Liebre Mountain, Angeles Nat’l Forest (HPS)

There is a unique demoralization that comes from hiking alongside a jeep trail you could as easily have driven.

It was a recovery day and the thought of a lazy stroll along the PCT sounded especially appealing. I packed more food and water than a full boy scout troop could possibly consume in a day and set out for the western tip of the Angeles National Forest.

The walking was predictably fine, with a mild grade making the gain nearly imperceptible. I spotted a connector trail just west along the N2 that could have shaved nearly 2 miles off the round trip stats, but no matter--I wasn't there to set any records. This was largely a preview of what I imagine hiking to be when in your seventies. A gentle lope with frequent stops to admire trees and count the needles of pines so as to identify them. (Three long wisps for the Towani Pine, which hisses with a pleasant static in high winds, sounding not unlike a nearby river.)

The walk had all the hallmarks of the PCT: an unexpected clearing for making camp in which someone had kindly hauled a picnic table, where I napped quite peacefully; a folding table set out for trail magic--water and candy and the like--and a peak merely a minute's walk from the trail. I must admit, the summit itself, if it can be called such, was quite the letdown, with no sense of prominence whatsoever. But that's not to say I had anything less than a fine morning on trail. I was, I reminded myself, not at my desk, nor the doctor's office, nor a queue at the DMV.

It would take more than a lackluster summit to disappoint me. Perhaps the realization, on arriving, that a jeep trail ran the length of the hike.

Perhaps.