Angeles National Forest Trip Report – March 28, 2009
It’s funny how people would rather explore some far away place rather than something nearby. I’m not one to point a finger, though. I’ve been to four continents and over 25 countries and yet I’ve never been to Watts Towers or Knott’s Berry Farm, which are both about an hour from my apartment. I’ve also never really explored the Angeles National Forest, a huge 1,000 square mile swath of land is located just north of metropolitan Los Angeles. It includes the San Gabriel Mountains, which stand beautifully outside my apartment window. Sure, I’ve taken day hikes into this wilderness, but have never driven into the heart of this huge area. So, in an effort to explore more of my local ground, I spent Saturday driving into the Angeles National Forest.
There are quite a few ways for one to enter the area by car. I live about halfway between two: a western route up the Angeles Crest Highway in La Canada Flintridge and a southern entrance up San Gabriel Canyon Road in Asuza. I flipped a coin and went in from the south.
It seemed like only a few minutes from when I exited the freeway and when I entered the pristine wilderness of the Angeles National Forest. I’ve lived in the Los Angeles area for a while, but it never ceases to amaze me how this transition from urban jungle to natural wilderness can happen so quickly. I rolled down the window, took a deep breath of the sweet air, and smiled. The 40 mph speed limit suddenly felt too fast.
I passed the Morris and San Gabriel Reservoirs and continued north… until the roadblock. Due to the heavy winter storms, Highway 39 near Crystal Lake Recreation Area was closed indefinitely. Undeterred, I parked near a fire road not too far from the roadblock and walked a 1/2 mile or so to the north fork of the San Gabriel River. I wasn’t the only one with this idea based on the number of cars I saw lining the highway, but I was pleasantly surprised not to see another soul during the hour or so I spent by the river. Unfortunately, past visitors had left their mark. I was saddened to see trash along the trail and horrified by the graffiti on the rocky walls of the river.
Despite the human destruction, nature still continued to thrive. I found a spot near the river where I would spend the next hour looking for photographic subjects. I was not disappointed! The only frustration I had was that seeing beautiful insects that I could not photograph. It was about 2 o’clock and the sun was hot, so creatures seemed to move at a faster pace. Swallowtails, whites, and hairstreaks danced around close to the ground, but never finding anything worth landing on. Damselflies and dragonflies found their perch in dense brush and were easily startled. It seemed that with every plant I inspected, I could find a couple Western box-elder bugs (Boisea rubrolineata).
Also in in abundance was the blue bug (Zicrona caerulea), a beautiful shieldbug with a deep blue metallic sheen. I counted about ten of them in an hour either in the air or scavenging on the ground. Apparently, they look like their favorite meal, the metallic leaf beetle, but I didn’t spot any of them.
While inspecting a fallen tree, I came face to face with a beautiful snake. It measured about 4-5 feet in length and had its head raised off of the ground. Even though it sat motionless, it didn’t look too happy to meet my acquaintance. I could smell its musky discharge from where I stood eight feet away. I didn’t know what kind of snake it was at first, but I knew enough about snakes to know it wasn’t venomous. It stood its ground – completely motionless – as I captured a few photos using two of my lenses and a reflector. Its stare was unnerving. I took a stick and gently touched its tail to see how it would react. It was then I was able to identify the snake: a racer! I have been around snakes my entire life, but I’ve never seen a snake move so fast as this one did. In just a few seconds, it was 40 feet away. How is this even possible?? How can something without any legs move faster than a house cat? I was temporarily in awe and in fear at the same time. I’m just glad it bolted away from me than at me. The bite of a California striped racer (Masticophis lateralis) can pack a punch, it has been said.
I pulled off a piece of bark from a snag, or a standing dead tree, and found a bark-gnawing beetle (possibly a Trogossitidae). It measured about 6.5mm and didn’t seem to enjoy the interruption for the sake of photography.
I headed back to my car and continued my road trip adventure. Since the north passage was closed, I headed east along East Fork Road, then south up the curvy climb of Glendora Mountain Road. At about 3,200 feet, I stopped and studied the road-side flora and fauna. For a stretch of about 50 feet, the vertical mountain met the horizontal road, allowing the rare opportunity for this nature photographer to stay off his hands and knees and yet still take macro photographs of things. I found what looked to be velvety tree ants (Liometopum occidentale) hiking in moss, but I’ll probably be corrected on this (see photos in the slideshow at the end of this post).
As I’m walking along this wall, like a man perusing a used book store not sure what he’ll find, I hear something falling from above. I look up and I’m almost hit in the head by two entangled lizards! They end up at my feet on the ground motionless, probably just as stunned as I am. A few seconds pass before the western fence lizards (Sceloporus occidentalis) slither in opposite directions, making their way up the mountain to fight another day. I chuckle to myself, wondering how I’d explain the lump on my head if I was hit by the two wrestling lizards.
My last stop of the day before exiting the forest was at the Glendora Ridge Motorway just off of Glendora Ridge Road and just inside the forest’s southern border. So close to civilization, this service road seems to be a popular place for locals to walk their dog, mountain bike, or just take their kids for a hike. I was now at an elevation of 550 feet and into a chaparral bio zone. The road is lined by grasses and an assortment of different vegetation I wish I could readily identify, but what I do know is that the area was teeming with life. Crickets chirped in the tall grasses. As I walked by plants, hover flies and moths would take flight. Small ant hills and their indented openings cover the road like craters on the moon, a sign of a large colony or two (or three) living underneath.
I make a detour from the road and follow a narrow path etched into the ridge of the hill. I walk slowly and with a heavy foot, hoping it will scare away any snakes hidden in the thick knee-high grass. From here I can see down into the urban valley which is covered in a thick haze. Looking north, I can see that mountains have just about lost their winter coat of snow. I walk around a bend in the hillside to find a bee apiary. The amount of bees in one area was hard to comprehend. I counted about 200 hives in the bee yard each holding at least a few hundred bees, I figure. A constellation of bees could be seen above the hives and, as I got closer, I could see that there were highways in the sky of bees going and coming from their pollen collection missions. I stood about 100 feet away and took in the sight. I figured I was far enough away to not stir the bees. I was wrong. I knew it was time to leave when a bee started ramming my head. One sting and I would have been in big trouble. Bees release a pheromone when they sting, alarming their buddies to attack. On bee sting here could become a hundred in no time at all. I walked briskly the way I came, realizing why the path I took didn’t seem to be well used. I’m sure if I approached the area from the road, there would be warning signs posted.
On the hike back, I found this strange looking creature perched on a leaf. It appears to be an invertebrate in an instar stage, but I’m happy to nickname it the fiber optical bug.
While driving home, I found two extra passengers in my car. Both of them were found walking on my arms and both caused me to pull over so I could put them into small collection vials. Pacific Coast tick (Dermacentor occidentalis) must have grabbed onto my clothing as I walked through the deep grass on my last hike. A tiny weevil was almost mistaken for a speck of dirt. See photos of both of these – look how small that weevil is! – in this photo gallery of my trip. Please feel free to help identify any of the invertebrates I found by leaving a comment.
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