Mt. San Antonio
Sierra Club Ski Hut Trail
June 16, 2001
It was a star filled early morning when I awoke from a fitful sleep. I scrambled out of bed to turn off the alarm so as not to wake my wife and padded downstairs to eat a high carbohydrate southern breakfast of white rice with milk, sugar and butter. It was only 4:00am and my mind was in a fog as I gulped down each bite of rice forcing it into my stomach. I repacked my Lowe Contour Mountain 40 daypack, checking off items as I went making sure nothing was omitted. At 10,000 feet in the mountains a missing compass, first aid kit or firestarter could be a deadly mistake. I loaded my truck and made one last trip upstairs to make sure the kids were still asleep and gave my wife a gentle kiss on the cheek. This would be another day away from them that I dreaded but I knew it was necessary as I was preparing for a fall climb up Mt. Whitney. I drove out into the darkness and onto the Northbound I-15 Freeway from Temecula California to the Eastbound I-10 Freeway and exited at Mountain Ave. in the city of Claremont. Arriving earlier than expected, I stopped off at Denny's Restaurant and took advantage of their clean restrooms, as this is now my early alpine ritual. I parked in the Von's Pavilion parking lot and anxiously awaited the arrival of my climbing partners, Troy and Dave, who were carpooling in from Orange County. I checked the outside temperature with my pocket thermometer and checked my altimeter while I waited.Dave
and Troy drove in the parking lot earlier than our 6:00AM start time so we loaded up the
bed of my truck while Troy crammed into the rear jumpseat of my truck after careful
logistical rearrangement of some of the gear. He mentions that he needs to use the
restroom so we look for a place along the way to the trailhead at Manker Flats.
This was Troy and Dave's first trip with me as I usually go solo. I had been planning this strenuous dayhike for about a month and suggested what gear they would need and the reasons why. I stressed the need to be prepared in case of accident or injury, as the mountain environment can be a cruel classroom. I made them a gear list and brought in my things to show them exactly what I meant proving everything fits in a small daypack.
"This is where the trail really
starts", I told them. Here the altitude is 6200 feet and it's 2 miles to the
Ski Hut at 8200 feet. I figured that we could make the Ski Hut in two hours and the summit
in four if we kept an even pace. I reminded them of the adage,"Drink Little,
Drink Often" to fight dehydration and to ward off AMS or Acute Mountain
Sickness. I planned on drinking two liters of water then refilling at the spring
near the Ski Hut. This should carry us through the Summit and across the Devil's
Backbone to the Mt. Baldy Ski Lodge where we could refill if necessary.
We dropped our packs and got out our
cache of nuts like squirrels. Trailmix, banana chips and energy bars were quickly
devoured as we admired the view from the front steps of the ski hut. We snapped a few
photos and dodged other hikers passing through on their way to the summit. I admired
the teal colored wood sided ski hut that looked like a Swiss Chalet. I noticed how clean
and well cared for it appeared. Maybe some day I'll get permission to spend a
winters night here, I bet its gorgeous at dusk. I reset my altimeter
to 8200 ft and told the guys it's time to refill the water bottles and head
out. We dropped into the headwaters of San Antonio Creek and chatted with other
hikers who had picked a shaded spot next to the water. I set my pocket thermometer
in the water while I filled my water bottle. After refilling, Troy and I dropped a
couple of iodine tablets into the clear cold water, swishing it around with the cap loose
to disinfect the threads and set the bottle aside a few minutes to breathe. Dave
arrived as we crossed the creek and started up the ridge on the west side.
We took a brief rest while our
female companion continued northward alone. This is the beginning of the final
stretch toward the summit I told them. Here is where we'd feel the altitude and told
them to drink twice as much water as you think and to maintain a slow and methodical
pace. We're making good time and it's important to look good at the summit.
Here is where Troy displayed his
tremendous conditioning and trail prowess racing up ahead of Dave and I. I whispered
to Dave, who had snuck up behind me while I paused for a breath, "Where's Troy
going"? Dave is an avid runner who always seems to be in shape whether he
trains or not. I think he stayed behind me out of politeness so I wouldn't feel like the
oldest and fattest, which I certainly was. I told Dave, "I think Troy just
wants to get it over with", as we made a final push for the summit. All of a sudden a
solo oriental lad carrying a tiny daypack took the inside track and passed us all like a
he was in the carpool lane and beat us all to the top. Troy had stopped up ahead for
no apparent reason and looked down on us from above. We finally gathered together
and made a push for the last 100 yards, together, as a team, as it should be.
Twenty people adorned the summit. Some looking like grizzled mountain climbing veterans with expensive packs and glacier glasses, others clad only in running shoes and shorts. Two ladies brought their dogs while another hiker brought his 8 year old son. We shared our windbreak with a hiking club from Redlands while I pulled out my Yaesu VX-5R Ham radio and gave a demonstration to an interesting duo wearing all white NorthFace Cloud backpacks. About half the folks looked they knew what they were doing, the others were typical tourists. I thought to myself, I wonder what they consider us. Both men and women of the experienced group looked the same, darkly sun-tanned and sinewy with nary an ounce of fat. The rest of them looked like Mr. Potato Head. I admired their tenacity for making the tough climb but dreaded the thought of giving CPR until help arrived. We hung around for about an hour chugging water and munching on food with a cardboard consistency while Troy took off his boots, socks and shirt to get a quick tan in the high UV atmosphere. Dave bathed in sunscreen while I tried to keep things from blowing off the summit from my opened pack. I never sat down, afraid my legs would stiffen and partly because I didn't want to miss anything going on in base camp on Everest. Interesting people, interesting gear and interesting expressions once they reached the top.
I had a
general idea about the beginning of the trail down across the Devil's Backbone eastward
towards the Baldy Notch 3 1/2 miles away. I'd seen photos on the Internet and read
warnings advising against winter travel due to severe exposure. We were all somewhat
apprehensive about crossing the backbone but from the summit it appeared to pass to the
right of Mt. Harwood and didn't look that difficult.
We started down the
steep East Ridge towards the backbone. The loose scree trail was steeper than it
looked from the top. Many people were coming up toward the summit from the easier
Baldy Notch route and we had to maneuver around eachother in passing. Once we
passed Mt. Harwood the extent of the Backbone is readily apparent. The trail
narrows to just a few feet with drops over 1000 feet to each side. The view is
spectacular eastward towards Lyttle Creek and down the Baldy Bowl towards San Antonio
Canyon. Along the backbone the off shore breeze blows swiftly across the trail. Dave
stopped and offered us some lip balm if we would get it out of his pack for him. Troy and
I passed it around and gave it back to Dave who used it to rim his nostrils, which were
drying out. Glad we got to use it first.
S
ometimes you must tiptoe sideways, sucking in your gut, while passing weary people coming up from below. At one point the trail drops off severely to your right with a loose dirt and scree slope to your left. The trail is about 2 feet wide as you circle around the head of a bowl, a crossing of about 50 yards. Passing others hikers was exciting, as you would have to lie up against the slope on your back while others slithered sideways, back to the drop-off and face to you. I passed an older oriental woman who grabbed onto my shoulders as I snuck by her on the outside edge. As we passed toe to toe my heels started a small scree avalanche off the edge sending my heart racing. After seeing this I noticed other hikers on the other side of the bowl decided to wait until it was clear and traverse this section single file. Along
the way I noticed sharp jagged pieces of broken off pipe poking out of concrete
buried in the trail. After awhile I noticed they were spaced fairly evenly and remembered
an article I had read a few months back. According to the article, the Devil's
Backbone had the route cabled for safety due to heavy winter storms. The poles were
bent over and busted off by snow loading, never to have been replaced.
I picked up the pace
and arrived at the lodge well out front of the others. I waited for them at the
front of the Mt. Baldy Ski School and large bell out front. We were all pretty dusty
and parched dreading the thought of a long 3 1/2-mile walk down the hot fireroad back to
Manker Flats. We went into the cool ski lodge. I bought a large icy cold coke
and checked out the vintage ski photos and Elk antlers while glancing out the front
window. . Troy washed up in the bathroom sink and rinsed out his water bottle
refilling it from the faucet. Dave bought a soda but threw half of it away just as
we walked out the door.
I
think the trip was a success. We didn't get lost, injured of ill. I bagged another 10,000-ft. peak and whet their appetite for another climb. All of our gear performed well. My hydration bladder didn't leak this time. Troy and Dave's new boots didn't give them any blisters and their Masters Trekking poles performed admirably. All of our headaches went away after we took off our hats and I had fun with post AMS flatulence on the way down.
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