Silverado Loop

Saturday, January 11 I headed back to Silverado Canyon for my longest hike/run since I decided to "train" for Calico. The gate to Maple Springs Road was open, so I was able to park directly in front of the trail that I would be ending on -- Silverado Trail. Starting and ending here made what I (& others) call The Silverado Loop measure 16.86 miles on my Amazfit watch (with 3,727' elevation gain). 

The first 7 or so miles were a climb up Maple Springs. It was dang cold at the bottom of the canyon, and that's perfect practice for Calico! Things warmed up after about 8 miles when I finally took off the beanie and long sleeves (also perfect practice for Calico). There was the last remnants of snow toward the top of Maple Springs Road and on the Main Divide in the shadow of Modjeska Peak (which still had snow on its backside). 

As I write this post, I am one week out from Calico . I suspect I stand a good chance of placing last 🤣. Go DFL! But that's okay. Not near the shape I wanted to be in, but in much better shape than I started 3 months ago. So yay! It's been a long time since I've done the Silverado Loop. I cannot deny that I have progressed in the past 3 months. 

Those first 7 miles up Maple Springs are nowhere near the course at Calico (which is mildly rolling hills through desert sand). But the Main Divide to Silverado Trail, that was quite tough, and more comparable to some of Calico's terrain. There was so much climbing in the overall downhill along the Main Divide, that reaching the Silverado Loop took much longer than I expected.  

After turning onto The Main Divide, I focused on running long stretches to make up time for the Maple Springs Climb. I saw no other person on foot. Occasionally I'd see one or two motorcyclists and they'd nod or wave as they went by. I was completely alone and wonderfully lonely. The kind lonely where I don't focus on myself, but instead, on things outside me. I could see for miles and miles in every direction. It was beautiful. And some parts were hard has hell (which I took like a tortoise but recovered quickly after the climbs -- my saving grace in being able to tackle these longer distances). 

When I finally arrived to the top of Silverado Trail, I took note at the sun's position in the sky and thought, "Oh no, did I do it again?" With a quick calculation I realized that I had two hours before dark, and I knew from the last time I got caught out in the dark, that I could make it down that treacherous trail in more than half that time. And I did.

The Silverado Loop was a wonderful experience last weekend. There should be crowds, droves up people up there. Do they know what they're missing? I think not. One of my favorite routes in these local mountains, so I'm not complaining.

Maple Springs Road

Looking back at Maple springs Rd from the Main Divide

On The Main Divide

Ocean View from Silverado Trail

Bald Peak For The First Time (Again)

Last Sunday, I got out fairly late (about 8:30 am) and headed out to Maple Springs Road. I was hoping to re-take photographs of the yellow Maples (having accidentally deleted them a couple of weeks back!). Upon arriving to the trailhead, I continued onto Maple Springs Road, driving the first 3.5 miles, just like I always do. At the end of the paved road, I backed into a space on the dirt over the dry creek. Getting situated in the spot just right, I accidentally pushed down the accelerator instead of the break (which was so weird) and I lurched forward up the road. And it was at that very instant that I decided not to park, but to keep on driving. On a whim, I drove up a little over four miles to a nice flat area called “Four Corners.”

Well, I arrived too late in the season to re-take pictures of the beautiful yellow maples. Their leaves had all dropped. But all was not lost. Maple Springs is still a beauty to the eyes no matter what season. The drive up was slow, and fun – I am probably too careful when it comes to off-roading (I don’t do it much). The wind was rough and cold at the top (the top being Four Corners where Harding Truck Trail, Maple Springs and The Main Divide meet). And when I opened my truck door it slammed against me. After that, I sat in my truck a bit to gather the nerve to face the wind and cold. I did so shooting a live Facebook video. Saying what I was going to do on live video, meant I had to do it (even if only one or two people watched).

Being that I saved so much time by driving up the mountain instead of hiking it, I decided to make another go at Bald Peak. A few months back, maybe weeks, I hiked to what I had thought was Bald Peak (again) and happened to turn on my phone gps. Lo and behold, I was not standing on Bald Peak. So, I have been wanting to find the real Bald Peak for quite some time now, being that it was already crossed off my peak list.

The actual Bald Peak was easy to find, having mapped it out previously. Had to do some scrambling to reach the top, and it was a bit scary hiking down due to its steepness. Thankfully, there was a sign posted at the peak to show me that I had indeed bagged the actual Bald Peak.

Some of the fire damage on The Main Divide:

Looking across at Maple Springs Road:

The climb up to Bald Peak:

Seven More Miles . . .

Sunday, March 3, I went long. I went long on Harding Truck Trail, which starts at Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary in Modjeska Canyon. I arrived fairly early, as those limited parking spaces fill up quickly, and took one of the two remain spots. It was just before 8:00 AM when I took off up Harding Truck Trail. Several other hikers took off behind me.

Though it was relatively early, it was not so for trail people. I met quite a few hikers and runners coming down as I made my way up that steep grade. Boy, is Harding Truck Trail steep. It’s not so technical, as it is a truck trail after all  (though actually closed to traffic). I found the trek up Harding very difficult, and actually ran very little of it. Once I passed the 5 mile mark (where Laurel Springs Trail branches off), I came up on very few people on Harding Truck Trail. Overall, the views were delightful – lots of spring flowers and above blue skies with white puffy and smeared clouds. The scene was serene.

My goal (or turnaround point) was “Four Corners,” which is where Harding meets Maple Springs and The Main Divide branching off in two directions. I will not lie and say that the climb up to “Four Corners” wasn’t tough. It was tough as hell. But then again, when do I ever say the climb wasn’t tough. IT IS ALWAYS tough for me. I kept the following in my mind on the way up – “at mile 7.5 you get a reprieve!” That’s when there’s a slight downhill, and then the climb after that isn’t so steep. Right about mile 7.5 I came across what appeared to be three brothers. I didn’t ask if they were related, but they all looked alike. There was a small, a medium and a large blonde haired boy, just like my three sons (though not blonde), but these guys also had a few years on mine. Anyway, I passed them, and kept in the back of my mind not to let them catch up (because I am weird that way).

Finally, FINALLY, after three hours and 45 minutes, I made it to 4 corners. There was one dirt bike rider who came up on The Main Divide. Other than that, I was alone until the three brothers arrived and carried on along The Main Divide. I probably stayed about 15 minutes drinking my protein shake, taking photographs and looking out onto Orange, Riverside and Orange Counties. I felt fully rested, and quite content.

As I made my way back down Harding Truck Trail, I came up on a semi-large hiking group that I had passed on my way up. It was like seeing old friends.

The run back down was uneventful for the first 2+ miles. Thing was, I didn’t focus well on the trail. Instead, I found myself thinking about work and other such worries. Okay, I know that I must focus, especially when fatigued on trails. You would think that I would have learned. But, NO! I let myself get lost in thought. Then with about 7 miles remaining, I tripped. And when I tripped, I went flying forward. I don’t know where my tuck and roll went, but apparently, it’s gone. Now, it’s just spaz-out free fall. And that’s just what I did.

I landed hard. And though I knew I was hurt, I knew that I did not hit my head, and I probably had not broken anything. But, my breathing out of control, I was certain to vomit. Oddly, I made my way to the edge of the trail so that I could vomit (because I thought it was polite to be neat about it). Leaning over a fallen log, I noticed the blood oozing from my leg. But all I really cared about was puking. Just as I started to dry-heave, I got some reason and focused on getting my breathing under control. I have no idea where that reason came from; I guess just from within. Slowly, so, so very slowly, my breaths lengthened, and I took in more oxygen. It was at that point that the nausea left me.

I could tell that my immediate injuries were to my right leg and palm. The injury to my palm looked terrible with ripped skin covering a small hole in my hand. I actually felt sore all over, but the visible injuries came from the aforementioned. “Seven miles,” that’s what I told myself. All I need to do is focus for seven miles. So, I wiped the blood off of my leg until that was moot – I mean, why wipe the blood when it doesn’t matter? It was just going to keep oozing until it was done, and I didn’t want to wait. And so, I swallowed three ibuprofen and took off trotting down Harding Truck Trail toward my truck parked at Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary.

Those last seven miles were bearable, with my main problem coming from my hand, and a part of my leg that was not bleeding (the right side of my front right calf). With about two miles remaining, I ran up on two lovely ladies who were hiking the trails now in afternoon heat. One of them noticed my leg, and made comments to the affect that I was a bad-ass for traversing the trails seven miles with my injury. That kind of praise always cracks me up (like when people were amazed that I made it two miles to my truck with a broken arm). I mean, what was I supposed to do? I am no bad-ass for running those miles with my injury. I did it because that’s what I had to do to get to my truck. I had no other options. Believe me, if I could have dialed in a helicopter (free of charge of course) to come pick me up, I would have surely done so.

Total trip miles: 18.84 miles (30.32 km)

Elevation gained: 3,666’ (1,117 m)

Reversed

Saturday, March 19, I got out to Trabuco Canyon about 7AM to run my regular fourteen mile loop, but this time in reverse. Reversed the loop is: up Trabuco Trail, UP W. Horsethief (Mama Mia!), up and down The Main Divide, and then finally down Holy Jim (Joy, joy!)

Although I arrived fairly early to the Holy Jim lot, it was already full, except for one spot that I backed into next to the porta potty. There was a large group of hikers prepping for a hike to Santiago Peak via Holy Jim.  Seeing this made me a little glad that I had decided to reverse my loop with that many people going up (had to be more than twenty). Though I really do love people, I tend to shy away from them, as I prefer solitude.

So, I took off trotting up Trabuco Trail toward the trailhead when one by one, 4wd trucks began to pass me. One truck stopped, and the man inside rolled down his window and I thought I heard him ask, “You lift?” I almost answered, “Well, no, but I used to.” But I stopped myself short, thinking, “Now Lauren,  he’s NOT going to ask if you lift weights.” So, with my early morning diversified and bountiful vocabulary said, “Huh?”

Turns out he asked if I WANTED a lift. (Laughing). Then another driver asked if I wanted a ride. I chuckled and replied, “No thank-you, THIS is the goal,” and continued on running toward the Trabuco Trailhead where a dozen or so cars had already parked. It is very rare that even a single car is parked in this lot.

Well, a group of sixteen hikers were going up W. Horsethief this Saturday morning. And it turned out to be okay, in fact pleasurable going up that terrible, beautiful trail with sixteen others.  It’s actually comforting to suffer with others, even strangers, I think especially with strangers.

To my utter delight, salamanders roamed Trabuco Trail on the way to W. Horsethief. They were everywhere crawling about the moist trail. I can’t tell you how much I love salamanders– they’re adorable! When one some of the hikers caught me, we got to talking about the salamanders, and I told John, the hiker in front of me, that they reminded me of puppies. “That’s weird,” he said with a chuckle. I told him I was serious, that when I pick salamanders up and look at their little orange faces, their faces remind me of puppies. (I had already picked up three or four that morning). John said, “Have you ever thought of getting help for that Lauren?” (Big laughs here).

Reaching the top of W. Horsethief came as a huge relief. Really! That climb is super tough for me and I take it at an actual snail’s pace. I didn’t take The Main Divide much faster, but at least I was able to run the flats and down hills, and some of the up hills that were not so steep and long. The views and the trek were literally breathtaking – wait, maybe the breathtaking came from the march up toward Trabuco Peak! That’s a brutal trek also, especially as warm as it was on Saturday.

Off roaders passed here and there. Everyone waved.  Views of Riverside and San Bernardino counties were crystal clear. I could still see snow on The San Gabriels. On the OC. side, the ocean was covered with a sea of clouds.  

I actually ran up on three or four runners along The Main Divide, which is rare. At the Holy Jim trailhead, several hikers rested in the shade, beat from the climb up. One man wore a netted hat, though the gnats were far and few between. 

I felt great running down Holy Jim. What pure joy to run down that giant switchback! I came upon several hikers and a couple of cyclists. I even ran up on a runner who recognized me from this blog. His name is Brandon, and I really enjoyed stopping and talking local trails with him. He’s one of the few people I can talk Yaeger Mesa about. He even knew the story of the bell up there. He knows the guy who carried it up. Anyway, we must have chatted for ten minutes before I took off again, delighted in the cool breeze (as I had been growing quite warm).  Euphoria set in while finishing up Holy Jim. Gosh, euphoria is one of the great benefits of trail running – perhaps the best (and it does not always come along). 

The bottom of the canyon was absolutely packed with day hikers. Most everyone was smiling, but I noticed a few grimaces, as uphill hiking isn’t so enjoyable if you haven’t  done it before. I overheard a woman complain about the gnats. And I thought, Oh my, you have not seen nothing yet!  He, he – better learn to embrace the gnats.

Great time out there on this day.

14.21 miles, 3,519’ elevation gained.

Back to the Scene of the Crash

Saturday, March 12, I hit the trails to return to the scene of the accident that broke my arm. In fact, I ran the exact route: Holy Jim to The Main Divide, down West Horsethief to Trabuco (where the crash occurred) back into the Holy Jim lot. 

I am happy to report that I did not crash again. Sadly, I gingerly made my way across the rocks along Trabuco Trail so fearful was I that I would fall again. But overall, I spent a marvelous several hours in the mountains. I wore a jacket most of the time, and even gloves, and didn’t need even half the water that I packed. I was serenaded by the woodpeckers hammering against the tree trunks as I made my way up Holy Jim. I also met several hikers on the way up, and then spent many sweet lonely hours along The Main Divide. Come to think of it, I didn’t run across anyone on W. Horsethief or Trabuco either. Running down West Horsethief was a bit tricky, as the rocky terrain still strikes fear in me. A fall on West Horsethief would most likely fare far worse than one on Trabuco.

I love this route. It’s the toughest 14 miles I know. Probably the most beautiful in my parts too.  I think it’s apropos that it would be THIS route that would break something. It was bound to happen I suppose.

14.07 miles, 3,605’ of elevation gain

The Run that Broke my Arm

Friday morning, about 3AM, I fell ill. I don’t know if it was food poisoning or a stomach bug but with body aches (though no fever), I vomited throughout the day. This thing plagued me for a full twenty-four hours. Saturday arrived with welcomed recuperation -- I slept off and on all day. Sunday, I awoke abruptly at 5AM. I had been dreaming that I was running down stairs. I flew down the steps, moving faster than I could ever imagine. Flight after flight, my feet never tangling, my step never pausing. And then finally, I hit the ground floor. I jumped down onto the road and ran up a small incline toward an underground parking lot, when WHAM. Someone took me out. With no warning whatsoever I was incapacitated, unable to see, unable to even move or fight back. I remember thinking to myself, “Oh my God, it is happening to me.” That’s when I woke, suddenly and with dread. I sat about in my pajamas a bit traumatized from the nightmare and drank two cups of coffee before finally packing my gear and heading out the door. With Calico 30k a little over a month away, I stubbornly refused to let illness or nightmare derail training. I was already behind. My destination: Trabuco Canyon, an hour's drive, for a long run (which I planned to increase two miles from 12 to 14).

Two pleasant surprises awaited me in Trabuco Canyon. First, the Forest Service paved a small portion of the rocky off-road terrain and graded much of the remaining 5 mile off-road portion. That made for some smoother driving and cut several minutes off the canyon drive (perhaps as much as fifteen). And then, two beautiful wild turkeys greeted me at the Holy Jim lot. A female and a male puffed up and gobbling, fluttered and danced their way about the dirt. The female, though smaller than her beau, but pretty enormous for a bird nonetheless, jumped up onto a truck (the same make and model as my truck), and landed on the hood with a loud clang that echoed up the canyon. The owners who prepped for a hike to Santiago Peak, laughed hysterically at that. I nervously chuckled along (relieved she didn't jump onto my truck).

I ran off on my own into the lonesome forest. Making my way out past the cabins, I came up on two hunters, their rifles secured to their bodies for the trip down as I headed up Holy Jim Trail (which I've often referred to as HolyCow or HolyCrap because of it's relentless climb). A fast walking hiker passed me at about mile 2.5. Two or three mountain bikers passed me, but overall the infamous Holy Jim Trail remained quiet. Ice cold water flowed in the creeks, something I have not seen in a while here. The weather was chilly, but I warmed up at about mile three, enough to take off the gloves, beanie and jacket. I took my time running up that five mile switchback. That’s not to say the trek was not strenuous -- I always find running up Holy Jim difficult, no matter my condition. 

I felt good finally reaching The Main Divide -- five miles in and I had accomplished much of my elevation gain. The shade and cool breeze tucked in at Bear Springs did wonders for my attitude. Chatting briefly with two hikers, I took off on The Main Divide at a comfortable trot, looking forward to views of Orange County on one side, and San Bernardino and Riverside counties on the other. I caught sight of Lake Matthews, and then later, Lake Elsinore along the way. A man driving his truck to Santiago Peak stopped to chat with me but I saw no others on the long, lonely road.

When The Main Divide wound to the eastern side, puddles of ice partially blocked my passage. As usual, I delighted in cracking the ice with as stomp as I passed. I felt like a child in a giant playground --  especially with all the branches strewn about from the last storm. It was as if someone had already played here. To make it even better, my injured foot felt good, despite the miles thus far.  

At mile ten, I turned off of The Main Divide and headed down the steep and rocky switch-back called West Horsethief.  I gingerly made my way, careful not to trip on the fist-sized rocks that in the past have pulled me to the ground. I breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching the bottom where Trabuco Creek flows beneath a thick canopy of trees. From this spot, I only had about 2.5 miles left-- most of it downhill and fairly runnable, though technical. I picked up my pace. I was so close to the truck now, I was finished as far as I was concerned. I ran a faster still, eager to end this difficult run and rest. I tripped twice over loose rocks on Trabuco Trail, each time thinking I was going down for sure. That should have been my warning. I didn't take heed. 

WHAM. Just like my nightmare, I didn’t see it coming. With no warning whatsoever I was incapacitated. I don't recall tripping. I only felt the impact -- my body slamming face first onto the rocks. When you land in the dirt, there's some give. Different story for boulders. There was no give, nor roll on my part. Nor did this fall seem to occur in slow motion as most my falls do. I didn't have time to realize that I was falling. I felt blindsided. Just WHAM: Body slammed against the rocks. The impact was so forceful and violent, I couldn't focus on anything, time or place. I knew that I was in a head-on collision. That's all I knew. Pain radiated from all sides but I couldn't pinpoint injuries. Instinctively, I coiled up on the Cleveland National Forest floor. Panic quickly set in. I felt like my breaths somehow took in, or processed the pain bombarding right then. My breathing quickened in response to take it all in. Faster and faster until I felt as if I might run out of breath. Purposely I slowed my breath to match my back and forth rocking. Then I gradually stretched myself out so that I lay face down, sprawled out the width of the trail. After some time like this, I faced the fact that no one was around, nor was anyone going to happen by and help. I was alone, and I had to handle this myself. 

It seemed like I lay there on the rocks for quite a while. I wouldn't have been surprised if a half hour plus passed. But when looking at my Garmin data, it appears that only six minutes passed from the moment I stopped moving forward, up until the moment I began moving again. First thing, after I got my breathing down, I grabbed my phone from my pocket. It flew out of my hand and landed beside me within reach. Zero bars. Somehow, in about six minutes, I calmed myself down and faced the fact that I would need to get up and start moving else spend the night in a cold, dark canyon. I pushed myself up from the ground into a sitting position. And then using just my legs, I stood and moved forward one slow step at a time. 

I felt nauseated back on my feet. My legs ached, my arms ached. I didn’t check for blood. I didn’t check for anything (I didn’t even check to see if I hit my head, which looking back, I can say that fortunately I did not). My main goal was to get out of there. I thought of nothing else. In the back of my mind I knew that I needed to get myself to the doctor.  Something wasn’t right in my left arm, it felt weird, it felt wrong, deep within. My right arm ached too. But it wasn’t the same. It didn’t have that inner-wobbly pain that my left arm had.

My sobbing stopped pretty quickly realizing the feat that lay ahead. Two miles remained of mainly rocky single track and then some truck trail before I could drive myself out of there. To get myself back I merely practiced the same technique I have always used on the trails -- that is, one foot in front of the other. I stepped over fallen branches, and I kept my left arm bent and draped across my abdomen. I could not bare the pain in any other position. I tried to run for short distances, but the jarring to my body, especially to my left arm, proved too painful.

I can tell you that this was a dang long two miles. But one foot in front of the other eventually got me back to my truck. It always does. The turkeys greeted me, gobbling loudly. I tore the pack off my back as quickly as possible -- like ripping off a band aid. Then I made a b-line to the only spot that I ever get service in this canyon by the trashcan under the posted trail map. With one bar, I texted my husband, told him that I was hurt and asked for the address to my nearest urgent care. With sporadic cell service, I couldn't wait. The one-handed drive out of the canyon was hell, with my truck bouncing about the road, even with the new grading. The nice new paving added some relief but then it was back to dirt road for a few more miles. 

Out of the canyon, I phoned home and decided to go ahead and drive there. I wanted to see if I could make it through the night, then maybe see the doctor on Monday. It didn’t work out that way. As soon as my husband saw the expression on my face, he drove me to the nearest ER (in Laguna Beach). Turns out, I did break my left arm, not a bad break, but bad enough to cause a good deal of pain.  I have a radial head fracture (my elbow), and my arm is in a splint cast.  All other wounds on my arms and legs are superficial. Am I bummed? Quite. But it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do about it, as I often say to soothe myself. I have lots of thoughts concerning my Calico training, and my overall disappointment. It's Christmas Eve right now, so I am going to try and turn my thoughts toward that celebration, stay in the moment, and enjoy all the good things that I do have.

Merry Christmas!

When the wounds were fresh 4 days ago (December 20):