Cobblestone Mountain

I first learned of Cobblestone Mountain after reading a 2012 trip report by David Stillman back in 2021. It has intrigued me ever since. The remote location, the difficult approach, the cool register at the summit—all of these things made Cobblestone out to be a pretty incredible spot, one that I definitely needed to explore. I put it off for a while, instead filling my Sespe résumé with other cool destinations. I needed the experience. From what I could tell, Cobblestone seemed like a pretty formidable summit, and I would need all the experience I could get if I wanted to reach the top. Since reading that post, I've climbed Hines Peak from Sisar four times, Cedar Peak (an SVS summit) from Piedra Blanca twice, White Ledge Peak from the Ventura River Preserve, completed the Topa Triple, and made a successful summit of Cara Blanca in the Matilija Wilderness. I thought that after doing all of those that I'd be ready for Cobblestone.  How bad could it really be? I was experienced now, I'd been out there in the sticks, I'd gotten my shoes dirty. Whelp, as it turns out, Cobblestone was pretty bad. Really bad. Oh brother. This one was a doozy. I underestimated the difficulty of the day and suffered the consequences. 

It began in the wee hours of the morning on the 29th. I left the homestead at 5:15am, bound for the Buck Creek Trailhead. I thought that it would take about 2½ hours to get there. I was wrong by about thirty minutes. The windy, rut filled roads that weave through Hungry Valley and Alamo Mountain significantly slowed my pace. I didn't see a single person on my way up those roads. The farther I drove, the farther the distance between me and civilization. I reached the isolated trailhead just after 8:17am, the weather still somewhat cool. Not surprisingly, there weren't any other vehicles parked in the dirt lot. Looked like I was gonna have the whole mountain to myself.

I could see Cobblestone from the trailhead. It didn't look that far. It didn't look too hard. I could see most of what I had to walk from right there, and to me it didn't look too bad. Wanting to stay fast and light, I decided to bring along just 3L of water, leaving a liter behind in the car for my return. That was mistake #1. I normally hike with 3L of water and it's always enough. Oh boy. Not this time...

The first objective of the day was Sewart Mountain. It's almost at the same elevation as the parking lot, so it's not that difficult of a climb. The old trail goes right by it on the way to Cobblestone, so I thought I might as well nab the summit on my way over. This first part of the hike was quite pleasant. There wasn't much of a trail anymore but it was easy to see where to go. Most of the burned trees on Sewart Mountain have rotted away into the ground, leaving behind a very bald and grassy walk to the summit, interrupted by some deadfall here and there. I reached the summit in no time, admiring the view. Sewart is actually higher than Cobblestone Mountain so from there I would have to descend 1000ft to a saddle. I was not looking forward to the climb on the way back.

Topa Topa Ridge in the distance

I followed some dirt bike tracks down Sewart, avoiding deadfall when I could and keeping an eye on the several snags that dot the southeast side of the mountain. The farther down I went, the brushier it became, but it wasn't hard to follow the trail. I did make one little mistake, overshooting a junction that led me towards Snowy Peak and Black Mountain. Something just didn't feel right; I was heading too far east off the summit of Sewart. I backtracked up the mountain until I saw a little path cutting through some brush. This turned out to be the remnants of the Buck Creek Trail. Again, it wasn't super hard to follow, but the brush situation was definitely bad. I got a few scrapes from some dandy ceanothus on my way down to the saddle. 

I reached the saddle and began the long walk up and down several hills on the way to White Mtn Ridge. This section of the trail was still in good condition and was not hard to follow at all. Only after I started to climb up to White Mtn Ridge did the trail begin to get interesting. It looked more like an animal trail, but I could tell that a party of people had used it recently. I followed some bootprints in the dirt, noting the occasional trail duck, and busted through brush until I reached an ancient sign from the times of yore. 

The ol' sign

I was now on White Mtn Ridge, a lovely, lupine filled, pine-speckled alpine wonderland. I just needed to find a spot to descend the ridge to the saddle at the base of Cobblestone. Lucky for me, I picked up a use trail not too far from the ancient sign. I began another 1000ft descent, slipping and sliding my way down a 40 degree slope, dodging yucca and other prickly plants on my way to the saddle.

The descent

When I got to the saddle I took a little break, gawking at the presence of Cobblestone. Pictures do not do it justice. That mountain is huge. It puts Hines Peak to shame. I would have to climb about 1500ft in less than a mile, some of it through dense brush. I was in for it. But it would be awesome. I straightened up my tie, tucked in my shirt, and prepared for misery. 

Holy Crap!

In his report, Stillman wrote that the best way to climb Cobblestone is to just go up. So that's exactly what I did. I didn't look for any use trails. I saw several along the way, using bits and pieces of them here and there for convenience. Sometimes they'd just peter out and I was back to scrambling before finding another one. I went through scrub oak, ceanothus, and manzanita, one time burrowing through a tunnel of miscellaneous chaparral. These instances of brush were brief; most of the climb was actually pretty barren. Just loose dirt and rocks. But the battles with the brush slowed me down nonetheless, and the punishing climb was severely depleting my water supply. By the time I got to the summit I had already drank 1.5L.

Cobblestone on Cobblestone Mountain

Almost at the summit

The register, placed in 1960, still looked good as new. Inside, I found three booklets, one of which had entries going back to 1980. The most recent summit was from 10 days prior, on the 19th. Most of the entries were from Sierra Club members. The views from the summit were interesting to say the least. I could see Thorn Point, Reyes Peak, San Rafael Peak and most of the Sespe River to the west, along with the entire Topa Topa Ridge, Hines Peak, Bear Heaven, Santa Paula Peak, Dough Flat, Sulphur Peak, Whiteacre Peak, and the area surrounding Agua Blanca creek. To the South and east were views of Angeles National forest and "The Valley", and to the North I could make out the snow capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada. I've never stood on a summit this high and East in the Los Padres, so it was neat to see the forest from this different perspective. My only complaint was the bugs. It was bug city up there. As soon as I stopped they swarmed around my face. Gnats, flies, biting flies, ladybugs, and a whole myriad of flying creatures zoomed by, smacking on the lenses of my sunglasses, trying to get to my eyes, crawling in my ears. I ignored them the best I could, spending almost 50 minutes on the summit eating lunch and admiring the views. 

View Southeast

The Sespe

Entry from 1980

After getting one last good look at the view, I left the summit and rushed down the mountain, making a lot of dust in the process. I took a different way down than on the way up, avoiding a lot of the brush that was causing me so much distress. I made it to the saddle fairly quickly, taking another break before attempting the punishing climb back up to White Mtn Ridge. 

White Mtn Ridge...pain

I picked up the use trail that I used to descend the ridge. Going up just plain sucked. It was now midday, the sun was shining bright, and the temps were probably hovering in the low 80's. It felt a lot hotter while climbing that stinkin' ridge, but the breeze was cool so I knew it couldn't be that hot, you know? I took several breaks on the way up. Each time I stopped, the bugs came for me. After a while, I just got used to them. I'd sit there in what shade I could find, drenched in sweat, surrounded by bugs, thinking about nothing but making it to the top of the ridge. Climbing back up that ridge was almost as hard as climbing Cobblestone. It's no joke. It sucks.

Back on the ridge

When I made it back to the top of the ridge, I took a lil' break and ran scenarios through my head. I could see the summit of White Mountain while I was on Cobblestone. It didn't look too far. But I decided, there on the summit, that I didn't have enough water and that I should save the summit of White Mountain for later. Well...when I got back on the ridge my legs felt good and I wasn't too tired and I felt like I could make a quick trip across the rest of the ridge to the summit. That was mistake #2. I should have known better, given my water situation, but I stupidly went on anyways. I wanted to see the rest of the ridge, and I was gonna see it, dang nabbit!

Walkin' the ridge

Lupine on White Mtn Ridge

White Mtn ridge was very scenic. Lots of Jeffrey Pines, wild grasses and lupine carpet the ridge, with sweeping views of the surrounding country on both of its sides. It's a lot like the other alpine areas of the Los Padres (Reyes Peak and Mt Pinos come to mind), but this ridge just felt more isolated. I had the whole thing to myself, walking up and down the undulating terrain, admiring the natural beauty. 

Though most of the ridge was brush-free, there were a few sections of nasty ceanothus that I had to break through, not to mention some fallen trees that needed to be avoided. I reached a high point on the ridge, foolishly thinking that it was White Mountain. It wasn't, and I cursed myself for wasting so much energy. From the high point I could see White Mountain, a brushy looking summit that would require a few more gains and losses in elevation to reach the top.

White Mountain was not worth it. The route to the top was brushy, prickly and hot. The summit was a small collection of sun bleached rocks surrounded by spiky chaparral. I couldn't open the register; it was sealed shut and covered with bullet holes. My efforts of writing my name down in the booklet had been in vain. And to top it off, I had less than 1L of water left. I was pretty dehydrated at this point. My urine was dark yellow, I was feeling dizzy, and it was getting hard to swallow. I could see my whole route back from the summit of White Mountain. Sewart stood a long ways off, looking very formidable. The whole route looked long, hot, and miserable. 

A brief wave of anxiety rolled through me, something that I haven't felt in the woods for a long time. This walk back could be trouble. Would I be able to make it back to the car? If something were to happen, I'd be SOL. The one safety net I had, an emergency SPOT GPS, was dead. Forgot to charge it the night before. Oops. That was mistake #3. I was out in the middle of nowhere, off trail, running out of water, with a serious climb standing between me and salvation. I was on my own. I had to get moving. I got myself into this situation, and now I had to get out of it.  

White Mtn Summit

The route back

I took some deep breaths, calmed my nerves, and mentally broke up the walk back into chunks. First thing first, I had to get off White Mtn Ridge and back on the Buck Creek trail. This would require a few small, but tiring, climbs up and down the undulating ridge line. I kept it slow, moving at a shuffle, trying to keep my heart rate as low as possible. I no longer paid attention to the scenic ridge. I only looked straight down, keeping my mind on other things as I grew more and more dehydrated. 

Cobblestone (left) from White Mtn Ridge

I was not entirely alone on this endeavor. My pace had slowed so much that the gnats and flies could keep up with me, swarming around my face, trying to lick the salty residue that had accumulated there. The nuisance of the bugs actually proved to be a great distraction, and before long I was back at the ancient sign and on my way to the Buck Creek Trail. I just had to descend the ridge, and then I'd be done with this first chunk.

The next chunk consisted of the several hills that stand between White Mtn Ridge and the base of Sewart. They were no problem on the way in, but now, in my dehydrated state, they were awful. I'd stop every 25 minutes and drink 200ml of water. So far, I was making it last. But it wasn't helping much. I had stopped sweating, and the heat, which I can normally deal with, was starting to get to me. I was becoming more and more fatigued, dizzy, and nauseous. My mouth was bone dry. And even though I was going slow, my heart rate never seemed to slow down. At least it wasn't getting any higher. I must have been doing something right. 

Sewart Mountain, still a long ways off

Putting one foot in front of the other got me to the base of Sewart Mountain. I took a 5 minute break in the partial shade of the chaparral, surrounded by my insect friends. A few drops of bronze colored urine showed me that I was growing more dehydrated by the minute. I had about 200ml left in my bottle. I figured I'd drink the rest of it halfway up Sewart, which should hold me over until I made it to the car. This was the last strenuous thing I had to do after all. Just another 1000ft, and I'd be done. I was almost there. This was the last chunk, and so, with legs shaking, I slowly made my way up.

I've had my fair share of miserable hikes. This was one of the worst. It was so bad that I broke one of my cardinal rules and started playing music. Yup, I played music in the woods. Reggae. Warrior King, Sister Nancy, and Eek-A-Mouse helped me get back to the summit of Sewart. 

I didn't look back. Just looked down. I didn't care about time. I just needed to make it to the car. I finished the rest of my water once I reached the junction I overshot earlier that morning. I took a 10 minute break there, knowing that the worst was over. I made it back to the summit without further issue, updating my entry in the register with the included Holiday Inn Express pen. I took a few more pictures of the view and then jogged off the summit to salvation.

Sewart Mtn Summit. Note the bugs

The bottle was warm. I didn't care. I chugged the whole thing in one go. Probably shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't help myself. I was feeling a little weird, my legs weren't exhausted or anything like that. Just felt sick. And queasy. I needed electrolytes. 

The drive off the mountain was long, long, long. The water was sloshing around in my stomach. My body wasn't taking it. I dry heaved all the way off Alamo Mountain, down through Hungry Valley, and off to Gorman. 

I pulled into the first gas station I saw. I walked inside; it was cool and dark. No one else was in there except the cashier and me. I imagined I looked a lot like Tuco in The Good, the Bad and The Ugly when he walks into town after wandering in the desert for days. But instead of getting a gun, I bought a big ol' bottle of gatorade. Drinking that made me feel much better. I spaced it out over the drive back, taking little sips every once in a while, savoring the sugary sweetness. 

I made a lot of stupid mistakes on this hike. I really should have known better. My ego got the best of me and I suffered the consequences. In the end, despite the dehydration, I still had a fantastic time. Cobblestone Mountain is an amazing summit and White Mtn Ridge is one of the most unique places I've ever seen. Both of these places humbled me and put me in my place. I learned my lesson the hard way, and it's a lesson I'll never have to learn again.