View of San Jacinto Mountain from Palm Canyon Drive in Palm Springs. You can only see up to about the 8,500-foot level from here.
The 11,000-foot San Jacinto Mountains above Palm Springs are intimidating. I had a total sense of denial when I first viewed the towering snow-capped mountain as we rolled south down the Twentynine Palms Highway into the Coachella Valley. That can't be the mountain I'd been planning to climb via the infamous Cactus to Clouds route for years. Rising abruptly from the valley floor at just a few hundred feet above sea level, the San Jacintos are cartoonishly big. I told Susie not to worry, that thing must be San Gorgonio, an 11,500 foot monster in the nearby San Bernardino Mountains.
But as we passed all of the windmills and entered Palm Springs city limits, it became obvious that that beast was indeed what I'd committed to climb.
If the sheer looks of this mountain don't intimidate you, perhaps the numbers will. In just the first 9 miles of the C2C route to the Palm Springs Tram station--a.k.a., the Skyline Trail--you gain a whopping 8,300 feet! From there it is an additional 2,700 feet in 5.5 miles to the summit. This 11,000-foot gain in 14 miles makes C2C the largest continuous vertical gain on a hiking trail in the U.S. It also ranks among the steepest established trails of similar length in the world.
So if the mean looks and gaudy numbers still don't phase you, get this: there have been 61 rescue missions and at least 5 deaths on just the Skyline portion of C2C since 2009. Most deaths occurred in summer when climbers succumbed to the unrelenting heat. I mean people were literally cooked. Like having-to-rehydrate-a-corpse's-limbs-with-salt-water-in-order-to-get-an-identifiable-fingerprint sort of cooked.
In winter, Hypothermia and falls down icy slopes on the upper portions of C2C have claimed lives as well.
Reaching San Jacinto's summit can be treacherous in winter, particularly during or following heavy Pacific storms (its only 55 miles to the ocean). Wind speeds can be off the charts. Fresh snow requires snowshoes or skis and can create a real avalanche threat. Overly icy conditions require an ice axe and crampons.
Thankfully, there are few very useful tools to keep track of conditions on San Jacinto. First there's a user-controllable Tram Cam that allows you to view snow conditions (and be entertained by watching tourists slip and fall on the ice) near the Tram Station. Then there is the San Jacinto Hiking Forum that has all-around good information and recent-conditions updates and trip reports.
Checking these sources, it was clear that I would first encounter snow at Flat Rock (~6,000 feet), but that snow would not become consequential until I hit the Traverse at about 7,500 feet. There would be a couple of feet of snow at the Tram Station and quite a bit more higher on the mountain. But since no new snow had fallen in about a week, the main route would be packed down but not overly icy. This meant I could travel very light and forgo snowshoes and crampons, and carry only microspikes and trekking poles.
I left the Art Museum trailhead at 6 AM with the goal to keep a steady but not rushed pace and to finish sometime before before dark (~5 PM or within 11 hours).
Day break over Palm Springs from about the 2,000-foot level on the C2C route.
A short break to take in an amazing Coachella Valley sunrise.
View north from 3,200 feet.
Nothing renews the soul like a killer climb.
More than 3,000 windmills catch strong coastal flows that are funneled through San Gorgonio Pass--one of the windiest places in the U.S.
Did I mention the sunrise was amazing?
Getting my first good look at the higher snow-covered part of San Jacinto. I'm about 4,000 feet up here.
Looking south along the San Jacinto Mountains.
Rescue box at 5,400 feet. Housing emergency food, water, and perhaps a cell phone (so I've heard, I didn't look inside), two such boxes were established to help reduce the nearly weekly summertime SAR missions on Skyline.
Large yucca and red shank typify the desert chaparral zone at 5,800 feet -- about halfway there!
The trail steepens a bit once past Flat Rock at about 5,900 feet.
Charred ponderosa near the Traverse, where the trail cuts across a steep north-facing slope at about 7,600 feet. A slip here on packed snow and ice can be fatal, so this was the right time to put on microspikes.
Coffman's Crag at 7,900 feet. From here the steepest slope yet delivers you to Grubb's Notch at the edge of Long Valley near the Tram Station. I finished the Skyline portion of C2C quicker than anticipated in 5.5 hours--not bad considering all the times I set the camera up for photos. I killed about 25 minutes at the Ranger Station refilling my hydration pack and filling out the mandatory backcountry permit.
Right after capturing this photo, I made the mistake of trying to bypass the Round Valley portion of the trail which proved to be a significant blunder that cost me time. The Sid Davis winter shortcut takes a direct approach toward San Jacinto Peak through Tamarack Valley past an abandoned campground. Without snowshoes, I planned to take the shortcut only if snowshoers had already packed down a good trail. While there were initially several tracks heading that way, they soon started to meander all over the place, and I was left post-holing, often up to my knee.
View of Cornell Peak above Tamarack Valley.
I'm guessing that post-holing through Tamarack Valley ended up being about an hour longer than if I had just stayed on the main packed trail. Although the views in Tamarack Valley are superb and I was still ahead of schedule.
The emergency storm shelter--built in 1935 by the CCC--just below the peak has saved a life or two over the years.
I reached the summit just before 2 PM, for a sub-8-hour C2C ascent. As expected, the views into the surrounding deserts are off the charts.
A fellow summiteer arranges his gear on San Jacinto Peak. San Gorgonio, the highest peak in southern California, rises in the distance.
With unused downhill legs, and a resolve to stay on the hard-packed trail, I opened up the throttle and coasted back to the Tram Station to complete the entire route within 9 hours. Susie and the kids were kind enough to wait in long lines (and leave the warmth of Palm Springs) to take the Tram up and meet me at the top.
The Palm Springs Tram make an impressive plunge down rugged Chino Canyon, taking you from alpine forests to the Colorado Desert within a few minutes. The relaxing ride down with my family (somewhat--they pack you in like sardines!) was a fitting way to end an unforgettable climb.
So far the el nino predictions have rung true. Southwestern Utah snowpack is well above normal. This is good for the local communities because we really need the water.
But after endless snow during the holidays and a week when the temperatures bounced between a frigid 3 degrees and a "balmy" 28 degrees, we had had enough. It was time to head downhill to the desert.
I've been e-scouting Palm Springs in southern California for years. Mostly known for its countless golf courses and as the place for celebrities to buy second homes, Palm Springs has a surprisingly amazing hiking scene.
And like any good desert, there are otherworldly oddities like an accidentally created lake lying below sea level, and a hand-crafted technicolor mountain dedicated to Jesus. Yep, only in the desert.
Here are the highlights of our quick trip to Palm Springs in the Coachella Valley, the basement of the Sonoran Desert:
Indian Canyons, administered by the Agua Caliente Band of the Cahuilla Indians, was our first destination and it did not disappoint. The main attraction at the Indian Canyons are all of the native California fan palms that grow in thick groves wherever perennial water is found.
The oasis at Andreas Canyon is fed by a small stream originating high in the San Jacinto range.
Lone palm against gneiss in Andreas Canyon.
One of the largest palm forests in California, Palm Canyon was the perfect setting for lunch.
Zoe enters the oasis at Palm Canyon.
We spent a few hours exploring Painted Canyon in the Mecca Hills. The geology there is incredible. Excellent examples of erosion and canyon cutting, unconformities, and sedimentary structures abound. And you cross over from the Pacific continental plate to the North American plate along the way!
Into the narrows of Painted Canyon.
Ren makes his way down the first of many ladders in Ladder Canyon--an exciting tributary to Painted Canyon.
Sunlight reaches the floor of the Ladder Canyon slot.
Ladder Canyon is cut into conglomerate of the Palm Springs Formation. Deposited as part of the ancestral Colorado River delta some 700,000 years ago, the conglomerated has since been pressed upward by various strands of the San Andreas fault system.
Exploring Mecca Hills badlands.
Ren leads the way through Ladder Canyon.
The Salton Sea isn't for everyone. The lake was created in 1905 when nearly the entire flow of the Colorado River was accidentally diverted into the Salton basin--the bottom of which is only 8 feet higher than Badwater Basin in Death Valley. For several decades the Salton Sea was a freshwater lake that supported several resort towns, sport fishing, sail boating, and swimming. But increased salinity and pollution from the nearby farming industry have killed just about everything in the lake. The resultant stench of decay and fluctuating lake levels have caused most to stay clear. The eerie remains of resort towns attract mostly photographers today.
1905 photo of levee breach that shifted the Colorado River's flow into the Salton basin. Photo from saltonseamuseum.org.
Hundreds of dead fish dot the shores of North Beach. The kids about gagged when I told them the pretty white "sand" along the beach is actually worn-down bits of bone from 1000s of dead tilapia.
The detectorist. The North Shore Beach and Yacht Club was a happening place in the late 50s and into the 60s. There's not much to see there today, although the yacht club has been recently restored and now houses a museum.
The recently restored North Shore and Yacht Club on the eastern shores of the Salton Sea.
The popular North Shore Beach and Yacht Club on the cover of L.A. Times Magazine in 1962. Photo from saltonseamuseum.org.
Rising water inundates facilities at North Shore Beach and Yacht Club. Photo from saltonseamuseum.org.
The ruins of Bombay Beach on the eastern shores of the Salton Sea.
Our visit to Salvation Mountain almost didn't happen. Susie was not impressed with the dead fish and dilapidated shacks at the Salton Sea. It was getting late and I didn't think I could get Susie excited for a trip to the lawless migrant town of Slab City to see a painted pile of adobe. Just as we were about to head back to Palm Springs, Susie noticed a Facebook feed announcing Coldplay's newest video for "Birds" which just happened to be filmed at some weird place called Salvation Mountain! I couldn't believe the coincidence. With Susie now on board so she could walk in the footsteps of one of her favorite bands, it was short drive to Salvation Mountain.
Zoe watches the sunset from the summit of Salvation Mountain. Built over a couple of decades by the artist Leonard Knight, Salvation Mountain has no equal. Tons of adobe and straw, and thousands of gallons of paint have been sculpted into an impassioned expression of love that the Folk Art Society of America in 2000 deemed worthy of preservation and protection.
View of Slab City from the top of Salvation Mountain.
Ava tries to make sense of the interior of Salvation Mountain.
The Jesus wagon at Salvation Mountain.
Thanks C. Martin. If it weren't for the timely release of this video our trip to Salvation Mountain would have never happened.
Salvation Mountain was a funky place with a cool vibe that we all enjoyed.
Palm Springs is just what we needed. It was tough at the end of our stay to point the car back up the hill toward winter.
On our last day of the trip, I successfully conquered the much-feared Cactus to Clouds climb from downtown Palm Springs to 11,000-ft San Jacinto Peak. That post is next...