21.12.13 Grapevine Mountain Hike

On the 13^th of December, I hiked up a somewhat random mountain in Anza-Borrego state park with my good friend Ted and a few other hiking buddies: Larry, Leslie, and Steve. I suppose I should prelude this with why I was hiking up the somewhat random mountain, well the mountain officially named Grapevine Mountain, out on a cool desert day.

For the past year and a half, I have been pursuing an objective of summiting one hundred special individual peaks found on a list created by the San Diego chapter of the Sierra Club. Each peak was picked on a basis of scenery, remoteness, difficulty, etcetera. Now, these hikes are no walk in the park. I mean they may be a walk in a literal park, but they’re not all easy. Some are. Israel peak, Bernardo mountain and so on. Some are incredibly hard, Indianhead, Villager Peak. Anyway, the point being is that there are 100 peaks in San Diego I am trying to climb.

 

Before I left for Santa Barbara, I had hiked 33/100, so I was a third through the list in a year or so. Not bad, but I wish I had taken advantage of my location more – because, well, when you live in Santa Barbara and study a dreadful lot it is awfully hard to hike in San Diego. Although there are other lists I could pursue around there, such as the hundred peaks section (another Sierra Club list, and not actually a hundred peaks), my heart still lies in San Diego.

The varied microclimate. The montane chaparral.  The desert hills. I miss it every day. I talk with my friend who moved up the Santa Cruz for school who was (is?) also pursuing the SD100 list. We both say “I miss Anza-Borrego!” and reminisce over warm days throwing dust from our heels, or the cool humid air while hurrying to the top of remote choosy peaks before rain breaks from the clouds.

I’m now on winter break. Which, let's not lie is Christmas break because finals week and dead week (the week predating finals) was placed directly on top of Hannukah this year. So, happy to be back home I sent out a text to my slightly buggy hiking partner Ted. An older man, somewhere close to his late fifty’s who’s spent a not inconsiderable portion of his life living out of a school bus with no electricity in the rural town of Ranchita.

Ted then texted two others, Larry and Steve, and then Larry texted Leslie, and before I knew it, we had a solid group of retirees (except headstrong Leslie) and a college student who were ready to venture up a desert mountain. A mountain with no trail, but plenty of secret cubbies in cool canyons or scented air on gusty ridges.

After arriving at the trailhead at the sharp starting time of 8:00am Steve drove us in a few extra miles down the sandy washboard road in his Scout. The Scout is a funny vehicle, one of the very first SUVs and made by International Harvester, which when I googled it seemed to be a tractor company. Not sure how Steve ever got the parts to maintain the cute vehicle but the thing runs like a champ and from stories it sounds like it can take on some pretty nasty terrain.

The road in

Ted, who is seemingly only comfortable when the plan is his doing identified a fun canyon, he saw leading up the mountain and we headed off. There was some light scrambling over dry waterfalls, and we had to be mindful of the teddy bear cholla. Walking in sand reminded me of just a few days prior when I had been walking over a few inches of snow. For every step you take your heel sinks into the soft earth, and when you go to push off for the next step your toes leave dimples in the soil. It's extra energy and works your muscles differently, but it's good practice for hiking in winter conditions.

First scramble of the day
L -> R: Steve, Larry, Leslie, Ted

Halfway up the canyon, I noticed a shadow forming on the distant Pinyon Ride, which is an area I’ve hiked out to only once before, also with Ted. There are two SD100 peaks on Pinyon Ridge, Wilson Benchmark and Pinyon Ridge Pk. Behind Pinyon Ridge and to the left would be Ranchita. The shadow now darkening the right side of the ridge was the product of some grey puffy clouds. The first of those to arrive would only bring us shade and wind, but the next day between 1.5 and 3 inches of rain would fall on the hill-country, bringing the first precipitation of  December.

Shadow on Pinyon Ridge

Not much of note happened between the canyon and the summit. There was comedy in Leslie’s ability to regulate a perfect hiking temperature. Five minutes would go by and a hat would come off. Another five minutes would go by and the jacket would come off. Another five minutes would go by and the beanie would come one. Another five minutes go by and the jacket comes on. I don’t think she was happy the whole day.

Soon we caught sight of what appeared to be the summit. There were two knolls and between them could see a rocky hill which appeared to be the highest on the horizon. We scrambled up between the two knolls, over an uninteresting wash. Steve then caught a thorny plant on his pants, only for it the swing off and lash Ted in the face, piercing marks on his nose and lip proving evidence of the crime.

Not quite there

Eventually, we made it up the wash, and then up the hill. Then we looked out and realized that the hill was not the top, but we were now on the ridge and there were maybe another few hundred vertical feet of gain to go. Leslie groaned, which I found funny because we were there to hike, after all, a few extra feet is just some extra quality time in nature.

Ravens rushed by, cawing at us and riding on the gusts of wind. I set my camera to shutter priority in case any got close, but unfortunately, I was shooting on a 24-70mm camera and I wasn’t able to capture anything beyond silhouettes of the birds against the sky.

Raven

Leslie and Larry had continued hiking ahead of me while this happened, eager to make it to the summit because the summit is a guaranteed break time. Ted and Steve had lagged behind amongst the boulders, likely identifying some plant or mineral.

Larry & Leslie

The wind blew through my hair and the smell of grass, soil, and juniper trees filled my lungs. A front of clouds was on the horizon, slowly rolling over the grassy ridgelines and higher mountains. For once I could relax. There was no homework, no general chemistry, no calculus, and no societal pressure to be what I am not. There was me, the ground beneath me, and a view.

Freedom

I hiked on. It was nice to have a few moments away from the group. As I reached the last hill I ascended just fast enough to get my heartbeat going, figuring that if I was hiking I should at least get my cardio up in preparation for bigger hikes in the summer. On the summit was Leslie and Larry, a triangulation station, and a benchmark. Hidden under a stack of rocks was a summit register, which we all signed once Ted and Steve arrived.

Summit!

Leslie ducked behind a boulder to eat her lunch, eager to get out of the wind. My stomach had been bothering me so in an effort to not have an emergency on the way down I ate some crackers, hoping they would help. I sat down while I ate and soaked in the views. I could see many places and peaks I had visited before. Granite Mountain, Pinyon Ridge, The Thimble, San Ysidro, Rego Benchmark, Whale Mountain, Sentenac Mountain, Volcan Mountain, and more.  

After everyone had ate and rested up, the exception being Ted who never eats on day hikes, we identified a canyon to head down. It was the one that I had assumed we would be traveling up and would take us more south-east. I was excited to head down this one, because from checking the topographical maps before we left I knew there was a chance of some good dry-falls to scramble down and steeper canyon walls than we had seen going up.

Surveying the canyon

We descended down, and surprisingly the group was all able to keep up on the steep downhill, which is quite impressive considering how bad a hiker's knees age. Descending the headwall (more like just a steep hill) of Grapevine Mountain we found a bunch of deer beds dug into the mountain. These are just small oval-shaped areas where the deer have dug out the hill and use it to rest. It reminded me of my trip to the White Mountains where I had seen similar beds for the first time and was amazed.

As we descended into the canyon we found plenty of dry falls. Most were usually 10-15ft and were class two with maybe one or two class three moves. It was excellent climbing for Ted and I, and it was fun to watch how the others handled it.

Small, but difficult dry-fall

The clouds were beginning to darken, and the layer of hills and mountains stacked on top of each other in the cool atmosphere. We zig-zagged our way down the canyon, occasionally stopping to layer up, take pictures, or assist our fellow hikers down waterfalls. Hiking in canyons is peculiar because you must take every bend the water does, zigzagging down the hillside. As usual, all this zigzagging makes you feel like you are hiking much further than you actually are, but eventually we made it down.

Zigzag canyon

Unfortunately, the canyon ended as a dry tributary to San Felipe Creek, also dry, but enough water flows through San Felipe Creek on occasion we had to deal with an immense amount of thicket. Eventually fed up with going back and forth fighting the vicious spines of the appropriately named Cats Claw plant, I headed fifty or so vertical feet up the creek wall and contoured around the hill, keeping an eye on my companions below.

Before we got the worst of the thicket

I rejoined them where the thicket grew sparse, and the dry creek emptied out into the desert floor. Ted displayed to me a glass bottle he had found. He explained to me that the formula for glass circa 1912 has certain chemicals in it that would create colorful patterns and textures when left out in the sun for years. On this bottle, there was a purple-green iridescence, where depending on the angle purple would turn to green and green to purple.

Special bottle

Larry, an experienced adventurer of his own and soft-spoken, noticed a small trail leading out of the wash and led us out. Eventually, we rejoined the road and followed it a mile or so back to our cars. The sky had darkened above us, and light illuminated the rippled sky. We said our goodbyes to Larry and Leslie who drove in on Larry’s Tacoma, and I climbed into the back bench seat of the Scout. As it started, the nostalgic smell of diesel filled the air (think Autopia) and we headed back to where I was parked.

In the Scout

It was a good day, with a mellow pace of 7 miles over 8 hours. I began my drive home, dreams of returning to the desert filling my mind.