The runner slows to a walk each time the trail pitches up. He walks rather slowly, perhaps winded from the running. I nearly catch him, but just before I do he glances back and sets off again at a jog. Under the leaden sky we yo-yo like this for about 20 minutes as the trail climbs up the canyon. A century ago this trail would have been crowded with people hiking to the camp halfway up the mountain. Today, only the two of us. I wonder why he’s here. Why am I here?
Despite the drought and heatwave, the hills are alive and vibrant if not exactly verdant. Native plants, which have been banished from yards and parks below us, thrive up here in the foothills and mountains: sagebrush, buckwheat, mugwort, miner’s lettuce, occasionally yucca. They grow thick over the steep slopes. Higher up oak and manzanita, dark red trunks and branches contrasting sharply with bright green leaves.
On a short steep section about a mile up the trail I catch the runner. He nods, says nothing, turns and heads back down the trail. Alone, I continue up the trail. The sky is still heavy thanks to a storm off the coast of Mexico. Ozone, sharp in my nostrils. It will rain soon. And with that rain will come the musky petrichor, mixing with the smells of damp brush.
John McPhee claims that the San Gabriels are the steepest mountains in the U.S., a claim that seems both indefensible and, if you’ve ever hiked in these mountains, unassailably true. Fortunately, the trail leads at a more gentle slope up into the trees, toward the ridge, and on to the summit. I pause for a minute to appreciate the silence and the view out over the valley. As I do, I begin to hear the soft drizzle falling on the ground and the brush. There it is. Earthy. Comfortable. Somehow always familiar. That smell immediately takes me back to roaming these mountains as a kid, often alone just as I am now. What, I wonder, did that smell remind me of when I was just a child, too young to be reminded of being a child?
It is still drizzling as I turn to continue up the trail. I’ve got another hour or so before I reach the summit. Last time I hiked this trail I set out in the dark well before dawn. I was alone then too. Today I’ll probably get back after sunset. Last time I had a pancake breakfast when I got back. Maybe this time I should have a pancake dinner.