Hot on the trail of a new season’s golden glories
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BIG BEAR LAKE -- Autumn arrives with a sky so radiantly blue and air so brisk that it seems as if this town has been given a fresh start.
Gone are the fog and clouds that, a day earlier, shrouded the region in sodden gloom.
Gone, too, are the smoke and ash from a wildfire that raged nearby for more than a week, creating the impression among some that all of Big Bear was in flames.
To be sure, this bright morning beckons visitors and residents to stroll among trees and breathe in the new season.
Which is precisely what I’ve set out to do with Dan McKernan, a local, who is curious to see if fall colors are in bloom at secluded Aspen Grove. “It’s all about the colors at this time of year,” says the marketing manager for the Big Bear Lake Resort Assn. “But we might be just a little early.”
Alas, we reach the trailhead and gaze down upon foliage that is uniformly evergreen, at least a week before it’ll erupt in a magnificent sunburst.
And so our descent begins in modest disappointment, and on an increasingly inauspicious note, behind the colossal rumps of horses whose riders have trotted forth from a nearby equestrian camp.
But Kathy Cooksey and Jan Oliveras are gracious explorers; they pause creekside and agree to pose for a photo McKernan needs for a promotional brochure.
Cooksey flings me a granola bar and asks me to crinkle its wrapper, “to perk up their ears,” and it works. But before the crouching photographer can frame the subjects his knee locks and he falls in a heap, unable to straighten his leg.
I stand between two hungry animals and a writhing human, wondering whom I should help.
Fortunately, as I feed hunks of granola to Jasmine and Tango -- I’m a sucker for hungry animals -- the Boy Scouts arrive to save the day!
But it appears even they have gotten off on the wrong foot on this first day of fall. Troop 93 from Fullerton, returning from a frigid night on the mountain, just marches on by, taking zero notice of our plight.
Just as well, though, because McKernan himself becomes a trooper and rises to his feet and begins walking in circles, almost in disbelief, like a wretched soul cured by some wild-eyed evangelist.
“This has actually happened one other time,” he informs the women, who say their goodbyes.
And finally, there is a sense of place. The commotion has ebbed. No more horses’ behinds. No more kids.
A scrub jay squawks. Wind rustles the treetops. The bright morning beckons anew and off we stroll, wondering what new adventure lies around the bend.
The Aspen Grove Trail, accessible via the Heart Bar Campground turnoff on Highway 38, is one of several jumping-off points for treks into the San Gorgonio Wilderness.
It may be the region’s best such trailhead for those seeking the brief but dramatic display of fall colors, such as the brilliant yellows and golds of quaking aspens.
It’s one of only a few natural aspen groves in Southern California and it lures hikers and tripod-toting photographers from October to November.
The narrow path links to Fish Creek Trail, which delves into the expansive wilderness and ultimately connects with the Sky High Trail -- route to the 11,499-foot summit of Mt. San Gorgonio. McKernan and I have no summit aspirations on this day. (He’s already conquered it and I’m now inspired to do so, after proper planning.) We’re here merely to sample the wilderness and monitor the changing of seasons.
McKernan points out the difference between Jeffrey pines and white firs, and sniffs the trunks of the former, insisting they smell like vanilla.
He fondles a pine cone and explains that if you rub your palm across one and feel no barbs, it’s from a “gentle Jeffrey.” If the barbs prick your skin it’s from a “prickly Ponderosa.”
The trees are impressive, towering majestically skyward, creating a crisscross of shadows on the trail.
Many have perished and fallen, some resting on the forest floor while others remain propped against live trees.
Some bear the charred scars of lightning strikes and, eerily, some groan loudly as if complaining of old age and the burden of standing for hundreds of years.
Dwarfed are the black oaks and cottonwoods, whose leaves are lemon-lime around the edges, soon to brighten considerably before falling to make room for new leaves next spring.
The farther and higher one travels, the more the landscape varies. Above 8,000 feet there are sporadic meadows and splendid vistas.
Fish Creek spills down the slope with the vigor of honey, such is its thirst in this period of drought. Still, its narrow banks are lush with tall grasses and, beyond them, west of the trail, large granite boulders provide a stark contrast to the forested landscape.
Birds zoom and rest among the treetops -- my favorite is the white-headed woodpecker -- but the trails seem devoid of mammalian wildlife.
No squirrels, rabbits, deer, raccoons, mountain lions or bears, though these animals thrive within the San Bernardino National Forest.
But this is probably due to the considerable human presence before we arrived. Littering the trail are the fresh downward-bound prints of dozens of small boots.
And there is little doubt to whom they belong: Troop 93 from Fullerton.
For information on hiking in the Big Bear Lake area call (800) 424-4232 or visit www.bigbear.com.
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