The gear that translates the power from the starter to the driveshaft.

The clutch cage, with the seven wear marks on the edges of the arms, from the seven metal plates sandwiching the six clutch disks.

My adjustable socket wrench, presented to me years and years ago by my brother.

Oil pump and gear.

One of the three pistons, with carbon glazed on the upper surface from the heat and pressure of combustion.

Today are photographs that fail to even vaguely fit into a category.
Lost, you could call them.

Hippos in a storefront: or ‘The Hippo Hotel’ instillation art by Vanessa Bonet and Derek Doublin.
No, you’re not supposed to understand it.
But then again, maybe, I’m not that smart.

A pair of cameras, or eyes, overlook an empty street in a momentarily colorful warehouse district.

I can’t help but say it, despite my whole body screaming with horror in cheesyness.
“Love holds the building together.”
Ok, now I need to wash my mouth out.

Sitting beside a pier, an old chair, recreated, stares dutifully out to sea.

And finally, love, abandoned, covered with dust, locked behind metal, slowly warps in the sun.

Today is about cracks, peeling plaster, loosening paint, faces and wrinkles.
Which is NOT a reflection of my old catching up.
Really.

     This hike has so many different routes that it would be impossible to describe them all, so I am not going to. What I am going to do, is describe my hike. Please use it as a loose introduction to the area, then find your own way.
     As I said, there are at least two places to park, the obvious one is the Pohl Overlook on Mulholland Drive (8401 Mulholland Dr Los Angeles, CA 90046), and then there is another entrance in a residential neighborhood, down below Mulholland, which is where I parked. This entrance is at the intersection of Fryman Road and Doña Marie Drive.
     On my way up the hill, I drove past the entrance to the Wilacre Park, which had numerous hikers walking down the street, even on this Tuesday noon, but upon arriving at the Fryman/Doña Marie entrance I was all alone.
     Park on the street and then walk past the car barrier up the abandoned road. Curve left, following the wide easy path. After ten minutes or so, the path ends at the cul-de-sac of another residential street. But just before this happens, there is a goat path leading up the mountain, take this path.
     This path snakes between overgrowing bushes, and then comes to a T-junction. Randomly, I took a left. This is a nice trail, with overhanging trees and views out over Studio City and the Valley. Below is Laurel Canyon Blvd, the section which contracts from two lanes to one before crossing Mulholland and leading down to Hollywood. This is where that jerk in the Porsche drives all the way up in the right lane, and then cuts in front of you right at the last minute. His time is obviously more important than yours. Which is when you contemplate either moving to Montana, or buying a gun. Not necessarily in that order.
     But that is not happening on this path, it’s cool and quiet. Little red flowers are blooming and there was even a bird singing.
     Then this path came to a dead end. There are just houses and fences. Hmmm. While retracing my steps, I pass a lady with her dog and ask if this path is just a dead end, she says yes, and we discuss other routes in this area. She recommends one that crosses a creek.
     So, back at the T-junction, and I take the other path, the one leading to the Pohl Overlook on Mulholland. (From the Pohl overlook to the dead end is 0.7 miles, it’s flat and easy and I saw three dog walkers on this route.)
     Now I was at the overlook, with the fabulous expansive view over the whole of the San Fernando Valley. Suburbia stretching in parallel asphalt lines, with mountains circling the hazy distance.
     There are two paths leading from the overlook. The T-junction/dead end path, and one that leads down through the trees. I went down through the trees.
     The shade trees are nice in hot Los Angeles, and the path switchbacks down. Eventually I come across the creek, which has enough water flowing over the low stones to wet the bottom half of your shoes, but not much more. And it rained yesterday, it must be completely dry in the summer.
     Here the trail rises again, and then suddenly I can see down the valley to where my car is parked, and right then, a trail appears, heading in that direction. So I take that trail. It heads down the side of the mountain, and deposits me 100 yards from my car, up the abandoned road.
     The total hike time today was a little less than an hour, which means it was probably two miles or so.
     Below is a map of the hike, and please note that the Betty B Dearing Trail leads all the way down to the Wilacre Parking lot at Fryman and Laurel. So don’t forget that there are infinite combinations of hikes in this area, so try new trails, and maybe even get lost one day.
     It’s not like you’re surrounded by the whole of Los Angeles.

     But just as an aside- The Mt. Lowe/Echo Mountain hike, the one near my house in Altadena, is an urban hike on the weekends, and a smile-and-say-hello hike during the week.

     But back to the Wilacre Park hike. There is a parking lot at the base of this trail with a $3 fee. There is some street parking around, but the home owners on these streets get annoyed with millions of cars parked in front of their houses, so it’s best to park in the lot. But the lot is not huge, and on weekends will be full, so do what you can.
     The parking lot is visible from Laurel Canyon Blvd, but I’ve driven past it hundreds of times and never noticed it. It’s about a mile south of the 101, at the corner of Fryman Road and Laurel Canyon Blvd.
     The hike entrance is attached to the parking lot, and is on –just like Runyon Canyon- an old disintegrating road. There is a big sign, naming the trail after Betty B Dearing. Betty Dearing (d. 1977) was the first wife of Leroy M. Dearing (d. 2002), who was an inventor and long time resident of Studio City. He invented the blue bubble wrap blanket seen on millions of pools across the nation. He worked at Eastman Kodak and Technicolor, helping to invent Kodacolor and Kodachrome film.
     But beyond that he and his wife Betty was active in helping to preserve the natural beauty of the Santa Monica Mountains. Happily, he threw tons of money at keeping the mountains as natural as possible, which is a wonderful thing, so he got to name the trail.

     The trail is wide and an easy grade. As would befit an old road. This is also a hike with a million offshoots, like a tree trunk with hundreds of branches. Little trails lead off in all directions, but the main trail is easy to follow, just stay on the largest trail, the one with all the people on it.
     The trail winds along the edge of the hills looking north over The San Fernando Valley. To the right –east- is North Hollywood with the Verdugo Mountains looming over Burbank. Straight ahead –north- is Studio City, and obscured by the afternoon haze are the Santa Susana Mountains.

     After about a mile and a half of easy uphill grade, there are the TreePeople.
     This is another one of those things I have driven past hundreds of times and never stopped to check it out. The main automobile entrance to the TreePeople is on Coldwater Canyon Drive at Mulholland Drive. This hike and the Dearing Trail come in from the other side, through the metaphorical back door. As I still know nothing about the TreePeople, here is a quote from their website: “TreePeople is an environmental nonprofit that unites the power of trees, people and technology to grow a sustainable future for Los Angeles.” http://www.treepeople.org/ .
     Once I did the complete loop that is this hike, I realized that the TreePeople back door marker is a good place to turn around. Why is it a good idea to trace your steps back down the Dearing trail, rather than continue with the loop? Because once past the TreePeople, the trail cuts down a valley, with limited views, and then unexcitedly dumps you on a residential street. Now, it’s sometimes nice to hike on streets, contemplating why homeowners landscape the way they do. But when I hike, I like dirt under foot, and daydreaming. Daydreaming is not possible while walking down a street with myriads of driveways.
     So, my recommendation is this: park in the parking lot, hike up the Betty B. Dearing Trail, turn around at the TreePeople, and be happy with your 3 mile hike.
     There are some downsides to this hike, tons of people, difficult weekend parking, not much shade, but the smooth dirt road, and the views out over the whole of the valley make up for it.

     But, before you go away, I would like to clear up some naming confusion. It seems that people call this the Fryman Canyon Hike, or the Wilacre Hike, or just the Fryman Hike.
     It is officially called Wilacre Park in Fryman Canyon.
     The reason for the confusion is that there are three parks right next to each other: The Wilacre Park, the Fryman Canyon Park and the Coldwater Canyon Park.
     It seems that Fryman Canyon (the canyon, not the park) runs through all three of these parks, which is why people throw the Fryman name all over the place.
     Still confused?
     Visit the LA Mountains websites for specific park information and maps.
     Fryman Canyon: http://www.lamountains.com/parks.asp?parkid=15
     Wilacre Park: http://www.lamountains.com/parks.asp?parkid=66
     Or listings of all the parks: http://www.lamountains.com/parks_listing.asp

Murals, is today, which is, really, me stealing other people’s art, with a click of a button, sortof.

        The trailhead for Devils Canyon is 26.2 miles from civilization, in the Angeles National Forest. To be more exact, I reset my trip odometer while in the city of La Cañada, on the Angeles Crest Highway (2) while on the bridge over the 210 freeway.
        After driving the 26 miles there is an easily visible “Devils Canyon Trailhead” sign on the right side of the road. Parking is on the left, and remember, this is a Forest Adventure Pass parking area, display your placard.
        It was a sharp bright day up here at 5,500 feet, with my car reading a temp of 53 degrees. While back down in Pasadena, it was a sharp and almost hot February day in the high 70’s. I was glad, up here on the windy ridgeline, that I had brought my jacket.
        The hike begins at the very top of the canyon: the only way from here is down. I am personally more in favor of hikes that start at the bottom, reaching a beautiful view height, with an easy journey back down, but nothing is perfect.
        The information says that this is a 7 mile round trip hike, or 3 ½ miles one way, and that the elevation change is anywhere between 1800 feet and 1500 feet, depending on who is answering the question.
        I decided to accept the 1500-foot elevation change number, as it would make the hike easier.
        Directions could not be simpler: follow the canyon. The trail begins at the top of the canyon slowly switch-backing down the soft rolling mountain, between evergreen trees.
        What I found interesting from the expansive southerly view at the beginning of the trail, is the vegetation. The right side of the canyon is covered with forest -or to be more exact, a rich smattering of evergreen trees. The left slope is dry and pale brown, with just the low scrub on the hillside.

        Which is strange to me, because I was taught that the windward side of the mountain receives all the rain. [That is the side of the mountain that the wind and moisture-laden-clouds hit first. When the clouds encounter and rise with the mountain, the pressure drops, moisture clumps, and falls as rain.]
        Generally speaking, in Southern California, the wind comes from the ocean, moving from west to east. Which means that in the above photograph, the wind would move from right to left. Thus the vegetation should be on the left hand slope.
        Therefore, the vegetation is on the wrong slope.
        The mountain must be wrong.
        Can a mountain be wrong?
        But then again, I might be mistaken in my facts, but the science books seem to back me up, there must be something going on here that I don’t understand. Maybe even the wind goes in the opposite direction.

        After some time switch-backing, the trail falls deeper into the canyon and finally stumbles upon the stream. At this point the trail swishes back and forth, crossing and recrossing the stream, there is some gentle rock and stream hopping, with the occasional fallen tree to clamber over.

        After following the stream for a while -with overhead trees to keep the hot summer sun away, and the little stream cooling the area- the canyon opens out, and converges with two other streams.
        Note that the stream, and canyon you just hiked down, is the middle of these three converging streams. Don’t, like me, almost take the wrong stream on your way back.
        There is a small plateau, with a grassy area, a crude fire pit and some logs to sit upon. I assume this is the campground, which is the turn around point for the 7-mile hike. It took me about an hour to hike down, which is about right for just over 3 miles downhill. (It took an hour and a half to hike the 3 1/2 miles back out.)
        I decided that rather than sit on a log in the shade, to sit on a stone surrounded by tumbling water for my lunch. On my way to the stream, I noticed, and had to avoid, a bunch of the -three leaves bad- Poison Oak among the rocks.

        It was beautifully -water gurglingly- quiet on my luncheon rock.
        The sun warmed my shoulders, while the water-cooled my ankles.
        Mountains rose up on all sides, green or brown, depending on which –wrong- shoulder I looked over.
        On the three hour round trip, I saw not one other human being, with only the occasional squirrel to keep me company, although I must admit, it was a Thursday in February, not the busiest of hiking days.
        And as I sat there, eating my sandwich and drinking my water, there was a moment of beautiful realization that I live in one of the largest metropolises in the world, but peace and quiet can be found only 45 minutes away.

Just because.

John, patiently waiting on the couch during Kasey’s garage sale, Los Angeles, California.