Hines Peak

The days of taking it easy are over.  It's time to get back into the groove of masochist hikes. And what better way to do it than to hike up good ol' Hines Peak? It's been a while since I've been up there. November of 2021. That's a long time to avoid Hines. I needed to go back. Been suffering from Hines deficiency for a long while now...

On Monday, the 19th, our group met at the trailhead and we began the nice walk up Sisar. Everything was soaked in a nice thick blanket of clouds. The creek was still flowing nicely, although it's beginning to get choked with algae. Every now and again we'd hear the pitter-patter of water droplets falling from the roadside foliage. The clouds created a light, barely perceptible mist that provided the perfect hiking weather. We walked straight to White Ledge Camp, and it was there where we took the first break of the day.

From White Ledge the trail began its series of switchbacks up to the ridge. We eventually broke through the cloud layer about halfway through these switchbacks. To our surprise, it wasn't significantly warmer above the clouds. The weather was in our favor, so we pushed onward until we reached the little campsite along the ridge road. 

From the campsite we continued along the Red Reef trail to the saddle in between Peak 6380 and Peak 6440. It still looked like April on this stretch of trail. Several wildflowers were in bloom. Blossoming elderberry dotted the side of the trail. Faint carpets of pink and purple could be seen on the side of the hills. Ceanothus (California Lilac) seemed to be the most popular flower on this stretch; it was everywhere and extremely fragrant.  

Chief Peak center right

Ceanothus

At the saddle we got our first glimpse of Hines. It looked intimidating, as always. The northwest ridge is steep as all get-out. Not a good sight for weary legs. We rested at the saddle for a bit, stretched our legs, gobbled down some energy bars and then began what I believe is the best part of the whole hike.

From the saddle the trail undulates across a ridge until curving away towards the base of Hines. On this ridge one is gifted with stunning views of the Sespe backcountry. We stopped every so often to take in these views. On this particular day we saw the marine layer slowly creeping along, swallowing everything from the lower Sespe to Johnston Ridge. After we passed a large ol' evergreen we shifted our focus to Hines. The closer we got to Hines, the worse it looked. It's not something you want to see after hiking uphill for almost 11 miles. We got to the battered old Ladybug sign and then dropped our packs and took one last break before the inevitable ascent. 

The Northwest ridge

After our little break we picked up a conspicuous use trail and started the first part of the ascent: traversing across the razorback ridge. If you don't like heights this will likely be the turn around point for you. The trail is well worn into the ridge, but the exposure can be a little dizzying. A fall here could lead to injury, so a minor dose of caution is recommended.  

Razorback Ridge

After the ridge it's just a long slog up to the false summit. We kept following the use trail; it's very obvious and well marked. Part of this trail branches off to the left, avoiding a steeper section of the ascent. It joins the main trail at section of steep shale. At this point, we took turns climbing up the shale just in case we kicked down any rocks. After the shale section it was a nice zig-zag saunter to the rocky false summit. 

Above the shale section

False Summit

True summit on the left

There were several rock cairns that marked the route to the summit, even though it was quite obvious where to go after surpassing the false summit. We found the register and signed our names. I don't know what happened up there, but the old register was missing and the 2018 register was all ripped up. There was a new register that was placed in 2022. After signing our names we moved to the rocky eastern part of Hines and took a nice long lunch break above the clouds. 

We stayed on the summit for nearly an hour. Just before we began our descent, we ran into two people on the summit. Out of all the times I've climbed Hines, I've never once shared the summit. It was a little odd seeing these people and they looked just as surprised to see us there. We nodded, said hello, and then began the descent. 

Somewhere on descent, Zach tweaked his knee, so we kept it slow the whole way back. Luckily, the weather was still very nice. Last June it would have been face melting hot. We took our time walking back across the ridge, noticing the ever creeping marine layer spreading through the valleys of the southern Los Padres. Lots of butterflies and hummingbirds were flyin' around. A light breeze kicked up, much to our delight.  As we made our way down towards the campsite, we noticed that the clouds were rising. We couldn't even see the campsite; it was buried under a thick layer of clouds. Before we knew it, we were back in the clouds, our field of vision reduced to a few hundred feet. 

Back in the clouds

The switchbacks were really killin' Zach's knee so I tried to carry him a little ways. This did not work. So Zach got the idea to call his dad and ask him to bring a bike so he could ride it the rest of the way down. We found service, sent the text, and then proceeded towards White Ledge. Along the way, several trail runners passed by, one of them giving Zach his trekking poles. When we got to White Ledge it looked like a rain forest. The clouds were so thick that we couldn't see more than 50ft in either direction. Neither me nor Liam nor Zach had ever seen White Ledge like this before. We took a long break, enjoying the cool mist of the dense clouds. 

Brief Piggyback 

White Ledge Camp, soaked in clouds

We met up with Zach's dad a little ways past the second creek crossing on Sisar. As fate would have it, Zach's dad somehow injured his toe on the way up Sisar. What are the odds? So Liam and I took it slow with Zach's dad the rest of the way down, which was only around 2 miles or so. Everyone made it back to the trailhead without issue. All in all, it was a great day out on the trail with even greater weather. Hines is never easy, but it was good to finally get back up there after all this time. 

White Ledge Falls

The last time I'd ventured on the Red Reef trail up Sisar Rd was back in November of 2021. I had hiked that trail so many times that I'd grown sick of it. Needed to give it a little break. Well, break's over. Felt the urge to go back...so I went. The goal of the day was to take 'er easy. I've been in an easy mood lately. Liam and I weren't gonna slog our way to the top of the ridge. No way. Too hard. Instead, we planned on visiting White Ledge Camp, a much more mellow kind of destination. 

It was a pleasant walk up Sisar Rd. Despite it being almost June, the creek still had a nice flow to it. Certain sections of it possessed 2-3ft deep pools. Good spots for soakin' on a hot summer day. I could tell that a lot of hard work had gone into maintaining the road. It was nice and smooth, devoid of rocks and debris. We passed by a few people enjoying the creek. The creek seemed to be the place to be. It was kinda hot, and the steady grade was beginning to be bothersome. Just before the road curves up and away from the creek, we stopped and soaked our hats and enjoyed the last bit of shade we would get for a while. 

We saw nobody farther up Sisar. We took another breather once we got to the junction with the Red Reef trail. The heat wasn't unbearable or miserable—it was just hot enough to be annoying. So we ventured back towards the creek, dunked our heads and relaxed for a minute or two. 

A little ways before reaching the camp we heard the falls. And then, all of a sudden, we saw them. Yep, we saw 'em from the trail. I'd never seen them from the trail before, but maybe that's just because I ain't too observant. The creek in this section appears to have been stripped clear of all brush. It stands out like a brown streak in a sea of green chaparral. Perhaps it was impossible to see the falls before the biblical rains earlier this year, but I'm not sure. Regardless, they looked interesting, and if something looks interesting it needs to be checked out. 

But first, we needed to achieve our goal. We reached the camp and found it to be in great shape. Again, it was obvious that a lot of hard work had gone into sprucing the place up. There were two spots that made great campsites and all of the fallen trees that blocked the trail had been chopped up and dealt with. It's a nice spot, with plenty of shade, water and solitude. How this place escaped being burnt to a crisp during the Thomas Fire I do not know. But I'm glad it didn't 'cause it's a really great spot. 

We backtracked down the trail a little bit and then left it at a random spot and descended towards the creek. There are many ways to reach these falls. Some are easier than others. The easiest is to descend left (or right if you're going up Red Reef) directly above the top of the falls. Once you're at the top it's an easy down climb to the base of the falls. However, having never been to these falls before, we were unsure of the difficulty of this down climb. We brought no ropes so we decided to play it safe and skirt along the side of the hill through mild brush to reach the base. 

The falls were stupidly loud. I wondered what they looked like during the rains. Hundreds of thousands of gallons of brown water gushing over the top of the cliff at breakneck speed would have been a sight to see for sure. Now, in late May, they're still pretty impressive. Enough water was falling over the side to create a fine mist at the bottom. I walked up to the base and stood there for a few moments. It was like standing in a shower, a very violent shower. The cold water burned my head and the sound of it bouncing off the rocks drowned out all other noises. Standing at the bottom, Liam and I had to scream to communicate.  Bits of green moss clung to the sides of the cliff, and a strange orange slime covered some of the flat and smooth rocks near the base. We found a nice flat spot in the shade, directly adjacent to the falls, and took a nice long lunch break. 

We hung around for a little while, enjoying the majesty of these recondite falls. They're unknown to a lot of folks. Don't know why. They ain't too far up the trail and they're right next to a pretty nice campground. Seems like they'd be pretty popular, but I guess not. As the summer drags on I'm sure that they'll become less and less spectacular. Ephemerality. Perhaps that's the reason. 

Not wanting to climb back up the semi brushy hillside, we decided to scale the falls. This turned out to be much easier than expected. I ain't no climber, but I'd say that the climbing doesn't exceed that of class 3. It's a short easy scramble to the top of the falls, and from there it's a very easy climb up a nearly brushless hill back to the trail. 

Top of the falls. Note the lack of brush in the creek bed

We hit the trail and began the nice walk back to the car. A mountain biker passed us on Sisar Rd, the only one we'd seen all day. There were a lot more people out and about as we neared the start of the road, all of them soaking in the creek. We stopped one final time at the last creek crossing, dunked our heads, and listened to the sound of running water. Sittin' there by the creek offered a chance for reflection. Seeing the falls for the first time was just plain awesome. I never expected them to be so spectacular. Seriously, they were really, really cool. Probably in my top 3. Rose Valley, West Matilija, and White Ledge. Them's some good falls right there. Definitely gonna see 'em again someday. 

Cruisin' on the Carrizo

The pavement curved a bit and then became dirt. Dusty, dusty dirt. There were hordes of people. Minivans, SUV's, trucks and sedans were everywhere in sight. All there to appreciate the wildflowers. My sister and I saw them pulled over on the sides, the people hunched over and squatting trying to get the best shot. Some had binoculars, some had umbrellas, some laid out blankets and picnicked in the sun. The ignorant and impatient walked through the flowers, creating an unsightly trampled path in their wake. It was a Saturday, so we expected some level of traffic. But not like this. Even now, weeks after the hight of the bloom, the Carrizo Plain was still drawing visitors. 

We drove on down the road, taking in the sights from a distance. Many a time we became enveloped in a cloud of dust from somebody driving wayyy too fast. At one point a couple of dudes on some dirt bikes zoomed past us, coughing up a good amount of dust in the process. Way down the road, towards Soda Lake, we could see more dust rising off the plain. Lots of people, lots of people indeed.

It was strange seeing the plain like this. The hight of the bloom had passed, the colors were fading. The grass was beginning to turn golden, the air hot, and the sun more menacing. These are things that turn the average tourist away. They want to see things in full swing, they want to get the full deal. So with that in mind, we had thought that the plain wouldn't be so popular this late in the season. But I guess we weren't the only ones with that idea. 

But no matter. The Carrizo doesn't care about people. It just does it's own thing. Its vastness and beauty were enough to swallow up the sounds of the cars and the dust. Standing on a small hill, we could barely make out the cars on the road. They looked like little beetles crawling down a sandy path. 

As we looked across the vast plain we cold see little blotches of color. It looked like some giant had been carrying a paint bucket and had spilled product all willy nilly. Here and there would be a big splotch of yellow, over yonder a smatter of magenta, and way off in the distance a daub of orange. All of these colors were spilled onto a boundless canvas of golden green. Taken in as a whole, it appeared like some abstract modern art painting; like a less chaotic Jackson Pollack piece. After enjoying our lunch on this hill we descended and drove farther along the road, towards Soda Lake. 

The little overlook right next to Soda Lake seemed to be the place to be. Everyone and their mother was there. It was packed—cars lined down the road and everything. We were lucky and managed to find a spot close to the base of the overlook. There was an information tent and portable toilets right at the beginning of the climb. People of all walks of life were coming and going, out and about, walking around. At the top was a tremendous view of Soda Lake, which, surprisingly, was pretty dang full. It looked like one of those reflection pools you'd see at the National Mall. Wanting to get a closer look, we descended the hill and drove a little ways back down the road to a path that led right up to the water's edge. 

Soda Lake

After seeing the lake we turned around and went back the way we came, stopping at a few places we thought were interesting. When it wasn't dusty we rolled down the windows, letting the aroma of the plain flush its way through the car. The air was warm and sweet and grassy. Couldn't really smell the flowers all that well, but that's alright. A strong flower smell can be a little much at times, you know? Better to mix it with dirt and dust. 

We reached the pavement near the border of the plain and the dust was no more. There, we saw a whole army of caterpillars zooming across the road. I've never seen anything like it before. There were hundreds of them dashing as fast as they could to get to the other side. Splattered remains of those that were unlucky covered the road like the dots on a Dalmatian. Don't know why they were so desperate to cross the road. Maybe the grass was better on that side or something. 

Blurry picture of lone caterpillar crossing the road

The drive back was long and uneventful, but it was nice seeing the surrounding area. The was still snow on the Emigdio Range, something that I wasn't expecting see. It's almost May and there's still snow on the mountains—how crazy is that? Come summertime I plan on giving that area a proper exploration. As for the day's adventure, well, it was a goodun. Other than the caterpillar slaughter, it had been a real chill kinda day. Just drivin' around and lookin' at pretty flowers. Can't beat it. Life's not all about going on crazy hikes and climbing mountains and busting through brush. Sometimes you gotta chill out and experience the mellow things. And that's all I gotta say!

Snow!

Pratt and Gridley Loop

Last week I decided to take a little walk in the Ojai front country to see the condition of two of my favorite trails. I had a little bit of a late start at around 12:30pm. Several cars were lined up on Signal street, probably belonging to folks who were hiking Shelf Road. The parking area for the Pratt Trailhead was almost full, but luckily I nabbed a spot at the last minute.

I don't think I've ever seen the trail this crowded. Several people were out and about, most of them enjoying the roaring creek to the left of the trail. I don't blame them; it's rare to see it flowing with such force at this time of year. I would cross this creek a total of four times, something that I haven't been able to do for a VERY long time. Everything was hyper-green, and here and there were colorful blooms of ceanothus and California poppies. 

As I progressed, it became noticeable that most people were hanging around the lower portions of the trail. I guess the junction with the Fuel Break road was the turnaround point for most folks. This was a welcome surprise for sure, as I definitely expected to be sharing the narrow single track with hordes of people. 

Stewart Canyon

Before long, I left the road and made a right on the narrow single track that continues up towards Nordhoff Peak. Way up on this trail, I could still hear the creek roaring from far down below. This was a little strange for me, for I have grown accustomed to hearing nothing but the crunching dirt beneath my shoes and maybe the occasional gust of wind while walking this trail. That creek is dry for most of the year and when it's not, it's typically pretty unassuming and dribbles out after month or so. Not today. The recent storms have turned this creek into a hulked-out version of its former self. Several waterfalls roared down Stewart Canyon, pouring into aqua pool after aqua pool. It looked like something that you would see in the foothills of the Sierra. Really puts into perspective just how much rain we got this year. 

After walking for a bit I stumbled upon the infamous slide that took out three sections of the trail. I passed a group of Boy Scouts wearing heavy packs making their way across the first washed out section. It didn't look like they were doing trail maintenance, so I don't really know what they were doing up there. The first washed out section was pretty manageable, but the second required a little more caution.

2nd washed out section. Boy Scouts on the left.

The third washed out section was a little sketchy. It was the largest of the three; I'm guessing that it took out a good 40-50ft of trail, maybe more. It's also near the top of the slide, so a slip here would result in a nasty tumble down the side of the mountain. It looked like some people had kicked in little steps to get across, but the surface of the ground was incredibly crumbly and I didn't really trust any of them. In addition to being crumbly, underneath it was compact and solid, preventing me from skirting across like I would a shale or gravel slide. I took my time and made it across without issue. Should anyone attempt this before it's inevitably fixed, I recommend a healthy dose of common sense and caution. 

The 3rd washed out section. Worst of the three. 

Picture doesn't capture steepness

Looking down from atop the slide. Nearly took out a fourth
section of trail where I'm standing.

After the slide I only saw four other people on Pratt. Not surprising. That slide was a pretty scary obstacle. The reward for having traversed said obstacle was a nice view of the multiple waterfalls in Stewart Canyon. I took my time zig-zagging up the switchbacks, taking in the incredible views of the surrounding area. 

Waterfalls in Stewart Canyon

After a while, I reached the junction with the little trail that leads into Valley View Camp. Curious to see if the storms washed away the camp, I decided to do a little exploring. Near the bottom of the switchbacks on this little trail is a small drainage, and this drainage has done some minor damage. Two sections on the lower part of this trail are completely washed out, but are easily navigable. To my surprise, the camp was still there, fire pit, wooden seats and all. It just barely escaped getting washed away. The "little" creek next to it was rushing and ripping down towards Stewart Canyon, churning up the water in some of the pools so much so that they were completely opaque. 

"Little" creek next to Valley View Camp

This swim hole is likely chest deep

This little creek ends at a cliff face that overlooks the Ojai Valley. I suppose that's how the camp got its name. Pouring over the side of this cliff was a massive waterfall. It looked like the kind of waterfall that you would see in Matilija Canyon or something like that. I can only imagine what THOSE falls look like now. In all the times that I've visited this camp, I've never seen this much water tumbling over the cliff. Usually, this waterfall is pretty small, consisting of a tiny stream. Not this time. It was truly a sight to behold. I did a little scrambling to get a full view of the fall. It poured into a small pool at the bottom, which then meandered down the canyon towards another waterfall. I don't know the total number of waterfalls in that canyon, but judging by how loud it was I'm assuming there's A LOT.

Top of the big falls

WOW!

I stayed in Valley View Camp for a little while and then slogged my way up to the ridge road. The section of trail from the campground to the ridge road is in excellent condition with very little damage. Once I got to the ridge road I was gifted with views of the Matilija backcountry. The snowcapped summits of Monte Arido and Old Man Mountain were visible in the distance. 

The remaining walk to the lookout tower was pretty uneventful. Near the top I passed some trail runners who were making their way back towards Pratt. At the top I talked with a kid who had rode his mountain bike up Gridley. He said that the trail was in great shape, and that he was grateful that his bike was electric. Those dang electric bikes sure are popular these days. Seems like everyone's ridin' them. 

Nordhoff Tower

The views from the tower are always exceptional, and on that day they were no different. The visibility wasn't the best I've seen but it was pretty dang clear. Santa Cruz, Anacapa, and a little bit of Santa Rosa were visible in the distance, along with the Santa Monica Mountains and the urban sprawl of the Oxnard Plain. The Ventura River stuck out like a sore thumb; the recent rains having stripped away most vegetation. Some of the trees on Pine Mountain Ridge still had a dusting of snow on them, which stood out in stark contrast with the vibrant green springtime wonderland that lay just to the south. It was quiet up there, with a little bit of clouds and a gentle breeze. Just how I like it. 

Pine Mountain Ridge

Lake Casitas looking great

Looking towards Matilija Wilderness

After soaking in the views, I began the knee-bashing decent down Gridley. Like the kid said, the trail was in great shape. There were several small waterfalls that I spotted in the many side canyons that dot the trail. I've never seen so much water on this trail. As I walked along throughout the day I slowly began to understand the significance of these recent storms. According to vcwatershed.net, the season total for Nordhoff Ridge is almost 70.5 inches. That's completely insane! And I tell yah, it shows. Walking along these trails, it almost looked like the mountains were leaking. Like the mountains themselves were just huge bags filled with water and someone poked holes in 'em to let the water out.

Soon I heard the roar of the stream in Gridley Canyon. I heard this until the single track turns into dirt road. It was that loud. I can only imagine how many cool swim holes and waterfalls are hiding in that canyon. Several wildflowers were in bloom, providing the breezy air with a pleasant fragrance. In what seemed like no time at all, I made it to the famous bathtub. It looked like it got some much needed repairs. It actually holds water now and, to no one's surprise, it was completely full. The spring right next to it, instead of its usual dribble, was a small stream. 

The famous bathtub 

Adjacent Spring

More Waterfalls!

Gridley Canyon

A little ways past the bathtub was the worst of the slides that I encountered on Gridley. Most of the washed out sections on the trail that I had previously passed were very small and already fixed. This one was a little larger and a little sketchy because of a small drop off, but I saw two mountain bikers on the trail so if they could make it past this, so could a hiker. Compared to the slide on Pratt, this was a walk in the park!

The worst slide on Gridley. Not too bad at all.

Looks more intense from afar, but don't let it scare you.

So green!

After the slide I just jogged the rest of the way back. Wanting a little more miles, I decided to continue down Gridley to Shelf Road instead of taking the Fuel Break back to Pratt. Shelf was crowded, but not as much as I'd expected. There were significantly fewer cars at the Pratt trailhead when I finally got back. I completed the whole loop in just over 5 hours, not too shabby for having done nothing in like three months. It was nice to finally get back out there. Gorgeous day, nice views, plenty of water. Wouldn't have had it any other way. 

Shelf Road