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Our day began at 4:30am. I had never met Henry before. But both of us shared a dream of visiting some of the most remote mines of the San Gabriel Mountains. And so we joined forces on a Saturday, with grandiose hopes of reaching Gold Dollar, Eagle, and Widco/Baldora--in that order.
The predawn ascent to Coldwater Saddle included perfectly cool weather, a star-studded sky, and the lightbeams of hunters moving into position along the Glendora Ridge Road on the opposite side of Cattle Canyon.
After some breakfast, we started on the Allison Trail toward Coldwater Canyon. Put simply, the old path was dangerously washed out and exposed in many places.
Then the trail became an old roadbed covered in massive yucca plants.
After 1.4 miles from the saddle the road ended, and we climbed down a fixed rope into Coldwater Canyon.
I filled up on water,
while Henry admired some found objects.
We then proceeded up-canyon to the foot of Gold Dollar Ridge, where we generally followed some animal trails on the righthand side until achieving the ridgecrest around 4400'.
To the right Big Horn Ridge raged uphill like a beast. Below, Coldwater Canyon twisted and turned its way, seemingly in all directions.
And on the left Dry Gulch pointed the way to Gunsight Notch.
Our plan was to take the ridge all the way up to Gold Dollar Mine, then backtrack to Eagle and Widco/Baldora. But the wilderness had other plans for us.
We bushwhacked and climbed for a seeming eternity, only to realize a measly 1.4 miles in well over three hours. At 5600' the idea of touring all three mines had been repeatedly discarded, and we found ourselves drifting away from the ridgetop, contouring toward the beckoning pine trees of Eagle Mine Canyon, sometimes on old trail fragments.
Finally, nine hours after leaving the East Fork, Eagle Mine appeared through the trees across the gully, exactly where my Garmin said it would be around the 5800-foot mark.
We enjoyed some rest and some lunch. I scrambled around, giving a half-hearted effort to find the tunnel entrance. But rather than continue further up the slope, I settled for the machinery and called it a victory.
At 2pm we decided to descend via Eagle Mine Canyon to its outlet at Coldwater Canyon.
Easy bouldering and bushwhacking turned into increasingly more difficult rockclimbing. The canyon mouth was cliffed out, and we spent considerable time contemplating whether we could get down to Coldwater, whose stream could be seen a mere hundred feet below. Ultimately we found an obscure class 3 side chute and carefully slid down on our butts.
I grabbed more water,
and then we stomped through the canyon for two miles to the fire road and Widman Ranch.
The sun had started to set, and the idea of attempting the Allison Sort-of-a-Trail in darkness did not appeal to our weary spirits and bodies. Instead we would risk an encounter at the ranch.
Henry and I zombie-walked past the "No Trespassing" signs at Widman Ranch, still eight long miles from our cars. Suddenly we heard someone exclaim, "What the fuck!!!" It was a man, drinking a beer, outside the main building. He seemed peeved.
After I explained our situation, his tone mellowed, and he granted us permission to walk through the property along the road. But he threatened legal action against any future violation.
Grateful, we continued on our way. The road was blanketed by colorful leaves.
Then darkness descended upon the canyon. We crossed and recrossed the stream about 30 or 40 times, sometimes having to toss stepping stones into the creekbed. My ankle turned quite badly during one crossing, but it recovered. We stopped for a quick snack near Thompson Flat and reached our cars by 10pm.
