Dog Days Interlude: Swingin' and Swayin', A Berry Good Time

 A breeze was blowing down canyon; coming from that direction at this time of year could mean a "Santa Ana" blowing in, hot, from the desert. But this breeze was cool, refreshing. Maybe that was because of the shade in the canyon bottom. I suppose the reason it was cool, didn't really matter, just the fact that here we were in mid-August and could enjoy the moment of cool was all that counted.

We stopped and watched the Alders swaying high above; they grew tall here, as if attempting to escape the confines of the canyons' walls that pressed in at the sides. I'd hiked and biked the Barrett-Stoddard Road, rising over there, visible during the opening portion of this hike, but had never gone down San Antonio Canyon from the trailhead. Partly this hike was to satisfy a curiosity that had been piqued at the beginning of the year with those mountain bike and hike-a-bike explorations up canyon from home. Those exploratory rides always ended at the same place, a pinch point just beyond the Red, White and Blue Mine that I could find no adequate way around. The traverse down canyon came to an end at the same spot they always ended when heading up canyon. To get past you must either go up and down a loose, rocky chute, or traverse the minefield of a deadfall zone littered with fallen alders and broken branches. A trail-builder with an axe and shovel could blaze a trail through the deadfall, easily, linking the northern portion of trail with the southern portion. It would be an awesome, local mountain bike adventure. 

Well, I can dream anyway.

The great swaths of berry brambles, lining the northern section of trail are amazing right now, but there is so much variation in ripeness. Some of them are already withered and dried, while most are still to reach their peak. We picked here, and tasted there; some were perfect, nice and sweet. Others were sour, and still others bitter, far from ripe. At one point we came upon a couple kids with make shift fishing poles stopped at a large bramble patch, probably locals from Baldy Village - one called the other Finn, and I immediately imagined them as Huck and Tom out on an afternoon's adventure. I speculated that they must have been on their way down to a small pool in which I spotted a couple small trout. Then again, if locals they were, they probably knew of an even better fishin' hole.

Anyway, another weekend is upon us. Between all the usual rides, a bike swap meet at the Local Bikestand, and racing Encino Velodrome (hopeful to make it out for one of the days), there is plenty of cycling stuff going on. But then, maybe you just want to slow it down a bit more and go for a hike. After today, I certainly can't argue against the appeal of that option.

considering breakfast

stare down

walkin' the pipeline

the old Sierra hydo-power house

swaying

the deadfall zone

pom-pom bush

trail

that track wasn't there earlier

pond, lined with cattails and mint

not sure if this area was an old camp or what

swinging

swinging

the roots of that oak are holding the boulder up

snack time on the rock above the stream

don't know who Fungi was, but his friends left quite a memorial at the old water gauging station

nice, shady portion of trail

don't know if i'm more surprised that thing is down there, or that no one has swiped that wheel yet

just a trickle of water down in the grotto

apparently people climb that rock face above the grotto

and, almost back to the trailhead