Mt San Gorgonio

Two Summit Attempts on the Highest Peak in Southern California

I have made two attempts to climb Mt San Gorgonio, the highest peak in Southern California, which stands at 11,499’ above sea level. The first attempt was made with Jim Swingle in 1992, and that climb was successful. The second attempt was made the following year with Steve Barton and, although we did not make the summit, that trip had its own special moments.
 
Mt San Gorgonio, also known as ‘Old Grayback’ is the highest point in the San Bernardino Mountains. The long east-west ridge of San Bernardino Mountain, which is made up of several peaks over 10,000’ in elevation, is but a short distance away, and is connected to Mt San Gorgonio by trail. Mt San Gorgonio and Mt San Jacinto are the flanks of San Gorgonio Pass, which is crossed by Interstate 10 to the south at 2600’ of elevation. The long, treeless, rounded gray hump of San Gorgonio is a recognizable feature from many parts of the southland, especially when the rocky summit ridge is a brilliant white after a dusting of new snow.
 
The mountain was too much for me to climb in one day. I was in my 40’s and not in the best shape, and I did not have 5000’ of elevation gain in one day in my legs anymore, especially to any destination above 10,000’. So I approached Jim about making a one night backpack into Dollar Lake, where we could pitch a tent at 9300’. From there, we would make a summit ascent and return to Dollar Lake, where we would then break camp and hike out. He agreed to give a summit attempt a try.
 
I drove to Jim’s house in the Chino Hills on a Friday night in July. Jim’s house was much closer to the mountains than my apartment near the beach, so I would spend the night at Jim’s and get an early start in the morning. I put my bag and sleeping pad out on the floor of his office, and went to sleep. I awoke early, but not as early as we had planned. I walked over to the closed door leading to the bedroom where Jim and his wife were sleeping and knocked loudly. “Hey Jim, it’s late, let’s get going. I thought you were setting the alarm.” Noises from within the bedroom let me know Jim was rising, and soon he was standing with me out in the kitchen. It turned out he had set the alarm, but when the alarm sounded he had turned it off instead of hitting the snooze.
 
With our packs and gear stowed in Jim’s car we left for the mountains, and stopped at the Mill Creek Ranger Station to secure our wilderness permits. Dollar Lake was a popular destination, and the available permits for that location went fast on the first come first served basis.
 
At the Ranger Station it was just as I feared, the permits for Dollar Lake were gone. I got a permit for 2 to camp at Red Rock Flat, but that camp was at 10,100’ and meant we would have to carry our heavy backpacks a mile farther, and almost 1000’ higher, in the thin air.
 
We drove to the trailhead of the South Fork Trail (elevation 6900’) on the Jenks Lake Road and quickly started out on the dusty track. In two and a half miles we came to the wilderness boundary at Poop-Out Hill, elevation 7740’. I felt a bit tired. Mt Jepson and San Gorgonio rose up before us in the distance, and snow filled the gullies that came down from the summit ridge.
 
The trail went steeply down for a short distance, and then made its way toward the mountain through the pines while remaining fairly level. We crossed a great avalanche track showing where the side of the mountain had been scoured by the slide that had started high above us on our right. The trail began to gain some elevation and became rocky, and soon we arrived at South Fork Meadows (8200’). We turned hard right and began making our way up the long switchbacks. At around 8800’, we began to circle around the ridge and head southwest, and eventually we came out on the side of a ridge with a view to the mountain on our left, and down into the trees on our left where Dollar Lake must be located. At around 9500’, we came to a junction where a trail went downhill to the left towards Dollar Lake and the backpack camping area. I looked up towards Dollar Lake Saddle that was still more than a half mile away at almost 10,000’; I wished we were heading down to Dollar Lake instead of continuing to our camp, which was above and beyond the saddle. Although I was exhausted and fighting for breath, I knew today’s effort was required if we were to succeed and reach the summit tomorrow.
 
The going was slow as we plodded on, one foot in front of the other, stopping often for breath. My pack felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. We crossed some slippery snowfields that came down from above and to our right. Eventually we reached the headwall of our valley and steeply hiked up to the trail sign that stood at the height of land in Dollar Lake Saddle, seven and a half miles from where we had started. From the saddle we made a hard right and turned north, away from the trail leading to San Gorgonio.
 
In about a half mile, we came to a flat rocky bench, where I put up our tent. I melted pots of snow with my backpacking stove to refill our water bottles for tomorrow’s hike, and to re-hydrate our freeze-dried backpacking food. We cooked a hot dinner of spaghetti and meat sauce, and washed down a couple of aspirin with a large glass of port. I left the water bottles outside of the tent to cool. We got in our sleeping bags early, enjoyed some chocolate and another glass of port, and rested our weary legs. I felt good about just making it this far today, and I fell asleep thinking about the hike to come.
 
Early in the morning, I heard someone walking outside our tent; I stuck my head outside and saw three deer looking at me in the dim light before dawn. I got up and made coffee and instant oatmeal, and bagels with peanut butter. We ate, had more coffee, and got our daypacks ready. Taking plenty of water, we left our camp and headed for the summit, about three and a half miles from our tent. We headed south and down, crossed over Dollar Lake Saddle, and began curling up around Charlton Peak and Little Charlton Peak.
 
In about a mile, we came to Dry Lake View at 10,400’, where a fine view of the Mt Jepson presented itself off to the southeast of the connecting ridge. We crossed a narrow ridge with gnarled dwarf trees and stepped out onto the rocky massif of Old Grayback for the first time. We turned southwest and slabbed our way gently up the rocky flank. We circled around the ridge and now we were heading southeast, and we had a view of the trail disappearing before us in the distance over a rocky rise. The grade was steady but not steep, and soon we could see San Gorgonio before us. We passed Mt Jepson on our left and headed for our goal. Finally, a little more than two hours after leaving our camp, we stood on the summit of the highest point in Southern California.
 
At the summit we signed the hiker register, and enjoyed the views. The view of Big Bear and the San Bernardino Mountains was striking, as was the view south towards Mt San Jacinto and the desert around Palm Springs. My head was pounding in the thin air, and I had a bit of a headache. We drank plenty of water and had some snacks. After an hour of relaxing, we retraced our steps down from the summit and back to our tent.
 
After a brief rest, we broke camp and got our backpacks ready for the long hike down. After one last bit of chocolate and some water, we hoisted our packs onto our backs and headed back to the car. The eight miles to the trailhead seemed unbearably far, towards the end, every step hurt. However, the end did come and, in a cloud of dust, we stepped off the trail and onto the parking lot. We had done it.
 
I related the story of this trip to many people, including my friend from San Diego, Steve Barton. Steve and I had known each other since I was six years old in Connecticut. After my time in the Army, we became close friends and enjoyed many camping and mountain adventures together. When I came West in 1990, I lived with Steve in San Diego for several months, until I finally got a job in Orange County and moved to Huntington Beach. Towards the end of 1992, we decided to climb San Gorgonio together the following summer. We would use the same approach, only this time we would make sure we got the permits for Dollar Lake, and we would spend two nights camping there as well. This would save us the additional climb with heavy backpacks that Jim and I had done, and we could take a long leisurely time hiking to the summit of San Gorgonio, as we would not have to hike back to camp, take down our tent, and hike back to the car on the same day of the summit ascent.
 
We planned the trip around the Fourth of July weekend, and I got the permits for Dollar Lake in advance by mail. We drove up the night before and camped by the car. After a good breakfast, we drove to the trailhead and readied our packs. We arrived at Poop-Out Hill and spent some time enjoying the view. Much more snow was evident on the mountain than had been visible the previous year. We continued into the wilderness and, since we were in no rush, we stopped in the meadows and enjoyed the mountain scenery. The hours went by, but we made steady, if slow, progress. We climbed the switchbacks and reached the junction where we followed the trail down to the left towards Dollar Lake.
 
The sun was warm as we followed the side trail down into the pines where a Ranger greeted us. We showed him our permit, and he directed us to a fine flat spot among the trees and rocks. We set up our tent, and spread out our sleeping pads and bags. Then we put on dry warm clothes. It was much cooler down here in the pines.
 
On the ground was plenty of snow I could melt for water, but I wanted to show Steve the scenic little lake, so we took our water bottles and followed the trail down through the pines. Dollar Lake was nestled in a little depression amid rocks and trees, just before the valley continued down the slope. We filled up every container we had, and started back up towards the tent. Going up the trail was arduous, the air was thin and we were tired. Eventually, we arrived panting at the tent. We made dinner and enjoyed a glass of port. The temperature sank as darkness set in, so we got into our bags for warmth. Sleep came quickly.
 
The air was very cold in the morning, so we stayed in our bags and gave the sun a chance to warm the air. We finally emerged from the tent and made coffee and breakfast. We got our daypacks ready for the hike and, about 9:00am, we set out for the summit.
 
We retraced our steps back to the trail junction, turned left, and slowly moved upwards towards Dollar Lake Saddle. We finally walked into the saddle and stood by the trail sign; much more snow was up in the trees than what Jim and I had seen here the previous year.
 
The trail continued up along the flank of Charlton Peak. This gradual trail was on the west side of the mountain so in the morning the path was totally in the shade, and cold. Then we came across the first of what would prove to be many formidable obstacles. There were walls of snow radiating down like spokes on the mountain’s flank, and these spokes were blocking the trail. They ranged from three feet to six feet tall, and were ice hard. We could not kick steps into the hard sides of these walls, so we were forced to wallow over them, or hike uphill or down to a point where crossing seemed easier. We continued up the trail, over one, then another, then another. The distance between them varied, and we crossed about a dozen of them before they disappeared from the trail prior to Dry Lake View. As for Dry Lake View, the area was snow covered and icy. We looked across the narrow ridge to where the trail emerged out on the northern flank of the San Gorgonio massif; everything there was snow and ice. We looked at a climbing party descending the mountain and coming towards us from high above and to our right; they all wore crampons and carried ice axes, and they picked their way gingerly down and across the slope.
 
Steve and I discussed the situation standing together in the sun, and reluctantly decided the summit would not be ours that day. The walls of snow had taken their toll, and we did not have the gear for the slope in front of us. As it was already close to 11:30, we found a place in the sun and relaxed. We ate our sandwiches and enjoyed the views, up towards San Gorgonio, and down towards Dry Lake. After lunch, we enjoyed a cigar, and drank from a small thermos of coffee I had made at the tent.
 
About 2:00 in the afternoon, we headed back down towards camp, and made our way over the arduous walls of ice and snow; at least we were in the sun on the return trip. One after the other, we crossed the snow obstacles and made our way back to Dollar Lake Saddle. From the saddle, the trail descended sharply for a short distance before taking a hard left turn and traversing the slope of the ridge down towards the valleys below. We stood at the turn in the trail just below the saddle and looked down the steep ice and snow-covered headwall of the ravine that led down to our camp and Dollar Lake. We observed two sets of sliding tracks going down the slope and disappearing in the pines below.
 
“What do you think?” asked Steve, glancing towards the tracks.
 
“Why not,” I answered.
 
Leaving the main trail we stepped off onto the steep snow of the headwall and were soon sliding, running, and falling down the steep slope; getting some long glissades in as we maneuvered through the trees yelling and laughing. The descent was exciting and grand fun. All too soon, the slope became gentler and the rocks more numerous. We walked from that point on, and we were quickly at the tent.
 
“You know what,” I said. “I’d go up and come down again if there was a T-bar to the saddle.”
 
We laughed; it was a lot of fun hurtling down the slope. We started to get things organized for dinner. Steve produced a plastic flask he had filled with Jack Daniels. “I brought this for tonight, to toast our making the summit,” he said, passing the flask to me. “But now seems as good a time as any.” We sat down on a log and shared a drink, two old friends enjoying the setting sun in the mountains, talking of times gone by. On our ascent, we never did step out on to the summit of San Gorgonio together, but that trip was successful in other, more personal ways.
 
Today, when I recall climbing Mt San Gorgonio, I remember this: one trip made the summit and one did not. I cherish the memories of both.    
 

Images- San Gorgonio Mountain, California (6/08)