DO EPIC SHIT.

Bring it, 2012.

My heart just wasn’t in it today. But I guess that’s the point of this whole endeavor – exercising even when I don’t want to. And so I put on my clothes, and did some half-assed pushups, crunches, squats, lunges, etc. in my living room. Day 3, in the bag.

Speaking of in the bag, I know the point is to not stuff yourself with takeout after you exercise. But if this vegan fish wrap is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Yesterday, I reminded my legs that they have duties and responsibilities in this world, and that they must earn their keep. A nice, easy two mile trot. So, of course, the next logical step as I “ease back into things” was 3.5 miles of hill repeats. Steep ones, at that.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to vomit.

Anyhow, bygones.

So, what prompted my return? For starters, I’d been meaning to “get around to it”. I have at least three soggy, half-written posts sitting in somewhere in the bowels of my hard drive. But it was a hastily-conceived fitness challenge that actually got the wheels turning again.

Today is the first day of Lent, which means yesterday was Fat Tuesday (or “Mardi Gras” as they say in France and New Orleans and places that wish they were France and New Orleans, or “Shrove Tuesday” as they say in church). This, of course, meant that I spent the day intermittently chatting with friends about how I was going to gorge myself on pancakes for dinner and give up work for Lent (I’m not religious, but I am always eager for an excuse to eat a bunch of carbs fried in fat). Somewhere during the course of these exchanges, my little light bulb switched on, and I shot off an email to two friends asking them if they’d like to join me in a “Lenten Denial” challenge – 40 straight days of exercise.

I’m not a Christian – I’m not anything at all, actually, except a white girl with some disposable income living in Hollywood, and as such I love nothing more than a good excuse for a compulsive exercise regime. It’ll be good for me, though. A crazy work schedule, a trip to Mexico, and a subsequent battle with “el gripe” have sidelined me for about a month, and it’s time to get back in the game.

While I’m at it with my hare-brained ideas, may as well re-commit to blogging. So prepare yourselves (Heather) for 40 days of posts on thrilling topics such as “My 3-Mile Run” and “20 Minutes of Pilates!” Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

To kick things off, being as it’s my first day back in the saddle after a month-long hiatus, I decided to start slow, with an easy 2-mile run around my neighborhood. I made it, though I was way slower and way more tired than I should have been. It’s amazing how quickly one can lose fitness, after working so long to gain it. My legs hate me a little now, but they’ll love me tomorrow.

Speaking of love, dessert tonight was one of my favorites – nutella and a spoon. No good run goes unpunished!

It was perfect.  That was, until my continued research revealed yet another destination further on.  Inspiration Point, another former stop on the Mt. Lowe Railway, was just a few miles past Echo Mountain and promised even better views, plus the smugness that comes with knowing you’re way more hardcore than all the common folks who didn’t make it past Echo Mountain.  I could hardly stop at Echo Mountain knowing that another two miles of climbing was available.  Stopping is for losers.  And so my little five mile hike turned into ten-ish miles.

I’ll spare you the useful details; the links at the bottom of this post do that much better than I ever could.

I set out just after sunrise, hoping to avoid the heat and crowds and get back home in time to conduct normal life activities before meeting a friend for dinner.  Fortunately, it was a cool, foggy morning, so heat wasn’t a problem.  Unfortunately, half the population of Los Angeles had the same idea.  As it turns out, Echo Mountain Trail is a popular fitness destination, and I had quite a bit of company on my ascent.

The trailhead was easy to find, and parking was plentiful.  I had a brief moment of confusion when setting out, as an ambiguous trail sign failed to clearly point to any one of the three trails that began at the same spot.

I followed an older Asian couple who seemed confident in their choice of route.  They were right.

The trail was fairly wide and very well-maintained.  It climbed steadliy but never very steeply via a series of switchbacks (lots of them) up to Echo Mountain.

I’m sure views of the valley would have been stellar, but all I got was fog.

The climb was satisfying but not particularly challenging. It took me about an hour to cover the 2.5-ish miles to the top. The trail leveled out and the fog started to clear at the former hotel and railway site on Echo Mountain, and I spent some time poking around in the ruins and reading informative signage.

Neato.

Through the clearing fog, the views across Rubio Canyon and up to Inspiration Point were fantastic.

Having sufficiently amused myself with all the history, I headed off towards Inspiration Point via the Castle Canyon Trail. The trail was fairly flat for awhile as it traversed across Rubio Canyon and into Castle Canyon, where it then started to climb somewhat rapidly towards Inspiration Point. This part definitely got the heart rate up a bit, and I stopped a few times to “take pictures” (read: catch my breath). A thousand switchbacks later, I reached the Promised Land. I think it took me about 3.5 hours to get from my car to Inspiration Point, including my stop at Echo Mountain and several “photography” breaks. (I should really learn to keep better notes on these things if I’m going to be writing about them.)

Once again, the promised views were obstructed by dense fog and clouds, though at least this time I had the satisfaction of looking down on the clouds from a sunny mountain vantage point.

It’s a shame, too – I was hoping to catch a glimpse of my crib through one of the many “Sighting Tubes”.

I stopped for awhile at the Inspiration Point shelter to pat myself on the back, rest my legs, take some photos, and snack on a Cliff Bar (Chocolate Almond Fudge – a new flavor for me. Decent, but it was no Chocolate Chip Peanut Crunch.). Having sufficiently refueled, it was time to press on. I headed left out of the shelter and proceeded along the Mt. Lowe Fire Road. Last year’s Station Fire had burned right up to Inspiration Point (thankfully sparing the structures), so the whole back side of the mountain was post-fire moonscape.

I think technically the Mt. Lowe Fire Road was closed due to ongoing restoration efforts, but being as I was only supposed to be on the road for a few hundred yards before hopping onto the Middle Sam Merrill trail, I charged it. (I live life right on the edge.) A few minutes later, I arrived at an open, level area where several trails intersected the fire road. On one side of the clearing was a sign directing me down the shady, wooded Middle Sam Merrill trail, my planned route back down to Echo Mountain. On the other stood this sign:

I would come to hate this sign.

Confession: I can be a bit compulsive when it comes to hiking. I have to get to the top. Of something. Inspiration Point, while a lovely destination, is actually in a saddle area between two small peaks (both of which were definitely closed due to fire restoration). Knowing that more climbing laid ahead, Echo Mountain didn’t provide the same level of satisfaction that a summit usually does. I still had an itch. And here was this sign, pointing the way to Mt. Lowe. And my map did show a trail to the summit. Just a little farther up the fire road…

On the other hand, my map had proven itself less-than-accurate, and none of the trail descriptions I’d read had described the route to Mt. Lowe. I wasn’t even really sure which peak I’d be heading for. And there had been that sign indicating that the fire road was *technically* closed. Plus, afternoon was approaching, and I still had about five miles of hiking to get back to the car.

But stopping is for losers, right? Did I really want to be the girl who came so close to the summit of a mountain and just turned around and went home?

I decided to continue up the fire road just a little bit, just to see how it felt.

So I charged ahead, keeping my eyes peeled for the trail up Mt. Lowe. The fire road was wide and fairly smooth, and though it continued to climb, the ascent was very gentle. And I was feeling great – I was half tempted to break into a run at some points. So I’m hiking along at a brisk pace and I keep… not seeing the trail. But it has to be there, right? Just ahead, around that bend, that *must* be the trail! No? Well that looks like a trail up there, I’ll just go a little further…

I kept walking, and the little voice in my head that said, “Maybe it’s time to turn around…?” kept getting louder. At one point, a pair of mountain bikers passed me going the opposite way and I was filled with a false sense of accomplishment – they must have come from somewhere, right? This was foolish. Never trust mountain bikers.

I kept walking. Eventually, the fire road intersected Tom Sloane Trail. This gave me pause. I didn’t remember seeing this on my map. Somehow this was not enough to immediately override my stubbornness (read: stupidity), and I continued for another few hundred yards before relenting and checking my map. I had overshot the trail to Mt. Lowe. By quite a lot.

Oops.

Time to turn around. Fuck this mountain. Rather than the usual triumphant prance downhill following a satisfying summit, I was now faced with a lengthy backcountry walk of shame. Head down, the bitter musk of defeat now seeping from every pore, I hiked quickly back down the fire road. This time, I found the Mt. Lowe Trail. It was right here, under that fallen tree and overgrown grass! Right next to the sign that was actually pointing back along the fire road! The sign that (accurately) labeled the trail the “Upper Sam Merrill”, while the only Sam Merrill Trail labeled on my map was the one I’d rejected back when I started on my ill-advised trek up the fire road.

At least the scenery had been pleasant.

My descent was less remarkable. Mostly because all I really remember about it was the screaming pain in my feet and my pesky right knee. The legs felt fine, but my feet were on fire despite my cushy fancy hiking shoes. I just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. I’m quite certain I was making “a face” the whole way down; I just remember chewing on my lip the entire time to distract myself from the pain in my feet. (I’m now three days post-hike, and my feet are still quite sore.)

Finally, seven hours and twenty minutes after I set out, I was back at the car. Big shout-out to the legs for a job well done.

Hot, sweaty, covered in dirt, hungry as hell, feet on fire – this is the stuff great weekends are made of. Two thumbs up for the Sam Merrill and Castle Canyon trails. I can’t very well hold my own bullheaded stupidity against them.

The Facts:

Date: 28 August 2010
Start Time: 6:47 am
Finish Time: 2:27 pm
Total Time: 7 hours, 20 minutes, including long-ish stops at Echo Mountain and Inspiration Point, and additional stops to take about 60 photos.

Distance: Planned: about 10.5 miles. Actual: Based on my time and pace up the fire road, and a rough gmap pedometer measurement, I’d estimate I hiked 13-ish miles on the day.
Starting Elevation: 1801 ft
High Point: ~5000 ft, based on gmap pedometer estimate.
Net Elevation Gain: ~3200 ft, based on gmap pedometer estimate.

Flora:
- Bushes, trees, etc.
- Poison Oak
- Stinging Nettle

Fauna:
- The usual assortment of birds and lizards.
- Several unidentified raptors, including one that had the audacity to soar magestically over Rubio Canyon like he was in some sort of fucking postcard or something.
- One mosquito (now deceased).
- Three mountain bikers.
- One tarantula.

What was she wearing?
Patagucci hiking shoes and fancy wool/bamboo techno-socks. Cheap running shorts from Target and a Hanes men’s undershirt (gasp, cotton!). Super-lightweight microfleece-like jacket thingy at the very beginning.

Recovery Beverage: Fat Tire

Lessons learned the hard way:
- Carry good maps!
- If you’re not entirely certain of where you’re going, actually stop and check your map, rather than charging enthusiastically ahead, assuming you’ll “know it when you see it”!
- The back of your neck needs sunscreen too!

Do it if: You want to see your LA-area home from a mountaintop; you want to feel like you did something worthwhile with your time; you enjoy “nature” and “fun”.

Don’t do it if: You hate physical exertion and joy.

Way better trail resources than I could ever be:
Modern Hiker
SummitPost

More photos at my flickr.

But then I couldn’t seem to actually finish this brilliant post (and trust me, it was brilliant) or get it justright, and as a consequence I failed to write anything else.  You can’t have a blog if you never actually write anything.  So screw it.  I’ll fill in the backstory later.

My name is Sarah.  I live in Los Angeles.  My job is bringing me down, but being as I’ve yet to win the lottery, and a trust fund keeps not appearing in my bank account, I have to have one.  Mama’s got bills to pay, and, sadly, no one’s going to pay me to run away and live in a treehouse.

So it’s time for balance.  Time to remember what I love to do and make a point of actually doing it.  Time to get outside more.  Make some adventure.

Let the games begin.