Sat, Dec 20, 2008
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Etymology |
Story | Photos / Slideshow | Map | Profile |
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Mt. Israel later climbed Sat, Apr 16, 2022 |
I hopped on Interstate 15 heading north for Escondido. At what looked like an
appropriate turnoff before I reached town, I got off on Rancho Via Pkwy and
headed west. Nothing stuck out as the obvious peak, leaving me somewhat lost.
Perhaps I just needed to start hiking, gain some altitude, and all would become
clear. I turned south onto Del Dios Hwy near Lake Hodges and stopped at the
first TH
I came to, a short dirt road on the west side of the road. There were a
few cars in the lot and an informational kiosk with a map. I got out to check
the map.
It showed a small area called the "Del Dios Highlands County Preserve,"
with contours but no named summits. A trail was shown stretching a mile through
the preserve and into an adjacent parcel of public land not shown on the map.
Maybe this would do.
I headed up the dirt road,
about 3/4 mile to a saddle, taking all of fifteen
minutes. To
the northwest
were a pair of rounded peaks that looked like they
might be the ones I was looking for (there is a slightly lower Franks Peak
immediately south of Mt. Whitney I recalled). They were two miles off as the
crow flies with the San Elijo Canyon and a good deal of residential development
separating me from the peaks. It looked like I may have blown it. Only slightly
deterred, I continued on the trail through the preserve to the top of the
road where I ran across another hiker. Whizzened and lanky, he looked like John
Muir out for a stroll - this guy looked like he knew the place well. He clued
me in to the whereabouts I was at, Th Olivenhain Dam just below us, and rattled
off several trailheads to reach the area, all of which he'd explored on his
visits. I was thinking I was lucky to run into a local, but then it occurred to
me that almost all the visitors here must be locals. I was surprised when
he asked me where I had come from, evidently up a trailhead he hadn't used
before. I asked in return if he knew where Mt. Whitney was. He
gave me a look, almost like I was a bit crazy. After explaining that I wasn't
looking for the Mt. Whitney, but a much lower one, he seemed to
recall one on the east side of Escondido somewhere. As we parted I began to
think I had really blown it. To the east were indeed higher mountains,
but they didn't look right. A local would know, right? Maybe not, and I
eventually concluded the other hiker had to be wrong.
I continued to
the highpoint on the west side of the
Olivenhain Reservoir, what
I later learned was Mt. Israel. I scored myself half a point.
Returning to the car the same way, I had lost but an hour and a quarter
and it was only 12:30p. Lots of time to try again. I drove north on Del Dios,
eventually finding my way to Country Club Drive that runs down the middle of
San Elijo Canyon. It had looked from Mt. Israel like there might be roads
running up the east side of the mountain, so I looked for an obvious access
road. Almost immediately one popped out - Mt. Whitney Rd.
How lucky could I get? If a road reached to the summit,
surely it would be a road named after the summit itself.
I drove up the narrow paved road as it shortly began to deteriorate
until I reached a locked gate. I was still more than a mile away and 1,000ft
short of my goal, but compared to other peaks I've climbed, it seemed a very
short distance. I parked my car, walked back up to the gate, hopped over,
and promptly began trespassing on an avocado farm. A
warning sign
made sure that I knew stealing avocados was a crime. There were
many trees with
ripe fruit on them, not a good time to be
caught, I thought. They probably wouldn't believe I wasn't there to steal
valuable fruit. I followed the road for about 100 yards until it turned west
and I had
a view of Mt. Whitney. It didn't look promising. I
could not see how the road might reach up to the summit, though I could see
homes along the summit ridge. Large, expensive homes, the type that have
expensive cars parked in their garages or outside, the type of cars you wouldn't
drive on a dirt road unless your life was in danger. There must be another way
up there, I reckoned.
I beat a retreat back to the car and started driving again. I headed north and
west around the north side of the mountain. Cruising through some neighborhoods
on the northwest side of the peak, I found a road leading up to the North Ridge,
the same portion of the summit ridge I had seen
the homes on from the other
side. This was just the ticket. I managed to find my way as high it was legally
possible to drive, and
parked. All of ten minutes from the summit.
The No Trespassing sign
here didn't bother me as much as the one on the
avocado farm. This one was guarding a
communications tower at the summit, not
someone's valuable fruit, and the chances of anyone finding me here was rather
low. Ten minutes later I was at the flattened summit of Mt. Whitney, finally
successful in my quest. It was a nice summit too, with views stretching out to
the Pacific Ocean, north to Palomar Mtn, and east to the Cuyamacas. There was
a sadness of course in observing the encroachment of
civilization on all sides,
a very typical sprawl scene around the San Diego Metropolitan area. I'm afraid
the citizens in the county won't realize what they've lost until it looks just
like Los Angeles and Orange counties to the north.
On my way back down I looked south to
Franks Peak and decided to pay it a visit
since it was so close. It took only fifteen minutes to drop down to the saddle
between them and hike the road to the summit of Franks. By 2p I had returned
to the car, and with a few hours of daylight remaining, decided to look up a
few more peaks. I had seen another peak to
the west (Double Peak, I came to
find later) from the summit of Mt. Whitney that looked to be in the process of
being carved up for development. I found the road leading to the new homes,
drove past the Road Closed sign, and followed the fresh pavement to the
end of the road
about 30 yards below the summit. A construction crew working
nearby didn't seem to care that I was there as I hiked the remaining short
distance to the summit. Much of it had been bulldozed flat, perhaps to make way
for an urban park, a scenic overlook, or a water tank. A lone, aged
oak tree
had been left unscathed, something like the last truffula tree in Dr. Suess's
The Lorax. It was all very melancholy, like witnessing the death of a
mountain.
I beat it out of there before someone from the development told me I had to buy a house in order to trespass, driving back through Escondido. With some daylight still available, I tried to see if I could get to a prominent peak east of the town and north of Mt. Woodson. I later came to find this peak is called Starvation Mtn, and just because of the name I'm going to have to go back and climb it. But with zero beta and no map I was unable to find a road getting close or providing access to a public right-of-way. I drove around the west and south sides of the mountain, but never found anything promising. Time to give up, I decided. In contrast to finding my way up Starvation Mtn, I had no trouble locating a Starbucks before driving back to San Diego. No map or beta required.
I was happy to learn later that the construction atop the last summit was for the development of Double Peak Park. There are picnic benches at the summit instead of a massive private home.
Continued...
For more information see these SummitPost pages: Double Peak
This page last updated: Sun Mar 20 14:35:22 2011
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