Chief Peak

12/04/2022

Clouds, cool temps, and brief, heavy rain defined much of early December. This weather, something that is seemingly very alien to the sun drenched, scorched and desiccated arid waste of Southern California, served as an interesting backdrop upon which to explore the local backcountry. In order to enjoy as much of this wonderful weather as possible, me and a few friends decided to spend the day climbing Chief Peak by way of Horn Canyon. With the car parked on McAndrew Rd, we began our journey hiking on the relatively new access trail. The going was easy, the conversations were light. The sounds of small, ephemeral streams met our ears, yet the steady drizzle of rain drowned out most other noises. As we began making our way deeper into the canyon, the rain kicked up, and the weather became more interesting. On our way up the dizzyingly steep switchbacks out of the canyon, our view became shrouded with misty clouds. It looked a lot like the chunks loading in a newly developed Minecraft world. 

When we eventually got to the Pines camp, the clouds had settled in, significantly restraining our field of vision. Couldn't see more than a hundred yards in either direction. The camp itself was very nice; it's obvious that a lot of hard work and effort has been put into sprucing up the place. Beyond this camp, the trail became a little more brushy. For someone who expects a clear trail with an arms length of space between them and brush, this trail would be a nightmare. But by Los Padres standards the brush wasn't that bad at all.  We moved through it with ease. The only downside was that the brush was soaking wet. The chamise, yerba santa, black sage, and laurel sumac that lined the trail all acted like one giant wet sponge. We got more soaked walking through this brush than walking in the rain. The wetness seeped right on through our rain jackets. They were useless.

Once we made it to the ridge road the wind kicked up, and with the addition of the rain, it made for a slightly miserable ridge road walk. The road itself had turned into a giant mud path, and it was fun navigating around the slippery sections and the ubiquitous mud puddles. The visibility had gotten much worse; couldn't see no more than 50ft in all directions. We hoped that maybe the top of Chief Peak was spared from the clouds, although I didn't have high hopes.

We saw the use trail, marked by a nice little trail duck, and then began our ascent of Chief Peak from its southwestern ridge. Despite the horrific visibility, the navigation was quite simple: just go up! The wind chilled us right to the bone, but the strenuous grade helped warm us up a little bit. A little too much. Before we new it we were sweating our brains out. Eventually, after slogging our way through the misty void, the tip of Chief Peak came into view. And huzzah! A sliver of blue sky could be seen poking through the clouds. We rushed to the summit, making sure to watch our step on the slick boulders and rocks. At the top, there was little jubilation. Much to our chagrin, that sliver of blue sky had vanished. There was no view at the top, and the wind never ceased in intensity and the mist burned our cheeks. But it was fun nonetheless. It was nice to realize our goal of climbing this mountain. Plus it was cool to see it in the strange backdrop of grey opaqueness. 

Signing the register 

Sittin' there on the top reminded us of how cold it actually was. As a result, our stay at the summit was brief, and before we new it we were shivering our way back down to the car. Our descent off of Chief Peak was a little different than our ascent; we decided to take the northern route out of fear of missing the turn off on the southwestern ridge. We wouldn't of gotten lost or anything, just would've had to deal with a lot more brush and nonsense. The northern route added another two miles or so to our overall trip, but they were downhill and they went by relatively quickly. Of course the visibility drastically improved the second we hit the ridge road again. Chief Peak popped the cloud balloon, and suddenly we were gifted with sweeping views of the Sespe to the North and Hines Peak and the Bluffs to the east. Everything south was still buried beneath clouds, clouds that looked like a sea of fluffy mashed potatoes.

Chief Peak

lookin' south(west)

By some miracle, we somehow managed to find a hidden geocache. Just stumbled upon it, all willy nilly. Weird how that happens. Placed in 2010, it didn't have that many signatures. Unfortunately, the ancient pen had run out of ink, and since none of us had brought a pencil we couldn't immortalize our names in the epic register. Oh well. Gives incentive to go back!

The miles passed quickly. It was all downhill, and the going was very easy. The longer we walked the more we sank back into the clouds. Eventually we were level with them, observing the surrounding world that was half in, half out. The clouds were like an ocean almost, carving out fjords and bays into the side of the brushy hills. At this point we took a small break, enjoying the truly spectacular scenery. It's crazy how much a simple thing like clouds can drastically change the beauty of an area. We were likely to never see Horn Canyon in this same light again, so we took some time developing our mental pictures. 

Saying goodbye to the sun

Eventually the sun disappeared behind the clouds and we were back in the familiar opaque grey void. For a moment, whilst resting at the Pines camp one last time, it seemed as if the sun would finally burn through. But it never did. The world was covered in a soft, fuzzy, cold light.  Observing the clouds and then looking directly at the horizon, near the setting sun, the world appeared almost like a Monet painting or something like that. I was glad the sun never burned though; it would disrupt the peaceful ebb and flow of this world beneath the clouds. 

The Pines Camp

After our brief rest at the camp the weather became moist once again. Visibility worsened significantly, almost as bad as it was on the ridge road earlier that day. The switchbacks went by in a blur and before we knew it we were back at the car. It was a good hike, with good views and good company. We only saw four people over the course of the whole day. I guess a lot of people don't like hikin' in the rain.