Matilija Falls Reconnaissance

That half marathon righteously kicked my ass. In addition to the chafing, I also somehow managed to tweak my hip flexor. I ran a 5k a week after running the half, and the second I finished I knew that 1, I definitely shouldn't have ran that 5k and 2, I'd have to give my hip a proper rest. No running, no hiking. Took the whole month of November off in order to heal up. By the end of the month I was more than a little ancy to get back on the trail.

Not wanting to do something too insane for my first hike back, I decided to pay a much needed visit to the falls up Matilija Canyon. Hadn't been back there in almost three years; my last excursion being the infamous Cara Blanca expedition of 2022. Since then, the canyon has undergone some drastic changes. Two massive winter storms have changed the layout of the creek, washing away some portions of the trail. What remained unscathed from the rains became a victim of disuse, with brush having reportedly consumed much of the trail. Some reports stated that most of the trail had disappeared altogether, although I doubted these to be true. The only way to know for sure would be to check it out myself. 

I left home on the morning of the 5th. Got to the trailhead a little after 10am after driving down the recently renovated Matilija Rd. What was practically destroyed during that doozy of a winter storm is now entirely passable, with just one brief single-lane section. Many of the homes in the canyon have been put up for sale, which is of no surprise. After what happened during last year's rains, I wouldn't want to live in that canyon either. While the road is still "technically" closed to the public I saw no additional signage farther along or anything of the like at the trailhead parking lot. Some of the locals even waved as I drove by, so I took that as a good sign. 

I set off down the trail, the air unseasonably warm. The light fleece that I brought along was quickly discarded to the bottom of the pack where it remained for the duration of the hike. The sun was low in the sky, casting a subdued wintery glow on the surrounding walls of the wide canyon. Before long I was at the first creek crossing, which was completely different from how I remembered it in my mind's eye. The whole thing was significantly wider than before, the small creek surrounded by the wreckage of a thousand boulders. The whole creek had been completely stripped bare of any foliage, looking like a giant white scar contrasted against the brown sides of the wide canyon. There was a newly developed dirt road that cut through the boulder debris, crossing the creek farther upstream than normal. A truck came lumbering down the road; I got out of the way, waved and continued on. 

I made it to a fork in the road where I made a right and continued through Blue Heron Ranch. A gentleman was up running a generator and getting ready to do some tedious yard work. We both waved and I continued along the road, noticing it shrink as the brush slowly encroached on its borders.

The road soon shrank to the size of a footpath. This footpath remained in fairly good condition until I crossed the creek running out of Old Man Canyon. After that, the trail was pretty dang brushy. There were a few spur trails that turned away from the main route, all of them heading towards the creek. There was one spot where I found a line of rocks blocking the correct route. I began to think that it would be easier to just head on down to the creek, but I'm a trail purist and I was curious to see what almost two years of abandonment would look like on a trail that was once very popular. I stepped over the man-made rocky obstruction and pressed on. 

I crossed another creek, ducking under pokey vines and busting through lush riparian foliage. I spotted some flagging tape and a cairn that marked a fork in the path. Heading right would take me to the creek, heading left would take me up a small hill through more brush. I decided to go through more brush. How bad could it be?

Turns out, not very bad at all. Some spots were brushier than others, but for the most part it was fairly easy to follow the trail. Had I never traveled this trail before, I would have found it extremely confusing. But prior knowledge of the route proved supreme and I made my way up the hill with little issue. 

Everything was going great until I hit the switchbacks that descend back into the creek. I discovered them to be 90% destroyed. Some intrepid explorers before me had marked a safe route through the rubble, marking the way with small cairns. I carefully made my way down, noticing a collapsed cairn in the creek bed that marked where to exit on my return from the falls. Not sure why there were there; the slide was obvious enough.  

What remains of the switchbacks

In the creek...

From there it was no mystery on where to go. I remembered there being a use trail that helped travelers navigate through some of the riparian brush that inhabited the creek before the rains. This brush is no more. And so is the trail. Maybe some sliver of it remains on the higher banks, untouched and unscathed from the biblical flooding, but I found it easiest (and just plain ol' more convenient) to stay in the creek. 

The farther I went the more scenic it became, the canyon growing more narrow and rugged with each passing step. I passed many new swim holes that had been created during the flooding, each one deeper and greener than the last. Many of the ones that I had remembered from the past were long gone, either filled with sediment or simply washed away from existence. I was surprised, however, to see one of them had not only survived, but had been significantly improved. Two gargantuan boulders, so big that not even the rushing current of a torrential downpour could move them, still sat on the edges of a deep emerald pool replenished by the rush of a small waterfall.  This pool was a good six or seven feet deep, much deeper than from what I remembered. I skirted around on the right and continued up the canyon.

One of the original swim holes that survived the rains

After a good amount of rock hopping, sliding, scrambling and doing everything that I could to not roll one of my ankles, I finally made it to the fork in the creek and made a left, skirting across several slabs to the base of the magnificent West Falls. They looked exactly how I remembered them. Good flow, slight breeze, 20+ feet tall in a canyon that's lost in time. The geology in this area is absolutely insane. Layer upon layer of sedimentary rock has been stacked, twisted and morphed into strange, whimsical shapes, looking like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. It's one of the most interesting places I've ever seen, on par with the scenery of the famous "Wave" formation out near Kanab AZ. I spent a good fifteen minutes just sitting there at the base of the falls, admiring the steep walls of the canyon that surrounded me.

West Falls

Insane Geology

After a bit, I went on back to the fork and continued north, heading for the other set of falls farther up the canyon. I hadn't been to these since January of 2022 and was excited to see what had happened to them after all these years. I found the north fork of Matilija Creek to be narrow, fairly free of brush, and choked with boulders. It felt wild and isolated, despite the fact that I was only about five or so miles away from the trailhead. And though it would've been easier to walk in the creek, I decided to take on the extra challenge of keeping my feet dry. With great care I managed to do just that, making it to the north falls without so much as a drop of water wetting my kicks. 

North Falls

The pool at the base of the north falls had been mostly filled with fine shale from a slide just to its right. Other than that, they looked just how I remembered them. These falls, though not as geologically spectacular as the west falls, are extremely beautiful and peaceful, serving as the stopping point for about 70% of those bold enough to make the trek. Just above them is another waterfall that I remembered having a deep pool at the base, but in order to get to there one must make a fairly sketchy climb. There used to be a solid fixed rope that helped things out, but when I looked at it, it was so old and worn and faded that I deemed it unsafe for use. So I climbed up the falls the old fashioned way, ignoring the sketchy rope. 

Upper Falls

The climb was actually not that bad, but I took my time regardless, slowly crawling up and over the right side of the falls. The upper falls were in sight. I dashed over a few boulders, climbed up a ledge, and dumped my stuff in the shade. By this point my back was soaked in sweat and I was more than ready to jump into that crystalline emerald pool. I stripped off my clothes and rushed into the pool, immediately regretting my decision. That water was COLD. Despite the warm weather, the water was like ice, and I let out a few hurried gasps before calling it quits and spastically swimming back to shore. I scurried up to a sun-soaked ledge like a lizard, desiring nothing but the warm sun with which I'd so recently grown annoyed. 

There exist more falls farther up the canyon, but I'd have to save those for another day. The purpose of this excursion was to get out there, see the main attractions and survey the trail damage (which was not as bad as expected). Satisfied with the my swift and safe journey to all three falls, I took one last look, gathered my things, and set off back down the creek, stopping every now and then to snag some photos of the impressive scenery of the canyon. 

I saw the slide first, then the toppled cairn. It was time to say goodbye to the creek. I soaked my shirt and dunked my hat in preparation for the brief but arduous climb up out of the canyon. I waved goodbye to the creek and scrambled up the remnants of the switchbacks, picking up the trail in no time. 

Some parts are brushier than others...

The sun sat low in the sky, now casting a golden wintery hue on the surrounding country. No wind, not even a faint breeze. Temps had finally cooled off, the chill of winter slowly making its presence noticeable. I made it back to the cairn, back to the flagging tape, ducked under those same pokey vines and busted through that same lush, riparian foliage. I saw the rocky obstruction, the one that I'd seen earlier in the day blocking the correct route. I crossed the creek flowing out of Old Man Canyon, noticing a few gummy bears on the ground that were not there earlier in the day. 

From there on out the going was nice and easy, the sun now obscured behind the towering Santa Ynez Mountains. I walked back through Blue Heron Ranch, waving at the gentleman that was doing yard work earlier that morning. We chatted a bit, him curious as to the condition of the falls. He finished by asking if I had a wonderful time, to which I said "yes" and to which he replied "wonderful." 

I half walked, half jogged the rest of the way back to the trailhead. It had been a nice and quick reconnoissance, taking a little over four hours to complete. Got some good information that will give me peace of mind when planning future adventures up the canyon. But mostly I was glad to finally be back out there in the woods. The Matilija Wilderness is one of my absolute favorite places the Los Padres and it was awesome to finally get to see it again after all these years.