Modern Hiker

A backpacking trip down a rarely-used route to a popular mid-mountain campground — an alpine lake-side camp in view of Southern California’s tallest mountains. A great way to get deep into the heart of the San Bernardinos.

A few weeks ago, I was thumbing through a hiking book for the San Bernardino Mountains. As they were about two hours away from where I live, it was a bit more difficult to schedule in a day-hike, and as a result I’d never been to them. Noting our upcoming time off for Thanksgiving, and the fact that my roommates and I weren’t traveling anywhere this year, I asked Will if he’d be interested in making a slightly more intense hiking trip out east.

“Were you planning to do an overnight?” he replied.

I wasn’t. But what the hell? I’m always up for sensible adventure. And so, barely thinking of the consequences of my reply, I said, “Sure.”

After a few trips to REI , both of our wallets were several hundred dollars lighter, and we were in possession of swanky new backpacking gear.

We were planning to camp above 9000 ft, and a nightmarish flashback to a Thanksgiving Camping trip at the Grand Canyon with no sleeping roll and a cheap bag made it easier for me to splurge on a new sleeping bag and several pairs of hand-warmers. With a few here-and-there items and a nice Osprey Atmos 65 Pack, I was ready to go.

And so, Friday morning at 5AM, Will and Dingo picked me up and we headed east through an unusually thick marine layer. 90 minutes later, we were at Mentone, California, a tiny town at the entrance to the San Bernardino National Forest. We needed to wait until 8AM for the ranger stations to open before we could get our official overnight wilderness permits, so we hunted around for a diner for breakfast. We found a tiny diner advertising “Country Breakfast.” As it was the only place that appeared to be open, we pulled in and went inside.

It was the kind of place that every small town has. I know my home town certainly had them. It’s the Local Diner, usually owned and operated by a single person or family, whose personality comes through in everything from the decor to the menu to whatever’s on the TV. It’s usually populated by older folks and working-age locals, all reading the newspaper, commenting on stories and gossip, and drinking endless cups of coffee. When our waitress pointed us to a table and remarked, “I haven’t seen you guys around here before,” it sold it.

The coffee was strong, the omelettes were huge and greasy, and the waitress had just the right amount of attitude. On the rabbit-ear TV set was ‘Good Day L.A.’s coverage of the Southern California Black Friday shopping frenzy. We finished our food, tipped well, and thanked God we were far away from all that commercial nonsense.

After stopping at the ranger station to pick up our overnight permit (and a much more detailed topographical map for my own peace of mind), we drove up California Route 38 into the mountains.

And what mountains!

The closer-to-home San Gabriel range is beautiful in its own right, but the San Bernardino mountains are stunning. They have a base around 5,000ft and many shoot up from there at sharp relief well over 10,000. So instead of starting off with groundcover of Spanish bayonets and shrubs, these guys get right into the pine trees and manzanita, giving them a much more alpine feel. Driving in, we were treated to breathtaking vista after breathtaking vista, as more and more mountains rolled in and the rest of civilization got further away.

Will piloted us down a nasty, hair-pin, ten mile dirt road to our trailhead, where we finally got out of the car, strapped on our backpacks, and took in some deep breaths of the chilly mountain air. We also posed, for the photographic posterity of our first backpacking trial. And also, just in case anything happened, so whoever found us could see how foolhardy we looked.

The just-under two miles from the trailhead to Fish Creek weren’t bad at all. We were hiking a bit slower than we would normally, but the packs felt comfortable and our multiple layers of clothing gave us some nice protection from the mountains’ cooler north side. After Fish Creek, though, the trail started slowly gaining elevation. Thankfully, it was graded nicely, and there were only a few places we had to do any actual climbing. And of course we had some great views to keep us company, as far off east as the deserts near Joshua Tree.

Only after several hours of trudging did we reach Fish Creek Saddle, not even half-way to our original destination of San Gorgonio Mountain. We knew wearing 40 pound backpacks would slow us down. What we didn’t know was just how much it would slow us down. While Will and I can usually cover more than three miles an hour, even with steep inclines, here we reduced to about one mile per hour. A very sad state of affairs.

We knew San Gorgonio wasn’t in the picture for the day, so we took a backcountry detour down a mountain wash to Lodgepole Spring. This particular part of the trail took a nearly 1,000 foot drop in about a mile, included lots of boulder scrambling, and was absolute murder on our knees. By the time we reached the shore of Dry Lake, we dropped off our packs and lay down on the exposed lake bed.

Dingo, of course, wanted nothing of this rest, and took to exploring the meadows surrounding the lake.

We chose to camp close to the banks of the lake, for no reason other than we thought it’d be nice and the dry lake bed ground was soft. Our camp site was beautiful. There is no other word for it. A tiny lake surrounded on all sides by enormous, forested peaks, the place was the absolute definition of serenity. The only noises were the occasional gusts of wind through the canyons, and the distant bubbling of Lodgepole Spring.

We set up our tents and suddenly, Will got sick. Nasty digestive troubles and some sharp shoulder pains from the pack. He climbed in his sleeping bag to try to nap it off, and I took Dingo along the perimeter of the lake for a little exploration.

Along the way, I met some fellow backpackers who were setting up camp in the forest, and a student from Pomona College who — oddly enough — had hiked the same small section of the Appalachian Trail I did in Connecticut. Of course, he did a bit more than I did, but he said the Connecticut part was his favorite.

Damn straight. Nutmeg State, represent.

Night eventually fell, the setting sun casting long shadows over the ridges and lake and significantly dropping the temperature. Fires aren’t allowed in the San Gorgonio Wilderness, so I had to make do with a self-heating meal and lots of movement. I ran around for a while with Dingo, made sure she got fed, and tossed our food items over a tree branch, which would have been highly comical had anyone been watching me.

I then crawled into my sleeping bag (wearing five layers of clothing for good measure), opened two hand warmers and dropped them against my chest, and tried to get to sleep, with the faint accompaniment of a harmonica from a camper on the northeast side of the lake.

Due to a combination of discomfort with my sleeping pad and an intense, overwhelming paranoia about getting attacked by bears, sleep was light and quick that night. I’m a light sleeper in the warm safety of my apartment. In the woods, even more so. It’s something I’m trying to work on.

But with the deafening silence of the wilderness, my brain was working in serious overdrive. I guess being completely isolated from everything will do that to you. Especially if your day-to-day work consists of hours of multimedia multitasking.

I was going over songs I’d listened to recently, life plans, hypothetical conversations, old poems and stories I’d read and written, new concepts forming in my cold brain, and all sorts of assorted tricks my mind would play to keep me from sleeping. Imagine if I lived up here. I’d be the most creative guy in the mountains.

Or the most insane.

But eventually I got to sleep, and I woke up to cold feet (but way, way nicer than my Grand Canyon freezefest) and a frozen-over Dry Lake.

The cold was quickly remedied by some light in-place jogging, with no regard for how ridiculous it looked. And, of course, looking around at the sunrise affecting the surrounding mountains. I’d give anything to wake up to this every morning:

We packed up camp, retrieved my half-hearted bear bag (unattacked!), and headed out ‘the long way’ to avoid having to climb the hellish wash we came down in.

It was still cool enough to warrant hats and gloves, but as the sun rose along with us we shed layers to keep comfortable. All the while, I was completely entranced by the mountains. I don’t know what it is about those things that keeps calling me up, but I sure wish we had mountains like this back in New England. I would have been a much more active adolescent.

With a few breaks, we made it to Mine Shaft Saddle in slow but decent time. From here, it was 3.6 miles to the summit of San Gorgonio Mountain, but that was as close as we were going to get.

Will was still a bit under the weather, and offered to wait at the trailhead if I wanted to try the ascent. I didn’t want to split up, though. I only had one water bottle separate from my pack to take with me and wasn’t sure on time. I could probably do the 7 miles in three hours or so, but I’d still have another five and a half to go with the pack on, and wasn’t sure I could make it back before dark. So, after relaxing and downing a few Clif Bars, we headed out toward Fish Creek.

But we’ll be back, San Gorgonio! Only this time, we’ll know what we’re doing.

The trail back down was mostly downhill, and between that and the level grades between, we made usual-hiking time - a pleasant surprise. And our trail between Grinnell Mountain and Lake Peak (neither of which, unfortunately, had any visible footpaths to the summits), provided some nice views of Dry Lake from a higher altitude.
A few more hours, and we crossed a now-frozen Fish Creek. Another hour or so (driving on some almost-flat back tires), we reached the mountain village of Angelus Oaks, where we refilled the tires, refueled the car, and stuffed ourselves with pancakes and sandwiches in a log cabin restaurant. The kind where the waitress mentions she hasn’t seen you around before.

Man, it hurts to go back to Los Angeles sometimes.

The Basics:

- Distance: About 14 miles.
- Elevation Gain: 1825 ft first day, 780 ft second day
- Camp Elevation: 9070 ft
- Time: Two days
- Pack Weight: 37 pounds
- Trail Condition: Very good. It would be quite difficult to lose the trail on this one. The cross-country route from Fish Creek Saddle to Lodgepole Spring is not marked, but follows a wash and is easy to track.
- How to Get There: From Interstate 10, travel East on California Route 38. Follow this road up into the mountains, past the village of Angelus Oaks. Continue past the Barton Flats Information Center until you reach a dirt road leading to Heart Bar Camp and Equestrian Area. Continue on this dirt road for about ten miles, keeping right at the first fork and second fork. Drive past Mission Springs Camp to a parking area. Be warned that this road is in very rough shape and should not be attempted without a dependable vehicle with a high clearance.
- Map It!

The Notables:

- Secluded alpine lake campground (not in the summer, though) with unbelievable views of San Gorgonio Mountain.
- Fish Creek Trail is the least-traveled route to the campgrounds.
- General high-altitude wonder.
- For both day-hiking and overnights, you will need a Wilderness Permit. Day permits can be self-issued at ranger stations. Overnights need a ranger. You can use an online application, but allow several business days’ advance notice.

Extending Your Stay:

- There are several alternate routes to get to this area, including a route from the north from the Barton Flats Visitor Center or South Fork Camp, as well as a southern approach from the Vivian Creek Trail.
- This camp could easily provide a base for exploration of multiple peaks. Grinnell Mountain, Lake Peak, Charlton Peak, Little Charlton Peak, Jepson Peak, Alto Diablo Peak, and San Gorgonio Mountain are all within day-hike distance of Dry Lake Camp.
- Stop to eat at Oaks on the way out. Great post-hike food.

More Pictures:

- More pictures up at Flickr.

* originally hiked on November 24-25, 2006.