Camping On Mt. Pinos

Well, I spent my Fourth of July camping in the Los Padres National Forest about two hours north of L.A. There is a campground near the summit of Mt. Pinos (elevation 8831 ft.) at elevation 8300 called Chula Vista, and it lies right on the border between Ventura and Kern Counties.

Chula Vista has a large parking lot, which marks the very end of Mt. Pinos Rd., and many amateur astronomers congregate there all year round (unless the road is closed due to snow.) The parking lot and adjacent meadow allow a break in the Pines which affords a spectacular view of most of the night sky.

But during the summer, the skies never get really dark. The edge of the horizon looks like it's constantly dusk. But if you look carefully, you could still make out a fuzzy patch where the Milky Way should be. It's a great spot for stargazing, and I took full advantage of it, searching out all the visible constellations and planets. Venus, Saturn, and Jupiter are all visible in the early evening right now. Venus shines bright in the west, with Saturn close by. Jupiter is obvious in the East.

But there weren't any astronomers there on the Fourth of July, though. In fact, it was deserted. The campground has 12 camp sites, and Alba and I were the only ones there. During the day, there were the occasional hikers, but come nightfall, we might as well have been in the Old West, except for the sound of an occasional commercial airplane far overhead.

The campsite was over 1000 feet from the edge of the parking lot, which made it a lot of work packing everything to and from the campsite. But it was worth it. You couldn't even see the parking lot from our camp.

The weather was mild, but extremely dry. The ground was nothing but dust, which crusted up our mucous membranes, and got in our eyes when our foreheads began to sweat.

Here were the amenities: picnic table, fire ring, and a bathroom which was just a hole in the ground. That's it. No running water whatsoever.

It's an interesting experience to live without running water. Try going to the bathroom, then realizing that you can't wash your hands. Or eat a peach, then have no way to wash off the stickiness. Or a layer of dust all over your body and especially your feet and between your toes, with no way to wash yourself. By the next day, Alba and I were nasty, sweaty, and stinking to high heaven.

But it was a hell of a lot of fun, and I can't wait to go again!

The best part was at night, when no one else was around. It's strange how a wooded landscape, which during the day is so beautiful and tranquil, can appear sinister and spooky at night. Alba was scared walking down the dark moonless path from the parking lot back to the campground after our stargazing session.

There was this one spot where the trail dipped down a bit, and cut through a rotting, fallen log. A section of it was cut out to allow for the path, and on one end of this huge log was a jumble of branches forming a dark, twisting shadow looming over the trail. At the same time, the temperature had dropped suddenly by at least 15 degrees.

Yep...pretty spooky.

And the woods were dead quiet all night. Not a sound, but the occasional breeze through the trees and the far off sound of commercial planes soaring overhead just to the south.

I've been camping enough to know that the forest is supposed to make noise at night. Crickets, insects, birds, animals, etc. In the Midwest, the woods can be downright LOUD. But these woods were dead silent. Not a sound until the early dawn when the birds start their song.

Just before dusk on the evening of the Fourth, I lit a fire, which started with surprising ease, and roasted some marshmellows, and assembled the obligatory s'mores. (Camping isn't really camping without a fire, roasted marshmellows, and s'mores!)

All in all, despite some painful and uncomfortable moments and fitful sleep, it was a great trip. I'm hooked on camping and hiking now, and like I said: I can't wait to go again!