Steady up-trail progress was initially elusive (Did I put out the Adventure Pass? Did I lock the vehicle after putting out the pass? No on both counts...), but the charms of Icehouse Canyon eased the resulting frustrations. Fall in Icehouse Canyon is surely one of the most beautiful time-place combinations in all the San Gabriels. Unfortunately, several hundred others agreed with this assessment, so I had plenty of company as I worked upward to Icehouse Saddle.
Leaf by cpandmd, on Flickr
Foliage by cpandmd, on Flickr
Beyond Icehouse Saddle the character of the hike changed markedly. The first snowfall of the year had consolidated into a two inch carpet on the north-facing slopes, yielding a variety of textures that will be lost once the full winter blanket arrives. Only two sets of footprints led forward (with none yet returning) as I proceeded past Kelly Camp and onto Ontario Ridge proper. After overtaking the lead pair, only bighorn and deer tracks lay ahead.
Icehouse Saddle by cpandmd, on Flickr
Textures by cpandmd, on Flickr
Deer by cpandmd, on Flickr
After a brief pause atop Ontario Peak, I continued southwest -- downward, and outward, and upward, and downward -- across the generally pleasant terrain of Ontario Ridge. Light brush and scattered Class 3 terrain added a degree of interest, and opportunities for more challenging scrambles abounded.
Ontario Peak to Peak 6857 by cpandmd, on Flickr
Ontario Ridge by cpandmd, on Flickr
Pinnacle by cpandmd, on Flickr
Past "Ridge End", even the moderate brush disappeared, with mature pines and a blanket of needles dominating the now steeply descending ridgeline. It was tempting to stop there, and, were I to return, I would likely not go past this delightful setting...
For after "Second Balcony", things got miserable in a hurry. My Google Earth reconnaissance had suggested the possibility of brush -- and Google Earth seldom misinforms. I kept SW of the SSW-trending ridgeline, as the brush had appeared thinner there. Indeed it was possible to link together scattered patches of open scree and sand as I side-hilled down and across toward the final saddle. But the resulting upward and downward deviations, on loose terrain, with the occasional scramble over crumbly outcroppings, proved tiresome and cumbersome. And the frequent pushes through buckthorn to link the patchwork was enough to push me over the edge.
The open terrain on the NE ridge of Peak 6857 could not have come soon enough, and the colorful rock atop the mineral-rich Cascade Canyon helped put the thrash-fest behind me. Shortly thereafter, I was setting up camp just west of the true summit of the peak, with good views across towards Baldy.
Cascade Rock by cpandmd, on Flickr
Camp by cpandmd, on Flickr
The morning marine layer hadn’t so much burned off as diffused upward and inward to the mountains, so visibility was less-than-optimal. But the persistent haze scattered the blue and rendered a soft, warm glow to the colorful rock atop the peaks as I puttered around camp, briefly enjoyed some bouldering, and surveyed the breadth of my dominion. I munched on peanut butter filled pretzels as the sun dipped deeper into the haze and over the horizon to render a sunset that could only be described as apocalyptic.
Lichen Tower and Moon by cpandmd, on Flickr
Bouldering by cpandmd, on Flickr
Cucamonga by cpandmd, on Flickr
Sunset by cpandmd, on Flickr
Overnight, the forecast 5-10mph breeze did not arrive, but a brisk 20mph wind with 30mph gusts visited in its stead. Strangely, it arrived from all directions in turn, at first gently from the west, then more briskly from the south, east, and finally the north. Not fifteen minutes after bedding down, it was clear my ThermaRest had a leak, as the rocky terrain beneath grew increasingly "tactile". Soon there was little between me and the cold ground.
Enduring a cold and sleepless night alone atop an infrequently visited peak does strange things to the mind. The increasing wind had finally vanquished the stubborn haze. Gazing downward on the glimmering lights of the urban sprawl, tantalizingly just out of reach, only seemed to heighten the sense of isolation, and invited outward projection of my profound loneliness. A crimson light longingly beating atop Sunset Peak, and three lights dutifully standing watch above the Baldy tunnels long after traffic had subsided -- I wondered if they felt lonely too. Tentless and without a bivy sack, deep and sustained sleep never came. Only a series of fitful catnaps marked time as Pegasus, Taurus, and finally Orion wheeled overhead.
My plans to meet Norma atop Ontario Peak at 9:15am required and early start, and I departed camp before sunrise. Picking my way down the crumbly NNE slopes of Peak 6857 by headlamp proved a tedious start, but fortunately the gloaming arrived before I reached the upward ascent and the worst of the brush. Mercifully, the previous day’s experience and a good scouting of the return route from Peak 6857 allowed me to do a bit better this time, bypassing the "Toe" to the NW. Still, it was a frustrating slog back to the Second Balcony. Wonderful views of the basin beneath a reconsolidated marine layer provided welcome relief to the tedium.
Sunrise by cpandmd, on Flickr
Santiago by cpandmd, on Flickr
Atop Ontario Peak at the appointed hour, I sheltered out of the still brisk NW breeze, warming in the SE sun. Before long, Brian, then Patrick, Norma, and Phil popped atop the peak. I declined an offer to join them on their journey over Bighorn to Cedar Canyon -- two trips through the brush and a sleepless night had proved adventure enough. Longing for a warm and soft couch at home, I was keen to push off, but the scent of cinnamon rolls toasting on Phil's stove can make even the most restless and beaten man content and happy. Memories of good conversation with friends and a warm moist center surrounded by a lightly pan-sizzled crust returned me blissfully to the car.
Boy are you good at those selfies. How long can you set your timer for? Oh wait, now I have it... you have a remote timer in your hand!
