This canyon is right at the base of the mountains on your way up 39, easily seen on the left before you cross the first bridge. From below it looks like there's one 'big rappel', which based on my experience is usually a bit less than what you see from afar. I figured this one would probably be 100-120ft. I figured there'd be a short rapp to the top of the big one, and a few downclimby short rapps below. There's a relatively chill ridge to the left which climbs to just above the big rapp, so prior to our big rains I figured I'd just cross the creek near the base of that, climb it, and that's it. The San Gabriel River is now fuckin' straight goddamn RIPPIN' right now so there's no way in hell I'm crossing there. I hate water, and even if you love water that shit could go sideways real quick. Anyway, I figured the best course would probably be to cross the bridge on 39, hike to near the base of the ridge near Cactus Slot (that slot canyon on the left just beyond the bridge, descended solo in 2014? I dunno. TR is on here.), descend that slope then go along the edge of the river/cliff to the aforementioned easy ridge. We did something broadly similar but didn't go so close to Cactus Slot, as there is a road down there which is covered in blooming Clover. We took a loose scrambly climb up some typical 'rock', handrailed the face, then climbed the ridge.
It's the beginning of summer so we were a bit warm and thirsty on this ridge, so we stopped for a break with a splendid view of the suburban Home Depot fenced in community below, surrounded by no trespassing signs which just make my eyes glaze over at this point in my life. The climb up to the drop in ain't so bad, and since the plants are still green it wasn't anywhere near as shitty as when they're dead and everything is sharp and hot. You get to the drop in just above a few big Oaks, and of course you're met with everyone's favorite plant which I hope I didn't get completely covered in. We chilled out there for a bit before rapping off the big Oak down into the 'watercourse', if you will. It's a short rapp, then I think that's it before the big one. I might be forgetting if there was another.
I was scared cause I don't do this shit that much anymore, but the anchor and all parts of the equation were just fine, so with a pep talk I was able to suck it up and move. I was worried the ropes wouldn't reach, as is a constant in this activity. The rappel starts off slimy, goes vertical, then becomes overhanging. There's a big wide half-dead Fig tree on the rappel, so you rappel onto it. The ropes were super wrapped up in the branches, so I was hanging there pulling on em and trying to get the ropes free, which took some time but helped me get over my fear cause I had a job to do. Funny how that tends to work. I felt like an astronaut for whatever reason. That really stuck in my head. There was just enough flow for it to keep me cool but not enough to get drenched while I was playing John Madden's Vertical Snake Grappler 2k99. The ropes didn't touch the ground, BUT, they did reach a small ledge not far from the ground, so I got there, got off rope, scrambled to a better position to yell from, and said I was off rappel. I gave Ezgi a fireperson's belay from the small ledge cause the edge is real slippery and I was nervous up there but I'm a big pussy compared to everyone else now. She seemed to really enjoy it.
You can see a bunch of Swallows or Swifts flying about in the image. This rappel was much more interesting than expected. I'd always figured it would be a dusty dry rappel with garbage rock (that last part is true, of course), but the astronaut training and views were real awesome. It feels real big when it's freehanging. I remember that feeling when I started canyoneering and going over the edge was an oh shit moment. Having not done this much in the past few years brings that back, but instead of being 22 years old I'm almost 40 so I really don't wanna fuck it up and miss my family and friends. I was thinking of my friends who have died on rappel or on rope as I'm doing this today, and recently, and it's a bit of a challenge to push beyond that. I have the romantic notion that I think of my friends who are gone and I do these things for them, which is true, but I try not to focus on those things that happened while I'm doing them, so much as making sure the anchor is good, the rope is running well and not over edges, and so on. I've been thinking of a few of them lately and my heart aches for them, and I have been holding back tears while working through the emotional movements. I truly don't understand how I am still alive after so many close calls, so many sketchy anchors, slips and falls and blown pick placements while soloing. The anchor always feels a bit flimsy with such a heavy heart. Sometimes it takes a fair amount of encouragement from friends to make that first move. I had a real hard time in Sacred Gorilla Gulch (hah, that really blew the mood eh?) with Danny when we had that 100ft almost entirely overhanging rappel on garbage rock with a minimalist anchor. I told him I love him and I may have hugged him at the bottom.
I was going to solo some climbs during the last bike tour through the Sierra last fall, but decided against it, only soloing a single pitch. I don't think I'm done with soloing and doubt that will be the case for quite some time, but I feel differently now. I love more freely now and try to spend as much time with the people I care about and have been thinking of friends who are gone from so many ways... trying to make it positive, think of them for positive things and not just cry for their absence and the effects of their passing. It's challenging. Some things can't be done. I've always regretted not telling them I loved them before they left. I used to really beat myself up about it a whole lot, but more recently with the loss of our dear friends James and Tina I've realized that you can't get it all perfect, and you just have to tell them what they mean to you whenever you can. The people you expect to die may still be around and those you never would've guessed are gone. I don't think I can heal and help and love others in this huge family I've so graciously been pulled into through the years by beating myself up inside. Too many years of darkness and taking risks as some sort of coping mechanism... well, maybe they did help in retrospect, but I don't feel that's the way forward for myself at this time.
It is hard to turn the volume down on your thoughts and feelings with these in your mind while in a risky position. If you do it right, you'll be fine, but you're thinking of the consequences of others. When I was climbing alone up technical routes I always thought of myself falling and tumbling down a face to my death, impacting ledges, snapping my ankle from a crampon caught on rock and ice, bones breaking and releasing a weak scream before the wind was knocked out of me for the last time and the lights eventually went out, broken at the bottom of some face to be found months later by some poor soul. That movie playing in my head changes over time, and I don't often think of my own potential death as bad, but the feelings of my family when they hear of it. My own family doesn't do these sorts of things. I know my outdoors family, my extended family does, so you guys can get it to a greater degree. I think of my family all the time with these things, and have backed off more than a few things in more recent history as I couldn't stand the thought of putting my loved ones through this. Alright, my apologies for my emotional ramblings... I hope they help a bit, but I'll get back to the canyon.
I brought a 100ft and a 200ft rope for this canyon, and thinking this rappel would be "a bit long", I tied em together and equalized their length to roughly 150ft. A quick note, if you for some reason wish to repeat this canyon (honestly it's not bad), I suggest a 200ft rope and a 200ft pullcord. This recommendation has been a constant of mine for almost all first descents in the San Gabes. I should go buy some pullcord, I guess. We set the anchor and rope for the next rappel, which was short but still kinda neat. Upon both of us reaching the bottom of the next one I realized I left the 100ft rope near the anchor. We discussed ascending the rope, but I set it up double strand so that would be a bit of a hassle. I ended up scrambling up a loose slope on the right side (canyon left I think). I didn't quite mind it cause it gave me an opportunity to climb the slope fast to see how my bike strength translated to scrambling. I went up and around and retrieved the rope, rapping back.
There weren't great anchors nearby for the next rappel, so I just joined the two ropes again and we got down the next short but loose section, where I promptly dropped some large rocks onto the rope in a small pool. Thankfully it escaped damage. Some neat short downclimbs followed and we were out of the canyon. This was her first first-descent, so I'm letting her name it. It's fun to see how others use their creativity to do that sorta thing. We headed back to the road and chilled out by the river for a bit before heading back to the city.
Here's a pic of my bike carrying a canyoneering load. The two ropes go in the back panniers, draped over the rack with weight balanced between the two, fed into open top panniers a kind man gave me at Taco Bell once a few years ago. They're secured to the rack with a Voile strap. The 'rack', if you can call it that, is split between the two front panniers, with my pack crammed in one and the rest of my stuff in the other. I've been commuting on this bike without panniers over the past six months or so, and though it's typically unloaded it is still nice to have a bike that can handle a bit of weight without complaint.
I hope you are all doing well and getting out. Tell your people you love them and as always don't be a bitch, go do that thing you wanna do. Goodnight.
*UPDATE: Ezgi has given this canyon the name 'Forbidden Fruit' after the fig tree on the big rappel. There's a good amount of thought and history on that which is really interesting, that of figs and humanity and many things. Nice.
