I had reason to deeply scour aerial photos and lidar images of the northern portion of the Angeles National Forest, which turned up a few interesting surprises. In the northern portion of the Ridge Basin sedimentary rocks I could see a tilted slab of more resistant sandstone beds with three twisty cuts through its face. Lidar showed a total drop of about 50 m each over a short distance, and despite remarkably small catchments, seemed like promising accessible slot canyons that had probably gone under the radar of canyoneers. Not wanting to get my hopes up too much, I sought out partnership with Alden, a friend nearby with the most notable enthusiasm for descending any given first descent. We set a date and got an early start to beat the 100F midday heat. After meeting at Pyramid Lake, we carpooled onto the forestry roads near Quail Lake. Unfortunately there was a bit more deep sand than anticipated in one section and my weenie Prius lost traction, forcing us to retreat back a bit and hike an extra 0.7 miles. This was still done easy enough, despite having to steeply climb a few hundred feet on a buried pipeline clearing to gain the ridge. From here the going was easy enough to follow ridgelines down to the head of the canyons. They certainly looked to be as short as I thought, but they looked like they could be interesting. We dropped into the head of the easternmost slot. Because these slots are very minor tributaries of Apple Canyon, we ended up naming this first canyon Sauce.
Sauce turned out be be the best canyon, with the deepest twistiest slot, fun downclimbs, and two nice clean fluted rappels to 70 feet. It had been a while since both Alden and I were in a canyon so it was particularly fun to slip back into our groove of planning our descent through teamwork and careful anchor selection. The rock was a little soft and crumbly, but all in all we had a great time descending this rare SoCal mini-slot. Once down, we walked down the scrubby (but mercifully poison oak-free) main drainage to a ridgeline we could steeply ascend to a powerline pylon, then loop back around for the second canyon. It was already hot and this climb was punishing so we stopped for a bit in the shade while we could.
The next canyon we named Slice. This one was not quite as deep and so the sun beat down on us most of the time and it was less photogenic. This canyon had a couple obvious rappels to 90 feet and several 10-15 foot drops that we got down by me meat anchoring Alden, then having him assist me in a downclimb. The last drop in the canyon was a little more awkward with a scratchy constriction we had to rappel through to get down. So while this canyon was a little more sporting with its downclimbs, it did not have quite as much appeal as Sauce. We ascended the sweaty ridge a second time. On the way we got a good view of the third canyon which was more open and appeared to have less obvious anchors and so we decided to pass, happy with two first descents of decent canyons in 4 hours.
After downing some Gatorades in the shade of the gas station in Gorman, we met up with Alden's ride and we said our goodbyes. Overall it was great to see my friend after a couple years and get up to some minor exploration. We thought our canyon discoveries had some potential to be of interest to SoCal canyoners as unique mini-slots.
But wait there's more! I had now set off to do some fieldwork in the area and thought I would first go onto the northern end of the Old Ridge Route, an interesting piece of California history. The Old Ridge Route was considered a modern marvel of engineering when it was completed in 1915, providing the critical motor vehicle link between southern and northern California. The road appears braided from multiple generations with an oiled and graded surface paved over with a highly curvy slab of reinforced concrete with some of these curves later being shortcut with an asphalt paving surface. Driving along, I frequently made transitions to follow the best surface, a minor adventure in a Prius. About 7 miles in I stopped at the ruins of the Tumble Inn to get some photos and was surprised to find that the gate I expected to block the road here was in fact open so I continued on. At 10 miles I reached the best case scenario for another slot canyon I hoped to check out. I knew this one would be light on technicality but heavy on bushwhacking. After some deliberation, I made a couple of call-out arrangements and decided to attempt a solo first descent. I later decided to name this Syncline Slot as the slot canyon has formed along the axis of a prominent syncline in the sandstone layer.
After a short spur road led me to the ridge I had an immediate, unpleasant bushwhacking descent through scratchy, shirt-ripping chapparal. Once in the bottom of the tributary drainage the bushwhacking continued, but with the added bonus of some poison oak to avoid. Poison oak this high in this dry a canyon had me worried about what I would find below, but with care I could avoid it so far and I hoped for the best. The drainage continued with some interesting bedrock floors, not-quite-slot hallways, wind caves, and unfortunately more poison oak, but I was making decent progress and curious about the unknowns below. Right on cue where the lidar indicated the head of the slot canyon would be, there was a dramatic (if ultimately short) drop into a dark slot with nice pothole features and an ideal rock arch I could use as an anchor. I descended the short 20ft rappel and pulled my rope. I was hot, sweaty, and scratched, but my adventure was only just beginning.
Once I pulled my rope I was committed to going down and through this 1100 foot-long slot, whatever lay ahead. Only about five steps from the rappel water started seeping from a spring and I noticed some yellow jackets, which I did not pay much mind to. I managed to dislodge a stick with a step and in an instance I was swarmed with yellow jackets and feeling painful stings to my arm. I ran in a jolt the five steps back up the canyon and thankfully was not followed. Ouch! I got about 4 stings and a good jolt of adrenaline to counteract. Somehow I would need to get past the yellow jackets. I collected myself and realized I did not have much choice. I cautiously returned back downcanyon slowly with careful steps. I approached the boulder where the yellow jackets were, then as smoothly and swiftly as I could I hopped over and rapidly downcanyon, avoiding further stings. I was now hyperalert to dangers. Despite that unpleasantness, what followed was a surprisingly stunning section of slot canyon with reflective pools and hanging fern gardens in a shoulder-width slot. Slowly I worked my way along the straight and down through some short downclimbs. There were a few more yellow jackets to avoid but no more stings were acquired. Eventually the spring water dissipated and the slot continued with a dry floor and ever taller walls.
The slot ended rather abruptly, as expected, at a 20 foot-high ledge drop, beyond which the canyon opened much wider. My anchor options were not great here and I was forced to collect a number of large soft sandstone boulders to build a rockpile anchor. I was thoroughly exhausted and in my sloppiness I managed to drop my one and only rope down the drop. A string of expletives followed that no one heard but me. I now sat down but probably for less than a minute while I evaluated my options. I started to tie up a carabiner to create a fishhook of sorts that I could lower down on paracord to try to hook on the pile of rope below. Before I even really tried I realized this was about as feeble as a claw machine game and abandoned this idea. I realized that I had two pieces of 5/8" webbing left that when tied together and doubled would get me to within about 5 feet of the ground. I was not thrilled but rappelling down this webbing seemed like my best option. I got organized, lowered my pack down the drop (thinking a little less weight could only help), and then carefully weighted my anchor and the webbing. Once again, smooth and fast was the mantra as I lowered myself to the bottom of the drop. Webbing pulled, rope coiled, harness stashed in my pack, I continued on. I was only 700 feet from the streambed of Liebre Gulch, and yet somehow this seemed like the worst part yet with thick unavoidable walls of poison oak. It was the stuff of nightmares for me but I had no choice at this point. I made every attempt to minimize and strategize my contact, sacrificing my trekking poles and lower pant legs whenever possible to spare my face and arms. After four bad patches with mental itches building, I reached the streambed.
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| Poison oak gauntlet nightmare fuel |
The streambed was dry and stiff and made for easy walking. At one point I yet again had to climb out of the streambed and make careful maneuvers to avoid poison oak and more yellow jackets. Finally I reached the cleared band of vegetation marking a buried pipeline and my way up out of the canyon and back to the car. The clearing was really a strip of tall spikey weeds and travel so steep that it was literally two steps forward and one step back for much of it. As the sun began to near setting I chased the shadows up this slope until I finally reached the rim where I had comparatively easy walking back along a ridge. My final consolation prize for my work was a great sunset over the folded rocks of Liebre Gulch with Pyramid Lake beyond. My verdict of the afternoon's adventure was a two-star trip that could be a four-star canyon if scrub, poison oak, and yellow jackets were to magically disappear. The good was good; the bad was gruesome. It ended up being quite the solo adventure between the hot day, shirt-tearing bushwhacking, yellow jacket stings, and rope-dropping snafu.
Once I got reception I told my callouts I was out and mostly alive. Once back at the car (3hrs45min after departing), it was time for full poison oak quarantine and decontamination procedures. Between exhaustion and priorities, I striped naked in the middle of the forgotten road, carefully piled all my contaminated gear in an Ikea tote bag, and used all three poison oak wipes I had to scrub myself. My initial plan was to stay in the region camping and doing a couple more days of fieldwork but between the now throbbing pain of the yellow jacket stings and poison oak threat, I now felt the need to retreat home for a Tecnu shower and recovery. This ended up being the right move as my arm swelled up considerably and painfully the next day, and even after an urgent care visit and meds, my hand was nearly inoperable for several days after.
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