Middle Peak 10/17

Lately, I’ve taken some time off (unintentionally) from fishing, and doing a little more hiking, as well as geocaching. I’ve hiked my whole life, sometimes more avidly than others, but I felt I’d like to share a little more about hiking in and around, my hometown, San Diego. This is my first entry.

Mostly I’ve been hiking alone, or with my friend Shannon, in the Cuyamaca and Laguna mountains, east of San Diego. There are a few good hiking areas closer to town, but none that offer the variety of decent-length hikes that the mountains do. The desert beyond the mountains has a good amount of trails, most of which I haven’t explored enough. Maybe this winter I’ll take the chance to see more of Anza Borrego.

Today, Shannon and I decided on Middle Peak, next to Cuyamaca Lake. We took our route from “Afoot and Afield in San Diego” by Jerry Schad – the guide on San Diego hiking. I’ve had at least 4 different editions over the years, usually passing the previous to a friend or coworker looking for places to hike in San Diego.

We got to the parking area, and slowly started working out our plan, getting hiking shoes on, and in my case, stretching out the kinks from a poor night’s sleep. I was still a little grumpy at this point in the morning. Sorry, Shannon. Once we settled on the route, we started off going north on the Minshall Trail which parallels Highway 79 for quite a while. After cutting away from the highway, about where the concessions at the lake begin, it meets up with The Sugar Pines trail. Sugar Pines takes us up the northeastern flank of Middle Peak before meeting some fire roads, around the southwest side, and eventually the Milk Ranch Road back to the car. Where the Minshall Trail meets the Sugar Pines trail there is a stone gate. Not sure what it was protecting, but the trail behind it doesn’t look useful for much, or used at all. A little ways up the trail, Shannon asked me if I’d read the sign we walked by. No, what sign? “There was a white paper sign.” By this time we were a little too far up the rocky trail to bop back down to read any sign… so on we went.

The trail was pretty rocky, and burned trees had fallen across our path in some spots. Crawling under or over them lead to soot on our packs or pants, depending. It wasn’t a tough trail, not steep, but there were some pretty rocky areas, that if, say, you were not looking where you were walking, could easily lead to a rolled ankle, or worse. It was also getting pretty hot; around 83, I think.

We came to stop near a small, sort of faint trail and discussed whether it might be our junction. We consulted a couple of maps, and decided it wasn’t, that our junction would be with a couple of fire roads. We continued up the trail, but no more than 50 yards up the trail we came to a real snag of dead, fallen trees. We worked our way through, and around, which lead us to a clearing, with a few options of trails leading out. We tried a few, but each became a tangled dead end. Then we tried bushwhacking up the hill, towards where we though the big, healthy trail we’d been on might continue. Again, thick, tangled brush. At one point I even heard something, not too far away, crashing away from us through the brush, likely a startled mule dear. Many of the faint trails dead-ended in small clearings, good places for deer to hunker down for the night. With all the weird trails, I couldn’t help but think of the stories of pot farmers that have been in the news, as examples of what might might happen if the state parks in California close. That could get unpleasant.

After following dead end after dead end, through very dense brush, we got pretty frustrated, and little worried, and decided a definite course of action was needed. We’d already consulted the maps a couple of times, and between the maps, and Shannon’s GPS, we were able to determine where we were, and that we’d crossed the actual trail, but the trail was no longer there. The fire in 2003 had burned the large Sugar, and Coulter (we need a new name for those) pines, letting the undergrowth reclaim the trail. It was hard to believe the expansive trail we’d been on had petered out to a mere tangle, almost instantly, but it had. We followed the track on Shannon’s GPS in reverse, and found the large, clear trail and decided to just head back to the car. We explored a few trails we came across, thinking because the trail switched back above us, maybe we’d be able to catch it and complete the loop. Each time the trail just stopped. We decided to stop fooling with animal trails, and just hoof it back to the car.

Almost as soon as we got a pace up, we ran into two gentlemen, possibly Kiwis, on their way up the trail. I hoped they were familiar, and could help us find our way around, but that wasn’t the case. When we told them the trail just disappeared, they said “Oh, so the sign was correct.” So that answered the mystery of what was on the sign. The trail was closed. We made our way down from where we’d come pretty quickly. Going over and under the sooty logs, and brushing the soot from our synthetic hiking pants pretty easily. We got back to the stone gate, and read the two clearly posted signs – not only was the trail closed, but it was by “order” of the District Superintendent. The order was even numbered, making me assume it was punishable by something or other.

We chugged along back to the car, spooking a group of a dozen or so wild turkeys resting in the shade of a huge bush, and wrapped it up at exactly 4 miles; 1.6 miles less than the planned round trip. Good enough. A fun, interesting trip, aborted or not. Hopefully it won’t be long before we start training as volunteers for the Interpretive Association up there.

Obviously, had we read the signs at the gate we wouldn’t have gotten into the mess we did. Fortunately, we had two different maps, and Shannon’s GPS receiver. The camp store, as well as some of the other local shops, carry a decent trail map for a dollar or two. For nine dollars, I recommend Tom Harrison’s Cuyamaca Rancho map, with contours, and mileage for every section of the trail. It’s printed on plasticized,  waterproof paper and is also available at the park store (located near the school camp). I already mentioned Jerry Schad’s Afoot and Afield in San Diego as being the top hiking guide to San Diego.

Directions to the trailhead.