Photo essay: Sunday in the Sespe Wilderness
Fred takes advantage of a brief 'break' in the heat to freehike on the Cedar Creek Trail
LOS ANGELES — About a week ago, there was a short break in the heat for a few days. By “break” I mean the 90s instead of over 100℉. It was a Sunday, usually not the best choice for a freehike, but one takes the opportunity when one can.
One of the areas where I do a lot of naked wandering is the Sespe Wilderness area. The Sespe is huge, over a quarter-million acres, plus there’s a large area of National Forest surrounding it. You can usually find solitude if you are willing to make the effort. Several of the other hikes I’ve posted about are partly or completely in this wilderness area. The closest previous posted hike to this one is my Fishbowls Trail hike.
Freehiking on Fishbowls Trail
A little bit of background on the area. It is in Ventura County, which has no local ord…
About a mile south of Fishbowls is another trail, Cedar Creek. The turnoff to get to that trailhead is blocked off because of severe erosion from last winter, adding another lovely three-quarters of a mile to the hike.
I’m only going to Cedar Creek Camp and back. Three and a half miles each way and not enough elevation change to matter. Beyond there, it meets Fishbowls Trail and loops around to arrive where the previous hike started. I have done the entire loop naked in the past. It is about 14 miles, and I had my dog Avery with me. I was younger then, and so was she. If I had an early enough start and my knee wasn’t acting up, I could probably do it today, but I’m afraid her trail hiking days are mostly gone.
Cedar Creek isn’t as well known as Fishbowls.
On my way, I pulled over to let a caravan pass — six cars and two motorcycles. One of the drivers was kind enough to stop and tell me that nobody else was out there. Maybe that was supposed to be a warning, but to me, it sounded like the bells of freedom ringing.
The driver might have been wrong, so I drove to the end of the road and back just to be sure. Then, I was naked as soon I was out of the car.
The loop is a popular weekend backpacking trip. By Sunday afternoon, everyone is gone. There are three trailheads to check for cars before I do anything nude. Easy to do since they are only a mile apart on the same road. Cedar Creek tees into another trail that also has two trailheads. I would have to drive well over a hundred miles to check them. (Did I mention how big the Sespe is?) I’m not going to bother.
This trail is in a slightly moister area than Fishbowls. There are more trees and few large open spaces, and the creek still has water flowing above ground. One can see where the trail has sometimes been washed out, but following it is not difficult. Crossing the creek is a different matter.
As I get closer to the campsite, it rapidly gets cooler and moister. The foliage gets denser. Very few people have gone this way recently. Roses start to grow thickly, making me doubt the wisdom of nudity. The route is covered with thick bracken ferns.
Along the way, I pass an interesting rock formation. This slab once overhung a sandy area. For millennia, people have probably crouched beneath it to hide from the rain or camped under it for the warmth of campfire heat reflecting off it. But now that’s not an option. An earthquake probably dealt the final blow.
Another interesting rock. It reminds me of a native woman grinding acorns on a metate.
I saw a deer, but it was gone too quickly to catch a photo. A bear, juvenile by the size of its tracks, has passed this way recently. There was a skunk. I kept my distance and let it continue rooting around the ground for whatever.
There are not a lot of wildflowers in August. I tried to grab shots of what was there. Most of the roses were past their freshness date, and rose hips had formed. But by the creek crossings, there were some spectacular flowers to be found.
As I finally approach my goal, one can see why this is called Cedar Creek. Cedars are not normally associated with the dryness of Southern California. When you do find them, they are usually at a much higher elevation. There is a peculiar microclimate here. I can sense the humidity, and the temperature has dropped by 5 degrees.
And here we have a typical backcountry camp with a few grills that had been laboriously packed into this remote area many decades ago. The trail climbs up the side of the valley to cross over. I could go on to Fishbowls and make a loop out of it, or I can go west for many, many miles. Cedar Creek itself continues ever deeper in the wilderness with no trail to trouble it.
I stop for a snack and ponder how amazing it is that this particular canyon's microclimate is so different from everywhere else nearby. Then I return on the same path, and I get to see everything from the other side.
Every time I come out here, there’s a coda to the experience. Maybe it is a herd of cattle, the smoke from a distant fire, a surprise bit of wildlife, running into a young couple who could only giggle, or idiots who don’t know how to drive. This time, it is idiots again.
On my way back, I passed a pickup with a significant problem. To me, it was obvious that it had hit something nasty at a high rate of speed. Since the truck was empty, I could only assume the occupants had either gotten a ride or were walking back to civilization. It is a long walk, seven miles down a dirt road to an empty highway where a car might go by every half hour or so.
About a mile up the road, I met a man with three children walking out. The chance of another car coming that way was zero. He had no idea why both tires on the same side would blow out — not simply go flat, like a puncture, but hopelessly blown out. He only had one spare. There is zero cell service for many miles.
I settled them safely at the nearest open business, the Flying J, where Frazier Mountain Road meets Interstate 5. It was about 20 miles, not out of my way, and stays open 24/7. He would call a friend to get him and see to his tires the next day. I wish him good luck because it will cost thousands of dollars to get towed out of there.
I drove the rest of the way home thinking about how I’d been accused of driving like an “old man” on rough dirt tracks when the people I was with wanted a bit more adrenaline. I drive that way because… experience.
Wildlife has always been much less fearful when hiking naked. Looks to me you are experiencing the same.
Simply beautiful......I envy you !