On Monday it was 95 at noon in Downtown Los Angeles.
The streets were empty for Labor Day,
and the sun screamed down from the sky,
everything a reflector, intensifying every ray,
The only way to see, is to squint, till it’s almost night.
People on the Street.
Downtown Los Angeles.
Trees shade the tiny streams high up in the San Gabriel Mountains.
But between the brown branches and green leaves the hot summer sun shins through.
The sharp sunlight reflects in swirls and patters on top of the flowing water.
Yes, I know, it’s all about perspective.
Both of these were taken in the San Gabriel Mountains during the Perseid Meteor Shower on August 13, 2015.
Not very many meteors, but neat clouds.
This is a 360 degree view over and hour and 20 minutes.
This is over 40 minutes of clouds. The North Star is in the middle just above the mountains.
At work in Big Art Labs, Downtown Los Angeles.
Fish Canyon is open, and the waterfalls are flowing.
I want to write that first line in all BOLD CAPS.
Because that hasn’t been said in 30 years.
Fish Canyon, in the San Gabriel Mountains above Azusa and Duarte, used to be humming with people. Cabins were scattered along the trail and hikers posed next to the stunning triple waterfalls.
Steps leading up to the once cabins in Fish Canyon.
But the cabins were destroyed in one of the many fires that flash along the mountains, and then the mining company who owns the canyon, closed the entrance to the public.
But in a deal with the city of Duarte, in June of 2014 the Vulcan Materials Company opened access to the valley for the first time since it was closed in the mid-1980’s.
I went on this hike in June when it first opened, and it was hot and dry, the only water standing lonely in sad dirty little pools. At the peak of the hike, where the waterfall should be, was just a towering cliff face standing bleak and empty of water in the summer sun.
But now the rains have come and the valley has come alive with the sounds and sights of tumbling, churning, splashing and falling water.
In the summer, when everything was hot and dry, this canyon did not feel so special, but now with the falling water, it’s easy to see why it was once a haven.
It is a wonderful little river valley, with standing oaks, sticky cactus, a gurgling stream and the occasional birdcall.
But the real treat is the waterfall. It falls in three sections. The first high up, its base invisible behind the jutting stone. The second falls thirty feet into a huge pool where the water laps at stones and there is a little spot next to the water perfect for a picnic. The third falls a further 10 feet tumbling down the valley.
The water, just a day after the first rains in November of 2014, was a little brown, and below the waterfall there was foam as the crap from a dry summer washes away, but that should clear soon.
The triple waterfalls of Fish Canyon directly after the first rains of the season.
The top and middle waterfalls of Fish Canyon, just after the first rain storm of the season, with the water brown with run off.
In June of 2014 the completely dry waterfall of Fish Canyon.
The entrance to the hike is different from most. There is a fenced in gravel car park (closed at night) with a view up the valley. The view is of an industrial mining operation. Off to the right is a conveyor reaching into the sky spitting rocks onto a man made mountain.
The newly opened parking lot at the base of Fish Canyon, which cuts through the mining operations to reach the canyon.
To reach the car park, drive the 605 freeway all the way to its northern end, to make a right on Huntington Drive. If on the 210 freeway exit at Mt. Olive, which is right under the 605, and make the same right on Huntington.
Once on Huntington, drive a short distance and make a left onto Encanto Parkway, at the end of this road, amid all the chain link fences, is the entrance to both the mine and the hike.
The trail leads from the car park along a path flanked by chain link fences. It leads through the heart of the mining operation, even directly underneath one of the gravel moving conveyors.
The company is mining the aggregate from the top of the mountains on either side of the valley. They are basically grinding the stone into gravel and this is used to make the roads we drive on, among other things.
To get the rock from the top of the mountain to the bottom, they use the infinite resource of gravity. It is pushed off the mountaintop to create an avalanche down the cliff face.
In June they were doing this on the western cliff face, and in December on the eastern cliff face. The tons of rock flowed and growled down the mountain in its own beautiful way. Every once in a while a boulder the size of a car engine bounded down the cliff face in huge thumping leaps. The power and noise of all that rock on the move is awesome.
Aggregate is thrown down the side of the western mountain as mining operations are viewed from the newly created hiking trail up Fish Canyon.
Gravel and rocks are pushed down the side of the eastern mountain next to the new trail up Fish Canyon.
But after hiking 0.7 of a mile, where the trail crosses a small metal bridge, the hike changes completely. On one side is grit, and gray, and grumbling noises of machines and falling rock. On the other side is burbling stream, birdcall and the (somewhat) green of Southern California.
The water flowing after the first rains of the season in Fish Canyon.
The trail, unlike most of its river valley neighbors, does not follow along the edge of the stream. It follows a thin path on the cliffs up above.
The hike is no too difficult, mostly smooth and even, although at places it is beginning to wash away and cautious steps are need to avoid falling down to the hard rocks below.
The trail up on the hillside of Fish Canyon in June of 2014.
Most of the trail is along the western wall, which means morning sunlight and afternoon shadow. Recommendation: on a cool day, hike in the morning sun, on a hot day, hike in the afternoon shade.
Details: The waterfall is 2.8 miles from the car park, so a round trip of 5.5 miles. The elevation begins at 680 ft. and the waterfall is at 1380 ft.
This has quickly become one of my favorite hikes, it has an interesting juxtaposition, or should I say a reflection of what I love about Los Angeles and its mountains.
Part of me loves the city, the noise, the concentration of people. Loves the industry, the concrete walls, the roads, the things that we humans have built.
But another part of me loves to disappear into the quiet of the mountains, into the perfect white noise of birdsong, gentle tree blowing wind, and a cascading waterfall.
I am happy to be able to hike Fish Canyon.
Remnants of the first rains of the season in Fish Canyon.
There are three ways to hike to the abandoned Dawn Mine above Altadena: the first is closed, the second is over-grown, but the third, in a metaphorical bear sense, is just right.
John W. Robinson, in his book “Trails of the Angeles: 100 Hikes in the San Gabriels,†says that Dawn Mine is “the most storied gold prospect in the front range.†But that’s not saying much.
No one has made their fortune from gold in the mountains overlooking the San Gabriel Valley, that doesn’t mean that a bunch of people haven’t tried.
The prospectors started to scratch the surface of Millard Canyon in 1895, and one of those prospectors, Bradford Peck, named the area near the top of the canyon after a friends daughter, Dawn Ehrenfeld.
It wasn’t until 1902 that the real mining began. Michael T. Ryan, an Australian, began the first tunneling into the cliffs on one side of the tiny stream, creating the tunnel that we can still enter.
But he came across one problem. How to carry the tons of ore that needed to be gold-extraction-crushed down the mountain? Hiking the two and a half miles down boulder strewn Millard Canyon was difficult and time consuming. So he forged a trail up the side of the mountain to the Mt. Lowe Railway. Once there he loaded to ore onto the train and it headed down, via the funicular, to extract that beautiful gold.
After Mr. Ryan gave up, realizing that he, like the others, was not going to make his fortune, the mine changed hands many times. In the 1950’s the area became derelict, littered with mining equipment and abandoned shacks.
Over the years they became covered with graffiti and run down. Eventually all were removed except an old engine, which still sits as a marker to the mine entrance.
To hike Dawn Mine, drive up the road called Chaney Trail which is closed sunset to sunrise. Chaney Trail tees off West Alta Loma Drive, between Lincoln Ave and Fair Oaks Ave in Altadena.
Chaney Trail is a small winding road that leads up into the San Gabriels. At the end of this road is a car park, don’t park here, because this is the entrance to the closed section of the trail. Park instead at the highest point of Chaney Trail. It’s where the fire road leads up into the mountains. Parking is a problem, because there are so few spaces. It is usually full on weekends, so if you can, go on a weekday, or pray to the parking fairies.
Hike around the fire road barrier, past the water tank and then make a left after 0.4 of a mile, according to my phone, which knows everything. The turn is sign posted for The Sunset Ridge Trail. This trail leads down into Millard Canyon.
Note: There is a fork on this trail, but keep left, down toward the canyon floor.
At 0.4 miles from the beginning of the hike, the Sunset Ridge Trail cuts off from the fire road to head down into Millard Canyon.
The view looking south west from the Sunset Ridge Trail, as it heads down into Millard Canyon.
At 1.05 miles from the car park, the path reaches the gently flowing stream at the bottom of the canyon, which was, in this October 2014 drought, really just a trickle.
The mine is near the top of Millard Canyon, so head upstream, north, away from civilization.
Note: Downstream from here the trail is closed, which leads to the car park you are not supposed to park in, as the forestry service is attempting to rehabilitate it after the Station fire in 2009.
My first attempt to find Dawn Mine was a failure, because I went the wrong way. Although on the plus side, I did come across a stunningly beautiful three tired 40-foot waterfall.
Where I went wrong was not making a right turn, although it is probably worth making the wrong turn just to see the waterfall.
If you do want to see Dawn Mine make a right 1.25 miles from the parking lot. Or to put it another way, make a right 0.2 miles after reaching the stream.
Once making this turn, follow the river another 1.6 miles upstream, or 2.85 miles from the parking lot to the mine itself.
Almost all of this 1.6 miles is hopping over rocks, clambering over boulders, or ducking under fallen trees.
Note: While doing all this hopping, clambering, and ducking, pause for a moment and enjoy the peaceful miles-away-from-the-city burbling stream, scampering squirrels, and bird sounds.
The trail leading up Millard Canyon to Dawn Mine.
From here on out it is practically impossible to get lost, just follow the stream. There are spray-painted arrows along the way, but they are not really necessary, just follow the stream.
Because this is not a well traveled path, a number of the stones are loose so be careful of twisting an ankle, but that is not the only danger.
When the gray cliffs were towering on one side of the valley, there was a huge cracking noise 50 feet ahead. A stone the size of my head had fallen from the cliff face and I heard it bounce on the stones and saw it settle in the stream.
Sitting on a tree limb, near where the stone fell, were two squirrels staring at me and chattering. Because I, of course, can speak to the animals, I will provide you with translation of what one of them was saying: “Damn it Bob! You pushed it too early,” said Stan impatiently and squeakily. “I told you to wait! I get to push it next time, then we get to have hiker for dinner.â€
Because of all the clambering the trail seems longer than it is, but keep going, and then eventually there is an abandoned piece of machinery up to your left. It’s an old engine, with a flywheel attached to each side.
The entrance to the mine is hidden just the other side of the engine.
The only piece of machinery left over from the mining, and also the marker to the entrance to the mine.
The Dawn Mine entrance, on the left behind boulder with an arrow and X-marks-the-spot. The engine visible from the stream bed is off to the right.
On hands and knees, the first view into the mine is what everyone expects when looking into a mine, the classic wooden posts holding up a crosspiece. Although later, thinking about it, this is probably the remains of a door to keep people out, and just the jamb is left. But I could be wrong.
Barring entrance to the cave is a small body of water, people have helpfully thrown in pieces of wood and tree branches to create a slippery unstable walking surface. So I walked, dry footed, across. But I was told by another hiker I met that day, that when he had visited the mine the previous year and had decided to not enter as the water was too deep.
I don’t know if this was because of the drought, but like those signs at amusement park water rides: You Might Get Wet.
The entrance to Dawn Mine. The wood is piled up to create stepping stones over the just visible water. It was easy to cross the puddle, but at other times the water is probably higher, as this was the end of a drought summer.
Thirty feet into the tunnel, just past the pond, is a sandy dry area just perfect for sitting down and contemplating not going further. Two tunnels lead away into darkness and the depths of the mountain, with a large excavated gallery overhead.
The light gray rock is splattered with yellow stone that looks like moss and this reflects in another pond. There are drill holes still waiting for dynamite to be installed.
You will need a flashlight, as the mine is pitch black even so short a distance inside.
I didn’t go any further than this, as mines and underground caves scare the hell out of me, but just this short distance inside it was cool and peaceful, in a I-might-die-from-a-cave-in, sort of way.
Looking straight up into a chunk of removed mountain, with what I can only assume is the one piece of wood that is keeping the whole mountain from falling down.
Water reflecting one of the two passages leading into the mountain inside Dawn Mine.
One of the two passages leading into the mountain inside Dawn Mine.
But remember kids, abandoned mines are dangerous, and while I went alone, a friend knew where I was going, and was waiting for my back-to-civilization text.
Now the facts: Starting elevation: 2000 ft. Ending elevation: 3135 ft. The total time of my hike, from car to car was three and a half hours, with a total of 5.7 miles, all according to my phone.
Millard Canyon is cool and quiet and, when the squirrels aren’t attacking, peaceful. The mine is neat, but the real delight of this hike is the joy of having a place so serene just outside the noise and madness that is Los Angeles.
P.S. I mentioned that there were three ways to reach Dawn Mine, and just for balance sake, here is the over-grown third trail.
The first thing to say is that I don’t recommend this trail, and I have never completed it. It is the trail that the Australian forged from the mine up to the Mt. Lowe Railway.
Start at the same parking place, but instead of turning down into Millard Canyon, follow the tarmacked fire road up the mountain ridge for three miles. Unlike down in the shaded valley, it is in harsh sunlight all the way, and is steeply uphill most of the way, although it is smooth.
After the three miles there is a historic marker, it says that this was a stop of the Mt. Lowe Railway and passengers used to disembark and hike down to Dawn Mine.
I attempted hiking down the trail, but after 50 feet is was almost completely over-grown and difficult to discern, so I left it for someone else, with an adventurous spirit, and a machete.
On the trail above JPL.