Late afternoon sun works its’ way through layers of smoke and cumulus clouds while the Ranch Fire burns way down below in the mouth of San Gabriel Canyon. That’s Mt. Williamson in the background, just right of center.
Hike the Dawson Saddle Trail for cooler temps and beautiful views of canyons and desert. A few days ago, Joanie and I drove up to Dawson Saddle for a late afternoon hike. Located approximately 13 miles west of Wrightwood, Dawson Saddle is the highest spot along the Angeles Crest Highway. At an elevation of 7,901′ , this trailhead starts you out at about the coolest temps possible this time of year. While the Front Country of the San Gabriel mountains smolders during the occasional heat waves of summer, high country hikes, or walks, are well worth considering for a refreshing getaway.
Scarlet monkey flowers are in full bloom along this small unnamed stream flowing off of Mt. Burnham. The location of the photo was taken along Highway 2 (Angeles Crest Highway) just east of Dawson Saddle. In the background is a culvert running underneath and through the old rock work of the highway.
About a mile up the trail, while heading toward Throop Peak, we caught this scene of smoke and cumulus clouds out over San Gabriel Canyon. The Ranch Fire II was still out of control a short distance up Highway 39 near Azusa. Up above 8,000′ , the breeze coming in from the Pacific was cooling, yet tinged with the acrid scent of burning chaparral from miles away. Our light was beginning to fade and we turned back around for the trailhead. While driving back home, we stopped at a spot alongside the highway, where an unnamed stream flowed down the north slope of Mt. Burnham and then under the road. Clusters of Crimson Monkey Flower and Columbine graced the stream bed. Scooping up the icy water and splashing our faces and arms under a darkening summer sky revived us for the twilight drive back.
Joanie pauses alongside the Blue Ridge Trail to check out some dried flower stalks of grass in the fading light.
Wrightwood’s Blue Ridge Trail hike, located just three miles west of this scenic mountain village, is a good place to get some shade and maybe even a little cooler weather, this time of year. The trail runs between Big Pines and Blue Ridge Campground, traversing richly forested mountainsides. Total elevation gain is only 1,100′ in the two miles spent under the canopy of expansive white fir, black oaks, Jeffrey, ponderosa and sugar pine. Starting at 6,800′ , the trailhead is located just across Highway 2 from the old Big Pines Lodge. There’s also a U.S. Forest Service information station here, which incidentally, is closed for the meantime due to Covid cutbacks throughout the Forest Service. Park in the paved lot adjacent to the restrooms. Walk down a worn trail through the brush that’ll cross the Mountain High West parking lot’s exit road. Look for the brown painted trail sign.
Clusters of asters are found growing along much of the Blue Ridge Trail, Wrightwood, CA. Also, look for them along the Lightning Ridge Trail as well as the Pacific Crest Trail where it runs along both East and West Blue Ridge.
Halfway up the trail is, true to its’ name, the Half Way rest. It’s a nice log bench indicating that you’re only a mile from Blue Ridge Campground and a mile from where you began. You’ll pass by some gentle draws along the mountainside where glades of gentle green squaw currant, dogwood and willow grow lushly. There’s the smell of moist plants and earth dropping down from these quiet places. The terrain is gentle, especially for the San Gabriel mountains. Take the time to breathe all this beauty in. Return the way you came.
This photo was taken just a couple of days ago by an unnamed fire fighter and posted on Instagram. Photo was taken near Chantry Flat and is looking north up toward Sturtevant Falls. The arrow tip is in the Fern Lodge area of the main canyon, where the Upper Falls Trail and Gabrielino Trail leave the canyon bottom, continuing up and past Sturtevant Falls toward Cascade Picnic Area and Spruce Grove trail camp. It appears that much of the canyon bottom tree canopy is still intact after the Bobcat Fire !
Attached are two photos taken of Big Santa Anita Canyon in the aftermath of the Bobcat Fire. There’s a third photo here, too. It is of the flames dropping into the upper Big Santa Anita Canyon during the fire’s early stages of development. The first photo was taken a couple of days ago. Here you’re looking up the canyon from a point near the trailhead at Chantry Flats. The second photo was taken by Larry Webster of Mt. Wilson just a day ago. The view is from the east end of the summit looking down toward Sturtevant Camp. Note the smoke still curling up from either the camp or adjacent to it. It’s still too early to know what the damage actually was to the camp or the nearly eighty private cabins up and down the Big Santa Anita Canyon and Winter Creek. Updates to follow as they come in.
This photo was taken after the fire passed through, by Larry Webster of Mt. Wilson, CA. That’s Monrovia Peak, highest point in center horizon of photo. At the tip of arrow is Sturtevant Camp. As of this writing, it’s unknown how the camp fared in the Bobcat Fire.
This photo was taken before the Bobcat Fire reached Mt. Wilson. Sturtevant Camp’s heliport is marked by the small red arrow. Coincidentally, the camp itself, is located at the bottom, or start, of the arrow’s shaft.
The Bobcat Fire dropping down into upper Big Santa Anita Canyon. At the end of the little red arrow is the heliport at Sturtevant Camp. Photo taken from Mt. Wilson by Larry Webster.
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.
Late winter through spring is a really 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 scenic Sierra Madre, is not a bad way to go. 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 1860’s
A view of Mt. Baldy from Manzanita Ridge.
Manzanita Ridge, sections of it quite true to its’ name, makes up the watershed divide between the 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 at me like an amber platter just 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 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 .
The indigenous peoples of the Mojave Desert, such as the Mojave, Chemehuevi, Serrano, and others, developed the first trails through the desert based on a deep understanding of the natural environment, honed over generations of living in this challenging landscape. These trails were not found by accident but were carefully established routes facilitating travel, trade, and access to resources within the desert and between different ecological zones. Here are some key methods and considerations that these indigenous peoples likely used to establish the trails:
Water Sources: Finding and remembering the locations of reliable water sources was crucial for survival in the desert. Trails often connected springs, rivers, and waterholes that could sustain travelers through the arid landscape.
Landmarks: Natural landmarks such as mountains, rock formations, and distinctive vegetation would have served as navigation aids, helping to guide the way and mark progress along the trails.
Seasonal Variations: Understanding the seasonal changes in the desert, including variations in water availability and the movement of game animals, would have influenced the timing and direction of travel on these trails.
Trade and Social Networks: Trails facilitated trade and communication between indigenous groups. They were designed to connect communities and trading posts, enabling the exchange of goods, ideas, and cultural practices.
Observation and Oral Tradition: Knowledge of the landscape and its best routes would have been passed down through generations, with each generation refining and adding to this knowledge base. This oral tradition ensured that valuable information about navigating the desert was retained and shared within communities.
Adaptation to the Environment: Trails would have been adjusted and modified over time in response to environmental changes, such as the shifting of water sources or the growth of new obstacles. This adaptive approach ensured that the trails remained viable over long periods.
These trails, established through intimate knowledge of the desert environment, would later be used by European explorers, settlers, and others as they moved through the Mojave Desert. The legacy of these indigenous trail-making practices is a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of the desert’s original inhabitants.
OpenAI. (2024). ChatGPT (4) [Large language model]. https://chat.openai.com
Lake Manix is an ancient lake in what is now the Mojave Desert of California, USA. It was part of the ancient Mojave River system, which flowed through the area during periods of the Pleistocene epoch when the climate was wetter than it is today. The presence of this lake is a testament to the dramatically different environmental conditions that prevailed in the region thousands of years ago.
Lake Manix
In its ancient course, the Mojave River fed into Lake Manix, creating a significant water body supporting diverse flora and fauna. This ancient river system was vital for migrating and sustaining animals and possibly early human populations. Over time, Lake Manix eventually dried as the climate became warmer, and the Mojave River’s flow diminished significantly. The remnants of this ancient river system can still be traced in the modern landscape of the Mojave Desert, with the Mojave River now flowing intermittently and largely underground.
Archaeological and geological evidence from the Lake Manix area provides valuable insights into the climatic changes that have occurred over millennia in the Mojave Desert. Studies of sediment deposits, fossil records, and other geological features around the former lake site help scientists reconstruct the paleoenvironmental conditions, offering clues about water availability, vegetation types, and the animals that once inhabited the region.
The transition from a wetter, lake-dominant landscape to the arid desert environment of today highlights the dynamic nature of Earth’s climate and ecosystems. Understanding the history of Lake Manix and the ancient Mojave River system contributes to our knowledge of past climatic shifts. It helps inform current and future conservation efforts in desert ecosystems.
Coyote Arm of Lake Manix
The Coyote arm of Lake Manix refers to a specific portion or segment of ancient Lake Manix, which existed during the Pleistocene epoch in what is now the Mojave Desert of California. This area is particularly interesting to geologists and archaeologists because it provides evidence of the extent of the lake and the environmental conditions that prevailed in the region.
Lake Manix covered a large area and had multiple “arms” or extensions, with the Coyote arm being one of them. These arms were parts of the lake that extended into different valleys or low-lying areas, filled by the ancient Mojave River and its tributaries. The existence of these arms indicates that the lake’s water levels and boundaries changed over time, influenced by climatic fluctuations, precipitation patterns, and river flow dynamics.
Studying the Coyote arm and other parts of Lake Manix helps scientists reconstruct the paleohydrology of the region. By examining sediment layers, fossil remains, and other geological features, researchers can infer past water levels, the timing of lake expansion and contraction, and the habitats around the lake. This information is crucial for understanding how ancient ecosystems responded to climate change and how they supported early human populations and other species.
Evidence from the Coyote arm and similar areas around the former Lake Manix also contributes to our understanding of the broader paleoclimatic patterns in North America. Such studies are part of a larger effort to piece together the history of Earth’s climate and how it has shaped the development of landscapes and ecosystems over geological time scales.
Troy Lake arm of Lake Manix
The Troy Lake arm of Lake Manix represents another significant segment of the ancient Lake Manix, which was a part of the extensive Pleistocene-age lake system in the Mojave Desert, California. Like the Coyote arm, the Troy Lake arm was one of the various extensions or branches of Lake Manix, fed by the ancient Mojave River and its tributaries during a time when the climate was considerably wetter than it is today.
The presence of the Troy Lake arm and other arms like the Coyote arm indicate the region’s complex hydrology and varied topography during the Pleistocene. These arms were essentially the lake’s extensions into surrounding valleys, creating diverse habitats for various plant and animal life. These lake arms’ fluctuating boundaries and water levels, driven by climatic variations, offer valuable insights into past environmental conditions.
Researchers study the Troy Lake arm and focus on sediment deposits, fossilized remains, and other geological indicators to understand the lake’s hydrology, such as water depth, extent, and changes over time. These studies contribute to a broader understanding of how ancient lake systems like Lake Manix responded to glacial and interglacial cycles, influencing precipitation patterns, temperature, and, ultimately, the region’s hydrography.
The research on the Troy Lake arm, alongside other parts of Lake Manix, is crucial for reconstructing past climates and ecosystems. It helps in understanding the challenges faced by early human settlers and the strategies they employed for survival. Moreover, it provides context for current environmental changes and aids in predicting future climatic shifts, especially in desert regions like the Mojave, which are sensitive indicators of broader environmental transformations.
Afton Canyon
/afton-canyon/
Afton Canyon, often called the “Grand Canyon of the Mojave,” is a striking geological feature in California’s Mojave Desert. It is renowned for its dramatic landscape, including steep canyon walls, rare desert waterways, and various wildlife. The formation of Afton Canyon is closely tied to the history of Lake Manix and the ancient Mojave River system.
During the Pleistocene epoch, when Lake Manix existed, it was a significant water body fed by the Mojave River, which carried meltwater from glaciers in the mountains to the north. Over time, the climate became drier, and the lake levels fluctuated. Eventually, Lake Manix breached its natural dam, leading to a catastrophic water outflow. This event was a pivotal moment in the formation of Afton Canyon.
The breach of Lake Manix’s dam caused a massive release of water that carved through the landscape, creating Afton Canyon. Rapid erosion cut deeply into the sediment and rock, forming the canyon’s distinctive steep walls. The force of the water was so powerful that it removed vast amounts of material, shaping the canyon into its present form.
Today, Afton Canyon remains one of the few places in the Mojave Desert where the Mojave River flows above ground, offering a rare glimpse into the water’s erosive power that shaped the landscape. The canyon’s formation is a testament to the dynamic geological processes that have occurred over millennia, driven by climatic shifts and water movement.
The role of Lake Manix in forming Afton Canyon highlights the interconnectedness of geological features within the Mojave Desert. It illustrates how ancient lakes, rivers, and climatic conditions have sculpted the region’s unique landscapes. Afton Canyon’s creation is a prime example of how water, even in arid environments, can be a powerful change agent, carving through the earth to create spectacular natural features.
Addressing littering, illegal dumping, vandalism, and theft in natural areas like the Mojave Desert requires a multifaceted approach, considering prevention and remediation. Here are some strategies that can be employed:
Education and Awareness
Public Education Campaigns: Educating the public about the ecological, cultural, and historical significance of the Mojave Desert can foster a sense of stewardship. Campaigns can highlight the negative impacts of littering, dumping, vandalism, and theft.
School Programs: Integrating environmental education into school curriculums can instill values of conservation and respect for nature in young people.
Enforcement and Regulation
Increased Surveillance: Deploying more rangers or utilizing surveillance technology in high-risk areas can deter potential offenders.
Stricter Penalties: Implementing harsher penalties for violations can serve as a deterrent. This could include higher fines, community service in environmental cleanup, and legal action for more serious offenses.
Quick Response to Incidents: Rapid response to reports of dumping, vandalism, or theft can help catch perpetrators and serve as a deterrent to others.
Community Engagement and Participation
Volunteer Cleanup Events: Organizing community cleanups can address existing litter and dumping and foster a sense of community ownership and responsibility.
Adopt-a-Spot Programs: Encouraging individuals, families, or groups to “adopt” areas of the desert for regular monitoring and maintenance can help maintain cleanliness and report issues quickly.
Infrastructure and Accessibility
Better Waste Management Facilities: Providing accessible and convenient disposal options near the Mojave area can reduce the likelihood of illegal dumping.
Improved Signage: Clear, informative signage about rules, regulations, and the importance of preservation can serve as both an educational tool and a deterrent.
Technology and Innovation
Mobile Apps: Developing and promoting mobile apps that allow visitors to report litter, dumping, vandalism, or theft in real-time can aid in quick responses and create a database of problem areas.
Social Media: Utilizing social media platforms to share information, organize cleanup events, and foster a digital community of stewards can enhance engagement and awareness.
Partnerships
Collaboration with Local Businesses: Engaging local businesses in sponsorship opportunities for cleanup events or educational programs can enhance resources and community involvement.
Partnerships with Environmental Organizations: Working with NGOs and environmental groups can bring expertise, volunteers, and additional resources for conservation efforts.
Solving these issues in the Mojave Desert requires persistent efforts across multiple fronts. It’s about creating and nurturing a culture of respect and care for the environment, backed by effective enforcement and community involvement.
“The Story of Inyo” by W.A. Chalfant is a comprehensive history of Inyo County, California, first published in 1922. W.A. Chalfant (1865-1943) was a newspaperman and historian who spent much of his life in the Eastern Sierra region of California. His work is considered one of the seminal histories of this part of California, detailing the early exploration, settlement, and development of Inyo County.
The book covers a wide range of topics, including the area’s indigenous peoples, the impact of European settlement, mining, and economic development, and the natural history and geography of the region. Chalfant’s writing is noted for its detailed research, engaging narrative style, and commitment to telling the stories of the Native American inhabitants and the settlers who came to the area.
Inyo County is a region of great diversity and contrast, home to some of the highest and lowest points in the contiguous United States, including Mount Whitney and Death Valley. This geographic and environmental diversity is reflected in the stories Chalfant tells, from tales of survival and adaptation in harsh landscapes to the boom and bust of mining towns and the ongoing challenges and conflicts over land and water use.
Mono Lake
Petroglyphs
“The Story of Inyo” remains an essential resource for historians, geographers, and anyone interested in the American West, offering insights into the complex history of human and environmental interaction in this unique part of California.
