I spent a whirlwind two days in the portion of Angeles National Forest north of Castaic, an interesting area of ranges and diverse rock types between the Mojave Desert, San Gabriel Mountains, and Sespe Wilderness. Most pass through this area traveling at high speed on Interstate 5, but I had reason to explore many of the other two-lane roads traversing the area and several notable hikes dipping into more remote terrain. I managed to time my visit with a rare break in the summer heat (even seeing some rain!), which helped me cover more ground. Overall I was impressed at the spectacular geology and variety of scenic wonders underappreciated for southern California. Unfortunately that experience was also paired with aggressive commuters irresponsibly driving on winding mountain roads, rampant graffiti, ruins of the long-past golden age of national forest recreation, and a trash dump at every pullout I stopped at.
My first stop was visiting the site of the St Francis Dam, which catastrophically failed in 1928 killing over 400 people in the resulting flood and widely considered one of the world's worst dam sites from an engineering geology point of view. There was not too much to see other than large chunks of concrete downstream, a sediment filled valley, and a protruding ridge that formed the natural constriction of the chosen dam site. From here I was happy to leave the reckless commuters behind and take a forestry connector road up to the ridgeline of Lake Hughes Road. I parked on the side of the road and took a short trail to the bedrock crag of Raven's Roost, a stunning outcrop of landslide breccia that flowed into and deformed underlying sandstones and conglomerates (frontispiece). With some care I was able to find a scrambling route to the top of the peak and enjoy the view. I saw abundant rock climbing anchors around its periphery, the first of several "unlisted" rock climbing areas I came across. After a quick detour for a view of Castaic Lake, I about-faced and drove Lake Hughes Road into the mountains. I was surprised how rugged Elizabeth Lake Canyon became with the road clinging high above a confined gorge section and what I imagine must be near-constant rock fall.
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| Elizabeth Lake Canyon |
After crossing the Clearwater Fault the canyon opened up more widely. I parked at the bridge over Fish Creek for an exploratory hike up the creek. The creek had clearly seen considerable change since the 2020 Lake Fire ravaged the area, with remnants of high young terraces still intact and trees buried by several feet. Despite this, the further up I went the more bedrock pools I had to skirt around. Where a small waterfall poured in on the creek's right I would have to wade thigh deep to continue. I stripped down to my boxers and continued on through the brisk waters, soon coming upon a scenic flooded corridor. Past that at an abrupt turn was a scenic sequence of three falls and plunge pools cut into foliated gneisses; despite the graffiti, bolted chain link, and eyehole bolts clearly for hanging hammocks, I think it is fair to say it is one of the more scenic waterfalls in southern California. For so late in the summer, the amount of water was impressive. I carefully used the sketchy chain to climb the falls, appreciating the neat hanging pothole and falls above. A quick drone scout determined the canyon would get much less interesting for a ways so I opted to return the way I came instead of a longer hike, taking an opportunity for a quick refreshing skinny dip before hiking back. Lots of frogs hopped across my path along the creek.
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| Upper Fish Creek narrows |
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| Not bad for late summer in SoCal |
I drove up the remainder of Elizabeth Lake Canyon to emerge onto Pine Canyon Road and drive north along the San Andreas Fault. At Three Points I drove north to check out some of the rhyolitic outcrops of the Neenach Volcanics, the famous Miocene volcano that has been offset nearly 200 miles across the San Andreas Fault (the other side being Pinnacles National Park in central California). I then drove past Hughes Lake, Munz Lakes, and Elizabeth Lake, prominent sag ponds along the San Andreas and some of the few natural lakes in southern California.
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| Elizabeth Lake looking along the San Andreas Fault |
Past Elizabeth Lake I turned to cross the low saddle back into San Francisquito Canyon where I started my day. I drove through the hamlet of Green Valley, which I found to be a disturbingly dense cluster of houses beneath the trees and with seemingly very little defensible space from the surrounding forest. I shuddered and drove on up Spunky Canyon, briefly stopping at the nice pine grove at the saddle.
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| "Los Cantilles" climbing crags |
I had one more stop I hoped to sneak in before sunset so I continued out of the mouth of the canyon and joined the bumper-to-bumper hordes commuting home as I drove east to Sleepy Valley. I was happy to find the gate at the bottom of Rush Canyon Road open and set off up the dirt grade. Between the loose slopes, ruts, erosional gaps in the road, and swooping corners from off-road vehicles this short drive made for a minor adventure for my underequipped Prius. I pulled over and parked once I reached the ridgeline and set off hiking 0.5 miles to the crags of the Texas Canyon climbing area. This would be a neat area to explore more thoroughly with many nooks and crannies and a whole line of outcrops stretching a half-mile, but I was close to sunset and so only walked around the first (and largest) crag and had to be content with a drone flight to take in the remainder.
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| Texas Canyon climbing area |
I spent the night cozy in my rooftop tent at Oak Flat Campground. The campground itself was quiet and nearly empty, a nice spot underneath the oaks, only marred slightly by the little-louder-than-white-noise of Interstate-5 echoing across the valley. Despite a forecast of overnight rain, I awoke dry with nice morning sunlight. I broke camp and drove past some classic Ridge Basin outcrops in Osito Canyon, finding the gate closed at Frenchmans Flat trailhead. Fortunately I had the good thought to bring my gravel bike and so could cover the last 2 miles of road below the dam with ease other than the developing drizzle. It was neat to revisit this area since my last time here on a sedimentary petrology field trip in 2005...nearly two decades ago. I remembered several of the excellent outcrops along the way, in particular the amazing tilted bed of wave-rippled sandstone at the very end.
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| World-famous Ridge Basin exposures |
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| 2005 field trip photo of me on wave-rippled sandstone I revisited |
I returned to the car a little soggy and drove back to Whitaker Summit where I hoped to get a drone image of the prominent ridgetop outcrop of Violin Breccia. As I arrived so did the rain and then low clouds and fog to obscure any chance at a successful flight. I waited patiently, perhaps 20 minutes on the side of the road until a break in the rain and clouds let me get a quick flight in. The rain saturated outcrops with wispy clouds and the rough ranges beyond Piru Gorge made for one of my favorite scenes of the trip.
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| Violin Breccia near Whitaker Summit |
Onward I drove to the southern start of the Old Ridge Route to causally see how far I could go before hitting a closed gate. Gates were not the problem though and I managed to snake my way a couple miles up the curvy road to a ridgeline road collapse. I wasn't going to be able to sneak by off the pavement with my low slung Prius and so it was the end of the road for me, but not without enjoying a section with really nice wild sunflowers.
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| Old Ridge Route |
For my last and final excursion (the big one I had been anticipating) I drove down Templin Highway to where it ends abruptly at a roadblock that would serve as my trailhead. My goal was a roughly 11 mile round trip over increasingly rough terrain from abandoned paved highway to half-gone dirt road with a dozen stream crossings to flat trail along a creek to overgrown steeply switchbacking trail to rough and tumble scramble to the summit of Redrock Mountain with its views of red craggy cliffs across the way. As I readied to go a stiff rain set in and I waited it out in the car, wondering how long it might last. It took nearly an hour but eventually it seemed to clear and I set off down the pavement at speed on my bike. I crossed the bridge over Castaic Creek and before long turned off to head up Fish Canyon. Portions of this former road were in good shape while others were coated in rockfall requiring me to walk my bike. Frogs were everywhere and the scenery improved with every bit of progress. At the fourth stream crossing the gain on the bike seemed to be approaching borderline and so I ditched it to continue on foot.
After several more stream crossings I entered an excellent gorge in San Francisquito Formation conglomerate. Here the canyon was the width of a vehicle and I followed the remnants of an old concrete road back and forth across the river through a series of neat waterfalls. After about a thousand feet the gorge opened up and I approached Cienaga Spring and the remnants of yet another golden age campground. Overall I made great speedy progress to this point.
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| San Francisquito Fm narrows of Fish Canyon |
I made good progress on the surprisingly clear trail up Fish Canyon, managing to keep dry feet with care at the six-ish stream crossings. The real standout along this stretch were some particularly majestic oak trees, the shadows of which would have made excellent campsites. I soon came to the mysteriously named "The Pianobox Prospect" on the USGS topo. The spot consisted of little more than a shallow indent in a wall, some rusty equipment, and the remnants of a small dam across the creek. The creek had a pleasant gorge section just above and lots of frogs jumping with my every step, but unfortunately this is where things got rough as I had to climb away from the creek for the first time.
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| At The Pianobox Prospect |
The start of the trail up to Redrock Mountain was hard to find and well guarded by a wall of poison oak such that I took nearly 15 minutes to strategically break through. Once through the poison oak was behind me until the return, but what remained was a 1.5 mile/1800 ft climb on a trail continuously overgrown with chaparral that grabbed and sliced, and yuccas that acupunctured. The moisture from the morning's rain was now turning into aggressive humidity as I felt solidly out of shape and drenched in sweat. The last 800 feet of elevation gain were the most tortuous as the trail dissipated and every step forward was a struggle. I admit I stopped more frequently than I would have liked but eventually reached the summit. The view of the red rock cliffs was neat and did make for unique terrain for southern California but I left feeling a little underwhelmed considering the effort spent. I did appreciate the rough terrain and miles of wilderness to the north though with ridge after ridge and valley after valley. I flew my drone, let some sweat dry, then it was back down to the car as quick as I could to hopefully not bear the brunt of traffic.
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Red rock cliffs
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With my trekking poles I managed to make excellent time sliding on scree and crashing through scrub, taking a half-hour to reach the creek instead of the 1.5 hours on the way up. A good pace got me to my bike and then back up to my car without incident. All in all it was an action packed couple days spent exploring one of the largest blank-to-me places on my personal southern California map. There were some surprisingly neat features and geology and I did not see anyone every time I ventured off a road. An interesting area that undoubtedly hides many other underappreciated treasures, I certainly came away feeling I had only scratched the surface.
