In early May of this year, I attempted a fun little loop in the Santa Barbara front country. Starting at the southern terminus of the Tunnel Trail, I'd walk to the base of Arlington Peak, climb it, walk over to Cathedral Peak, and then climb La Cumbre Peak. After that, it would be a nice downhill walk on Camino Cielo Rd to the northern terminus of the Tunnel Trail, which I'd take all the way back to where I started. A shorter hike it would be, no more than 9 miles. Lots of elevation gain for sure, but nothing worse than what I've already experienced in the past.
I failed in that attempt because of hubris. Scrambling back down the steep east ridge of Arlington Peak in defeat, I promised to myself that I'd be back and much better prepared. Well, three days ago I came back and I was not better prepared. I gave it another go with only a single bottle of water, thinking that maybe since I knew the route I'd be able to do it more efficiently, hence the need to bring only one bottle of water. Early August heat said otherwise, and I found myself, yet again, scrambling back down the steep east ridge of Arlington Peak in defeat.
That last trip wasn't nearly as bad as the first however, as I not only made it farther than last time but also turned around well before dehydration set in. Being efficient on the trail was all well and good, but the heat was rapidly diminishing my meager water supply so I made the call to turn around before things got thirsty. On the way back, I took extra time to study the intricacies of the route so as to be absolutely certain on where to go for my upcoming third attempt. No wrong turns, no mistakes, no wasted energy. If I couldn't do it on my third attempt, well, that would be just plain embarrassing.
So I set off yesterday morning with 2½ liters of water and a Clif Bar, bound yet again for the Tunnel Trail. The haze from the Gifford Fire drifted through the air, looking a lot less dense than it did the night before. As I drove up to Santa Barbara, the haze moved north, the visibility of the area drastically increasing with each passing second. By the time I made it to the trailhead, the haze was practically gone. I had a window, a moment of respite. I took this as a good sign.
Like the previous two times I've been there, I had to park in the overflow lot down the street from the trailhead. Seems like this trail is always busy, no matter the time or day. Many hikers and bikers and trail runners were coming in and going out, performing their routines, getting some fresh air. I trucked on up to the base of Arlington Peak, walking at a steady pace, ignoring the mid-morning heat.
After dropping into Mission Creek, I gained the ridge to Arlington Peak without stopping. Having done it just two days prior, the route was crystal clear in my mind. No surprises, no wrong turns. I knew where it was steep, where it flattened out, where I had to scramble, and, most important, where I could avoid the scrambling. I walked with a measured pace, drank when I was thirsty, stopped every now and then in what little shade I could find. La Cumbre Peak loomed in the distance, the lookout tower on its summit minuscule and insignificant.
 |
| La Cumbre Peak |
It was much hotter than it was the last two times I'd done this scramble; the heat emanating off of the sandstone boulders making it feel all the more worse. But I had water and I had knowledge, and those two things helped me get up the steep east ridge of Arlington Peak lickety split. I was pouring sweat, completely soaked, my eyes stinging and my sunglasses blurry and smeared. I'd stop in the occasional patch of shade, let my sweat drip off my fingers and water the surrounding thirsty chaparral. Had to do my part. Couldn't let all that sweat go to waste!
With patience and discipline, I slowly made my way to the top, reaching the summit in just under an hour and twenty minutes. I plopped down in the shade of some manzanita and stared at the sky, allowing my heart rate to return to its normal rhythm. I had already burned through an entire liter of water, but, unlike the last two times, I had more. I wasn't worried, wasn't even that thirsty. One peak down, two more to go.
 |
| View west from Arlington Peak |
I spent ten minutes resting in the shade. And then it was go time. I wandered over to Cathedral Peak, a task that was SIGNIFICANTLY easier than the climb up Arlington. Now that I was no longer huffing and puffing and sweating my brains out, I could slow down and take the time to enjoy the scenery. I could see the haze from the fire stretching out over the pacific ocean in a long gray line, could see teeny-tiny structures of civilization in the west, microscopic homes, nanoscopic roads. To the north sat La Cumbre Peak, brushy and tall, and to the east I could see the Tunnel Trail, a tan line cutting through the chaparral, snaking its way downward from Camino Cielo toward Mission Canyon and out of sight.
 |
| Cathedral Peak |
I reached the summit of Cathedral Peak with a quick scramble, located the register and sorted through the booklets. Cathedral Peak has one of the most unorganized registers I've ever seen, even giving the Topatopa Bluff register a run for its money. Inside were bunches of booklets, all full, pages missing, dates out of order. I didn't even bother signing it; far too chaotic. Instead, I sat for a few minutes and looked at the view, my gaze mostly fixed on La Cumbre Peak directly north. Oh yes. Two down, one to go.
 |
| View east, Arlington Peak right |
 |
| La Cumbre Peak |
I scrambled down Cathedral Peak back to the "trail" and then headed west, following footprints and black arrows graffitied on the rocks. I followed a ridge of sorts, then made a hard right, and then it was down, down, down. I passed the spot where I turned around two days prior, excited to finally see some new country. Much of the path was heavily shaded, offering a nice break from the sun. I slipped and skipped down to the saddle in between Cathedral and La Cumbre, taking a little breather before the inevitable slog.
 |
| La Cumbre from the saddle |
 |
| Nice, shady path |
Back to the grade, back to the sweating. Though it wasn't as steep as Arlington's east ridge, the south face of La Cumbre had plenty to say for itself. Some parts were shady, some were not. Some parts were flat, sometimes I even went downhill, but for the most part it was a nice steep slog with some minor scrambling involved here and there. About halfway up, I noticed a register placed in between two rocks. The register was for La Cumbre Peak, but for some reason it was placed halfway down the mountain. Very strange. I signed it, drank some water, and kept going.
 |
| Strange register |
 |
| Some scrambling required |
Things remained steep. In fact, steep was the word of the day. Already tired from their mid-morning workout on the gigantic staircase that is Arlington Peak, my legs weren't too happy about this. Started to cramp up, started to lose momentum. But I stuck to it, gaining elevation one step at a time.
I reached some pine trees, grateful for their spotty shade. Water and rest, water and rest. To the south was Cathedral Peak, and a little to the left of it sat Arlington Peak. Santa Barbara spread out far below, a bit hazy from the smoke. The winds had changed, but they were making a slow go of it. The smoke eased into town at a glacial creep, the air quality still pretty good all things considered. Not wanting to waste any more time, I gathered up my things and kept going.
 |
| Almost there... |
After hopping up and around a few boulders, the grade lessened and I found myself walking on fairly flat ground. Ahh yes, the summit was close. It was at this point where the trail I had been following branched off in many different directions. I decided to follow the one that looked the most well-trodden. Sure enough, this one led me the rest of the way to the summit. It took me just over an hour to walk from Cathedral Peak to La Cumbre. Very steep country indeed.
 |
| View from La Cumbre, Arlington Peak right |
The lookout tower on La Cumbre was sectioned off with fence and covered in graffiti. I spent about three minutes there, looking at the views, resting on a little picnic bench. Nobody else was up there, but I could tell that the place gets a lot of traffic. Being so close to the road and with such tremendous views, I could definitely see why this is such a popular spot.
Instead of cutting directly down to the road, I decided to take a path that headed east off the summit. It looked like it connected with the road eventually, offering scenic views in all directions. Along the way, I observed the Santa Ynez Mountains stretching before me, making out Monte Arido and Old Man Mountain wayyy off in the distance. Even the Topatopa Bluffs could be seen, their distant, ghostly silhouette observable through the haze. To the north were mountains of the Santa Barbara backcountry, mountains about which I know almost nothing. And to the south was the great expanse of the pacific ocean, the Channel Islands obscured from view in a smoky fog.
The trail ended at the road, and for a while it was simple, boring, road walking. At least it was downhill. I coasted down the paved road, looking forward to the soft dirt of the Tunnel Trail. Every once in a while I'd stop and take a picture of the view to the south, observing the route I had travelled earlier that morning. Two cars drove by, neither one of them stopping at any of the numerous pullouts along the side of the road. Just going for an early afternoon drive I suppose.
 |
| View from Camino Cielo Rd |
 |
| Down the Tunnel Trail, Mission Ridge center right |
I only saw one other person on the Tunnel Trail; a sweaty, shirtless guy in his mid 40's huffing his way up to Camino Cielo. Perhaps that was his car up there. Perhaps not. No words were exchanged. Just nods.
As I made my way down the trail, I saw Mission Ridge looming in the distance. Some neurotic part of my brain told me to climb it, much to the protest of my legs. I decided to see how I felt when I got to the base of it. Sure enough, when I got to the base of it, I gave it a little looksie. Curiosity got the better of me; I just had to see what was up there.
 |
| Mission Ridge |
Whelp, as it turns out, there ain't a whole lot up on ol' Mission Ridge. No register, no benchmark, no table, no magical forest creatures. I reached the top and sat down, impressed with the view. Being lower than any of the peaks I'd climbed that day, I could make out some of the landmarks in Santa Barbara. Ahh yes, there's the pier, the Mission, the courthouse, State Street and the like. A pair of binoculars would do one good on Mission Ridge, especially on a clear day.
 |
| Top of Mission Ridge |
Directly below me sat the twists and turns of the Mission Canyon Catway, a popular path for mountain bikers. I could hear two of them, shouting about unknown things. And then I could see them, zooming down the path on what looked like E-bikes.
Satisfied with the view, and still having plenty of water to drink, I made my way off Mission Ridge and back to the Tunnel Trail. I trotted the rest of the way down, using gravity to my advantage. To my surprise, I caught up with the E-bikers who I'd seen from Mission Ridge. They'd left the Catway and were heading down the Tunnel Trail now, and both of them were walking their bikes. Seems like they weren't too confident with the sharp turns and multiple rocks.
I made it back to the southern terminus, completing the hike in just under four hours and forty-five minutes. My six-year-old running shoes probably weren't the best to wear for a hike such as this, but they carried me the whole way fine enough. My only regret is that I wasn't better prepared the first time I attempted this hike, way back in May. Ok, and maybe the 2nd time I attempted it three days ago. All I needed was some more water. That's it. Just water. But I'm glad I did it and did it right this time. Third time's the charm!
No comments:
Post a Comment