Reyes Peak via Chorro Grande

 04/03/24

Easter weekend brought some serious weather, dumping a whole lotta rain in the valleys and a whole lotta snow on the mountains. Afterwards, for two straight days, sunlight and warmth bombarded the snow to a point where I believed it would be reduced to a dusting. Last week, on the 3rd, I thought it would be a grand idea to climb up to Reyes Peak. I expected the views to be wonderful what with the weather being so nice the past couple of days. I called up Nick and we set off on the 33, bound for the Chorro Grande trailhead.

Reyes Peak is a super easy peak to climb if the gate to Pine Mountain Ridge Rd is open. All that's required is a nice drive to the trailhead parking lot and a one mile walk to the summit. Otherwise, the shortest way to the summit is up Chorro Grande, a 14 mile round trip hike with about 4,000ft of elevation gain. I had never summited Reyes via Chorro Grande so it was high time for me to try it. Plus the gate was locked so I didn't really have any other choice.

We made it to the trailhead just before 8:00am, the morning weather chilly and crisp. It was looking to be an excellent day with clear skies and pleasant temps. We moseyed along for the first few miles, following the gentle grade through a mixture of sandstone, chamise, and the skeleton remnants of chaparral burned long ago. The creek that follows the trail had a decent flow, requiring some minor acrobatics and fancy footwork to cross without getting our feet wet. 

Oak Camp

We took our first break at Oak Camp, preparing our legs for the arduous climb ahead. The camp was in excellent condition. Plenty of water in the creek, ample shade, flat spots to pitch a tent, and several old oaks make it quite the pleasant destination. From Oak Camp the trail drastically increases in steepness as it ascends a series of switchbacks up to Pine Mountain Ridge Rd. We didn't stay for long. We had a mountain to climb. 

We slowly made our way up the trail, our legs burning with each step. It was mostly clear of brush, although there was one section that was blocked by a fallen oak. At first, the trail was completely snow free. We could see the snow higher up on Pine Mountain Ridge, but I didn't think it looked like much. Goes to show how much I know about weather and snow and how long it takes it to melt. Pretty soon we were crunching on top of a good inch of snow. And it kept getting deeper and deeper and deeper. Before long, our shoes were soaked through; the efforts to keep our feet dry on the creek crossings earlier that morning were all done in vain. There were no acrobatics or fancy footwork that could save our feet now. Only thing that could do that would be a pair of snow shoes or plastic bags, neither of which we had. 

By the time we got to Chorro Grande Camp our feet were nice and numb, our backs drenched in sweat from the arduous climb up the switchbacks. There was a good half foot of snow here, all of it unblemished and pristine. The camp sat cold and silent under the frosty shade of a snow covered oak, the adjacent creek offering the only sound that could be heard. We had now made it to the pines, leaving behind the sunny and snow free land of chaparral. It was a different world here, a world much more quiet, cold, and ancient. The pines that surround the camp looked old and weathered, like the kind of trees that seem like they've seen it all. 

Chorro Grande Camp

The remaining trail to the ridge road was completely buried underneath a vast carpet of untrammeled snow. We followed slight indentations and the rare metal trail marker to stay on route, but it was mostly guess work. Just trying to find the path of least resistance proved to be the most useful way of travel. As we slogged along I quickly learned how fun it is post holing up a steep grade through deep snow. The farther we walked, the deeper the snow, and soon we were sinking up to our knees. Breaking trail, sinking with every step—all of it made for an extremely joyful walk to the road. With some luck and great exertion we somehow made it to the end of the trail, reaching the junction with Pine Mountain Ridge Rd, getting our first close up view of Reyes Peak. 

There's a trail there somewhere...

Reyes Peak in the distance

There was a little less snow on the road, a lot of it having melted during the past couple of days. The road loses some elevation as it goes towards the trailhead. No matter. Going downhill gave our legs a bit of a breather. In some parts it was akin to trotting down a sand dune. That downhill was a godsend.

As we got closer to the parking lot, we caught sight of some ski tracks. It appeared that whoever they belonged to went up the Gene Marshall Trail towards Haddock Camp, then followed the Reyes Peak Trail back to the road and then skied off trail, cross country, back down to the Gene Marshall Trail, creating a gnarly little back country loop. We followed these ski prints until we reached the turn off for the peak. We were back to the familiar scene of tall pines, steep inclines, and pristine snow. 

Reyes Peak Trailhead 

There was no point in trying to find the use trail to the summit. Sometimes we'd see signs of it, but it was mostly hidden. It was buried under a good foot and a half of hard packed snow. We broke trail up a steep incline, careful not to lose our footing and slide down the side of the mountain. My shins were bearing the brunt of the impact, scraping against the top layer of ice with each step. It was like climbing an angry StairMaster. 

We eventually reached a thin point along the summit ridge where we were gifted views of the Cuyama Badlands and the San Emigdio Mountains to the north. We took a quick five minute break there, catching our breath and enjoying the first good view of the day.

From then on it was a grueling slog to the summit. The elevation wasn't helping much, and the snow just kept getting deeper and deeper. There were some parts where we sank up to crotch level. When that happened I'd wiggle my way out, crawling on top of the snow like a caterpillar. We tried making switchbacks of our own, but doing so just seemed to take longer and thus use more energy. When we caught sight of what looked to be the summit, I was so done with slogging through the snow I just thought "screw it" and made a bee line directly for it. Could it have been a false summit? Most certainly. But it was a gamble I was willing to take. Thankfully, my impatience was unpunished. We had made it to the rocky summit, the sight of it hitting me with a huge wave of relief. It took us well over an hour to walk the mile from the parking lot to the summit. That was one tough mile, I can tell you that!

The summit!

The summit of Reyes Peak offers some of the best views the Los Padres has to offer. Lucky for us, the excellent weather from earlier that morning had held up. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, hardly any haze in the valleys, and only a slight marine layer up on the northern coast. Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, Anacapa, Santa Barbara, San Nicholas and even Santa Catalina could all be observed from the summit, each one a dark green mound surrounded by piercing blue ocean. The Topa Topa Bluffs looked small, snow capped and distant. Ventura and Oxnard were microscopic, the sounds of civilization unable to reach the remote wilderness. 

View West(ish)

We stayed on the summit for over half and hour, resting our legs and warming our feet in the sun. Because I'd significantly underestimated the difficulty of the hike, I hadn't brought enough water. What was left in my bottle wouldn't last the rest of the way down. But no worries. We were surrounded by water. Time spent on the summit was dedicated to rest, relaxation, and stuffing snow in our bottles. 

View East(ish), Haddock Mountain center

Soon it was time to go, and with that we gathered our stuff and eased our way off the rocky summit. Going down was significantly easier than going up. We didn't even follow our footprints on the way back to the parking lot. We stuck to the steepest parts of the mountain, jumping, skiing, and sliding down the snow in record time. What took over an hour on the way in took 26 minutes on the way back out. 

Headin' back

From the parking lot we simply followed our footprints all the way back to Chorro Grande Camp. After a while the numbness in our feet gave way to a persistent ache. But once we reached the camp we knew we'd be out of the snow soon. 

Just after leaving the camp, we ran into the first person we'd seen all day. He was a gnarly old timer, dressed in a sun hoody and baggy pants. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to see anyone all day and from the looks of it neither was he. We chatted a little bit about the condition of the trail and the weather and the snow level and whatnot, said our goodbyes and continued on our separate journeys. Other than that one guy, we were completely alone the whole day. 

The snow became slushy and muddy before finally disappearing. We cruised the rest of the way down to the car, now no longer worried about getting our feet wet in the creek crossings. The whole ordeal took a little over seven hours, although it felt much longer. This proved to be one of the more difficult hikes I've done but it was awesome nonetheless.