Sespe Creek Reflections

Sespe Creek at Piedra Blanca Trailhead late yesterday afternoon.

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Don Victor Valley and Pine Canyon

Looking at Don Victor Valley, circled in red, from the junction of Potrero Seco Road and Loma Pelona-Victor Road.

(Click to enlarge.)

“. . .here, where there are still the silences and the loneliness of the earth before man, . . .” -Dick Smith

With a high pressure system ensuring near perfect clear winter conditions—cloudless blue skies, mild temps with warmth in the sun and coolness in the shade—I set off for Pine Canyon in the Dick Smith Wilderness for a two night stay.

Just after dawn I left Highway 33 at Pine Mountain Summit and marched down Potrero Seco Road. I rounded a few bends before the sun cast its first golden-orange beams upon the land, the earthy aroma of which was invigorating in the cool, early morning air. Fresh afoot the day was ripe with promise.

Walking fire road is usually not as enjoyable as hiking canyon trail, but at least Potrero Seco Road and Loma Pelona-Victor Road provide remarkable views of the backcountry. All the way down the ridge running LPVR to Don Victor Valley Madulce Peak looms before you. Unfortunately, the entire region resembles a wasteland in many ways rather than a forest, as it continues its long recovery from the Zaca Fire.

A seasonal creek running by the oaks in Don Victor Valley.

I reached the valley floor and crossed Mono Creek, which although narrow and small was flowing at a good clip through the tunnel of yellow-tinged willows that marks its course through the valley. Animals tracks, mostly coyote and deer, seemed to cover every patch of open sand or dirt.

On my way upstream along the overgrown fire road, I stopped to take a look at some rocks embedded in the cliff above Mono Creek. Just then I heard a squeak and turned to see a hawk soaring toward me. I missed seeing the hawk snatch up its mid-afternoon meal by mere seconds, but it circled directly overhead twice, obviously curious about my presence, and the way I must have stuck out in the desolate valley. And rather than some type of rodent damned if it didn’t have a bird clenched in its talons.

I plodded up the valley along the creek passing where I supposed Don Victor Camp to be, which apparently doesn’t exist other than in an historical or cartographical sense. [EDIT 12-17-2011: “There is a campsite at Don Victor. It’s nothing to write home about but there is a site with a shovel and fire grate on the N side of the creek and some old ice can stoves hiding under the grass on the S side.” Bryan Conant] Somebody had been down in the valley in a Jeep recently and I came across some old foot impressions up Pine Canyon, but other than that, it looked like very few people ever venture into the area. The trails and road were overgrown and I saw no sign of any type of formal USFS camps anywhere.

Pine Canyon trail is matted over with the thatch of several seasons worth of dead grass and the fresh green sprouts of the current crop. It’s overgrown with some brush and trees and buried beneath dead fall in other areas. Despite the overgrowth, however, the trail is still plainly visible in many sections.

I attempted to find its beginning at the mouth of the canyon, but couldn’t locate it and so just barged into the regrowth. I was able to pick my way through the thinned out brush fairly easily, and eventually found myself on and off the trail all the way to Pine Canyon Flats or what used to be Pine Canyon Camp.

A late afternoon view of Don Victor Valley seen from Pine Canyon. The oak trees in the previous photo can be seen here on the left in the shadow just beneath where the sun is striking the mountain.

A morning view looking at the mouth of Pine Canyon from Don Victor Valley.

At the mouth of Pine Canyon, there is a patch of huge tufted grass with some clumps growing three feet tall or more. They are an interesting feature of the landscape, as far as grass goes.

Lower Pine Canyon still looking less than glamorous from the fire.

Pine Canyon Flats or the area once known as Pine Canyon Camp.

Pine Canyon Camp at the flats is also nonexistent. Maybe there are some old stoves or rusty iron remnants around somewhere buried or covered by grass, but it looked like it had never been used, except for the faint grass covered depression of a seldom traveled trail heading for the swimming holes of the Jackson Five upstream.

Pine Canyon Flats is set amidst a small oak grove growing on a bar along the creek and provides plenty of places to camp for those who appreciate such informal arrangements, as I do. There are numerous nooks and crannies under the oaks where a fella can set up a sweet little campsite.

Map from 1988 showing the location of Pine Canyon Camp. (Click to enlarge.)

The first evening a warm wind kicked up after midnight and I didn’t sleep well with the constant rush of it through the oaks. I slept late next morning to make up for it and laid around reading Louis L’Amour and sippin’ coffee well into the forenoon. The wind had died and the creek once more filled the canyon with the sound of flowing water. And nobody else was around for miles. Pura vida!

I hiked up to the first couple of pools of the Jackson Five in early afternoon and kicked around for awhile. The swimming holes had far less gravel and silt in them than I was expecting, and were plenty deep enough to get wet in and swim around a bit. I came across a well gnawed on piece of antler and then got distracted climbing up and exploring a rocky slope above the creek. I didn’t make it up the creek very far.

On the way back I jumped into one of the pools to cool off and freshen up. Well, it nearly gave me a heart attack. It was painfully cold and forced me into a fit of yelling as I scrambled to get out. I don’t have much tolerance for cold water. At least not without waves. The water was refreshing for a split second before its bone penetrating steely cold set in, and it felt as if I was being eaten alive from the inside out. I moseyed back down to camp at dusk later that second day and hunkered down for the night. I was up at first light next morning, broke camp and started home on a leisurely pace making it back to Highway 33 at sunset.

It’s still pretty ugly back there in this area of the Dick Smith and Pine Canyon because of the fire, but at least the trees now have enough regrowth to provide some shelter, shade and ambiance. The oak groves, the year round flow of water off Madulce Peak above the flats, the pools of the Jackson Five and the area’s desolate untraveled nature puts the canyon on my short list of prime backcountry destinations. It looks pretty bleak on the hike in even up through Don Victor Valley, but it has its own appeal and once you get up in Pine Canyon it’s a different realm altogether.

The dog leg in the creek is where the first pool is located.

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Jack O’Lanterns and Chanterelles

I was out wanderin’ around the other day in the Santa Barbara backcountry and happened to be near a place where I know chanterelles grow. I had not planned on picking any mushrooms, but since I was so close I decided to take a looksee at how they were growing this season.

Not more than fifteen feet apart there were both Jack O’Lanterns and chanterelles growing from the base of small trees. And the chanterelles were not growing on the base of a Coast Live Oak either or any kind of oak for that matter, although oaks were nearby.

Jack O'Lanterns sprouting up around the bases of small trees.

Chanterelles growing at the base of a small tree within fifteen feet of the Jacks shown in the previous photo.

Then the incident occurred.

I had just finished packing some mushrooms in my backpack and cranked the zipper shut ziiiiiiiiiiiiip! when I heard footsteps crunching in the leaf mulch a split second before a voiced bellowed, “It’s all poison oak over here.” By the sound of it, the person must have been only a few yards away behind the dense undergrowth.

Crouched in a kneeling position in a black hat, olive drab t-shirt and khaki colored pants, I was well concealed, but totally blew my cover screwing around with the zipper, which I was not at all happy about. And I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard anybody coming sooner.

The steps marched off in the opposite direction. I knew there were at least two people, though I hadn’t seen anybody, just heard them close by. Real close. For the next ten minutes I sat listening as the crunchy-sounding footsteps came and went. They would get louder then fade away and then suddenly sound again. Twice I caught a glimpse of a guy with a bag stomping around in the woods foraging and I heard voices several times.

At one point, as I was crouching surrounded by a patch of chanterelles, I clearly saw a guy walking toward me in the forest about 30 yards away or so and thought the game was up. I couldn’t move to hide behind anything without making noise in the crispy leaf mulch. The guy was moving toward me, moved behind a small thicket and then I lost him and it went quiet for a little while. A minute or two later the steps sounded again and eventually faded away for good.

I’ve been picking at this spot for many years and have never seen sign of anybody else around. I’m not sure, but I have a hard time believing they didn’t see me or at the very least hear me zipping my bag closed. Hopefully they found and saw nothing and won’t return next season to plunder the spot.

The underside of a Jack O'Lantern showing the paper-thin gill structure, which differentiates them from chanterelles.

Chanterelles lack gills and have, what I would describe as, ridges.

Related Post:

Chanterelle Mushrooms: Hunting Santa Barbara County

Baby’s First Chanterelle

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Carrizo Plain Wildflowers: Temblor Range, San Luis Obispo County

The Carrizo Plain was officially designated a National Monument a decade ago today on January 17, 2001.

Vast. Silence. Perhaps no two words more aptly describe the Carrizo Plain. As I stopped the engine and stepped from my truck I was struck by its immensity. The dirt road shot out before me into a needle point, far-off in the shimmering distance to the north, where it crossed the San Andreas Fault and disappeared at the base of the Temblor Range.

The sun-baked grassland swept westward, its individual stalks melting into the solid color of an immeasurable distance, and then abruptly stopping in a flat line where it met the faded, pastel blue of the horizon. So this is what the Golden State’s 400-mile long San Joaquin Valley once looked like, I thought, as I stood alone with my ears ringing from a silence that seemed to press in on me.

Tucked away in the southeastern corner of San Luis Obispo County, the monument spans a quarter of a million acres of grasslands and rolling mountains. Sometimes called California’s Serengeti, this Golden State savannah offers refuge to an impressive list of large mammals including pronghorn antelopes, Tule elks and San Joaquin kit foxes to name just a few. Hawks, eagles and falcons soar through the thermals overhead, while the seasonal wetlands of Soda Lake attract numerous species of migratory birds including thousands of sandhill cranes.

Pronghorn antelope on the Carrizo Plain, the second fastest mammal on Earth slower only than the cheetah, but can actually run at a faster sustained speed than cheetahs.

One of the more spectacular, yet fleeting, displays of the Carrizo’s grandeur comes in late winter and early spring. In March and April, the Temblor Range explodes in a glorious profusion of wildflowers. The annual bloom varies in intensity and timing depending on a variety of seasonal fluctuations, but for a few weeks the steep slopes of the hilly country transform into a polychrome patch work of brilliant color. The ephemeral burst grows thick enough to be seen for miles, which makes locating the sites with the best and heaviest blooms fairly easy.

Elkhorn Road runs along the base of the Temblors and provides excellent views of the flowers from a distance. A few other roads wind their way through and over the steep hills, the north facing side of which is lightly wooded. The roads in among the hills can get really steep and narrow and are at times little more than a Jeep trail in some particular places. I put my truck in 4×4 just so I was not constantly spinning my tires on the steep, hard packed grass covered dirt. Last year I was a bit late making it out to there, though, and the wildflowers had already hit their peak perhaps a week or two before. The photos below are from April 6, 2010.

One of the narrow roads leading through the Temblor Range. This road winds its way to the top of the hills.

A view of the road winding its way along the seam between two mountains.

A stretch of road running across the grassy slopes on top of the Temblor Range.

The view from on top of the Temblor Range overlooking the Carrizo Plain.

A view of the Temblor Range from Elkhorn Road.

The flatland of the Carrizo Plain in bloom with the Caliente Range in the background.

The blue line on the interactive map guide below marks the course of Elkhorn Road along the foot of the Temblor Range and access to it from Highway-33 or Highway-58.

Theodore Payne Wildflower Hotline ((818) 768-3533 or www.wildflowerhotline.org) to find the best places to view wildflowers in Southern and Central California.  The hotline is updated every Thursday evening with new information on more than 90 wildflower sites.

Related Posts:

Figueroa Mountain and Zaca Ridge Wildflowers (March 2010)

Figueroa Mountain and Zaca Ridge Wildflowers (April 2009)

Soda Lake Reflections, Carrizo Plain National Monument

Elkhorn Plain at Carrizo Plain

Wallace Creek Offset, San Andreas Fault at Carrizo Plain

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Rincon Point Sunset

The view from Rincon Point tonight.

The marine terrace of the Santa Barbara Mesa jutting into the Channel in the distance.

Related Posts:

Palm Trees at Dusk

Backyard Sunset Silhouette

Matilija Creek Headwaters Foggy Sunset

Refugio Beach Sunset and Moonrise

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