I've spent the last few days passing time in the wilderness of the Angeles National Forest, out on a solo backpacking adventure up the West Fork of the San Gabriel River with my dog, brad.
I did not know quite what to expect, having never visited the area before. Honestly, expectations were low... after all, how could there be a forest anywhere near Los Angeles?
Saturday afternoon, we set out along the San Gabriel before getting to the Bear Creek tributary. Heading upstream, the dog and I hiked until it was nearly dark, before choosing a spot to set up camp. The first night was spent in a sandy area along the bank of the river. After setting up camp and being treated to a nice sunset, it was time to rest.
Morning came soon, and I wished I had put gloves in my pack. It would be bright out for about two hours before the sun actually came down into the canyon, so the light would wake us up early, but it would stay cold. I had heard that there were supposed to be native trout in the waters around the San Gabriel River. However, some of the reports I read stated that the native fish population had dropped 80-90% since the 1940's, mainly due to overfishing and a lack of catch-and-release fishing practices. In addition, this year has seen below average rainfall, so expectations were low. Nevertheless, I packed some light tackle, on the off chance there was a fishable stretch of river.
Sunday morning, we packed up camp and began hiking further upstream, stopping to fish at some larger pools along the way. I was very pleasantly surprised not only by how much water there was, but also by how clean and clear it was. I let brad drink from it, to see if he would get sick, but he never did. I ended up hooking up with a small trout that day, but halfway through reeling him in he spat out my barbless hook. Thinking about it later, I was glad he got away. He was small, no more than 6 inches, but every little fish counts in situations like these. Though I would have released him immediately, I was happy not to have put any extra stress on one the few remaining fish here.
Towards the middle of the day, I came to a proper campsite in the woods. It was only a short walk from the river and had an established fire pit, so the decision was made to drop the pack. We set up camp, and then I continued fishing. I didn't catch any other fish, but I did manage to fall into the river. I was trying to un-snag a stray cast that landed in some trees when I lost my footing and ended up waist deep, soaking my only long sleeve shirt and only jacket. I returned to camp and put my shoes over a fire to dry them out.
That second night was the first time I was really worried about bears. There were signs saying "now entering bear country" on the road leading up to the trail. I was glad to have bear mace and a food storage container, but I was still uneasy. I couldn't settle down, with brad's head turning every direction, ears perked up, starring off into the darkness, searching the area around our camp. He really is a great guard dog.
I extinguished the fire and called it a night. Monday morning, while waiting for my shoes to dry out more over a fresh fire, I made two good bowls of oatmeal using my camp stove. Leaving just as the sun was coming over a far ridge, we set off to explore further up the canyon. We went upstream for about two hours, seeing a few more small fish but not catching any. We came back down and made lunch before packing up and heading out.
I thoroughly enjoyed this little adventure. For such a short trip I feel like I experienced a lot. I loved the freedom (and cost) of backpacking vs. established campsites, and I hope to take more little trips like this whenever I get three or four days to do so. The area really surprised me with how relatively raw it turned out to be. I am - no pun intended - a very happy camper.
I did not know quite what to expect, having never visited the area before. Honestly, expectations were low... after all, how could there be a forest anywhere near Los Angeles?
Saturday afternoon, we set out along the San Gabriel before getting to the Bear Creek tributary. Heading upstream, the dog and I hiked until it was nearly dark, before choosing a spot to set up camp. The first night was spent in a sandy area along the bank of the river. After setting up camp and being treated to a nice sunset, it was time to rest.
Morning came soon, and I wished I had put gloves in my pack. It would be bright out for about two hours before the sun actually came down into the canyon, so the light would wake us up early, but it would stay cold. I had heard that there were supposed to be native trout in the waters around the San Gabriel River. However, some of the reports I read stated that the native fish population had dropped 80-90% since the 1940's, mainly due to overfishing and a lack of catch-and-release fishing practices. In addition, this year has seen below average rainfall, so expectations were low. Nevertheless, I packed some light tackle, on the off chance there was a fishable stretch of river.
Sunday morning, we packed up camp and began hiking further upstream, stopping to fish at some larger pools along the way. I was very pleasantly surprised not only by how much water there was, but also by how clean and clear it was. I let brad drink from it, to see if he would get sick, but he never did. I ended up hooking up with a small trout that day, but halfway through reeling him in he spat out my barbless hook. Thinking about it later, I was glad he got away. He was small, no more than 6 inches, but every little fish counts in situations like these. Though I would have released him immediately, I was happy not to have put any extra stress on one the few remaining fish here.
Towards the middle of the day, I came to a proper campsite in the woods. It was only a short walk from the river and had an established fire pit, so the decision was made to drop the pack. We set up camp, and then I continued fishing. I didn't catch any other fish, but I did manage to fall into the river. I was trying to un-snag a stray cast that landed in some trees when I lost my footing and ended up waist deep, soaking my only long sleeve shirt and only jacket. I returned to camp and put my shoes over a fire to dry them out.
That second night was the first time I was really worried about bears. There were signs saying "now entering bear country" on the road leading up to the trail. I was glad to have bear mace and a food storage container, but I was still uneasy. I couldn't settle down, with brad's head turning every direction, ears perked up, starring off into the darkness, searching the area around our camp. He really is a great guard dog.
I extinguished the fire and called it a night. Monday morning, while waiting for my shoes to dry out more over a fresh fire, I made two good bowls of oatmeal using my camp stove. Leaving just as the sun was coming over a far ridge, we set off to explore further up the canyon. We went upstream for about two hours, seeing a few more small fish but not catching any. We came back down and made lunch before packing up and heading out.
I thoroughly enjoyed this little adventure. For such a short trip I feel like I experienced a lot. I loved the freedom (and cost) of backpacking vs. established campsites, and I hope to take more little trips like this whenever I get three or four days to do so. The area really surprised me with how relatively raw it turned out to be. I am - no pun intended - a very happy camper.
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