Cream Puff Peak

Somewhere in the empty recesses of my mind hatched the brilliant idea to do a time trial up Hines Peak. I don't know what it is with that mountain. It absolutely sucks but I keep coming back to it. So far, my fastest time from car to summit stands at 3 hours, fifty-five minutes, and seventeen seconds. This was three years ago when I did it as a part of the Topa Triple. That was a long time ago. And I wasn't really treatin' it as a time trial anyway. Since then, I've always wondered how long it would take if I actually put the peddle to the metal and treated it as a proper time trial. And since I've been cyclin' and whatnot, I felt like now would be a better time than any. I had to put my legs to the test. So I did.

Since it's been super hot these past few days I planned on waking up at 4:30am, hopefully starting the hike no later than 5:15am. I woke up at 4:30am, turned off my alarm, and immediately fell back into a deep slumber. I needed my beauty sleep. I woke up a few hours later, got my gear and then drove up to Sisar. It was the latest I've ever started a long day: 9:30am. The heat was already there, but it wasn't too bad. Mid to upper 80's. I could deal with that.

I breezed through the canyon, enjoying the shade, the bubbling creek, and the peace and quiet. Hardly anyone was out and about. Just a few locals out walking their dogs. I set a good pace, passed by "Howard's Place," and then dunked my shirt in the creek. It was my last opportunity to do so for a while, and by God, I took it. The next few miles were gonna be long, hot, and shadeless. I dunked my head, donned the pack, and kept on trucking. 

I felt a brief pang of regret for sleeping in. The cool morning air was long gone. It wasn't even warm anymore, just hot. Just plain ol' hot. The heat kept ramping up in intensity as I walked up the road, the rising temps uninhibited by nothing, not even a slight breeze. The Bluffs looked a long ways off, hot, dusty, foreboding. My shirt kept me cool for a while, but even cotton isn't a match for the Southern Los Padres. The thing dried up before I reached the junction with the Red Reef Trail. Just the pits and back remained doused in a steady stream of sweat. My head was like a shower, with drops spilling out of my forehead and dripping down my face, over my eyes and onto the dirt. Despite the heat I was still making good time. I had plenty of water, plenty of energy. The heat was just a mild nuisance. I continued on, walking up the switchbacks to White Ledge Camp. 

Just as I was walking into White Ledge, I got a little rush of adrenaline as I stepped right next to a big ol' rattler. Heard the rattle and nearly jumped 10 vertical feet. When I got back down to earth I saw it hiding in the tall grass, staring at me with villainous intent. I gave it a salute and continued on my journey.

I made it to White Ledge Camp and then walked down to the creek and dunked my head and soaked my shirt yet again. This would be the last time I'd be able to do this until returning, so I enjoyed it for as long as necessary for a time trial. It began to dawn on me that a time trial in the heat isn't such a good idea. Oh well. I was about five miles in and still on track to beat my previous time. So I took a quick break, downed some electrolytes, and pressed on, not looking forward to the next portion of the hike.

The stretch from White Ledge Camp to the ridge absolutely sucks. It's just switchback after switchback, all exposed, no shade, no nothing. I had to slow down and stop a few times. The heat was starting to bother me. Felt it in my head. When my head gets hot is how I know I'm on a downward spiral. It's the first sign of trouble. That stretch nearly defeated my confidence. But I made it to the ridge in a new personal best of two hours and fifteen minutes. The time trial was still on!

The Bluffs

I walked past Elder Camp, continued down the road, and then found some shade beneath an ol' scrub oak and took a little breather. I spent a good five minutes cooling my head, rehydrating, replenishing, the whole nine yards. I was already feeling better since gaining the ridge. There was a breeze now, a warm breeze but a breeze nonetheless. Plus it wasn't as steep so I wasn't exerting myself as much. A breeze and comfortable grade make all the difference. 

I reached road's end and hit the trail, walking up to the saddle between Peak 6440 and Peak 6380. I don't know if I was just losing it or what, but it felt a lot cooler walking this section. It was quite pleasant, with a lot of the chaparral sprouting some new growth, various birds calling out to one another, darting out of burnt trees off into the sky. Various elderberry bushes lined the trail, the violet berries looking ripe and read-to-eat. Even the poodle dog bush looked pretty, displaying new leaves in the noon sunlight.

Elderberry

I reached the saddle and pressed on, not stopping for even a second. I could see Hines now, and it looked intimidating as always. As I was rounding a corner I saw a large mass of tan fur dart off the trail into the bushes. I froze in my tracks. Did I just startle a mountain lion? Seemed unlikely, but you never know. I walked up to the tracks and was instantly relieved. It was a deer, a big one, probably a buck. What it was doing all the way up here I have no idea. Probably hiding from a mountain lion for all I know. 

I continued on the undulating ridge, enjoying the views of the Sespe Wilderness to the north. The closer I got to Hines, the stronger its siren song blared in my head. I was on track to crush my previous time by a little under half an hour. I was in the clear. All I had to do was climb it. But as I was walking along that trail, getting closer and closer to Hines, I noticed Cream Puff Peak standing quiet and lonely. I'd only climbed it once, as part of that Topa Triple adventure I'd undertaken all those years ago. I hadn't been back since. It just never seemed an interesting destination. If I was hikin' Sisar I was hikin' Hines. If not Hines, then the Bluff. That's just how it is. And that's probably why nobody else climbs it. It's overshadowed by Hines to the east and the Bluff to the west. 

I knew it was a good peak. Hell, I remember it being a better peak than Hines in terms of difficulty and views. And I'd only done it once before. I'd climbed Hines four times. This would be the fifth. And so, with great willpower, I left the trail for the summit of Cream Puff, resisting the alluring call of Hines. I looked at Hines, said, "I'll see you later," and began the steep ascent. 

Cream Puff Peak

Cream Puff is a mean little mountain. It's a 400ft slog up good for nothing scree at a 50° incline with no use trail. In some ways, it's even harder than the ascent up Hines. I sank with every step, a one step forward three steps back sort of deal. The peak was kickin' my butt. I was huffin' and puffin' and wheezin' and screechin' my way to the top. I didn't stop. The time trial was still on. Only now it was a Cream Puff time trial. I gave it my all, realizing that I'd probably never do a time trial up this mountain ever again. I scrambled up the last little section and hit the timer, completing the ascent from car to summit in three hours, twenty-four minutes, and thirty-five seconds. 

Hines Peak right

Santa Paula Peak center right

Backside of the Bluffs

Thorn Point, Reyes Peak n' such

It was hot at the summit. A weak breeze cooled the sweat on my face, but it didn't help much. I sat there sweating, the heat emanating from the summit rocks. I spotted the gargantuan summit register and signed my name. That's one thing that I love about this mountain. The register looks to be an ol' paint can. It has no reason to be so big, but it is. Started in 1999, the register has few entries, although it looks to be getting more popular these days. There were five entries so far this year, the most recent one dated two months prior on June 14th. My entry made it six for the year, a surprising amount for an SVS peak. Maybe Cream Puff is on the up and up.

I spent a little over half an hour on the summit, absorbing the heat, taking in the views. They were just as good as I remembered them. Hines peak to the east, the backside of the Topa Topa Bluffs to the west, the Sespe Wilderness to the north, and the whole spread of Santa Paula Canyon and the urban sprawl of Ventura County to the south. I could even make out the remains of Topa Topa Lodge, an ancient abandoned camp that Christopher Lord explored back in 2019. I performed one final 360 sweep of the summit, said my goodbyes, and then began the loose descent. 

The descent

The descent was more of a controlled fall. I boot skied down the slope, digging my heals in the loose shale. Sometimes my feet would give out underneath me and I'd slide for a bit, little pieces of shale scratching my legs and going up my pants. I got back to the trail in good time and then trucked on out of there, stopping only to take some pictures and remove annoying little rocks from my shoes. 

I jogged some parts, walked others. I only stopped once for a lil' breather in the shade and that was that. It was now well past noon and I was hikin' during the hottest part of the day. Good thing it was all downhill. On the way down I made sure to nab some elderberries. I ate several handfuls of them, my hands covered with red juice. They were delicious, although a little bitter at times. I made it back to White Ledge Camp in good time and considered scrambling down to the falls but decided to give it a pass. There were a few green pools down in Sisar Canyon, and a good dunk in one of those seemed more preferable. I walked through White Ledge without stopping, continuing onwards through the relentless heat. 

I left the Red Reef Trail and continued down the road. I was almost out of water and growing slightly dehydrated, but nothing too bad. I waltzed down the curvy road back down to the creek where I dunked my shirt earlier that morning. Sweet, sweet relief. I was just starting to feel the heat in my head and the water couldn't have come at a better time. 

I continued down the road, noticing a Subaru leaving Howard's Place. In all my times hiking up Sisar, I've never seen a car driving on the road. It passed me by, the folks inside waved, and they went on their way. I crossed the creek, hung to the right side of the road, spotted a pool, and that was that. I left the road and slid down a steep slope to the creek where I stripped down to my skivvies and immediately jumped in. It's insane the extent to which cool water replenishes the soul. I didn't keep track of the time. I just sat in that pool and soaked until I felt like a new man.

I dressed, put on the ol' shoes, and climbed up out of the creek back onto the road. The last chunk of the day went by without issue. Shaded, steady downhill. Easy peasy. Only saw one other person on the way down. Middle-aged dude riding a mountain bike. I made it back to the gate in excellent time, completing the whole day in seven hours, thirteen minutes, twenty-four seconds. If I didn't stop for a good soakin' I probably would've been able to break the seven hour mark. Oh well. That soak was worth it. 

The car thermometer read 95°. That seemed about right. It had been a long, hot, but rewarding day. Cream Puff Peak may not be the most sought-after destination, but those with the gumption and grit to reach the summit will be gifted with some of the best views the Los Padres has to offer. It's a goodun. Well worth the effort.