Lockwood Valley road is still closed. Very unfortunate. Had to drive the long way. Zoomed across the 126, dashed up the I-5, took the exit and coasted along Frazier Mountain road all the way through Frazier Park, Lake of the Woods, and into Lockwood Valley. The marine layer had disappeared, leaving nothing but clear skies and a harsh sun. Very dry country up there, the air so crisp and sharp it could cut diamonds.
I made a left on forest route 7N03. The gate was open. Nobody was on the road. In fact, I didn't see anybody anywhere. I seemingly had the whole place to myself; couldn't have been further from the truth but more on that later. I made another left on another road and drove towards Piano Box, windows down, dust flying out behind me, a light breeze shaking the pines. Somebody was camped at Piano Box, just a truck and a tent. I didn't see anyone around. Where could they be? Who knows. I didn't think about it too much.
I followed the road until it reached a dead end at the Yellowjacket OHV trail. I ain't never been on this trail before and was excited to see what it had in store. I began walking just after 11:30am, bound for Lockwood Peak, the sun shining bright overhead, my nostrils bombarded with the smell of dust, dirt, and ever-present vanilla scent of the pines.
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| Start of the Yellowjacket Trail |
I followed these big ol' dirt bike tracks for a ways, walking along the trail as it meandered down and then up some small hills. Tall, desiccated pines shaded a good portion of the trail, its sides lined with crispy and crunchy grass ready to burn at a moment's notice. It was dead quite. Not a peaceful kind of dead quite, but an eerie, unsettling quite that put me on edge. Felt like I was being watched. But I shook that thought aside and kept on truckin', enjoying the beautiful scenery.
Before long the trail turned into a single lane dirt road. The dirt bike tracks disappeared and were replaced with what appeared to be the tracks of a souped-up off-road vehicle. As I walked along the road I read the story of the tracks; I could see where they spun out, where they gunned it, where they drifted and slid, where they got out and walked around in their Vans and flip-flops. Seemed like whoever was driving that thing had a grand ol' time.
The road miles passed beneath my feet, the scenery changing with each step. I now found myself in an even drier and crispier environment than before. No more pines, no more shade. Just scratchy, pokey, prickly chaparral, rabbit brush, and dead grass. Good thing it was cool. This road walk would be absolutely miserable during a heat wave.
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| Road miles |
I hadn't really read any beta on Lockwood Peak, something that was now causing me much regret. The peak requires some brief off-trail navigation to reach the summit. I knew I had to climb a gully of sorts, but wasn't entirely sure where this gully was, what it looked like, or how brushy it would be. And from what I'd been seeing, eyeing the mountain to my right, it was lookin' to be a hell of brushy ascent. Shorts were not the best idea for today, but oh well. I saw a gully, figured that it was the right one, and promptly ditched the road and entered the brush. The climb was on!
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| The gully |
My legs immediately became covered with light scratches. I stuck to the open areas as much as I could, but there were some sections that I just had to bust through. I climbed over deadfall, ducked under branches, shimmied through buckthorn. Finally, after about three minutes of my off-trail wandering, I stumbled upon a cairn. That was a good sign. Figured that meant I was going the right way. I continued through the brush, following an animal trail, hopping over more deadfall. I saw another cairn, then another, and before I knew it I found myself on a well-worn use trail. My troubles were over! I'd follow this thing the rest of the way up the gully.
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| A good sign |
This path I had stumbled upon turned out to be the most well-marked use trail I'd ever seen. There were cairns placed every fifty feet or so; navigation wasn't difficult at all. What was difficult was the gully. It's a steep little thing, equipped with crumbly loose sections that get the heart rate going and the sweat pouring. By the time I made it to the top of the gully my back was soaked in a nice layer of sweat.
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| The top of the gully |
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| Near the summit |
I took a little breather at the top of the gully, drank some warm water, and then continued to follow the use trail to the summit. The path lead to a small forest of miscellaneous chaparral, a place where it became obvious that I'd have to "choose my own adventure." There were many paths all going in different directions, but it was obvious where to go so I just tried to find the path of least resistance. I noticed that someone had recently cut some of the foliage away, offering a nice respite from the prickliness. There were a few cairns placed hear and there, but I found them a tad unnecessary. I reached the summit without much difficulty, took off my pack and aired out my drenched back.
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| Mt. Pinos and such |
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| Lockwood Valley (Frazier Mtn right) |
The views from the summit turned out to be better than I expected, offering panoramic views of the surrounding country. I could make out most of the major peaks, including Mt Pinos, Frazier Mtn, Alamo Mtn, San Rafael Peak, Thorn Point, and Reyes Peak. I could even see the majority of the Topa Topa ridge with Hines Peak jutting up into the sky. I could see where the marine layer was waging its war with the dry climate, slowly encroaching upon Hungry Valley in the east, spilling into the Sespe beneath Topa Topa Peak in the west. I bet those two sections would meet later in the evening, covering everything except the highest peaks in a thick blanket of fog.
The register was in good condition, placed in June of 2015. The last entry was from October 12th of this year. I spent a few minutes at the summit, soaking up the ultraviolets, massaging my scratched up legs. I could see my next destination, San Guillermo Mountain, to the west. I took in the views one last time, signed my name in the register, and then set off down the mountain.
As per usual, I found a much easier way on my way back down the mountain than on my way up. What was strange, however, was how the use trail completely disappeared near the bottom of the gully. I was back to square one, busting through brush, climbing over deadfall. No cairns, no footprints, no trampled grass, no nothing. You'd think that there'd be a good use trail the whole way from base to summit, but this is not the case. Climbing that peak is a lot like how you gotta eat your vegetables before you can eat dessert. You gotta brave the mild brush in the beginning before you're rewarded with that nice clean use trail. But no matter. I eventually made it back to the road, pulled out some stickers hitchhiking in my socks, and made my way back to the trailhead.
There was a dust cloud forming at the trailhead. It was an off-road vehicle, operated by two old dudes wearing long sleeve shirts and baggy jeans. I decided to eat lunch at the trailhead, finding a stump situated in the shade. As I was munching down on a samich, I noticed the two old guys pointing into the woods and talking a good deal about who knows what. Then they got back into their vehicle and drove off. They were the first people I'd seen all day. And they sure as hell weren't the last.
It didn't immediately occur to me what they were talking about. But as I was driving over to Pine Springs camp, the realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. Along the way, I drove past a guy walking down the road, all dressed in camouflage and a bright orange vest, carrying a long rifle and a pack laden with ammunition and supplies. Farther along, in the campground, I saw men chatting around their tents, cleaning their weapons, looking at maps, all of them wearing camo and orange. Oh man. How could I forget? It was hunting season. This place was crawling with hunters. And my goofy ahh was out there walking off-trail like a complete dingus. No wonder I felt like I was being watched!
I considered saving San Guillermo for another time, what with the hunters being there and all, but I was wearing a blue shirt and I didn't plan on making any deer noises so I decided to go for it anyway. Not a very bright decision, but I've been known to make those from time to time. I parked near the pit toilets, grabbed my pack, and then set off in a westerly direction.
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| Into the woods |
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| San Guillermo left |
I went straight into the woods. No trail or anything, just plain ol' cross-country travel. It wasn't long before I picked up the remnants of a pretty good use trail which I used to gain the summit ridge. I was moving fast, my eyes and ears on alert, not wanting to startle any hunters lurking in the woods.
The use trail weaved up a steady incline, interrupted here and there with some minor brush. I found it to be much easier than the gully up to Lockwood Peak. I made it to the summit ridge fairly quickly, immediately gifted with expansive views of the Cuyama badlands to the west. A steady wind was ripping over the ridge, wicking away the sweat that had accumulated on my face. The summit was in full view now and it was a very straightforward (yet steep) walk to the summit.
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| San Guillermo Mtn |
The summit of San Guillermo was mostly bald, windy, and quiet. The register had been tipped over, but the contents inside remained undamaged. Placed in October of 2022, it didn't have a lot of entires. The last one was from October 12 of this year, signed by the same person who had climbed Lockwood Peak. In fact, after reading a few more entries, it appeared that a lot people seem to climb these two peaks together in the same day. Not sure of this is some kind of challenge, tradition, or what, but I was now part of that club, whether I wanted to be or not.
The views from San Guillermo are much better than those on Lockwood Peak. The last time I was up there was in April of 2020, and the views were just as good as I remembered them. The pleasant weather was holding up, the day being mostly clear and the visibility excellent. I could see far and wide, entranced by the rugged terrain of the badlands to the west. I spent a little longer on this summit, making sure to fully absorb the serenity of the spectacular views that surrounded me.
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| The Badlands |
I said my goodbyes and then trotted off the summit, picking up some trash on the way down. Going down went much smoother than the way up, but I still hand't let my guard down. I knew them hunters were still out there, and the last thing I wanted to do was be mistaken for a woodland creature. So I started humming a tune, whistled a bit, and trotted my way down the use trail. I found myself back in the woods, deciding to take a slightly different way to get back to the campground. I remained low, finding a dry creek. There were some cairns on the side of the creek, so I assumed this was the place to be.
I briefly followed the creek before exiting and resuming easy-going cross-country travel. I made it back to the camp in one piece, started the car, and then drove on out of there. It had been a quality day, lots of sun, lots of pretty country. That whole area is my favorite in the entire Los Padres. From Pine Springs to Johnston Ridge and everything in between, it's beautiful sight after beautiful sight. Hadn't been up there in over a year and was glad to be back. I just hope the hunters can forgive my stupidity...
