Holcomb Valley; Filled with Mystery Ghost Ass?

 

     I did not mean to run a half marathon today. It just happened, it was a pure muscle aching accident.
    I got a early start on a November morning. It was about forty degrees with a chill in the fall air when I started driving the dirt roads of Big Bear towards Holcomb Valley, a deserted ghost town long lost in the piney forest. Holcomb Valley once housed over 16,000 miners and now… there is nothing left.

 
    This is the view of Holcomb Valley from the Pacific Crest Trail three hundred feet above the valley floor. I started my run, parking my SUV near the summit of Polique Canyon Road, and ran down hill down an extremely dusty abandoned dirt road that would take me into an eerily silent forest.
  When I say this road was dusty, I mean it was really dusty. All the trees and manzanita on the side of the road looked white like they were covered in snow, not dirt.
    I have hope to one day see wild donkeys out here, but I have not yet. I did see however mystery horse like shit today and yet no hoof prints near it, so I have top wonder, Is there a little ass nearby perhaps?
    Wouldn’t shooed horses leave prints? Or maybe they are the ghosts of donkeys of Holcomb Valleys past?
    When I reached the valley floor, the road became a lot flatter and a lot more boring. Boring for running, but this seems like the perfect place to come back with my mountain bike.
   This was about the time I realized my GPS on my phone was not working and about the time I became frustrated. I know that Polique Canyon hits Holcomb Valley Road, which is 2N16. I saw a sign for Holcomb Valley Campground half a mile up 2N16, but I wanted to head more to the west and found this little dirt road that looked intriguing.
   That’s when I stumbled across my first claimed mining operation.
   Pretty cool, huh?

   These mining claims are all over Holcomb Valley. Right after this I ran into some miners in a huge four by four that told me I was on John Bull trail and that sounded interesting so I kept going.
   Than I ran into John Bull’s grave, which was a little creepy. Holcomb Valley is full of mining claims and graves. I came across a lot of graves on this run; just a little creepy in the deserted forest. At least the miners were really friendly and not creepy at all.
    I got in about three hundred feet of altitude gain going up John Bull Trail, which was nice, but I was pissed at this point that I had cell service but still no GPS, my phone just showed a red line on a blank grid where I had run. I mean that was good at least to help me find my way back but it would have been nice if I could tell if the 2N16 hit the 2N9. I wasn’t in the mood to back track. I was at about mile six at this point and thinking, shit I need to head back some what soon, in case I have to back track all the way.
   That’s when I came across Holcomb Pinnacles road which actually led me right into the pretty part of Holcomb Valley. I was on the North edge of the valley with the pinnacles peaks to the north of me. It was truly gorgeous. Did I really need to head back?
   I decided to take one last little side trip, that some how led me back a mile from Holcomb Camp Ground and saved me some time.

I never found Arctic Canyon. I looked it up online; I’m beginning to think no one in Big Bear can spell. As you can see, they spelled Arctic wrong on the sign.
That seems to be a trend in Big Bear;
I just noticed the other day on my water bottle I got from last years Holcomb Valley Trail Run, they spelled Holcomb Holocomb on my bottle. I had to look it up online to see if I had been spelling it wrong all these years.
My theory is Big Bear is run by a group of miners who have no teeth and cant spell…. But oh those overalls! 

    So why did I run so far yesterday morning?
   I just couldn’t stop myself.
    That is the honest answer. The November forest was nothing but greens and oranges and was just so epically gorgeous. I couldn’t stop my legs from pounding out another mile than another on the dirt roads of Big Bear.
    I’m so addicted to exploring this forest I love. Not having a map makes my sickness worse because instead of knowing where I’m going, planning a route and sticking to it, I just explore and explore and explore until my hips ache and my calves quiver.

    When I watch a red tailed hawk flying low through the lodge pole pines the shear beauty of it makes my heart beat just a little faster. I love that moment
    I love looking down at this lake, a thousand feet below me and knowing that my tooth pick legs carried me up these mountain roads again today.

NaBloPoMo November 2012

Comments

  1. katiclops.com

    This sounds incredible: crisp and liberating.
    You’re very lucky to be on the PCT! Your runs sound like a great trade off for a slightly aromatic car 🙂 Good luck with the rest of NaPoBloMo
    ~a random rowmie

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