Cuyamaca Peak, Wednesday Feb 18

I haven't been to the peak of Cuyamaca in a long time. I had things to do, so arrived at the Paso Picacho Campground about noon. Quickly donned my skis and and shuffled around the day use parking lot and map. Went to the North and found trees had fallen around most of the "trails" we city folks look for. Did a big loop and came back to the map across from where my car was parked. After putting on my glasses, realiazed that the Lookout Fire Road was further South, leaving from the CDF parking area.

As the first person in the wilderness, I was glad to make tracks up the road. Obviously, if I had know what I was doing, would have not wasted forty minutes finding the start. But, here we are in God's wilderness and I want to get on that peak , which I can see from my house. After an hour of sweating and sliding, have made it about 1.5 miles and am thinking about mountain lions. My best mountain biking buddie's wife found the woman up this trail, who had been attacked by the lion. It was not a good mental image for me or her. I have always been a bit timid, too imaginative to be fully macho. So about half way up, start to think too much about the poor visibility of the brush near me and notice that I don't have any bars in my battery of the cell. Seems like a good, prudent time to turn around. But just as I turn "chicken", a snow shoer appears. I ask if he would mind if I tagged around to the peak. He seemed a bit reticent, but agreed.

Ed taxed my meager skills, but we arrived on the peak knowing that each of us had done a few crazy things and were not so afraid to do a few more.



Ed is a construction worker who knows how to make good use of his down time. He moves quick and fast like a good athlete and was a good companion. He was surprised that my skis work well in climbing and I was similarly impressed with his speed uphill.

As I turn around to do the decent, it became quickly obvious that the conditions were not optimal for a quick return to the car. The light was great for pictures, but speed was a problem on the downhill. After expending a considerable effort on two or three hundred feet of decent, a godsend appeared.

The CDF people had driven a snow cat up the road. Most cross country ski people dislike the snow cat as an embodiment of the dark side. I, however, like the track in deep snow and gravitate toward it. This day, the snow cat did not spawn the usual "ice cookies". It pulverized the heavy snow and made life good. Instead of a treacherous downhill, the psuedo powder machine made a hard downhill easy. By paralleling across the high spot which the cat didn't touch, one could tamp down the downhill speed. What fun. This was the best backcountry downhill that I have had it many a year. SoCal rocks!

You could see the Salton Sea to the East and San G and San Jacinto to the North. All this while wailing downhill on the cat's tracks. This it too weird and yet just right. What a perfect day in San Diego's mountains. Two hours uphill and twenty minutes downhill, just the way God intended!