The
"Bridge to Nowhere"
San Gabriel River - East Fork
December 7, 2005
Dec. 7th,
"A Date Which Will Live in Infamy", seemed like a pretty good
date for a hike to the "Bridge to Nowhere". Well, it was a
Wednesday... and this is the East Fork., so we figured it would be a good
day to hike in near solitude. Rightly so, with the exception of a tent we
spotted along the way, we had that section of canyon to ourselves.
Gary and I met
at the East Fork parking area, near the Heaton Flat trailhead, around
7am. We proceeded to get our gear together in the morning
chill. Not too cold, yet cold enough to warrant starting out with a
jacket and wool cap. A half mile from the parking area, we came to
the trailhead. I reminded Gary that I always make the mistake of
checking out the water as I hike, which always results in my stopping to
fish and never make it to the Bridge... so we should do our best not to do
so today.
Our pace to the
Bridge was somewhat mixed. While wanting to make haste, with the
evasive trail and river crossings, we naturally had to lean more towards a
more leisurely stroll. Gary felt the distance was closer to 3
miles., but trusting my topographical map and stuck to my original
calculation of 4.5 miles. Later, on returning to the parking area,
we would nearly agree on it 'feeling' like 9 miles round-trip.
I guess we
should have taken more pictures on the hike in, but we were too busy
trying to stay on or near the trail. Between our fading memories and
changes to the canyon over the years, we were all but lost at times.
Well, never actually lost, just somewhat confused at points. In
fact, we often had to resort to following the tracks in the sand of past
hikers ... and hoping they hadn't been lost. All along we figured,
What the Heck... we just need to follow the river and it'll all work
out. In hind-sight, this game of relocating the trail added a
certain amusement to the hike. We would be less amused by it on the
hike out.
An hour or so
into the hike, after a few crossings, we came to the Sheep Mountain
Wilderness boundary. By my calculations, this would signal the
half-way point. Crossing Laurel Gulch, we were impressed by the
amount of water coming from it and into the East Fork. Somewhere
between Laurel and Allison Gulch you'll spot Swan Rock to the west.
Well, maybe. We looked, and we saw many rocks, but not a one of them
looked anything like a Swan. So, with a shrug of the shoulders, we
continued our journey to the bridge ... happy in the knowledge that we
were better than half way there.
Lucky, for us,
we were paying attention. As the well worn trail led us to cliff
(drop-off). Standing there scratching our heads, we could see how
the entire canyon wall (in that section) had washed away for about a 1/4
mile. Half laughing, we realized we needed to back-track and climb
down to the riverbed to continue up canyon. Hopefully, we'll find
the trail again on the other side of the slide area.
Finally, we
came to a section we had our eyes open for. The section, around the
3 mile mark, where the trail turns into a tarred roadway. However,
we would have to scamper up a 50+ foot bed wall of shifting rock to get to
it. Now happily on the road, our smiles were soon replaced with
frowns when we discovered this section of "Road" (not unlike the
trail a 1/2 mile back) led us to yet another cliff. And so, we
backed tracked again... went down, around and up again to the next section
of remaining road. I say remaining because so much of it had washed
away that it was like walking on pieces of tarred trail.
Turning the
corner and heading East by North-East, we knew the Bridge would soon be in
view. At this point, we also discovered a section of the river that
would be worthy of exploration on another trip. You'll have to join
us on a future expedition to learn anymore about that section.
Once past the
corner, the Bridge was insight. You really have to be impressed by
it. Completed in 1936, to eventually be joined by highway on both
ends, it has never seen a automobile. They figured they'd finish the
Bridge about the time the highway sections were finished. But they
didn't figure in mother nature and the loose rock composition of the
canyon ... and most of what highway they had completed was washed away in
a storm. Clearly, looking at the canyon now, it's plain to see that
a highway will never endure the canyon changes... let alone be laid
without great effort. And so, we have this Bridge in near perfect
condition... just sitting in the middle of the Sheep Mountain Wilderness.
After a little
break, we hiked down to the river beneath the bridge and started fishing.
Spying the water and pools from above, we were eager to get down
there. I remember commenting to Gary, that, I couldn't remember
seeing more promising waters. As luck would have it, I was totally
wrong.
We scoured the
section up and down river around the bridge. Although seemingly
idyllic, there wasn't a fish to be found. I eventually rationalized
that many anglers visit the Bridge (directly) and fish its adjacent
waters.
We must have
fished around the bridge for over an hour before decided to hike down
river. Just down river from the bridge, we came to a fall with steep
walls at it sides, pouring into a deep pool. Clearly, the only way down
river (at this point) involved a rendition of 'Driver Dan'., and neither
of us were game for that. During the summer months, it might not be
a bad idea... but not today. So we said good bye to so-called
perfect pools and climbed back up to the bridge, to follow the trail down
river.
We would have
to hike nearly a mile down canyon to get back down to the riverbed and
begin fishing again. Making our way down the side of the loose rock
bed wall was somewhat comical., though neither of us were laughing.
It doesn't take much to Fully Understand why they named it the Sheep
Mountain Wilderness. Clearly, a Butt-Slide technique was called
for. But for some reason, we employed more of a 'Rock Surfing'
technique. And, by the way, I'm not a very good surfer. I half
expected to start a mini-avalanche. And with Gary in front of me,
that wouldn't have been as cool as it sounds.
Getting back
into the river bed, we glanced up river to where it makes its way out of a
narrow canyon. That would be an ideal section to fish ...
someday. For now, we'll hit the river directly and work towards
it. The remainder of our time in the canyon is limited., so we have
none for more in-depth exploration of those narrows.
Eager
to fish, I darted to the first little run I could see. I didn't
expect much, if anything, as the depth there was only 6-8". So
you can imagine my surprise a getting a strike within 5 seconds after my
first cast. And not the kind of strike one gets from a little
4-5" wild trout. No, this felt more substantial than I could
have ever expected in that body of water.
I was again
totally amazed at finding trout in this wide flowing ankle deep section of
river. It always amazes me that the fish can even navigate these
shallows. Let alone chase flies in it.
It took no time
at all to hook up with a healthy and eager 9-10" wild bow. And
from water 6-8" deep? Amazing.
Not to be
outdone, after taking a picture me, Gary hustled up and started fishing
just down river of me. When I first started fishing in that section,
Gary didn't seem to share the faith. Likewise, he seemed a little
shocked by my plucking out a bow with nearly no effort at all. You
just have to love it when things go your way... completely by chance.
Less
than 30 seconds after taking a picture of my first catch, Gary had one
on. I tossed him my net and got out my camera to return the
favor. We tried to get some shots of the fish in the water., but
they turned out as blurs.
Gary netted his
8-9" treasure, as I quickly stated (for the record) that mine was
bigger. You never know, we might just win the GST Winter Fishing
Master contest. We both laughed at any such notion and with renewed
faith in the East Fork, we set out chasing trout with smiles on our faces.
We continued
fishing at spots as we made our way back down river. Soon we
realized that we really needed to start putting some distance between
fishing spots, or we'd be hiking in the dark. We'd hike or stumble a
1/4 mile and then hastily fish a spot and then move on. This method
of fishing really sucked (IMHO). We just couldn't afford to devote
the necessary time to leisurely fish., having spent so much time getting
to and back from the "Bridge of no fish". I couldn't help
wishing we had a few hours more to explore.
At some point,
just after taking the picture above, I did my version of the 'Dennis'
maneuver. Only I didn't have the luxury of water to break my
fall. I had jumped onto a boulder 2' in diameter, not expecting it
to become a Flintstone Surfboard. I did ok with the surfing part, it
was the abrupt stop that sent me nearly head first into the rocky
bed. Luckily, or not, clinching the net in one hand and the rod in
the other, I was able to break my fall with my knuckles. Somehow, I
managed to shear off a 1/8" x 1/4" section of flesh from my
right index finger. Great. This gave me the opportunity to
demonstrate why it is I never travel without a First-Aid kit. A few
seconds later I was bandaged and looking for another fish.
On reaching the
Wilderness Boundary, we decided to reel it in and devote the remainder of
daylight towards getting back to the vehicles. But, before doing so,
I wanted to get a parting picture of Gary next to the boundary
marker. He took the opportunity to demonstrate for our viewers, how
big the one that got away was. Right. Well, you see, it was so big
that it took both of us to land it ... and neither of us had time to take
a picture of it. Oh yeah, and it swam away before we could verify
its length. Ok?
Back at the
Heaton Flat trailhead, I showed Gary where I had come across a bunch of
stocked trout. It was then that we notice a few trout left in the
pool. We looked at each other, grinned and scrambled down the bank
to fish a little more. We tried every trick in the book, we these
fish were having none of it. Yet, a few of them would rise to
flies... just not ours. After spending some time there, we could
clearly make out that there were perhaps 10 or more good size DFG trout in
the pool. Their lack of enthusiasm for our flies is probably why
they were still there.
Back at the vehicles, we stowed
our gear and talked awhile. Then, the sun nearly gone, we realized
we'd better get on the road.
We'll
be back
