Ant Camp – Agua Blanca Creek, September 15 – 16, 2012

It is right and proper to shift the goal and declare success.

Things happen in the shadow of Cobblestone Mountain, at least they do to me. While I could qualify that statement with a number of anecdotes I will let those stories surface organically as I return to the places where they happened per the purpose of this blog. This Web log entry will tell the tale of my revisitation of Ant Camp on the Agua Blanca, September 15 and 16, 2012.

The Brooding Hulk of Cobblestone Mountain, taunting me again, September 15, 2012. No one familiar with Dennis Gagnon’s Los Padres guide books that were published between 1974 and 1991 can avoid using the phrase “Brooding Hulk of Cobblestone Mountain.”

Why Ant Camp and why those potentially problematic beginning of fall dates? That story has been eloquently reported at craigrcarey.net by the author of Hiking and Backpacking Santa Barbara and Ventura (the Southern Los Padres). In short, this was a Forest Service sanctioned survey of the route along Agua Blanca Creek upstream from Ant Camp to Saddle Skirt Camp and downstream from Ant Camp to Log Cabin Camp. My response when given the opportunity to visit the Agua Blanca country after many years away was to book a plane ticket west to LAX. Visions of photography in Big Narrows and a night at Cove Camp were not to be denied. Also not to be denied was an opportunity to hike with five of the Los Padres illuminati: I had read their posts and viewed photographs of their adventures, now I would be part of the crew.

I don’t recall the exact year of my first trip to Ant Camp but certain, reliable temporal landmarks place it 42 years in the past, plus or minus one year. That was also the first time I experienced the Dough Flat road. I remember bouncing around unbelted in the back of a Willys CJ5 pretending not to be terrified at the imprudent speed. Later, at Ant Camp, I learned that construction of a poorly ventilated wind shield around an Optimus 99 stove supporting a large pot placed above a full flame will cause the screaming release of a thin stream of superheated, flaming plasma through the gas cap pressure release valve.

The last time I visited Ant Camp was January, 1985. I drove to the Dough Flat trailhead in a 1974 Pinto operated sanely at a speed appropriate to the road and the modest capabilities of that vehicle. From Dough Flat I hiked the wide road past Bucksnort, continued on the wide track of 19W18 beyond the split with 20W11 to Alder Creek and followed 19W18 as it narrowed to single track at the crest of the descent to Ant Camp. After a lunch taken at leisure while seated at the picnic table at Ant Camp I walked easily back to my car at the trail head. On the way back to Fillmore on Dough Flat road I learned how tenuous a bond existed between the plastic molding and the rear bumper of a 1974 Pinto.

Ant Camp

Ant Camp, January, 1985

1974 Pinto in the field.

1974 Pinto in the field.

I arrived in California August 13, 2012 aware of the hot weather forecast for the trip. But I accepted the orthodoxy borne of direct experience as well as tribal knowledge that there would be water in Agua Blanca Creek at (and below) Ant Camp. I reasoned the misery would be acceptable on the hike to Ant Camp and acceptably relieved by ample water in the Agua Blanca on the way downstream.

Visions; I had visions of photography along the Agua Blanca through the Big Narrows. I planned a spectacular (I hoped) fisheye night shot at Cove Camp complete with light painting. I had brought my heavy photographic artillery; full-frame DSLR, five lenses, tripod, panorama head and various supporting gadgets. After the fact I calculated that the weight of this equipment was somewhere north of fifteen pounds. To be sure, I was not carrying heavy shelter, rain gear, clothing or the like which somewhat compensated for the imaging load.

And then it was 5:30 AM, September 15, at staging area number one where I performed the ritual transfer of the loaded backpack to one of the shuttle vehicles. Next I knew, the shuttle square dance was nearing the final few fiddle notes and I was riding in a truck up the Dough Flat road for the first time in twenty six years. The last time I was on this idiosyncratic road, in December, 1986, Jon B. and I backpacked a loop to Sespe Hot Springs, Alder-Sespe confluence, up the Alder Creek narrows to Shady Camp and out. The vehicle for that trip was a Honda Civic.

Left Panel: View west from Sespe Saddle, December, 1986. Right Panel: Alder Creek Narrows, December, 1986

What became obvious relatively soon was that neither a Pinto nor a Civic would be appropriate transport to Dough Flat along the road in its current state. My recollection from the 1970s and1980s was that other than during heavy rains the road was kept consistently passable to Dough Flat year round and damage was repaired reasonably quickly. The fact that this post mentions trips to Dough Flat in transportation not configured for rough travel dated January, 1985 and December, 1986 is anecdotally illustrative of this recollection.

Subsequent to parking one vehicle and reshuffling the human and backpacking cargo, we passed through the locked Tar Creek gate with the key provided by the Forest Service. We continued to a washout perhaps a quarter mile short of Dough Flat. Quite frankly, the road at this point seemed perfectly navigable by our vehicle. But, there was no reason to contravene the instructions of the Forest Service to proceed no farther. We were operating as a survey team under Forest Service auspices and I am confident to speak on behalf of the team in stating that we greatly appreciated the opportunity.

I performed the rite of the hoisting of the pack, secured the various straps and began to walk. Very shortly I was at Dough Flat and was promptly smacked in the head by the wet mackerel of old memories. In a moment of profound clarity my inner voice, the one that calls me “dude,” said, “Dude, you’ve got a distance to walk in mounting heat; pay attention” So much for sentiment; such is life in the eastern Los Padres in mid-September.

Dough Flat, September 15, 2012

Dough Flat, September 15, 2012

Assembled and ready to proceed at Dough Flat, September 15, 2012.

It was hot. Jon and I in the 1980s developed a scale of temperature that added progressively more vulgar modifiers to the single word “hot” or “cold” as the intensity of either increased. Today was clearly going to reach the highest level of heat obscenity.

The route along the retired road beyond Dough Flat was unchanged for the first two miles save for the absence of a large metal trail sign. The scene thus far in the trip was paradoxically familiar but different.

Trail sign, now gone, shortly beyond Dough Flat, January, 1985.

Hiking beyond Dough Flat

Hiking just beyond Dough Flat the route looked as I expected but without the old trail sign September 15, 2012.

The sign at the split of the Alder Creek and Bucksnort routes was present but in very poor condition. There was a trail split / reroute before Bucksnort that confused me; I had expected the wide, clear road-like tread I remembered and did not recognize the side trail to Bucksnort when we reached it. In fact, it was not clear to me that we had turned on to the side trail until I saw the Cypress at Bucksnort at which point I brilliantly asked, “Where are we? Is this Bucksnort?”

Sign at the split of the Alder Creek and Bucksnort / Ant Camp routes.

Sign at the split of the Alder Creek and Bucksnort / Ant Camp routes.

There was only a sad pool of muddy water at Bucksnort, accessible through an obstacle course of poison oak. This foreshadowed problems to come.

Beyond Bucksnort, especially when the route turned more sharply east toward the crest at the start of the drop to Ant Camp, the tread had faded to nothing. This was disorienting as I could not shake the image I had of a wide and obvious route. I went with the strategy of following the other team members and deferred figuring it out until later.

Route to Ant Camp beyond Bucksnort

Where was my wide, road-like tread beyond Bucksnort? I strategically followed the team up ahead who clearly knew the way. September 15, 2012.

I was back in a zone of familiarity when the sharp drop to Ant Camp began. The trail was rougher with a few mildly precarious eroded spots relative to conditions in 1985 and earlier but it was recognizable. Eric (the proprietor of the Ventura County Canyoneering blog) and Nico had taken the lead on the descent and glided smoothly downhill while conversing casually with Cowboy following closely. I stumbled along behind Cowboy firmly resolved not to fall on my face and lose any aura of competence I might possess.

I negotiated the descent without a face plant and saw the old sign, much the worse for wear, at the entrance to Ant Camp. Nico kindly fired off a few shots with my camera of me with the sign, then we proceeded into camp. Eric had quickly determined, to my great surprise, that the Agua Blanca was dry in the immediate vicinity of the camp. The temperature was slightly in excess of 90 degrees.

Entering Ant Camp

Entering Ant Camp with a three decade separation.

The view from Ant Camp east down the Agua Blanca.

The view from Ant Camp east down the Agua Blanca.

The view from Ant Camp north toward Cobblestone Mountain.

The view from Ant Camp north toward Cobblestone Mountain.

My water consumption on the hike to Ant camp was just under two liters. I had not been terribly distressed by the heat but hydration would become an issue before long given the conditions. The stark reality of my one dry Nalgene bottle and one with a third of a liter of water framed the issue very well. We had a water problem. I was feeling some consternation but not panic as I reasoned we had several alternatives for dealing with the situation and, quite frankly, I had great confidence in the ability of this group to handle adversity. The ideal resolution would be to find a source of water nearby. To that end, Nico, a powerful, skilled hiker headed downstream on a water discovery mission.

About two hours later, Nico appeared with water just as Craig was about to put a short timer on sending a party out to look for him. He had found one forlorn, shallow, muddy, algae-laden pool of water near the site of Tin Can Cabin about a mile downstream. Further scouting downstream was not productive. Eric, Cowboy and the RSO headed out shortly thereafter to collect more water.

We had a decision to make about the future of our expedition. Given the heat and the uncertainty of water for many miles down stream the consensus (unanimous) was to pivot 180 degrees and bail out the way we came in while the sun was down. As Craig noted at the time and relates in his post, “… the major tributaries of the Agua Blanca are downstream from Cove (below the Big Narrows).”

Dim but persistent claxons went off in my head about the night hike. I had noticed that in certain situations in dim light my depth perception, especially looking down, was not what it once was. I had consulted with an ophthalmic research group about this problem and had new glasses made specifically to address the problem before heading off on this trip. I let the others know of this concern; everyone agreed I would not be allowed to wander randomly off the trail.

After some food was distributed we settled in for some sleep before tackling the march uphill from Ant Camp. The ground was warm and with the leaf litter under the ground cloth I was quite comfortable without a sleeping pad. In fact, I slept very well until the time came to start moving.

Craig led us unerringly uphill in the dark by the light of headlamp, notwithstanding an incident or two of near sleep walking; that is how good he is. As before, I was impressed by the sure footed movement of this group of hiking pros with the exception of myself. I tangled with my old friend Mr. Yucca and had to patch my finger to keep from spoiling the grip on my trekking pole with blood. We took a rest to watch the star-filled sky and were treated to a meteor light show. We roused ourselves and completed the climb in the dark.

The passage along the uphill portion of the route out had gone much better, and faster, than I anticipated. The sections I thought would be difficult were not, in the end, terribly bad. There were likely several factors acting synergistically in this regard: gravity was working more on my behalf going uphill, my new glasses seemed to be working as designed and on the several short, more eroded sections, Cowboy, hiking in front of me, turned around and added additional illumination on my behalf (thanks, Cowboy, very cool).

We sat for a while, still in the dark, on the road just short of the side trail to Bucksnort. The crises had been handled. As far as I was concerned, life was as good as it could be at that moment.

Problem solved, September 16, 2012.

Problem solved, September 16, 2012.

We arrived at Dough Flat near dawn and walked the short distance beyond to the washout that marked the furthest point of passage for a vehicle per Forest Service instructions. Craig and Cowboy continued down the road to the Tar Creek Gate where Cowboy’s ride was parked to head to Temescal Station to pick up the gate key and the RSO’s truck. The four left behind set up the lower Dough Flat wash out lounge and waited. Craig claims we worked on some of his food during the wait and I don’t dispute that claim.

Waiting for a ride at the wash out lounge below Dough Flat.

Waiting for a ride at the wash out lounge below Dough Flat, September 16, 2012.

It occurred to me that I had carried five lenses and used one. I had not deployed the tripod and panorama gear at all. Inspiration happened; I unloaded the tripod, panorama head and 35mm Zeiss prime lens and headed back the short distance to Dough Flat. I think it likely I have the only stitched, high resolution 320 degree, 300 dpi, 97 inch by 18 inch panorama of Dough Flat, including a thoroughly demented 54 shot HDR version.

Dough Flat panorama

Dough Flat HDR panorama, 320 degrees, 54 blended and stitched frames. September 16, 2012. With this much reduction the picture looks particularly absurd but I present it as an expression of my addled state of mind at the time.

Goals can be motivating, they have their place, but they are fragile things. Saddle Skirt, Big Narrows and Cove Camp can wait. For this trip, I shifted the goal and declared success. Functioning well in the face of adversity is a worthy goal as is survival. I never imagined hiking from Ant Camp to Dough Flat in the dark and now I had done exactly that. I had not hiked with a group of highly capable Los Padres veterans in many, many years and felt honored to be include with this crew. These are the impressions that will endure, not any sense of failure. I intend to be back for another shot at the original purpose of the trip. But, of course, things happen in the shadow of Cobblestone Mountain, at least to me.

 

 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Ant Camp – Agua Blanca Creek, September 15 – 16, 2012

  1. Fantastic post. I really enjoy the mix of photos and stories from trips past with the current adventure. I’m impressed you just about nailed the re-creation of a few of your older photos (did you bring copies of the originals with you?).

    Anyway, it was great to finally get to meet you in person and knock out a hike. Looking forward to the rematch.

    • Nico,

      I looked over my old Ant Camp photos from years past. shortly before the trip Craig actually brought a printed copy of the shot of the route out of Ant Camp east down the Agua Blanca. I was standing around idle at one point and he handed it to me and said: “do this” which got me motivated to get the shots I needed.

      I also am looking forward to the rematch. I can only add that it was an honor to have the opportunity to hike with you. Maybe next time we will get a chance to collaborate on some photography ideas.

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