U.S. Highway 395, often simply referred to as Highway 395, is a north-south highway that runs through the western part of the country. It spans approximately 1,300 miles (2,092 kilometers) from southern California to the border of Washington and Canada.
Part of this highway passes through the Mojave Desert in California. The Mojave Desert is known for its arid landscape, unique geological features, and desert flora and fauna. Highway 395 offers travelers the opportunity to experience the beauty and solitude of the Mojave Desert while providing access to various points of interest along the way.
Here are some key points about U.S. Highway 395:
Route: U.S. 395 starts in Southern California and travels north through California, Nevada, Oregon, and Washington before reaching the Canadian border near Laurier, Washington. It roughly follows the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.
Scenic Route: Highway 395 is renowned for its scenic beauty and passes through a diverse range of landscapes, including deserts, mountain ranges, valleys, and forests. It offers breathtaking views of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Mono Lake, and the Eastern Sierra.
Recreation: The highway provides access to numerous outdoor recreational opportunities, including hiking, skiing, fishing, camping, and boating in the various natural areas it traverses.
Historical Sites: U.S. 395 also passes by several historical sites and attractions, such as the Manzanar National Historic Site (a former Japanese internment camp during World War II), the Eastern California Museum, and various mining and pioneer heritage sites.
Some notable places and attractions along U.S. Highway 395 in the Mojave Desert region include:
Red Rock Canyon State Park: Located near Ridgecrest, this park features stunning red rock formations and hiking trails.
Alabama Hills: Famous for its distinctive rock formations and used as a filming location for many Western movies.
Manzanar National Historic Site: This site was once a Japanese internment camp during World War II and now serves as a reminder of this important period in American history.
Death Valley National Park: While not directly on Highway 395, it’s a short drive to this famous national park known for its extreme heat, Badwater Basin, and unique desert landscapes.
Lone Pine: A charming town with access to the Eastern Sierra, Mount Whitney, and the Eastern Sierra Visitor Center.
Bishop: A larger town along the highway known for outdoor recreation, including fishing, hiking, and rock climbing.
Mono Lakeis a unique and ancient saline lake near Lee Vining with striking tufa towers.
Travelers along U.S. Highway 395 can experience the stark beauty of the Mojave Desert, explore its geological wonders, and access various outdoor recreational opportunities. It’s a popular route for road trips and exploration of California’s eastern Sierra region.
Overall, U.S. Highway 395 is a significant transportation corridor in the western United States, known for its stunning scenery, recreational opportunities, and historical significance. It offers travelers a chance to explore diverse landscapes and experience the beauty of the American West.
Goldfield, Nevada, is a small town in Esmeralda County, in the southwestern part of the state. It has a rich history, primarily centered around its boom and subsequent decline during the early 20th century.
Here’s a brief overview of the history of Goldfield:
Discovery of Gold: Goldfield’s history began in 1902 when prospector Tom Fisherman and his partner Harry Stimler discovered gold in the area. This discovery led to a rush of prospectors and miners to the region, hoping to strike it rich.
Boomtown: The town of Goldfield quickly grew as miners and entrepreneurs flocked to the area. By 1903, it had become a booming mining town with a rapidly growing population. Goldfield was known for its numerous mines, including the famous Combination Mine.
Infrastructure Development: During its peak, Goldfield saw significant development. The town had hotels, saloons, theaters, banks, and even an opera house. The Goldfield Hotel, constructed in 1907, was one of the most luxurious hotels in the state at the time.
Mining Industry: The mining industry was the lifeblood of Goldfield. The town produced significant gold, silver, copper, and other minerals. It became one of the largest gold-producing towns in Nevada.
Labor Strikes: Goldfield experienced labor strikes and tensions in the early 1900s as miners demanded better working conditions and wages. The labor disputes occasionally turned violent.
Decline: Despite its initial success, Goldfield’s fortunes began to decline in the late 1910s. The ore veins started to run out, and the town’s population dwindled. The decline accelerated during the Great Depression.
Modern Era: Today, Goldfield is a small, historic town with a much smaller population than its heyday. It is known for its preserved historic buildings, including the Goldfield Hotel, which is rumored to be haunted.
Tourism: In recent years, Goldfield has seen a revival of interest in its history and has attracted tourists interested in the town’s gold rush past.
Goldfield’s history is a classic example of the rise and fall of a mining boomtown in the American West. While it may not have the same prosperity it once enjoyed, its history and architecture continue to captivate those interested in the Old West and the mining industry.
Gold and silver ore milling and processing in the Mojave Desert refers to the historical practice of extracting and refining precious metals from ore deposits found in the Mojave Desert region of the southwestern United States, primarily during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Keeler smelter
This process involved several steps:
Mining: The first step was to locate and extract gold and silver ore from underground mines or open-pit operations in the desert. Miners would use various techniques to break up the rock and access the valuable minerals.
Crushing and Grinding: Once the ore was extracted, it was typically in large rocks or chunks. Miners would use crushers and mills to crush and grind the ore into smaller particles, making it easier to extract the precious metals.
Chemical Processing: After crushing and grinding, the ore was treated with chemicals, typically cyanide for gold and other reagents for silver, to separate the precious metals from the rest of the ore.
Smelting: In some cases, the ore was further processed through smelting. Smelting involves heating the ore to high temperatures to separate the metal from impurities. This step was often used for silver processing.
Refining: The final step was refining the extracted gold and silver to increase their purity. Various techniques were used to achieve this, including electrolysis and chemical processes.
Tailings: The waste material left after extracting and processing gold and silver ore, known as tailings, was often deposited in tailings piles or ponds near the processing facilities. These tailings could contain residual metals and chemicals, posing environmental concerns.
Historically, many towns and mining camps in the Mojave Desert were established to support these mining and processing operations. Some of these ghost towns remain reminders of the region’s mining history.
It’s important to note that the methods and environmental regulations for mining and ore processing have evolved significantly since the heyday of mining in the Mojave Desert. Modern mining and processing operations are subject to strict environmental regulations to mitigate the impact on the desert ecosystem and surrounding communities.
The Mojave Desert is known for its rich history of mining and the presence of ghost towns and abandoned mines. Here are some notable ghost towns, sites, and gold and silver mines in the Mojave Desert:
Calico Ghost Town: Located near Barstow, California, Calico is one of the most famous ghost towns in the Mojave Desert. It was a thriving silver mining town in the late 1800s but became abandoned when the silver market declined. Today, it’s a well-preserved tourist attraction.
Rhyolite, Nevada: Rhyolite was once a booming gold mining town in the early 1900s. It had over 5,000 people but was quickly abandoned when the mines played out. You can visit the remains of the town and see the famous “Bottle House” made of glass bottles.
Goldfield, Nevada: Goldfield was another prosperous gold mining town in Nevada. It had a peak population of around 20,000 people in the early 1900s. The Goldfield Hotel and several historic buildings still stand today.
Panamint City, California: This remote ghost town in Death Valley National Park was a silver mining town in the late 1800s. It’s accessible via a challenging hike and offers stunning views of the surrounding desert.
Cerro Gordo, California: Cerro Gordo is an old silver mining town still privately owned. It’s located in the Inyo Mountains and has a well-preserved ghost town, including a general store, bunkhouse, and other structures.
Mines in the Mojave Desert: The Mojave Desert is home to numerous gold and silver mines, many of which are abandoned. These mines contributed to the region’s mining history. Some notable mines include the Tonopah-Belmont Mine, the Desert Queen Mine, and the Goldstone Mine.
Remember that exploring abandoned mines can be dangerous due to unstable structures and the presence of toxic gases. It’s essential to exercise caution and, if needed, seek permission or guidance from local authorities or landowners when visiting these sites. Additionally, some ghost towns and mines may be on private property, so be respectful of any access restrictions.
The Old Spanish Trail had become increasingly used as a pack mule trail between New Mexico and California, and with this traffic came the opportunity for those to take advantage of the distance and desperate nature of the land.
Hundreds and sometimes even thousands of stolen horses from the ranchos would burst through Coyote Canyon beginning their ‘journey of death’ across the Mojave.
California horses were beautiful creatures, and the mules were taller and stronger than those in New Mexico and they were easy to steal. The rolling hills and plains presented clear paths to the Cajon where numerous hidden canyons and washes were available to slip into and prepare for the furious run across the desert. Horses would be stolen in herds from many different ranchos at once. Hundreds of horses, even thousands could be commandeered and driven by just a few experienced thieves.
Narrows, Crowder Cyn., Cajon Pass
Chief Walkara, ‘Hawk of the Mountains’ and the greatest horse thief in all of history along with his band of renegade Chaguanosos , and notables such as Jim Beckwourth and Pegleg Smith would work together in this illegal trade. During one raid they were said to have coordinated the theft of 3,000-5,000 horses, driving them to Fort Bridger to trade for more horses to run to New Mexico to trade again. Horses would fall from exhaustion every mile and the local bands of Paiute would feast on the remains.
The rich ranchos of southern California.
In 1843 Michael White was granted one league of land at the mouth of the Cajon Pass called Rancho Muscupiabe. At a point overlooking the trails leading into and away from the canyon he was expected to thwart the raiders and horse thieves that were plaguing the Southern California ranchos. In theory it was a good plan but in practice it did not work so well.
From the piedmont between Devil and Cable canyons, Miguel Blanco could keep an eye out for the horse thieves entering the Cajon.
He built his home of logs and earth and constructed corrals for his stock. However, the location between Cable and Devil Canyon only served as a closer and more convenient target for the Indian thieves. His family was with him, but after six weeks until it became too dangerous. He left after nine months without any livestock and in debt.
The Old Spanish Trail went down this slope to behind Miguel Blanco’s rough-hewn homestead. Indians would watch from this forest for Miguel to leave and they would slip down and steal everything that could be stolen.
Miguel sold his property, however, Miguel had misread the grant, letting the rancho go for much less than it was worth. The land described on the grant was roughly 5 times larger than Miguel thought. Blanco brought a suit but lost.
Muscupiabe Rancho
As the late 1840s and 1850s rolled by wagon roads were being developed in the canyon minimizing the effectiveness of the maze of box canyons being used to cover the escape of desperadoes on horseback. With California becoming a state frontiersmen such as Beckwourth and Peg Leg Smith would not steal from fellow Americans. Horse-thieving under U.S. law had become a crime where before it was just stealing horses from Mexicans. That was only serious if caught in the act. Americans would never extradite them. For the most part, that was the end of the horse stealing raids.
Mount Baldy as seen from the Baldy Bowl Trail. It’s a steep climb to the “Bowl”, let alone the summit. However, the alpine scenery and bright blue skies make it entirely worth it.
Hike Mount Baldy to Wrightwood via the North Backbone Trail. This trip takes you from south to north, traversing the San Gabriel mountains eastern high country. The terrain is high and dry, passing amongst wind bent pines, colorful outcroppings of rock, and views in all directions while taking you through stunning alpine scenery.
Total Distance = Approx. 12 miles one way
Initial Elevation Gain = 3,900′ the first 4 miles to Mt Baldy. Once on the North Backbone trail, which’ll take off northward at the 10,064′ summit, there is an initial 1,300′ of steep descent down to the first saddle. Next there’s 900′ of climb to Dawson Peak followed by 400′ of drop to the next saddle. Finally there’s a brief climb of 450′ to the gentle summit of Pine Mountain. Now and finally, there’s a good 1,400′ drop down to the last little saddle before climbing up a couple hundred yards to the end of the North Backbone trail. In another 1 1/2 miles of level trail walking you’ll reach the upper end of the Acorn Trail where there will be 1,600′ of drop into Wrightwood. Over the length of this hike your total Gain will be 5,250′ and the total DROP will be 4,700′.
Map to take: Tom Harrison’s “ANGELES High Country” map, 2018. Nothing against map apps, I just happen to really like having a physical map as well as bringing an orienteering compass, too.
Joanie and Chris just a short distance up San Antonio Canyon from Manker Flat Campground. That’s San Antonio Falls just off to the right of my shoulder.
This last Monday, my wife and I drove around to San Antonio Canyon above Upland, from our home in Wrightwood. I’d been thinking about hiking up Mt. Baldy from the U.S. Forest Service Manker Flat campground and had been kicking this idea around for about a week. As some days went by, got to thinking that it’d be really nice to just keep on hiking from Baldy’s summit to Wrightwood via the North Backbone trail. Easy, speasy.
All of this area, including the North Backbone trail, I had hiked years earlier, meaning in some cases, some decades ago… It all seemed so easy in my head and being that it was only going to be a day hike, there wouldn’t be a heavy pack to lug up and down the ridge tops. That’s it, a cinch! I’m now pushing 59 years and still hiking, yet there’s no denying that the hikes take a wee bit longer and the recovery the day after is longer . Yeah. Well, as things turned out, we got started a bit later than planned, meaning like almost 11:00 a.m. Nonetheless, it ended up being a great day to hike! My wife was going to drop me off at the Manker Flat trailhead and we’d meet up later in Wrightwood.
The Sierra Club’s “Ski Hut” was built back in the 1930’s. After a couple of really steep miles, the Baldy Bowl Trail passes just beneath this beautifully maintained cabin.
I’d wanted to show Joanie San Antonio Falls, which she’d never seen before, and peer down at some of the little cabins hidden along the little creek. This meant walking the gated fire road, which is unfortunately paved, up to its’ first switchback at the base of the falls. It can be sort of hot and exposed, like it was the day we went. Still it was worth seeing the Falls. We said our goodbyes out under the bright blue sky and off I climbed up the fire road which had now become dirt. It’d be some ten hours before we’d meet up, again, on the other side of the range in Wrightwood.
View looking toward Baldy Notch from Mt. Baldy Bowl. This photo was taken just minutes after passing by the Sierra Club Ski Hut.
The turn off for the Baldy Bowl trail came up quickly on my left. That’s where the work began. Two things that came to mind and became readily apparent in no time at all was: 1. How much steeper the trail was than I had remembered it and 2. Just how big Mt. Baldy really is, no matter which way you go up it. It’s really a tall, broad mountain, especially by Southern California standards. Throughout the climb, despite the frequent standing up rests to slow the heart down and catch my breath, it was absolutely beautiful looking out over rugged San Antonio canyon. The trail climbs quickly up through oaks, mountain mahogany, manzanita and of course, shading pines and white fir. Just before reaching the Baldy Bowl, named by early x-country skiers in the early 20th century, you pass under the Sierra Club’s ski hut. Available to overnight stays by reservation only, this place is meticulously maintained and obviously loved by the membership. No one was there that day and I just kept hiking along, grateful for the icy cold stream that lay just moments ahead. There are strips of meadow flowers hugging the stream banks both below and above the trail. Flowers and willows crowded together along the tumbling, silver thread of water. The section where the trail crosses through the bowl is a complex of boulders, many the size of small cabins. It’s slow going and requires taking your time to read the trail, watching for clues as to where to meander next. Constantly, there was this sense that I was in the Sierras, and yet, somehow this San Gabriel mountains scenery felt, looked and even had that scent of Sierra rock and pine. All too soon, the trail leaves the Bowl and begins to switchback up through Jeffrey and Ponderosa pines. Soon the lodgepole pines began to make their presence and so did someone else.
A solitary Big Horn sheep on the west side of the Baldy Bowl. This is a female or commonly known as a ewe. Often elusive, these creatures are able to easily scale the steepest and loosest of high country slopes.
It had been years since seeing a bighorn sheep. Like always, it was never my eyes that would detect these elusive creatures. The sound of a few pebbles breaking loose from the hillside caught my attention and there she was! A few minutes later, another ewe peered at me from behind a fallen tree. She and her lamb were grazing on about a 45 degree slope on the edge of the Bowl. A double gift for sure. Occasionally I’d stop at the end of a switchback and take in the changing view of the ridge line (Devil’s Backbone) coming in from Baldy Notch. By now I’d reached the broad ridge top defining the west side of Baldy Bowl, the immense scale of the smooth talus slope dropping steeply off the south side of the summit had become apparent. The trees, pretty much all lodgepole, were twisted and sculpted by the centuries of storms blowing in off the Pacific.
One of the trail signs at the summit of Mt. Baldy. There’s no lack of directional signage here, a good thing.
One thing that really caught my eye along the whole route were the really well made and maintained trail signs. Not only are there good directional signs along the way, there are even square steel posts with reflective tape on them, often giving you a good sense of where the trail would be should it be dark or there be a mantle of snow on the ground. This trail has really been well thought out. Another detail that became subtly apparent after some time was the lack of litter. My route was especially pristine and free of trash. There’s definitely a sense of stewardship going on up here. I hadn’t brought a watch, so never did determine just when I summited. That was purposeful and there was this wonderful relief at not having to know. Probably at least several hours had elapsed before making it to the top. There were probably no more than a dozen people sharing the trail up to the top that day. Really peaceful. Found a spot near the summit marker (elev. 10,064′) to sit down on my tired haunches, looking out to the north and down into the Fish Fork.
Here’s the monument marking the summit of one of the most popular peaks in Southern California.
While taking in the view, a fit 30 something man with a solid build and neatly cropped red beard approached, asking if he wasn’t spoiling my solitude. Of course not! Pull up a boulder and sit down. Pretty soon I learned where he’d been, as his IPA cracked open and quickly vanished. Sam had started out at the Heaton Flat trailhead way down in the East Fork before heading up to Iron Mountain, one of the most isolated and difficult peaks to reach. From there, he worked his way across West San Antonio Ridge to the summit of West Mt. Baldy. From here, he’d drop down to Manker Flat and find his hidden mountain bike and take that back to his car by pedaling over the Glendora Mountain Ridge Road! That’s the caliber of company you can sometimes run into on higher peaks… Soon I was off and heading down the North Backbone Trail toward Blue Ridge and Wrightwood beyond. Gotta tell you, taking trekking poles was one of my best moves of the day. The descent was extremely steep down to the first saddle north of Mt. Baldy. Spots where I definitely would have slipped just from fatigue, were pretty easily walked down with the aid of the poles. This is a trip where you’d be glad to have a set of them.
Here’s the view looking toward the North Backbone trail from Mt. Baldy’s summit. That’s Dawson Peak straight ahead, just off to the right of the steel sign. Pine Mountain is further out, on the left of photo. Hiking this ridge is the key to traversing the San Gabriels to Wrightwood.
The climb up to Dawson Peak went well. There’s lots of rabbitbrush along the way. The trail weaved in and out of the thick yellow blossoms, giving the late afternoon light a feeling of autumn. Mountain mahogany and twisted rock outcroppings kept things interesting as well. There was a great view down toward the Cajon Pass with commuters making their sluggish drive back toward the desert. A freight train could be seen climbing the serpentine railroad tracks as well, tiny in comparison to the arid landscape. All this activity was silent, visible, yes, yet no sound whatsoever. To my left, grand scenes of the Fish Fork and Mount Baden Powell, continued to dominate my senses. A refreshing and constant breeze out of the west kept me cooled down. Once on top of Dawson (elev. 9,575′), I signed the summit register and continued on down a gentle descent through sun – polished plates of schist. Talus, I suppose. Beautiful stuff that sounded like ceramic dinner plates clunking together under my boots at times. There were even these beautiful, hidden, forested and shaded flats just below the trail at times, spots that would make for a perfect campsite. Untouched. Just before reaching the saddle between Dawson and Pine Mountain, I saw the old and seemingly untrammeled Fish Fork Trail coming in from my left.
Trail junction for the seldom trod Dawson Peak Trail in the upper Fish Fork. This is the upper end of what appears on Tom Harrison’s Angeles High Country map as being the 4 1/2 mile route down to Fish Fork Campsite, probably one of the most remote places in the San Gabriels. The elevation at this spot is 9,200′.
There’s even an old graying wooden sign indicating the way down. I’ve always wanted to follow this trail which drops down to Fish Fork trail camp, probably one of the most isolated haunts in our range. That old feeling came back somewhat suddenly, mixed with wonder at how good things still are in the backcountry here. Pristine. And since it’s hard to get to, at least for me, nothing’s trashed. A constant truth throughout the ages. Thank God. Amen.
A section of the North Backbone trail, looking back toward Dawson Peak. The ridge line on the horizon, seen off to the right is part of the Mount Harwood / Mt. Baldy massif. This picturesque “flag” tree in the foreground is one of many found along these high country slopes and ridge tops, sculpted over the centuries from the high winds blowing in from Pacific winter storms.
Soon I was climbing yet, again. This time it was up to Pine Mountain (9,648′). Weaving amongst more pines and mountain mahogany, the sun continued to drop further and further down across the mountains, casting longer and longer shadows in the gentle wind. Up on top, the summit register of nested red cans was easily found in a cairn of rocks. The desire to linger here awhile longer was resisted by the nagging feeling to at least get to Blue Ridge and the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) before it got dark. So, reluctantly, off I dragged my now tired self down a gentle slope amongst a thick forest of lodgepole pine. The deepening pools of shade penetrated the forest in a way that reminded me of being a little boy, maybe six or seven, running through the giant sequoias where our family used to camp every summer in a tent cabin. I missed people that I hadn’t thought about in awhile. They all came back for a bit and I reveled in this.
As the sun sunk lower and lower in the west, I made my way along the top of the ridge to the north of Pine Mountain, dropping toward Blue Ridge which is visible to the right.
After a short while, the ridge top timber all but left, becoming a sharp edged knife of rock, bathed in orange golden sunlight. Take your time here, Chris, something kept gently telling me. I was tired and starting to get sloppy, not quite so nimble as hours earlier. Eventually the ridge got easier and right before sun had set below the horizon, a beam of that gold light struck some dangling cones hanging from an ancient sugar pine. This hike kept getting more and more gorgeous, nostalgic in a way. In the graying light, I made a last little climb up to the dirt road (East Blue Ridge recreation road) to the northern terminus of the North Backbone Trail.
The gold light of early evening illuminates several sugar pine cones along the North Backbone trail. That’s the Mojave Desert in the background, while distant ranges still bask in the sunset.
I scurried up the slope behind the road, following a scratch trail that led to the PCT. Turning left (west) and continuing at a pretty fast clip, I arrived at a spot just to the west of the large slide above Wrightwood. The lights of homes were now twinkling in the early evening darkness. Time to get the flashlight out. I continued on in the dark, amongst and under the tall white fir and pines. Still no one around. Perfect. Here and there you could make out the silhouette of Pine Mountain to the south. A short time later was the turn-off for the Acorn Trail, which would descend about 1,600′ feet down into upper Wrightwood. Up here, it was possible to reach Joanie by radio, and yes, you guessed it…. Without a bit of shame, I took the ride back to our home in the little red Honda while Joanie told me about her day. Why the hell not? Who wants to walk on pavement I say to myself. That ride was heaven on earth. And so there you have it, it’s possible to walk across the highest point in the San Gabriels in a day! The next day my thighs felt entirely spent while walking on the little stone paths around our yard. And yet, looking back on it all, such as all good hikes, it was definitely worth it.
Mid-winter through spring is a good time to hike up to Mt. Wilson. Even as Chantry Flat in the Big Santa Anita Canyon continues to heal from the Bobcat Fire of 2020, don’t feel like there’s no good way up to Mt. Wilson. If you’ve never done it, hiking up the Old Mount Wilson Trail from the scenic Sierra Madre is not a bad way. The canyon you’ll travel through on your way up toward Manzanita Ridge is known as the Little Santa Anita Canyon. This is the original way up to “Wilson’s Peak,” named after Don Benito Wilson. The trail dates back to the 1860s.
A view of Mt. Baldy from Manzanita Ridge.
Manzanita Ridge, sections of it quite true to its’ name, makes up the watershed divide between Winter Creek (to the north) and Little Santa Anita Canyon on the south. Following the ridge line up toward the Old Mount Wilson Toll Road views out into the High Country of the San Gabriels abound. Once up on the Toll Road, you’ll continue to walk along refrigerator-sized boulders that have dropped off the near vertical slopes of Mt. Harvard.
Once you reach Martin’s Saddle, the site of a once popular trail resort of the late 19th Century, views out toward the west are to be had. You’re now contouring the slopes of Upper Eaton Canyon, a beautifully rugged wilderness in its own right. Looking out across the steep and deep tributary canyons, there is, from left to right, Mt. Lowe, Mt. Markham (flat-topped), and San Gabriel Peak. When the air is clear, this scene is spectacular.
Boulders accumulate on the Mt. Wilson Toll Road after winter storms.A view across Upper Eaton Canyon
Once up at the top, I found a picnic bench in the open-air pavilion and soaked in the sunlight for some time before heading back down. The Pacific reflected back at me like an amber platter just to the north of the Palos Verdes peninsula. What a beautiful place to be hiking. What a beautiful place to be alive.
Mt. Baldy and Dawson Peak are seen from the PCT. This view looks across upper Lytle Creek and some miles below East Blue Ridge.
Vincent Gap trailhead is once again open to vehicles coming in through Wrightwood. Highway 2 continues to be gated to any driving west of the trailhead. If you’re looking to hike up to Mt. Baden Powell or drop down into the East Fork, all this is possible now and through the summer and autumn months.
Looking out across the East Fork of the San Gabriel River to Pine Mountain, Dawson Peak, and Mt. Baldy. This view is from a spur ridge just below the summit of Mt. Baden-Powell. A native Columbine graces the East Fork just downstream from Mine Gulch Campsite.
In the summer of 1845, Benjamin D Wilson, who owned part of the interest in the Jurupa Rancho, the site of the present city of Riverside, led a troop of Calvary in search of cattle rustlers.
Setting out from San Bernardino Valley, he divided his command. Most of the men he sent throughCajon Pass, keeping only 22 Mexican troopers with him to follow a trail across the mountains. Two days later, Wilson and his men reached the lake, where they sighted scores of grizzly bears.
Most of the soldiers had been vaqueros. They formed in pairs and drew reatas, each pair attacking a bear. One looped a rope around the bear’s neck; his companion roped the same bear by a hind foot. Then, the men drew apart to stretch the rope taut and hold the bear a prisoner. They bagged and skinned eleven bears, stretched their hides, and continued across the mountains to join the rest of the command in the desert at Rancho Las Flores on the Mojave River.
Here, the reunited party engaged Indians in a fight, after which Wilson and his 22 vaquero-troopers returned home by the way of the lake. They again found the place overrun with bears, and the same 22 soldiers brought in eleven more bears– enough to give them a bear rug apiece as a trophy. Then, Wilson named Bear Lake to the little body of water.
Years later, the name was changed to Baldwin Lake. The name survives, however, in Big Bear Lake, which was created at the site of the Talmadge Ranch in 1884 when a dam was built to provide a constant water supply for the Redlands District.
– adapted from ~ Pioneer Tales of San Bernardino County – WPA – 1940.
The California grizzly bear (Ursus arctos californicus) is a subspecies of the brown bear that once inhabited various regions of California. Historically, grizzly bears were found throughout the state, from the coast to the mountains and valleys. They were an important part of California’s wildlife and played a role in the culture and folklore of indigenous peoples.
California grizzly bear (Ursus arctos californicus)
Unfortunately, due to habitat loss, hunting, and human conflicts, the California grizzly bear population declined significantly throughout the 19th century. The last known California grizzly bear in the wild was killed in 1922 in Tulare County. The species was declared extinct in 1924.
Efforts have been made to preserve the memory of the California grizzly bear, and it is often symbolically represented in the state’s flag and seal. The California grizzly bear is also the state animal, even though it no longer exists in the wild.
1846 – 1910
1911 – 1952
Today
There have been occasional discussions and proposals for reintroducing grizzly bears to certain parts of California, but these efforts are complex and face challenges related to habitat, human-wildlife conflicts, and public opinion. As of my last knowledge update in January 2022, there were no active reintroduction programs in place. Still, it’s advisable to check for the latest information, as conservation efforts and plans may evolve.
Benjamin Wilson leads a posse of 22 men into the San Bernardino Mountains to search for Indians who had been raiding ranches in . He discovers Big Bear Valley and gives it the name it has today. Up until 1845, Bear Valley was known to the local Serrano Indians as Yahaviat, which means “Pine Place”. – bb
