Climb

You don't have to climb very far to see downtown Los Angeles from here (it's the dark, blocky things on the right), or even to see the ocean (the glistening, horizontal strip behind downtown). That is, if the day is clear.

The Cobb Estate

Before white settlers came to the Cobb Estate, native Tongva people hunted deer, bobcats and rabbits in the brush.

According to Robert H. Peterson's book, "Altadena's Golden Years," the first white person to own this acreage at the top of Lake Avenue was an "early settler" (probably 1880s) named Robert J. Forsyth. After Forsyth, Peterson says, "The title changed hands several times before Charles H. Cobb acquired the property in 1916." (You can pick up a copy of Peterson's book at Webster's Pharmacy.)

Cobb, who had made his fortune in lumber and investments, built a home near the gates of the estate in 1917. When he died in 1939, the house first became a Masonic Home, then from 1942 to 1955 it was a retreat for nuns. A developer bought it and didn't develop it. The home was vandalized. In 1960, with no plans to live there, the Marx Brothers bought the property, presumably as an investment. By 1971 more developers lurked, rubbing their hands together and salivating.

This is where the story really begins.

At 7:30 pm on July 25th at the Altadena Community Center, hear Bob Barnes and others tell how 40 years ago a high school teacher, his students, a millionaire and even the developer who bid against them saved the Cobb Estate from becoming another tragedy like La Vina. It's a thrilling tale, and because no one can tell it better than the people who lived it, I'm going to leave that part of the story up to them.

But here's a hint as to how it turned out: although the Tongva no longer hunt there, you can still spot deer, bobcats and rabbits on the grounds of the old Cobb Estate.

Back on the Mountain

I love the Sam Merrill Trail. Depending on the switchback, civilization seems near...

...or very far away.

Until you get a ways up the mountain. Then everything below disappears into your note pad, your camera, your thoughts, your breathing, your stride.

The trail is open now, as is the Cobb Estate. J and I went about halfway up Echo Mountain yesterday and the skies were downright blustery. It felt good to be back on my mountain. (I share it with the Hiker.) I don't know how far you can go. Most of the Angeles National Forest is still closed (call 626-334-7582 between 7am and 7pm for specifics). But you can go for a good while.

None of Echo Mountain burned. Have at it. Pack out what you pack in. And no smoking. It's brittle as sun-dried bones up there.

Theme Day: Contrast

This is not a scene from the Station Fire. It's the remains of a small brush fire that occurred within the Cobb Estate in Altadena within the last year. I thought it appropriate for today's City Daily Photo blog theme day because it shows the contrast of the burned forest in the foreground and the living forest behind it.

The Cobb Estate is a natural, wild area that belongs to the U.S. Forest Service. It didn't burn in the Station Fire but it remains closed (see the closed gates here) in order to aid the USFS in limiting access to the burn area. The station fire burned more than 250 square miles of forest and is still burning in some spots after more than five weeks.

We look forward to the reopening of our forests, although we know what we'll see when we get back up in the mountains will be in stark contrast with what we remember.

Check out the other blogs participating in today's theme.

Aztec Fire Crew 63

When I met John Belushi I said, "Nice to meet you." When I saw Brad Pitt in an empty diner, all I did was smile.

But last Wednesday, when J. and I met a bunch of firefighters fresh off the mountain, I said, "You guys are amazing! There's no way to thank you, but thank you!" Then I proceeded to take photo after photo, which they tolerated and even smiled for.

I think they liked the "you guys are amazing" part. I know they liked the "thank you" part, because when we arrived at the gates of the Cobb Estate we'd just missed them posing for photos in front of a hand-made, "Thank You Firefighters" sign hanging on the fence.

The top photo here is a little blurry but I like its haphazardness. Look how young, how tired and how tough they are. And how dirty. They've been through it.

Not to disparage Belushi or Pitt, but movie heroes are heroes of fiction. Firefighters are the real thing. They're not Batman or Spiderman or Transformers. These guys can't fly. When you contemplate the 250 square miles of mountainside that burned in the Station Fire, then think of how tiny even a brave firefighter is against voracious and towering flames, these mere humans are mighty small. But as a team their powers are great.

(Plus Brad Pitt's got nothin' on some, I must say.)
(Aw, cheer up.)
Very nice, thanks.

Smokey? Bear?

Where was I?

Ah, yes. So we met these men last Wednesday. They'd been putting out hotspots on steep terrain, just over halfway through a two-week deployment during which they were headquartered at Hansen Dam. That deployment ends today. Welcome home, guys!

Friday, when I saw pyrocumulus clouds above Altadena, I thought about "the guys." Now the firefighters had faces. I started nosing around about Aztec Fire Crew 63 online. Now I'm even more impressed than I was before. These young men have had to fight more than fires. You can read more about Aztec Fire Crews, or watch a video starring a different Aztec Crew.

I'm awed by all firefighters, and Aztec Fire Crew 63 is no exception. They're gentlemen, they were all exceedingly nice and we loved talking to them. As we left, my husband, who can lift a full-sized sofa by himself, said, "We sit at our desks and deal with ideas. These guys go into the mountains and deal with the forces of nature." I can't say it better. They are men of the elements.

Admittedly, there's plenty of hero worship going on around here. But I think the reason we're so impressed with these heroes is that they are, after all, humans.

Damn fine humans.

Somewhere There is Always Beauty

To those who participated in yesterday's rant, thanks for helping me get it off my chest. Everyone gets angry sometimes and there are healthy ways to express anger other than defacing property or burning things down.

The Station Fire symbolizes too much loss in too short a time.

Boz and I took a walk today. We didn't go to Hahamongna or the Cobb Estate or the Arroyo. We just went around the block. It took forever. I let Boz stop at every bush that beckoned him, every titillating telephone pole, every come-on curb. It was a chance for me to relax, look around and realize there is beauty. No matter what happens, somewhere there is always beauty.

Zen Monday: #59

Zen Monday is the day you experience the photo and give us your thoughts rather than me telling you what the photo's about. I look for something provocative or, failing that, at least something odd.

As I post each new Zen Monday photo, I'll add a label to last week's to identify it if necessary (if I know what it is).

The Climb Begins

Saturdays are busy on the Sam Merrill Trail, but yesterday was the first time I ever saw a troop of U.S. Marine Corps recruits take to the path. The sergeant (front row, center) was amenable when I asked if I could take a photo, but now that I look at it I'm not sure all the recruits wanted their picture taken. However, they were ordered into formation and they posed with their mascot, Banzai. This group is from the Pasadena Substation.

They're at the beginning of a learning process and it's not going to be easy. Already things were tough on the trail. One recruit had trouble keeping up; it was hot, the recruit wasn't in shape and the sergeant had to yell. It was going to be a long hike.

John and I did a short hike, part way up. On the way down we passed a brief altercation between the sergeant and a civilian hiker who thought the sergeant was being too harsh.

Archetypally, it was an argument between protector and protected.

That sparked a discussion between me and John about whether or not the Marines should have been training in public view on the Sam Merrill trail. It's clear we need a military, as unfortunate and medieval as that may be. And the training can be tough, it can get ugly. And although we well-protected, well-to-do, insulated non-military types benefit from it we don't want to be exposed to it, do we?

If you read my blog you know I'm one of those lefties who despise war, but I can tell the difference between the fight and the fighter. The young people I saw on the trail yesterday may end up as supply officers, soldiers, engineers, recruiters... Regardless, they volunteered to serve their country, our country. I don't know what sent them, whether they're escaping something or seeking something. I only know I'm grateful and I hope they find what they need. That recruit who struggled up the hill was struggling with more—with self and with Self. And there are bigger battles to come.

I wish them all safety and success.

Sunbaked Hero

I admit this picture doesn't look like much until you click to enlarge it. I hadn't planned to post it at all, but after reading yesterday's comments I decided to go ahead. I mentioned the man who dug stairs into the path above Las Flores Canyon. Altadenahiker said, "I've been told the stairs were originally dug by the fire fighters several years ago. But my hat is off to the gentleman who is doing this renovation in the heat of summer. Wonder who he is."

I've often seen L.A. County park rangers on the trails with their maintenance equipment. The area trails I know are well-maintained; it must be a constant project to keep them clean and passable for hikers. Most regular hikers are respectful, but I take a small bag when I hike so I can pick up what trash I see. It's worst after a weekend.

The Sam Merrill Trail, which I was hiking when I took this shot, is across the canyon from the stairs in question. That day, the shoveling man and I were the only ones crazy enough to be out in the infernal heat. I could hear the dig and scrape of his shovel. He was working his way uphill.

Who is he? No park ranger uniform. Just a dark T-shirt. No hat. I hope he was wearing sunscreen.

Thank You, Virginia

Yesterday's photo was taken at the Cobb Estate, 107 acres at the top of Lake Avenue in Altadena. The land sits across Las Flores Canyon from the beginnings of the Sam Merrill Trail. The best information I've found about the estate is in a book called Altadena's Golden Years, compiled by Robert H. Peterson. You can get it at Webster's, and some online sellers.

There were once gold mines in Las Flores canyon, but by the time Charles H. Cobb came along they'd been "worked out." Cobb purchased the estate 1916, built his home there the following year and raised a family. He was a Mason, and contributed to the building fund for the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Pasadena. When he died in 1939, the home was converted to a Masonic Home. Later the Sisters of St. Joseph used the house as a retreat. The Marx Brothers (yes, honk honk!), Groucho, Harpo and Gummo (Chico was busy?), acquired the property in the late 1950's, but soon vandals ravaged the house and it was torn down in 1959.

Eventually developers got the bright idea that 107 unused wooded acres would look just fabulous once they were paved and covered with houses. The community was up in arms, but who had the money to stop the development? After a fundraising campaign involving conservation clubs, citizens and schools, it was philanthropist Virginia Steele Scott who swooped in late in 1971 and made it possible for the Cobb Estate to become a wildlife sanctuary (see wildlife in yesterday's post).

I wonder if these steps led to the front door of the Cobb house. Perhaps they're modest kitchen steps, or they led to an outbuilding. As you wander the paths and roadways of the estate, you come across several ruins peeking from the weeds, and wonder what they might have been.

Fauna

Proof positive that our young people are not only good looking, they also grow on trees.

More on the Cobb Estate tomorrow.