This trip report is named in honor of the 1937 Zorro episode of the same name, which was filmed at the Pacoima dam and the title also felt relevant to a couple experiences we had.
Check it out here:
https://www.youtube.com/embed/4PjCMPUgL-4?start=432
I was somehow able to convince Sean and Cecelia to join me on my long-awaited quest to reach Pacoima Reservoir, the nearest body of water to where I live. I had been wanting to do this hike for a couple years, and after much planning and hesitations over what I now realize were overblown concerns over no trespassing signage, (A big thank you to the board here for being the bad influence I needed to just go for it) this morning we gave it a go. I know that indications of abandoned cabins and trails were key for getting Sean and Cecelia on board this expedition.
Things got off to a great start finding a convenient parking spot right near the stream bank.
There was official-looking LADWP or CalTrans or some sort of government agent guarding the access road I wanted to take, but no bother, that allowed us to take our first "Plunge of Peril" for the day down the road embankment to reach the Pacoima Creek itself. The fact this scramble didn't turn off Sean and Cecelia completely was early indication I had found the right people to accompany me into the wild lands.
Pacoima creek was lovely, running high and healthy but very much navigable on foot, bubbling briskly through the willows over angular cobbles of granodiorite shed from Kagel Mt. We quickly realized strapping on our water shoes and just using the creek itself as our primary trail would be the winning strategy. The water was cooling but not frigid, and when the sun briefly shown through the mists, the water swirling past our legs and various broken ledges, our little riparian world green and lush, I felt transported to my childhood hikes in Maine, and I was awash with much nostalgia and contentment.
Big props to Cecelia, who for every knee-deep pool Sean and I navigated, for her was one up to her waist. She never flinched, and I have much admiration. She remained stalwart through wounds and lost phones.
We reached confluence of Maple canyon, which was of particular interest to Sean, as he had an old topo map which indicated it was populated at one time with a modest gaggle of recreational cabins. Maple canyon from my perspective was rugged, eroded, and seemingly very hostile to any sort of setting for cabins or human habitation. Sean however has what I would call "abandoned-cabin-o-vision" or maybe you could call him the "cabin-remains-whisperer" because when I was convinced the search for old foundations was a hopeless cause, he claimed to have sighted some sort distant rock structure along the edge of the canyon bank which I couldn't discern, and directed me with some encouraging shouting to the location of what, lo and behold, was what appeared to be a chimney sticking out of the brush made from cement and locally-sourced boulders.
(You can see Sean down below in bottom the canyon - he was smarter than me in deciding to stay down there.... hacking through the brush on these steep crumbling canyon walls was some of the most difficult scrambling I've done in a long time) but to the victor goes the spoils:
And its hard to make out in the thick brush, but 30 feet away was an unmistakable foundation of another cabin, too:
After crashing back down to Pacoima Creek, we continued on downstream, and the canyon soon widened, the water slowed, and the thick deposited sediments became progressively smaller in size from cobbles to gravel to sand to silt and finally dark mud, and I knew the reservoir itself was nearing.
Now came the second "Plunge of Peril" of the expedition. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Indiana-Jones-movie style, Sean's entire leg suddenly disappeared into the seemingly innocuous gravel of the streambed, and only with a couple startled yanks of his leg, grabbing a nearby tree, was he able to pull himself free. Suddenly the same thing happened with one my footfalls, and I too plunged my leg into an enveloping slurry of gravel. We were able to pull ourselves free, but it became quickly apparent that in these backwaters of the reservoir, the huge load of sediments the creek had been dumping for years into the reservoir had collected in a suspended animation of sand and water, and there was only a thin surface of dry gravel above a huge abyss of water-gravel-mud slurry of untold depths. It was surreal and disconcerting, but thankfully we saw some open water up ahead, emerging from the ghostly mists, and could declare the reservoir had been reached. We gingerly with much trepidation walked across the morass to eat our lunch at our destination, my trekking poles could be easily pushed to complete submergence (Sean has photos) into the sandy water-logged abyss that lay beneath as we munched on cherries and mango slices and looked out over the peaceful but deadly landscape before us.
Feeling both victorious and spooked, we carefully made our way out of this strange sandy morass, staying within arms reach of shrubs and trees and walking past a roaring waterfall that literally disappeared beneath our feet into the uncertain ground like it was never there.
The return was simply navigating upstream the way we had come, the current now against us, but Sean's machete hacks on the way down having cleared more of an opening.
On the way out to the road we came across a completely burned-out remains of a house, which at one time must have been a beautiful, almost palatial home before I think probably the Lake Fire(?) claimed it. Sean even cut the rattle off a big dead rattlesnake to bring back to civilization as a charming souvenir.
Cross Pacoima Reservoir off the list - and we didn't even need Zorro to rescue us!
4.4 miles, 1169 of elevation gain
