5/18/2023 0 Comments Bonfire peaks on the ledgeOut of the drainage and navigating a short field of bowling ball-sized cobbles, I took a moment to admire the blue and white sheet of flowering ceanothus on the creek’s east bank … and nearly face-planted as my ankle rolled beneath me and gave out. Tarps, hose, a good two-burner stove, unused fuel canisters still in their shrink wrap, canned chiles, and saw mix bottles and pesticide bottles (the latter two chewed on by the local ursine population … thanks dope-growers and smokers, you can claim responsibility for that poisoned bear).Īnd so of course it’s in such a nice environ I inadvertently feel compelled to make some bone-head move. Image courtesy and (c) Lego-lass.īagging White Ledge still didn’t seem practical this day, but this drainage had it all … including the requisite pot grow detritus. We took a brief respite just as the sun lent its first light to the canyon.ĭ, stoked. Far less bush-whacking than I think any of us expected, and the occasional spot of game trail facilitated our progress. Our Fiskar’s cinched tight and gloves on, into the poison oak and ferns and cobbles we went. A prominent flag was apparent at precisely the confluence of the drainage we’d chosen to ascend. The occasional orange trail flagging gave me pause it didn’t seem to me some HPS bagger or other intrepid individual would take the time or bother to flag the route we were planning. Moments later another round of intros were made, and we five rock-hopped along the massive boulders and wove our way along the alders of the Murietta drainage. The RSO was on an intercept course, coming in fast! Soon enough we spotted a headlamp piercing the dark down in the ravine he’d jumped off-trail early and was headed our way. I can’t imagine the start such an unworldly bark must have given those souls slumbering at camp. Suddenly, the sharp report of what sounded like a moose in heat echoed from down-canyon. A short ways after the 24W07’s second crossing, we agreed we’d gained a bit more elevation than our optimal put-in, and so we four turned around, intent on a gap in the ceanothus Derek and Lego-lass had spotted moments before. Some campers were sacked out under the stars, so very quickly and quietly I pointed out the base of the old latrine from the camp’s days as a car-accessible destination to the crew and then Derek and I began sorting our best point to drop off the trail and begin following our chosen drainage. Of course we made quick work of the mile-and-a-half to Murietta Camp, noting at the major crossing downstream that the reflective tape on the Carsonite signs are pretty darned handy in the wee dark hours. Under the beams of our headlamps, the misty road and environs had a dampening effect on what noise we might otherwise make on this well-trod route. We headed off along the service road sans the RSO, but leaving a trailhead without either him or one of the pack felt like leaving the house without my car keys. No mobile coverage at the “parking loch,” so if he’d overslept, been otherwise delayed, or other … well, no way to know. We rendez-voused a few hours before sun-up at Matilija, I made the quick intros and then we waited a while for the RSO. Just looking at the drainage we were targeting, the ridiculous contours, the tendency for north-facing slopes to be a thicket of vegetation that knocks one’s pace down into the glacial speed category … well, a few nights previous whilst Lego-lass, EP from Ventura County Canyoneering and I sat over a few pints, we pretty much agreed it wasn’t going to happen. It seemed impractical from the get-go, and I don’t mean from the trailhead. And if everything fell into place, even getting as far as the old 24W08 tread - the vaunted Ocean View Trail - would be more than a victory here. Peakbagging has never been my thing, but it was worth investigating, at the very least. And after having read Stillman’s and Elliott’s most excellent accounts of ascending White Ledge this past January, Derek and I had pondered how practical an approach of White Ledge might be from the north. Paddy’s 2011.) The trick to these sojourns however is to be home in time for Mrs Carey’s fantastic dinner.įor the 2013 edition, the Expat was in town and both Derek over at 100 Peaks and Lego-lass were available. (See “Now is the Spring of Our Discontent” for St. Over the years, the RSO and I have made a habit of taking a half-day hike somewhere on the LPNF on St. How One McDoofus Move Can Change Your Entire St.
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