Date:
| July 12, '3 |
Location:
| Echo Mountain, Altadena |
Hike:
| Lower Sam Merrill trail/Mt. Lowe Railway/Castle Canyon (elevation |
Today’s miles:
| 12 |
Total Trip:
| 12 |
| The Lower Sam Merrill Trail is built like an Interstate and about as busy. It's an exposed hike up Echo Mountain with a hazy, 100-mile view over the city to the Pacific. I hardly notice the view anymore. I've walked this trail dozens of times. The track is well-graded. The switchbacks come in a delightfully mindless progression. Just the thing to meditate on any ominous twinges in the left leg. |
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Archive video of the Funicular and Mt. Lowe Railway
| About a century ago, Echo Mountain was a major tourist attraction. Millions visited. They came to ride a scenic tram called the Mount Lowe Railway and hike well-maintained trails to back-country resorts. The tram was built in the 1890s by Col. Thaddeus Lowe and David Macpherson. Macpherson was a Cornell educated civil engineer who worked on the first electric trolleys in San Francisco. Lowe was an inventor, tycoon and Civil War veteran who served as the Chief Aeronuat of the Union Army Balloon Corps. He made his fortune in LA as and ice-maker and banker. The old tram line ran 4 miles through the mountains. The first stretch tight roped above the heights of Las Flores Canyon, zigzagged up and around the crest, passed over an excavated granite ledge above a deep gorge called the Grand Canyon and landed on a saddle at the base of Mount Lowe. |
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| Funicular carried tourists to the Mt. Lowe Railway |
Back then there was no need to hike up to Echo Mountain. Lowe and Macpherson built a funicular that made a breath-taking 1,300 foot climb to tram platform. It was an engineering marvel.
Lowe also built a pair of luxury hotels atop Echo Mountain. There was fine dining: you could order Consomme with Cheese Straw, Roast Quail on Toast or Champagne Punch. There was dancing, music, tennis and bowling. The world's largest searchlight was bolted atop one of the hotels. And, just up the hill, guests could visit a public observatory and watch the stars through an impressive 4 1/2" refractor. The complex could be seen from Pasadena. They called it 'The White City.'
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| Ye Alpine Tavern (Here's a link to more cool photos) |
Today, there's not much left. Fires, windstorms and floods have reduced it all to rubble. The foundations remain as a dim reminder. The tram is now a fire road. A few odd ties still poke up from the old rail bed. These past glories are mostly lost since few in the conga line know the history.
I planned to take the Sam Merrill up to the tram junction, hook a left to the Alpine Tavern and return past Inspiration Point via Castle Canyon for a rush-hour descent on the Sam Merrill. It's a waterless 3-liter hike but once you're over the ridge it's a very private vertical landscape. I was a little concerned about trail erosion on the catwalk above Castle Canyon since last time I walked there, it was dicey.
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Buttressed portions of
Lower Sam Merrill Trail
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I gained the tram junction in less than hour. Not bad for a hot day. I hooked a left up the tramway trail. I was studying one of the old bridge foundations when this guy came scurrying up.
"Hey! Is this the way to Point Inspiration?"
I pointed up over the hogback. "About 4 miles just past the Alpine Tavern."
"Sounds good. Mind if I join you? I could use a cold drink." He said that without irony.
I told him the place burned down 80 years ago, but didn't say a thing about the tram, the hotels or the champagne punch. We set off for the Cape of Good Hope. I was undecided about this turn of events. Didn't matter. It's not like I own the trail.
He didn't seem much like a hiker. He was dressed more for a country club than the country. He wore a long-billed cap with a designer logo, polo shirt with an alligator, shorts with cuffs, and socks that didn't cover his ankles. No day or fanny pack; he just held a quart of Evian. Appearances are misleading. I had better boots but I had to rush to keep pace.
He was quite friendly and talkative. "Are you from around here? I used to live in Venice. I live in Portland now." "Do you hike here often? I used to hike Sycamore Canyon all the time. There's great hiking in Portland. I hike this place call Forest Park along the Columbia River." I know that spot, it's actually along the Willamette River. It's an easy mistake to make.
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| Mount Lowe Railway circular bridge |
"I kinda miss LA," he said. "But I don't miss the parking."
From that point we marched north along the well-graded road cut. The geology up there is a hodge podge. There's a few granite intrusions, but mostly it's metaphosed ocean bottom that crumbles when scraped and turns to mud when saturated. McPhee says the San Gabriels are the fastest eroding range in the lower 48.
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| Granite Gate The power line supports still protrude from the rock |
Why does that question seem so out of place on the trail? At a party, sure. Everybody know that it's a cypher for "why should I talk to you?" I remember the day I got the job at Solar System Labs. People would say "how cool is that!" It gave me confidence. I used to dread parties.
The trail is different. The elite don't work. They hike. They are broke. All that matters is the frontier of personal limits. Pushing past endurance. Conquering fears. They talk about their hikes, their near disasters, not their jobs.
"I'm a photographer. I'm in town for a few gigs," he said. Tomorrow we're shooting a jewelry catalog and a magazine layout. Next week, I've got a porn shoot. Saturday, I'm shooting some portraits for this law firm. But, I used to do fashion. Then the all the digital stuff along. Now everyone is a photographer."
"Do you like Portland?"
"I don't know many people. It's only been a year. I used to live in Chicago to be near my daughter. When I lost our house, my wife and I split up. We met at Art Center. She moved back to Chicago to be with her family. My daughter is in boarding school now. No point in staying. We text all the time."
"Sounds kinda lonely."
"Yea."
At that point, we needed to pick up the pace. The afternoon was getting on. I felt for this guy. How come someone else's misfortune makes you feel better about what you have? How many social ills come from that?
We cruised past the Tavern's ruins and headed over to Inspiration Point for a snack. I gave him one of my Picky Bars.
We chewed in a thoughtful silence. Inspiration Point does have a grand view of the Basin. You can peer through one of the welded-pipe 'telescopes' that point to Catalina, Santa Anita, or the Rose Bowl. On a clear day you can see 100 miles to Saint Nichols Island, but there's no telescope on that. I laid out on one of the benches. He checked the telescopes. It is a cozy spot. Some years back the old ramada was refurbished with a new roof. A Santa Ana Wind took the old one decades ago.
"Do you like to read," he asked.
That caught my interest. I do love volleying book titles. The cynical pleasures of reading Waugh, O'Connor and Dahl sprang to mind. But then the deeper wonders of Middlemarch, Gatsby and Kurtz had greater influence. I was trying to organize these inspirations when he said, "I heard about this book from Oprah and it's amazing!"
"What is it?"
"It's called Wild. It's about this girl who hikes the Pacific Crest Trail. You've got to read it."
"I have."
"Isn't it amazing!! I'm thinking of giving up everything next year and hiking the PCT. I think it will be the experience of a lifetime."
The hike down Castle Canyon was pretty much without incident. We scampered past a swarming beehive and walked carefully across the trail's instant-death parts. We joined the conga line for the last 2 miles down the Sam Merrill. We parted at dusk on cheery terms, but we didn't exchange names.
Since then I've been thinking about that discussion at Inspiration Point. Has Wild turned thru-hiking into the moral equivalent of moving to LA and writing a screenplay? This may sound awful, but the desire to hike the JMT now feels sorta tawdry. It has nothing to do with the fact that the JMT is only 10% as long or difficult as the PCT. It just that I might be caught up in some Oprah-inspired fad that has the masses rushing to the hills.
A little while ago I reopened my copy of Wild. Strayed wrote with honesty, feeling and insight. I guess the truth is that I'm also a bit Oprah-inspired. It's hard to admit.