Travel Biography - Week 102

Los Padres National Forest.

One of the beauties of the mid-Californian coastal town of Santa Barbara was the mountainous country in the background known as the Los Padres National Forest. This makes this city unique on the Californian coastline where an unbroken ridge of high ground is almost constantly visible from the beach. Indeed, further south, Los Angeles is backed by the Angeles National Forest flanking Mt San Antonio, a 3,068-metre high peak visible from Downtown Los Angeles on a clear day - a rare occasion indeed. But this popular hiking area is much further away from the city centre and has to pass through either the towns of Pasadena or San Bernadino before reaching the Forest.

Starting the hike up Rattlesnake Canyon.

 The trail proper begins.

From downtown Santa Barbara, the mountains of Los Padres were much closer, making access easier and more convenient. After arriving in Santa Barbara and seeing the backdrop from the beach, I felt stirred to explore the region more closely. However, browsing in a bookshop on State Street, I read local literature about hiking in that area. I found out about the dangers of catching Lyme Disease from a bite of a variety of ticks. These species of insect thrive by sucking blood from passing animals and humans and in turn, providing entry for the disease-causing pathogen.

Yet I recall two years earlier in 1995, when I was preparing to hike the Grand Canyon. Friends warned me about the dangers of wildlife. My answer to them was, that if I were to take that attitude, then I might as well stay at home. Furthermore, without an element of risk, no accomplishments would be achieved, and life would have remained dull and unfulfilled. Also, it was summer in Santa Barbara, the height of the tick season.

Yet the urge to get out and about overcame any sense of reserve, although I didn't throw caution to the wind. After all, back at Cairns, I didn't venture out to the Great Barrier Reef until I was sure that the Box Jellyfish, or Stingers, had died off for the winter. So one morning, I hired a bicycle from the Banana Bungalow hostel where I was staying. On it, I cycled through the city until I arrived at the trailhead at the foot of Rattlesnake Canyon. Cycling in the States was already familiar, having rode to La Jolla from downtown San Diego. But this ride was shorter, as the ground began to rise as soon as I left the town altogether. Here, a minor road turned off, leading up to the ridge summits. At the junction, there was a sturdy metal fencing. On this, I secured the bicycle with a strong lock that came with it, knowing that for the greater part of the day, it would remain there, unattended.

For a while, I followed the road as it ascended the foothills. The sun was out and it was warm. It was further along where I saw the start of the trail proper, allowing me to hike up without any risk of a passing car.

Further up.

Rattlesnake Canyon Detail

Looking down at the Canyon to the coast.

Some spectacular views.

Like part of Bright Angel Trail of the Grand Canyon, this trail also followed a stream, Rattlesnake Creek, I believe, one of the tributaries of Mission Creek, one of the rivers flowing from Los Padres to the sea. As for the forest, it wasn't an area of tall trees making up a rainforest or woodland. Rather, the vegetation covering the high ground was mostly shrubs, hence, views of other hills and down to the coast weren't that obscured, therefore, the dayhike was more exhilarating. On one occasion, I felt a sharp stab of pain on the back of my hand. Turning to it, I saw not a tick but a larger bug, nearly a centimetre in length, attempting to penetrate the skin for the blood within. I instantly pulled it off. Despite the sharp pain, there was no bleeding. Did I have a narrow escape? By licking the site of the bite, the saliva was a natural antiseptic. I then carried on with the hike, and I had no more trouble with bugs or any wildlife for the rest of the day.

Compared to life in the city, although it wasn't that noisy or bustling, the country was quiet and peaceful, but that would be expected on any hiking trail once away from the trailhead. As I ascended, the views became more spectacular, and I also enjoyed the freedom from the crowds.

The whole trip from the hostel to Flores Peak, including the cycle ride, was close to seven miles (11km) according to Google Maps. Although no accurate measurements were taken, I believe that the one-way hike up Rattlesnake Canyon was about five miles, just half the length of Bright Angel Trail, but no less exhilarating. However, on the return, I detoured for a longer route back to the hostel, thus taking in Mission Creek. Altogether, fifteen miles or 24 km was a good estimate.

I made it to Flores Peak, 990 metres above sea level. Although 80 metres lower than the ridge crest itself, it offered better views than the highest summit, simply due to peaks in front, including Flores Peak, obscuring the view of the city and coastline. The trail didn't end at the peak but carried on to the summit crest and beyond. But with the Peak being the best point for the panoramic vista and therefore for the turnaround was endorsed by a group of young men already there, accompanied by a paraglider preparing for take off.

I accompanied the group as the paraglider took off right next to where I was standing. It was a fascinating sight, but this wasn't the first time a paraglider took off near me. A similar experience happened whilst I was at Byron Bay, New South Wales. Only this one took off from a greater height if his landing site was nearer to town, as he was heading towards the coast. The rest of the group dispersed, I assume by car to meet the paraglider at the spot where he would land. Once again, I was alone yet fulfilled.

I have wondered whether to give paragliding a try to see what it was like. I was curious. Whether because it was an expensive hobby, or not driving a car would cause problems with transporting the glider, difficulties in assembling its parts, or the fear of its height from the ground, being blown off its course, crashing onto the side of a hill or mountain, or even within the walls of a canyon or ravine, or a combination of all these setbacks, I never took up the hobby. Yet, to this day, I developed a mild interest as I watched this fellow drift silently and in full relaxation and ecstasy through the mountain air. I guess that my lack of confidence in paragliding is nothing to be ashamed of. If statistics show that the percentage of the population who are glider pilots is tiny, at least I can say that I'm one of the great majority.

Views towards the coast.

A Paraglider takes off from Flores Peak.

Dramatic country

One of several rock pools on Rattlesnake Creek.

After a while spent on the summit of Flores Peak, I began to make my way down. Although where I was hiking that day was a canyon, the dayhike was totally opposite to that of the Grand Canyon. With this ravine, it was up first, then back down. Hence, the chance of suffering from hyponatremia was reduced, if not eliminated. As the trail followed Rattlesnake Creek, there were several rock pools along the stream. During the hike down, I became hot and sweaty, as it was warm and humid in this Californian summer, and there was little breeze. One of the rock pools looked deep - and tempting!

I looked around. There was nobody. The trail was deserted and there was no hint of anyone approaching. So I stripped off my shirt and shorts, and completely naked, I plunged into the clean, cool water. Part of the pool was chest-deep. I also kept an eye out for any nasties that could pose a threat. After all, this was Rattlesnake Creek. Was the name pulled out of the hat? Or was it based on fact?

It was a cooling dip, and so refreshing! However, since I was as naked as Adam was after his creation, I felt vulnerable. I wasn't in the water for long. I soon got out and dressed, then sat for another while on one of the boulders, admiring the stream as the water flowed through the pool as I dried out, and seeing how the pool self-cleansed from body impurities (i.e. sweat) before I resumed the hike to the waiting bicycle.

I felt relieved when I saw the bike exactly how I left it, secured to the railings. The entire hike took up much of the day, and it seemed pointless to have hired the bike in the first place. But it was a necessity. With it, I decided not to ride directly to the hostel but to explore the city's environs. One of them was Mission Creek, not far from the beach. Whether Rattlesnake Creek was a tributary of this river I couldn't verify, but a look at Google Maps indicates to be the case, albeit the joining of the streams seems to be underground.

The Conclusion of the Dayhike.

Throughout the ride after the end of the dayhike, I felt great - so clean and refreshed after the rockpool dip. It made a difference. As it was evening, the sun had lost its strength to bring out the sweat, and I continued to feel clean. After returning the bicycle safely to the hostel, I did the usual and prepared dinner. I had virtually forgotten about the bite on the back of my hand I had from the insect. The pain had gone and so far, I felt no repercussions from the bite, such as a swollen pimple or red spot. Nor did I feel feverish or any other signs of illness. Then again, the bug's jaws failed to penetrate the skin to get to the blood vessels. Whether it was because I pulled the creature off in a quick time or not, in the days and weeks to come, it looked as if no pathogen had passed into the bloodstream.

Also, despite its name, I didn't see any wildlife, whether snakes of any species or other animals that might have posed a threat. Looking back now, perhaps it was foolish to have taken a dip in the rockpool, as a snake could easily hide among the rocks. Therefore, you can say that I got away lucky. Yet, it was still an adventure, to fulfil that inner craving to take a dare, even if it was just a need to refresh myself and wash away the sticky sweat which a day's hiking has brought about.

How water enhances the scenery.

I cooled off here.

Mission Creek near the Beach.

The hike up and then back down Rattlesnake Canyon, I would rate as moderate rather than strenuous, as was the case with the Grand Canyon. It was very rewarding with the panoramic views which were a delight to the photographer's camera.

The Los Padres hike was the highlight of the Santa Barbara stop rather than the beach, even if the beach was handsome in appearance and attracted tourists and locals alike on a typical summer's sun. In the city itself, the Spanish architecture and shops lining State Street gave me the feeling of being in a foreign country, on equal footing with Balboa Park and Horton Plaza in San Diego. Perhaps it's the soft pastel colours of the building's exterior, gave the impression of the subtropical Mediterranean feel which was enhanced further by the abundance of palm trees. Not that surprising coming to think of it. With Spanish place names, along with Catholic saints, and Spanish architecture and culture, it wasn't difficult to believe that within a few hundred years, California was part of Mexico.

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Next Week: I prepare for my next stop - San Luis Obispo.