Week 14: San Diego Country Estates to Inaja Memorial Picnic Area

So I will begin with a confession:  I did not follow river course very closely for much of today.  It is certainly possible, it just did not feel practical.  Do I regret this decision?  Not at all.
The night before I had found myself feeling more nervous about this leg of the journey than I had about any other.  Most of the canyon has no trail let alone any roads and thus it is a different type of hike than previous ones.  Hiking cross country tends to be slower and more prone to getting caught in brush and along cliffs.  These can be fun things, but I started to wonder about the ethics of going into the wild with such minimal logistical support.  This canyon has seen its share of yahoos and the forest service (who have ended up footing the bill for rescuing a lot of yahoos) has placed a lot of restrictions as a result of this.  I don't want to be the guy who ruined it for everyone.  Nor do I want to be the inspiration for the one who ruined it for everyone.  Now, when Doug did this stretch with the San Diego River Park Foundation he had a satellite phone and helicopter on call, and even he expressed having a rough go of things (slopes that could give way at any moment, precipitous ledges, etc . . .).  Also, I am just not in as good shape as I once was.

Morning mists over the San Diego River Gorge at Inaja.

 So the plan was to leave my bike at Inaja and then hike upriver.  Then I'd pick up my bike and ride back to the car.  Simple enough.  It was about 7:30 when I reached Inaja.  Mists hovered around the 3000 foot level.  The mountain air was cool and clean.  Onshore flow today for sure and I am not complaining about the free air conditioning courtesy of the Pacific Ocean.  I could have lingered but there was ground to cover.

Deeper mist over Santa Ysable.

And we begin at San Diego Country Estates

They are serious about marking this trail.  These signs were every 1/4 mile.

Forty minutes later I'm at the trailhead getting my paperwork in order.  As mentioned earlier the USFS has placed a number of restrictions in recent years on who they let visit this part of the river and what you can do there.  One of these restrictions involves limiting the number of trail permits for any day.  They also have a trail greeter at the start of the hike who checks your permit and asks if you have enough water and if you are who your permit says you are.  They're generally really nice friendly people and the woman I talked to was absolutely delightful and complimented me for being prepared, reminding me to stay on trail.

Easy is the descent into the San Diego River Gorge.

A wonderland of Yucca and low chaparral.

The trail up the other side.

There can be only one (trail)!

Not so long ago there were many trails from the parking area down to the valley.  This was a disaster for erosion, wildlife habitat and hiker safety.  Now there is only one very well marked, very well maintained trail.  Although the quota system seems to keep crowds down, I was by no means alone.  A woman and her dogs kept running past me.  I was content to go slow and easy here.  The views were nothing short of magnificent.  I sometimes think of these canyons in the San Diego backcountry as "The Shadow Areas."  This along with Hauser Canyon, Pine Creek and maybe one or two others are all remarkably remote, quite deep, and rarely travelled.  One might catch glimpses of them from a trail or road en route to some other summit, but they always seem more a shadow on the land than an actual destination.  Signs at the trailhead warn hikers that they are pretty much out of luck if a fire strikes.  I suspect that this and the flood hazard limits development more than any topographic constraints.

3D of the valley downstream.

Riparian forest.

There may be water in the aquifer below, the riverbed itself is dry.  I bliss in the shade of cottonwoods and birdsong.  You notice quickly how quiet it is when the roads are nowhere near.  Even with the other hikers the absence of white noise is euphoric.

Oaks and grasses.

Looking upstream.

So there are a few reasons I did not go up the canyon here:  1.  I wasn't sure what exactly I was going to run into or how to get myself out if things went bad.  2.  The nice lady at the trailhead asked me nicely to stay on trail.  3.  I'm under the impression that next mile or two of riverbottom is actually Helix Water District property, not National Forest.  While that didn't stop us in El Monte Valley, it's stopping me now.  4.  that waterfall was looking really inviting.

Cedar Creek Canyon.

Glowing trees.

Lovely trees.

Falls as reflected in the pool below.

 Cedar creek falls is one of the great destinations of the upper river and has enjoyed immense popularity over the years.  Among its lovers were once throngs of stupid people, incompetent people, drunk people, and just people who were simply not lucky.  There are plenty of you-tube videos and news articles on this.  I choose not to link to them out of respect for those more connected to the various incidents.  Now they have banned alcohol, rock climbing, and hiking off trail.  I will admit, I love to get my drink on as much as the next fellow, but I totally support what the forest service is doing here and how they have restored the spirit of the place.  Shortly after I arrived, there were about 16 or so others there and for a bit we suddenly all got silent and let the hummingbirds and fish frolic about as the waterfall trickled.  This silence would not have happened a few years back.

3-D of the falls.

One of my favorite 3-D's of the day.

People came and went.  I blissed longer than most of them.  Some folks a lab near mine came by and had me take a group photo (it was on their camera so it's not posted here).  Some stoner boys found their connection to nature.  Several couples came and went as did several other pods of peaceful sightseers.  Never were the crowds huge nor ever was I alone.

A charming fellow demonstrating what you're not supposed to do.

3-D reflections.

 Sometimes when I'm at a bar I'll pick up on something interesting being said nearby and insert myself into the conversation (tried this once on a commuter train, but it was less successful).  Here however, it was natural and connected.  If everyone had been drinking I do not think I would have been able to connect so.

Hummingbird.

Abstract reflections.

Complex patterns.

The dance of light.

This pond even holds fish.

Here is one picture from this trip in which I am actually smiling.

3-D of the falls.

Looking up.

The inner grotto.

Fishie!

The dance of light.

Birdhouse.

The dance of light after someone jumped in the water.

Glow of the prickly pear.

The precarious oasis tree

3-D as the light shifts.

Burnt tree surrounded by green.

I considered lingering much longer.  I was well provisioned and the dance of light and shadow could have kept me mesmerized.  Instead, however I found the trail calling me again.  I had a river to walk.  So back I went.

Hello there.

Looking up.

While "Rim to Rim" hiking has become quite the extreme sports adventure to have on the Grand Canyon to the point where its creating some logistical issues for National Park Service, it has not caught on here in the San Diego River Gorge.  Today I ended up doing just that (and had some logistical issues of my own.)  It started from a desire to get a better view upstream and then grew from there.  I'll try to explain what I was thinking and why I don't regret it but why I might not do it this way again (really a metaphor for this entire journey).

Down on the riverbottom.

Up valley.

I would argue that the views up the east side are in certain ways superior to the west side, in that you see more of the river, in particular upstream, than undiscovered country.  Ahead of me were the stoner boys from the waterfall.  I kept hoping I'd catch up to them and that they'd see me as an "cool" aging hipster and give me a ride to the highway or something.  Alas the stoner boys were hiking faster than I was and by the time I made to the trailhead they were long gone.

Looking back.

Plenty of signage

Distant peaks in the background.

Zoomed in version

In wetter times there would be a babbling brook.

Curious little insect.  there were a number of these around.

The wild country upriver.

The ridge that obscures it all

 While the road was supposedly getting closer, the country seemed only to get wilder.  The river grew further and further away until I came around a mountainside and saw the rock face from which Mildred Falls would be if there was more water.  It was still stunning in its own right, just not full of water.  This is actually fairly normal.  The stream which feeds it is only running.  It was here that I began to turn away from the river and enter something a bit different.

One last glance of the river down below.

Mildred Falls, as they typically look.

Vegetation contrast between north and south facing hillside.

Red flowers with a couple yellow ones.

Orange-yellow flowers

A unique perspective on Cuyamaca.

 The parking lot at the saddle was a welcome sight.  The gap in the mountains allowed for a bit a breeze and I felt hopeful that I would not have too long a walk back.  Using mapmyride.com I got an estimate of about 10 miles from the trailhead to Inaja, and figured even without the help of the stoner boys I could be just fine walking it, and make better time than I would have had I remained in the canyon.

The long winding road

Coming soon.

A lot of the land around here is a preservation work in progress.  The Eagle Peak Preserve is a work in progress by the San Diego River Park foundation.  Last time I was down this road in late 2005, this was only a dream.  It still is not open, but the land acquisition is near complete.  The land around here is nothing short of stunning and still very wild even with Eagle Peak road running through it (~ 2 cars a hour).  It is a forgotten, yet magical corner of the county full of life and stunning views and truly the heart of the river up country.

This was in the middle of the hottest steepest climb.

Got shade?

I was actually having a bit of a rough go at this point.  The climb just keeps coming at you and the people I had smiled to on the trail were nowhere to be found.  Also there was no shade to speak of.  While the breeze was nice and temperatures were only in the high 70's it still dragged a bit.  Also at some point I noticed that I was at mile marker 7 and that the mile markers were decreasing in the direction of travel, suggesting I had at least 7 more miles to go before I hit the highway and then a bit more after that to get back to Inaja.  There was still no reception and I was wondering if maybe I should have turned back at the trailhead and returned to my car, but it seemed a bit late for that.  I was however treated to some lovely views across the river.  Although the bottom of the canyon was no longer visible I had still the mountains that were rising up the other side.

Dye Mountain in the distance.

El Cajon Peak.

For the last 2 months or so I've been looking at El Capitan and El Cajon mountain.  From the south and west, they dominate.  It seems they dominate from the north as well.  Indeed many of the peaks seemed to look just a bit different from here.  Cuyamaca was now the dominant one with many of the others now growing distant.   Gower Peak is apparently a popular hike out of Ramona, and for awhile it seemed to be the most prominent thing to the west.   Dye Mountain is a mystery for most people, but looks huge in google earth flyovers of the upper gorge.  But as I kept climbing these front range massifs started seeming a bit small.

The top of Mildred Falls.

Purple flowers.

Dye mountain again.

Redtail above the snag.

At some point I stopped taking so many pictures.  There is a bit of "put one foot in front of the other" to keep me going.  That and I didn't have much of a place to sit.  I just couldn't think too much about the daunting task ahead of me.  But alas my surroundings were changing.  I was seeing more oaks and grasses.  There was even a sliver of actual National Forest land and the possibility of shade.  At some point I found reception and let Anita know I was not going into the wild, but walking along a road that would eventually get me to Julian, worst case scenario.  And then I saw Mile marker 5.  One foot in front of the other.

Loved this tree.

The river is here somewhere . . . 

I couldn't really eat much, but I drank water liberally.  Although I never ran out I wondered if I might.  The air was cooling with elevation and though my distance from the river was increasing, my views were improving. At some point I spotted Dye Mountain and noted that it seemed below me now.  I was making progress and had contact with my lover and my cell phone battery seemed to be holding up.

Dye Mountain below.

Middle Peak.

Cuyamaca in 3-D.

Mile markers helped.

Perhaps the other highlight happened around mile 4 of Eagle Peak road:  I finally spotted some of the mountains near the San Diego River Headwaters.  Those puffy clouds that congregated over it added a bit of dramatic effect.  The summits seemed closer than the river bottom from which I hiked.  Around me meadows and woods of the up country.

And finally the mountains that form the headwaters of the river.

Tree canopy over the road.

Looking back

Down Temescal Creek.  The river is just before the final ridge

There comes a point where certain faculties of the brain just shut down.  I was both in pain and euphoria and not sure what was going on.  The mile markers got lower and I grew closer maintaining a 3 mile per hour pace at times.  The road had leveled out and had quite a bit of shade.  I took more pictures and then forgot to do so.  Barely 24 hours later it all seems a distant memory.  I am not sure what happened when even I look at these photos and the map I was using at the time.

Shot of me #3.

Trees and rolling hills.

At some point in the afternoon the light takes on a sort of otherworldly quality and everything bathed in it has a way glowing or sparkling.  I generally celebrate this except that, like a siren's song, I know now that the brilliant light means sunset is not far in the future.  I was still quite a long walk from Inaja and riding in the dark while tired seemed somewhat dangerous.  That and I worried about the nice trail greeter who would see my car still there long after everyone had left and worry.  I tried calling the number on the back of my trail pass to let them know I was alive and well and just on a bit more of a walk than was typical of Cedar Creek Falls visitors, but that I had stayed on the trail at all times.  I got no answer.  That ended up being a non-issue anyway.

Another shot down river.

The source getting closer, this might be Volcan Mountain.

The meadows of the upcountry.

Traffic on the road was increasing,  The road became paved.  Civilization was near.  The name of this civilization is Pine Creek, a subdivision of Julian full of folks who enjoy life among the trees and views, away from all the urban bustle.  It ended up being one such prospective resident who made my day a whole lot better.  A woman who was certainly wiser than myself but not afraid of having fun pulled over and asked if I was allright.  I mentioned I was well equipped with water, but had been hiking quite a distance.  She asked then if I might need a ride.  It was an offer I could not refuse.  We talked about water, land and fire and opportunities to live more sustainably.  She had lived in San Diego much of her life - even knew some of same people I did (small world as always).  As the trees and traffic flew by she mentioned to me a book:  something about a  "Donkey's tale"  in part about a spiritual seeker who is blissfully unaware of the lengths that people are going to keep her out of trouble.  Given the number of times nice people have scraped me off the side of the road or the exit of the bar (always in search of some brilliant spirit), I can't help but wonder if I am somehow like the person this book describes.  It sounds like a good read anyway.

Pavement returns.

Crossing the San Diego River on CA-78.

Back at Inaja I bade my friend goodbye.  My bike was still there, so I unlocked it.  I exhcnaged my hat for a helmet and my t-shirt for a synthetic fabric.  A family enjoying a picnic offered me a bottle of water and I could not refuse.  And there I was with 20 more miles to go.  I wanted to capture at least a little of the river from Inaja park, but could barely make it even 100 yards up the trail before I felt some pressing need to head straight back to the car.  I noticed almost immediately that my tires were low.  Very glad I brought the bike pump.

Looking up toward Volcan mountain.

Is this the headwaters?

Trippy rocks at Inaja.

Looking down the river canyon.

Looking ahead.

Santa Ysabel bound.

It's hard to describe the ride back.  It was mostly downhill and that made it much better.  It was also into the wind.  Yes the same winds that had kept me cool now blew in my face as tried to return home.  I recall it being beautiful.  I would also say that the drivers were courteous, and while I did keep as far right as possible they did their best to give me a wide birth (though some gave me more than others).  I think the hardest part was the muscle spasms in my calves that kept popping up every couple of miles.  When the first attack hit I pulled over and downed 2 ibuprofen and half a bottle of electrolyte replenishment drink and tried to stretch.  This worked but only so well and I had several more episodes before I finally figured out a way to position my feet to stave them off.

Old Julian Highway.

I think that's El Cajon mountain peeking over the ridge there

I recall my sense of time growing distorted, the numbers on my watch appearing as if time might be going backwards.  Space too was playing tricks on me.
Rancho San Diego Estates seemed to sprawl forever.  I tried following a path of least resistance until I hit a near dead end.  It was a fire truck access that was my saving throw (one of those alleyways between streets).  From there I was able to consult google maps and get some directions I could remember.  The last few miles were more uphill than down and I found myself counting the trees to keep going.  Slowly but surely the water tanks drew near and after several rounds of counting trees I even had a little downhill before Thornbush Drive (an a more humorous note: I learned what happens when I ask google voice recognition software to "Help me find thrornbush drive" and can only say that it would not be good to post a link to the results).

Rancho San Diego Estates as the sky grows dark.

Me #4.

At the car I spent some number of minutes catching my breath and then texted Anita to let her know I was coming home and would get us some tacos when I made it to Lakeside.  So let's see: I managed to do more climbing today than in the entirety of the journey before or journey to come.  I saw the headwaters and know it grows near.  I have met friends and guardian angels who I hope to thank handsomely.  Somehow I think also I may have reset some thing that was eating me as of late and that is priceless.  I may not be in the shape I was then, but I recall the fire that burned once and how it still remains within me.  As I get older I find that I am  never really going it alone, and that every individual effort is on the shoulders of giants.  I often wonder if I can be those shoulders someday.   Perhaps we are taking turns all along, so long as we are paying attention and giving recognition.

One last view for the day.