Quick Stats: 22 Miles & 6,480′ gain over 13 summits starting from Fish Creek Trailhead.
I’ve been feeling burned out lately, and have had a lot on my place in terms of chaos in my personal life. That combination doesn’t make for the best Brielle, so I decided I needed to some crazy peakbagging adventure. This is becoming a new sort of stress response for me– the combination of satisfaction from reaching multiple summits, the solitude for spending a day alone, and the reminder that I’m both physically capable and mentally strong is a great way to destress and recharge my batteries.
I had a day to myself and knew that I wanted to go off on an all day peakbagging adventure; but the question was where? What would be a good combination of objectives and effort? The 10,000′ Ridge in the San Bernardino Mountains immediately came to mind.
. . . and that’s when things got crazy. Listed on the Sierra Club’s Hundred Peaks Section (which I hope to complete someday), there are two other peaks in the area that I haven’t reached yet. With 3 trailheads for San Gorgonio, I had originally divided all of the peaks into 3 adventures. Makes sense, right? When I went and did my first peakbagging adventure to San Gorgonio, I ended up throwing 2 of those peaks into that adventure (from South Fork Trailhead). This left my Vivian Creek adventure (2 summits) and my Fish Creek Adventure (13 summits).
I decided I’d throw those other two into this adventure and make it truly insane. In addition to the peaks from Fish Creek and the 10,000′ Ridge, I was now going to add in Bighorn Mountain and Dragon’s Head.
Being in a terrible headspace, I decided to drive out the trailhead and dirtbag the night before. This has been my M.O. ever since getting Alyx as is, but I also didn’t want to run the risk of backing out by not wanting to drive in the early morning.
This particular trailhead was one that inspired me getting Alyx in the first place. It’s a windy, 4WD recommended, single lane dirt road that occasionally has exposed edges as your twist and turn your way through the mountains. It took me over 30 minutes to travel about 5 miles with how slow you had to take it over this road.
The next morning I ended up getting a later start than I had planned. I woke up with that mental health hangover that I know so well, but eventually got my (metaphorical) engine revved and was headed into a burn area with my headlamp blazing.
The first set of peaks on my list were Grinnell Mountain, Lake Peak, and Zahniser Peak. Grinnell Mountain was an uneventful hike directly up to the summit from Fish Creek Saddle, but reaching that summit gave me the sort of mental release that I needed. The solitary storm cloud that was stalking me from Alyx until now had finally dissipated. I was free to enjoy the rest of my day without that following me.
Lake Peak and Zahniser Peak were a little more fun, reminding me of my San Jacinto Peakbagging Adventure where there would be a lot of hiking and open country travel, and then the summit would be a pile of granite on top of a bump in elevation that offered a chance at scrambling if you really look for a fun line up.
Next was the more insane part of my journey. I had to go up the Fish Creek Trail to the Sky High Trail (on the South face of San Gorgonio), then drop in on Dragon’s Head and Bighorn Mountain. The portion on trail again reminded me of the San Jacinto area, and if I didn’t have a good sense of navigation (or, you know, a brain) I would have confused the switchbacks on the Fish Creek Trail for Peak Trail to the East of San Jacinto. Eventually I came across something that I have heard about in the local ranges: The wreckage from a plane wreck. There are a few spots in different mountains where planes have crashed decades ago, and what remains still sits there slowly deteriorating away.
Eventually I found myself at the Sky High Trail, and down I went toward “The Tarn.” Of course the tarn was dry, and no one should ever believe that this will ever hold water again, but you definitely know that it once was a tarn because of the silty lakebed sand you slog through if you don’t stay in the wooded area. I finally found myself at the base of Dragon’s Head immediately West of The Tarn with a clear path to the summit. From the distance Dragon’s Head looks very intimidating, but as you get close you notice a trail on top of a narrow ridge that takes you right to the top.
I took some time here to relax, dry out my clothes, and take in the scenery– at this point I was feeling worked, but also had finally started feeling socially recharged from the immense solitude of the day. I still had a long way to go as well; I was currently as far away from Alyx as possible on this adventure, and was only at summit 4 of 13 for the day.
Cutting across from Dragon’s Peak to Bighorn Mountain was a bit of a slog, and I noticed when looking for beta that people normally just climb up the talus slopes on the North face of the mountain. I’m not above that life, but I’m also not about that life if there’s an alternative. According to CalTopo (and no other map), there was an old trail that takes you up the North Face a little, then follows the west ridge to the summit. The trail was barely there in some places, and completely absent in others; but it helped enough to make the ascent of Bighorn Mountain not completely miserable.
Didn’t take that line down for the descent, and while it saved distance going straight down the North face. . . It was rough. Then I had to get myself back up to Sky High Trail so I could descend to the East and get on the 10,000′ Ridge, my original reason for heading out there.
It took a lot of effort and a good amount of time, but eventually I was up to the trail, then back down at Fish Creek Saddle to head up the ridge.
One thing that didn’t come up much in looking for beta on this trip was that the 10,000′ Ridge was burn scarred, and when I reached my first summit it became immediately clear that this would be a more committed adventure than I originally though. Worth noting that I had already been out there for around 9 hours at this point too. I thought about it and figured I was already here, and I figured it would probably take a similar amount of time to go back to the trail and out rather than continue through. (Spoiler Alert: It took way longer.)
Besides. . . I still hadn’t made it to the point that is named “10,000′ Ridge” that counts for the HPS. With that out of the way, I continued onward to 3 more named summits, and 3 unnamed summits. The first of these named summits not only shouldn’t be (it’s a bump of basically 0′ prominence that’s a 3 minute walk from 10,000′ Ridge), but the elevation on the summit register was wrong.
I then continued along the ridge, with large losses and gains in elevation along the way. Doing the entirety of the 10,000′ Ridge is tough. It’s relentless. Between the big changes in elevation, the loose burn scarred terrain, endless felled trees, and bits of 2nd class scrambling, it was very difficult and hard to navigate.
Finally I reached the end of the ridge, and was feeling both tired and accomplished. Having done a lot of these grueling ridge routes in the local ranges (Copter Ridge with Hawkins Ridge, Pleasant View Ridge, etc.), I sent Frankie a message from my Garmin saying that getting to Hell for Sure Peak at the end of the ridge is the final boss of ridges. (Spoiler Alert: It’s not. Just wait.) After a brief change to rest my feet and have a well earned snack, it was time to make my way down the North Ridge of Hell for Sure Peak and back to Alyx, knowing that there was a 13th unnamed summit along the way.
This was the actual final boss of ridges. Getting to Peak 9580 was insane, and I felt like the mountain goddesses were literally throwing everything they could at me: Steep terrain with loose burn scarred soil; talus and scree; felled trees everywhere; bush whacking; a big gain in elevation right after a huge loss; 2nd Class scrambling; and even bushwhacking while scrambling to make it to the “summit” of Peak 9580.
Getting down from there was more of the same, except with the added bonus of no path through the thorny brush that covered almost the entire line between where I was and Alyx.
Speaking of Alyx, partway down from Peak 9580 (and still a bit away from the trailhead), I heard my car alarm going off. My immediate thought was that the panic button had been pressed accidently while the key had shifted in my hip belt pocket, but when I went to turn off the alarm with the remote I was out of range. Next thought was that a bear was curious, even though I don’t leave food in my car. (Scented items are another story: a girl needs her lotion.)
The alarm was still blaring as I bushwhacked down the steep slope, catching thorns in my ankles as I was trying to get a look at the dirt patch that served as a parking lot. Then I saw it: A red pickup truck with a white camper shell and what looked like someone standing beside it.
Fish Creek Trailhead is extremely secluded. I was the only car when I pulled in the night before, and the only one there when I left for my adventure. It is considered a 4×4 road (as I mentioned earlier), and is miles away from cell service or any major road. This was one of the first times I felt alarmed about being on a solo adventure. Here I was a woman exhausted after a long day, coming back to my car that someone has disturbed, completely alone except for this person.
As I got to the base of the ridge I could get a better look at the trailhead parking lot. The person was no longer standing by the truck, and the car alarm on Alyx had tuckered itself out. I messaged Frankie letting her know that I had a weird feeling about this, and that I would check in with her later. As I approached the trailhead, I held my poles forward, and even went as far as brandishing my knife. With her clearance I could easily see beneath her, but my windows are a little tinted; so I approached the back first (not way to open the tailgate from the inside) to peer in and see if anyone was in my car: Nothing. Went to the passenger side: Nothing. Looked around for signs that someone touched my car: Nothing. Looked around to see if there was anything around that looked suspicious: Nothing.
As quickly as possible I switched into my summit slippers, threw my gear in the car, and was on my way home. Even though the day ended on a weird note, I got everything I needed out of that adventure, and was so glad to have added 13 summits to my ascent list.