and grasshoppers.   The females lay several small clutches of eggs (3-17) in the spring, the young emerging in the summer.

Detail of Gabrielino Trail section, Chantry Flat – Mt. Wilson Trails map.

On your next hike out from Chantry Flats, watch for for lizards flitting about on the trails and sunning themselves on the myriad stretches of rock.  As for the various types of reptiles to be found in the Big Santa Anita, Western Fence lizards are abundant and deserve a place in the sun!

source:  Wikipedia, Western Fence lizards

Douglas Wallflowers in Blossom

Here’s a Douglas Wallflower alongside the Upper Falls Trail as seen this last Monday while hiking up the Big Santa Anita Canyon under cloudy skies.   Our series of much-needed rain storms have brought back thick green grasses and the start to what’ll most likely be a colorful Spring of other wildflowers as well.  Joanie and I hiked the two mile Falling Sign Loop that originates out of Fern Lodge.

These Douglas Wallflowers (Erysimum capitatum) popped out at us just downstream from the double slot pools on the Upper Falls Trail. There’s also a nice grouping of wallflowers near the second bench up the road from Roberts’ Camp in San Olene Canyon.

Sturtevant Falls was tumbling down nicely.  The scent of white sage peppered the cool air and the background surf-like sound of the stream followed us the whole way.  We brought along an old shovel, cleaning off small slides here and there.   Wild lilacs (buck brush) are still sending their mild lavender scent into the canyon breezes while the bright red orange of Indian paintbrush pokes up from the damp earth near Hoegee’s Drop-Off.  And overarching along most of the route, the Laurel bay blossoms still cling to the dark green canopies.  Look for the tender dark reddish purple leaves of the canyon big-leaf maples as their foliage begins to fill back in for a new season.  Even the white alders are pushing out a myriad of their bright green leaflets, replacing that smokey look of dormancy with new life.

View looking east up into the East Fork of Big Santa Anita Canyon from Gabrielino Trail. Note the Toyon in the foreground, still hanging onto some of its’ red berries. That’s Rankin and Monrovia peaks in the most distant background. Clamshell Peak is barely captured on the right hand side of photo.

The Good Mountains of John Steinbeck

Posted on April 8, 2017 – Written by Chris Kasten

The Good Mountains of John Steinbeck were referred to in the timeless novel “Grapes of Wrath”, written back in 1939.  For some

John Steinbeck in his younger years. One of his timeless novels is “The Grapes of Wrath.” Published back in the 1930′s, this fiction follows a grouping of families who take their chances in California as a result of the dust bowl disaster of Oklahoma.

years I occasionally connected Steinbeck with this observation of the San Gabriel Mountains, as observed along Route 66, the “Mother Road”, traveled by thousands and thousands of migrants migrating to California from Oklahoma’s 1930′s dust bowl.  Had I really read that?

Well, this morning, I found the passage just after finishing breakfast on this last day of March.  Here’s an excerpt from John Steinbeck’s novel, Grapes of Wrath, page 152 (Penguin Books, reprinted 1987).   Imagine yourself driving that asphalt two-lane heading for California and the unknown.

 

“Then out of the broken sun-rotted mountains of Arizona to the Colorado, with green reeds on its banks, and that’s the end of Arizona.  There’s California just over the river, and a pretty town to start it.  Needles, on the river.  But the river is a stranger in this place.  Up from Needles and over a burned range, and there’s the desert.  And 66 goes on over the terrible desert, where the distance shimmers and the black center mountains hang unbearably in the distance.  At last there’s Barstow, and more desert until at last the mountains rise up again, the good mountains, and 66 winds through them.  Then suddenly a pass, and below the beautiful valley, below orchards and vineyards and little houses, and in the distance a city.  And, oh, my God, it’s over.”

Steinbeck is, of course, describing the southward view from what we now know as the I – 15 freeway, probably near Lenwood.  His “good mountains” are the San Gabriels and the pass happens to be the Cajon Pass.  The San Gabriel Mountains seem to have always held an allure as the “good mountains” to head towards and be in.  I wonder what John Steinbeck’s connection to the San Gabriels happened to be…  More to follow.

Steinbeck’s, “The Grapes of Wrath.” This page describes a portion of Route 66, the ‘Mother Road’, which travels from Chicago, Illinois to Santa Monica, CA. Page 152 makes a reference to the San Gabriel Mountains of Southern California as “the good mountains.” The next sentence reads “Then suddenly a pass, and below the beautiful valley…” This is the Cajon Pass and the following downslope Inland Empire towns such as Cucamonga, Etiwanda, Upland and more.

Cover of Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. As you can see, this little book of ours has gotten a bit of wear.