Canyon

When any basketball coach is raving about an opposing player, that sets off an alarm bell for sportswriters to pay attention and investigate.

It turns out all the good things coaches are beginning to say about 6-foot-4 junior guard Donovan Webb of Golden Valley High are true. Canyon Country Canyon coach Ali Monfared said Webb might be the best player in the Foothill League, which held its media day at Canyon on Saturday.

Webb is one of those players who worked hard when nobody was watching. His focus was on improving his three-point shooting, and all those hours in the gym could pay off.

“I’m a gym rat,” he said.

Last season, he was moved to point guard and kept deferring to other players. This season, he got the message to take charge. “We put the keys to the car in his hands,” first-year coach Scott Barkman said.

With a 4.3 grade-point average, Webb said he understands what his role needs to be.

“I needed to take my game to the next level,” he said.

Golden Valley and Valencia will be the co-favorites because of the experience each team has with returning players.

Valencia has its own much-improved player in junior Steven Irons. Last season he was 6-5, 170 pounds. Now he’s 6-7, 210 pounds after eating lots of chicken and rice while working on strength.

“The day we lost the playoff game, I started lifting,” he said.

Said coach Greg Fontenette: “His development has been like night and day.”

Double-doubles are in his future, and it’s not about In-N-Out. He’ll be scoring and providing rebounds to support Valencia’s talented class of 2027 players.

Saugus returns Braydon Harmon, who had a 43-point performance against West Ranch last season.

Hart coach Tom Kelly is in his 26th season for the Newhall school and 36th overall (he was head coach at Burbank Burroughs for 10 years).

Canyon won a 2A championship last season and lost most of its players, but returning is standout point guard Isaac Yuhico, who delivered clutch baskets in the Cowboys’ triple-overtime championship game win over St. Bonaventure.

Former Golden Valley coach Chris Printz has become an assistant principal, but his son, Wyatt, remains on the team. Asked if his father got a pay raise, Wyatt said, “I hope so.”

Conner Peterson of West Ranch was asked about playing against friends in the league. “It’s the same thing playing against your brother,” he said. “You want to beat them.”

Castaic coach Louis Fernando offered optimism about his team, saying, “I don’t have to coach ego and I don’t have to coach effort this year.”

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email [email protected].

Orange Lutheran coach Rod Sherman has known Jon Ellinghouse for a long time.

Before facing Sierra Canyon on Thursday night at Orange Coast College, Sherman said he wouldn’t mind telling the Trailblazers coach directly that he thought Ellinghouse’s team was the best he had seen the school produce.

After No. 2 Sierra Canyon dismantled No. 7 Orange Lutheran 41-9, Sherman was certain.

“No doubt,” he said.

Eric Sondheimer, The Times’ high school sports columnist, nicknamed the Trailblazers’ swarming, antagonizing defense the “Kaboom Squad” — a superhero-like, nonstop force of power, speed and IQ.

How do you stop a defensive front such as Sierra Canyon’s?

Orange Lutheran (3-2) was still searching for an answer in the muggy-air aftermath of a suffocating loss that featured 10 tackles for loss and six sacks.

“There were some unbelievable special plays defensively,” said Ellinghouse after Sierra Canyon improved to 5-0.

Junior defensive back Madden Riordan sealed the game with an interception. Senior defensive lineman Mikhal Johnson recorded two sacks. Junior defensive tackle Kasi Currie had two tackles for loss and an interception over a four-play span in the second quarter.

The Trailblazers sideline shouted in the third quarter when senior defensive back Trey Brown snuck in for a booming sack.

“Everybody was hype for me,” Brown said.

It was relentless. The Lancers completed just five passes on 17 attempts.

Senior defensive end Richard Wesley’s scream in the middle of the postgame huddle said it all.

“I’m happy,” Wesley — who made a sack — roared, extending the “y” for emphasis.

Don’t let the scoreboard fool you; it could have been an Orange Lutheran goose egg — so much so that Ellinghouse said he considered the game a shutout.

The Trailblazers began their first drive with a tipped-pass interception from Lancers freshman defensive back Kiingbaraka Kizzee — stalling in the red zone and settling for a field goal — and ended the first half with a blocked field goal and a 71-yard touchdown return from junior Matthew Zapien.

None of the Lancers’ scores came from a steady drive. On the other hand, the Trailblazers scored with ease.

Ellinghouse called a trick, double-reverse leading to Sierra Canyon senior quarterback Laird Finkel finding big man Brayden Tautolo in the end zone for an eight-yard touchdown to make it 14-3 in the first quarter.

After an Orange Lutheran three-and-out, Louisiana State defensive back commit Havon Finney Jr. scored on a 62-yard punt return. It didn’t let up.

Sierra Canyon junior running back Jaxsen Stokes scored on a 16-yard run in addition to a pair of three-yard touchdown runs. Even Wesley contributed on offense with a 16-yard reception.

A big question remains.

After dominant wins against JSerra, Oaks Christian and Downey, as well as Punahou (Hawaii) — to a 233–16 total points differential — what’s stopping Sierra Canyon from challenging Mater Dei, St. John Bosco, and others for the Southern Section Division 1 crown?

Ellinghouse is ready to see if his team has what it takes to dominate in Mission League play.

And so are his players.

“Me and my teammates were watching that Mater Dei versus Corona Centennial — we just thought to ourselves, why not us this year?” Currie said. “We’re gonna win this year. I believe that; I’m stating that we’re gonna win this year.”

The Foothill League doesn’t have to take a back seat to any league when it comes to tradition and success, from producing state champions to being the league where Hall of Fame coaches Harry Welch and Mike Herrington once saw huge success.

All seven schools that are part of the William S. Hart Union High School District took part Saturday in the first Foothill League media day at Saugus High. There’s much to admire about the league, including that all seven schools have athletic trainers and six of the seven head coaches are also full-time teachers.

Hart, Canyon and Valencia have produced their share of NFL players. And this season, Valencia has the talent to make a run in Southern Section Division 2 or 3 with the return of running back Brian Bonner, a Washington commit, and quarterback Brady Bretthauer.

Coach Larry Muir is entering his 20th season as head coach and still teaching four classes of U.S. history each day. “He’s a lot nicer in the classroom,” Bretthauer joked. “He picks on the football player.”

Bretthauer also revealed how he motivates his linemen to block. “If I get sacked, no In-N-Out,” he said.

Even though Muir is challenged daily to balance his time and commitment from teaching to coaching football, Muir said he wouldn’t want it any other way. “I love being in the classroom,” he said. “I literally don’t feel I go to work. “

The rivalries in the league guarantee the sports-crazed Santa Clarita Valley weekly entertainment. About the only issue is a lack of stadiums. Canyon and Valencia have stadiums and College of the Canyons also hosts games.

“It’s playoffs every week,” Golden Valley coach Dan Kelley said. “There are no slouches.”

Golden Valley will have a four-year starter in lineman Evan Nye, a 6-foot-3, 250-pound senior.

Castaic is turning to junior Aidan Mojica, a former tight end, as its new quarterback. There’s a promising sophomore linebacker in Lucas Duryea, who will be eligible at the end of September after transferring from Chaminade.

West Ranch has a first-year head coach in TJ Yonkers. Its top returning defensive player is Max Piccolino, who had 15 1/2 sacks last season.

Carson Soria, a former receiver, is moving to quarterback for Canyon. He’s also the punter, so beware of trick plays.

Hart quarterback Jacob Paisano will be trying to get the ball to junior Matix Frithsmith in a variety ways, whether Frithsmith is playing running back or slot receiver. Two of Hart’s players are the sons of principal Jason D’Autremont.

Saugus has the son of Valencia principal Kullen Welch playing for them, which should make for an interesting game when those two schools play. Beckham Welch is an offensive lineman for the Centurions.

Saugus coach Jason Bornn, who organized the media day, wondered how many championships would be won if the talent in the area was concentrated at one or two schools rather than seven.

“If we only had one or two high schools, Mater Dei and St. John Bosco wouldn’t have a chance,” he said.

Aug. 9 (UPI) — An air quality alert was issued for parts of Southern California because of the effects of the Canyon Fire, fueled by dry brush and extreme heat.

But evacuation orders were canceled and shifted to warnings for thousands of residents in Ventura and Los Angeles counties, CalFire said Saturday.

The wildfire had spread to 5,370 acres and was 48% contained, the state agency said Saturday afternoon. On Friday morning, it was 4,756 acres, but none contained.

The fire ignited on Thursday afternoon in a remote area east of Lake Piru, north of Highway 126 and west of Castaic in Ventura County, and spread to Los Angeles County.

The National Weather Service said the smoke was causing harmful air pollution in parts of Southern California through the weekend.

The South Coast Air Quality Management District issued an air quality alert on Friday night.

The alert is in effect for the Santa Clarita Valley, San Fernando and San Gabriel valleys, and the Inland Empire. It expires Sunday morning for the Santa Clarita Valley and 8 p.m. Saturday for everywhere else.

“Even in areas far from fires or areas not covered by a smoke advisory, if you can smell smoke or see ash from a wildfire, avoid or limit outdoor activities,” the alert read.

People with medical conditions are urged to stay inside with the windows closed.

“Particles in wildfire smoke can get deep into the lungs and cause serious health problems such as heart attacks, strokes, asthma attacks, and difficulty breathing,” the alert reads. “Everyone can be affected, but people with lung or heart disease, older adults, people who are pregnant, children, and those who spend a lot of time outdoors are at greater risk.”

On Friday, the Federal Emergency Management Agency authorized the use of federal funds to help California in battling the Canyon Fire. The state on Thursday sought the funds.

“At the time of the request, the fire was threatening approximately 5,118 homes in and around Hasley Canyon and Val Verde,” FEMA said. “Mandatory evacuations were taking place for approximately 5,000 people. Evacuation warnings are in effect for another 11,000 people.”

FEMA grants provide funds for up to 75% of eligible firefighting costs.

No injuries have been reported and no structures are threatened, CalFire said.

Fighting the fire are 1,148 personnel, 45 engines, seven helicopters, three dozers and nine hand crews.

A firefighter was injured in a rollover crash in a grassy area in the Romero Canyon. The victim was airlifted to a hospital but was alert. Three firefighters also suffered minor injuries and were taken to a local hospital “out of an abundance of caution,” the L.A. Fire Department posted Friday on X.

“Crews worked throughout the night to improve defensive positions and further secure the fire’s perimeter,” CalFire said. “Overnight fire activity was minimal as firefighters worked to continue strengthening existing control lines.”

Firefighters “will continue to enhance, monitor and patrol existing control lines … while providing structure defense for residences in the affected areas,” CalFire said.

Temperatures will be in the mid-90s with relative humidity 19-24% and wind gusts up to 20 mph.

Historically dry vegetation contributes to the ongoing potential for rapid fire growth and significant fire behavior,” CalFire said.

On Friday, firefighters dealt with gusty conditions.

“This afternoon, we’re starting to see the temperatures come back up, we’re seeing winds start to pick up,” Andrew Dowd with Ventura County Fire told KABC-TV. “There’s still a risk here. Fire is still burning, and we’re still going to be incredibly vigilant until we get this fire contained.”

Residents in the Hasley Canyon area of Castaic were thankful the wildfire didn’t reach their homes as flames were visible, and some families didn’t evacuate, instead opting to take care of their animals.

“It’s been a long night just watching the fire,” Castaic resident Geri Aebersold told KABC-TV. “Just watching it coming up right there on that hill. A firefighter said, ‘You’re ok. We got this.'”

Aug. 8 (UPI) — Evacuation orders are in place for five areas in Ventura County, Calif., where the uncontained Canyon fire has now engulfed an area one-third the size of Manhattan.

More than 400 personnel from local, state and federal agencies are fighting the blaze, which remains 0% contained and has forced 2,700 people from their homes, the Ventura County Fire Department said in its latest update.

Some, 700 structures are covered by evacuation order, with about 14,000 more residents in northern Los Angeles County and eastern Ventura County under evacuation alerts because of the fast-moving wildfire.

Two areas in Ventura County are now under evacuation orders, while six zones are the subject evacuation alerts.

The Canyon fire is one of blazes to break out in Southern California in recent days, amid hot and dry conditions. The wildfire consumed more than 1,500 acres Thursday.

Officials expect do not expect help from the weather, with conditions in the area not expected to change in the near-term.

“We’re still expecting hot and dry conditions today. We still have record-low fuel moisture in the area, so we’re not letting our guard up,” Ventura County Fire Department spokesperson Andrew Dowd told reporters Friday morning.

“Yesterday we were seeing significant plume development, we were seeing very rapid fire growth…within certain areas of the fire.”

Temperatures in Ventura County were expected to remain above 70 degrees with mostly sun.

“The issuance of this emergency proclamation is a crucial step in our fight against the Canyon Fire,” Los Angeles County Fire Department Supervisor Kathryn Barger said Friday.

“It allows us to unlock vital state and local resources more quickly and removes barriers that could slow down our first responders. Our priority is to protect lives, homes, and critical infrastructure, and this proclamation will help ensure that we have the tools and support necessary to meet the urgent needs of our communities.”

About 50 to 80 other structures also destroyed as two wildfires burn at or near the Grand Canyon’s North Rim in Arizona.

Wildfires have engulfed a historic lodge, destroying it and dozens of other structures along the Grand Canyon’s North Rim in the state of Arizona in the southwestern United States, park officials say.

Rangers were forced to close access to that part of the Grand Canyon National Park on Sunday. Superintendent Ed Keable said the Grand Canyon Lodge was consumed by flames.

He said a park visitor centre, petrol station, wastewater treatment plant, administrative building and employee housing were also among the 50 to 80 structures lost.

Two wildfires are burning at or near the North Rim. They are known as the White Sage Fire and the Dragon Bravo Fire. The latter is the one that destroyed the lodge and other structures.

Started by lightning on July 4, the Dragon Bravo Fire was initially managed by authorities with a “confine and contain” strategy. However, due to hot temperatures, low humidity and strong winds, it grew to 20 square kilometres (7.8 square miles), fire officials said.

No injuries have been reported so far.

Arizona Governor Katie Hobbs urged the federal government late on Sunday to investigate the National Park Service’s response to the wildfire.

“They must first take aggressive action to end the wildfire and prevent further damage,” she said in a post on X. “But Arizonans deserve answers for how this fire was allowed to decimate the Grand Canyon National Park.”

I am incredibly saddened by the destruction of the historic Grand Canyon Lodge, and my heart goes out to every person impacted by the Dragon Bravo Fire near the Grand Canyon’s North Rim.

Thank you to every firefighter and first responder taking action to combat the flames.

— Governor Katie Hobbs (@GovernorHobbs) July 14, 2025

Millions of people visit the park annually with most going to the South Rim. The North Rim is open seasonally. It was evacuated on Thursday because of the wildfire and will remain closed for the rest of the season, the park said in a statement.

The Grand Canyon Lodge was often the first prominent feature that visitors would see, even before viewing the canyon.

“It just feels like you’re a pioneer when you walk through [the lodge],” said Tim Allen, an Arizona resident and yearly visitor to the Grand Canyon. “It really felt like you were in a time gone by.”

Caren Carney, another visitor to the park evacuated with her family, said she was heartbroken to hear that such a “magical place” had burned down.

Firefighters at the North Rim and hikers in the inner canyon were also evacuated on Saturday and Sunday. The park said that beside the fire risk, they could also potentially be exposed to chlorine gas after the treatment plant burned.

Aramark, the company that operated the lodge, said all employees and guests were safely evacuated. “As stewards of some of our country’s most beloved national treasures, we are devastated by the loss,” spokesperson Debbie Albert said.

One of the greatest wonders of the natural world, the Grand Canyon is the result of the Colorado River eating away at layers of red sandstone and other rock for millions of years, leaving a gash up to 30km (18 miles) wide and more than 1.6km (1 mile) deep.

Last year, almost five million people visited the site.

July 13 (UPI) — Two wildfires burning near the Grand Canyon have scorched more than 45,000 acres of tinder dry brush and vegetation and prompted evacuation orders for the Kaibab National Forest and north to the Utah border.

The Bureau of Land Management is coordinating with Coconino County fire officials on the evacuations of hundreds of people. Both fires continue to burn out of control and are 0% contained, officials said. Nearly 600 crews have been assigned to battle the fires.

At least 500 visitors were also evacuated from public park areas in the North Rim where the fires are burning.

The White Sage Fire has burned more than 40,000 acres near the canyon’s North Rim while the Dragon Bravo Fire has burned more than 5,000 acres, state and federal fire officials reported Sunday.

Lighting from rogue thunderstorms sparked the White Sage Fire, which spread quickly among pinyon pine and juniper trees, fanned by gusty winds and low humidity.

“On the ground resources are now focusing on a full suppression strategy to protect structures in the North Rim developed area,” Grand Canyon Park officials said on InciWeb.

Steep and rugged terrain creates a challenge for firefighters trying to reach the blazes and dry weather continues to pose challenges and a threat for the fires to spread further.

Park officials have said the closures are expected to last until Aug. 9 or until the fires are contained.

On a recent walk through the charred and twisted remains and scraped-flat plateau of the Pacific Palisades, local historian Randy Young paused a couple of hundred yards into the mouth of Temescal Canyon, above Sunset Boulevard, to let the eerie randomness of the January flames sink in. So much was erased in so little time, leaving the lasting impression, whether from afar or close-up, of a wasteland — a place almost wiped off the map.

But here, in the narrows of the canyon, where Temescal Creek tickled the roots of sycamores and cooled the air beneath the heavy branches of valley oaks, Young lighted up with the enthusiasm of an amateur botanist.

“The oak trees took all of the fire’s embers. They caught them like catcher’s mitts,” said Young, who grew up in adjacent Rustic Canyon and until recently lived in a Palisades apartment near Temescal.

The 1920s Chautauqua Conference Grounds in what became Pacific Palisades included a grocery and meat market.

(Pacific Palisades Historical Society)

Those trees, and the green (and thus less flammable) edges of the creek, helped to save a row of small, wooden cottages and a cluster of wood-shingled, pitched-roof buildings that were the remains of the 77-acre Chautauqua Assembly Camp, once the thriving nucleus of a 1920s effort to shape the Palisades as a spiritual and intellectual lodestar on the California Coast. The Chautauqua movement — founded in 1874 at Lake Chautauqua, N.Y., to better train Sunday-school teachers — swept the country in the late 19th century, blossoming into a network of assemblies drawing rural and working-class Americans hungry for education, culture and social progress. While short-lived, the local camp would form the blueprint for Pacific Palisades to this day.

Young, who has co-written books about the Palisades and its surrounding communities, stepped onto the short boardwalk fronting a modest wooden structure. “This was the grocery store and meat market,” he noted. Rounding the slope at the back, he pointed to an old Adirondack-style dining hall — now called Cheadle Hall but originally Woodland Hall — its simple post-and-beam and wood wainscoting preserved from the early 1920s. He also spoke of what had been lost over the decades: Across the glade had stood a barnlike, three-tiered auditorium. Nearby, he said, had been a log-cabin library. Up and down the canyon were dozens of river-rock cottages and timbered casitas, and 200 canvas tents raised on wooden platforms.

South of Sunset Boulevard (then known as Marquez Road), on a site that now includes Palisades Charter High School, was the Institute Camp, containing an amphitheater carved out of a natural bowl, where thousands of summertime campers would hear the likes of Leo Tolstoy’s son, Illya, speaking on “The True Russia,” or Bakersfield-born Lawrence Tibbett, who would become one of the country’s greatest baritones, perform selections from his Metropolitan Opera repertoire. The Institute Camp also housed the Founders Oak, a tree that marked the site of the community’s 1922 founding ceremony, and lots for independent groups, like the WE Boys and Jesus our Companion (J.O.C.), Methodist-affiliated clubs who made a former Mission Revival home into the Aldersgate Lodge (925 Haverford Ave.) in 1928.

A 1922 Thanksgiving gathering fills rows of the since-destroyed amphitheater set under oaks and sycamores in Temescal Canyon.

(Pacific Palisades Historical Society)

In the sylvan canyon, the Palisades Chautauqua offered a bewildering array of ways to lift oneself up: hiking and calisthenics, elocution and oratory, homemaking and child psychology, music, history, politics, literature and theater. Tinged with piety, these were, in their own words, “high class, jazz-free resort facilities.”

The official dedication of the Palisades Chautauqua on Aug. 6, 1922, would be the last of its kind in the country. It was spearheaded by Rev. Charles Holmes Scott, a Methodist minister and educational reformer who dreamed of creating the “Chautauqua of the West.” The influence of the movement was so central to the Palisades’ identity that in 1926, one of its main thoroughfares — Chautauqua Boulevard — was named in its honor.

Scott, inspired by the Chautauqua tradition’s ideals of self-transformation, envisioned Pacific Palisades as a place where character would matter more than commerce. “Banks and railroads and money is always with us. But the character and integrity of our men and women is something money cannot buy. We will prove the worth of man,” Scott declared. Residents signed 99-year leases to ensure the community’s cooperative nature. The leasehold model was also meant to prevent speculation, fund cultural facilities and events, and uphold moral standards. Alcohol, billboards and architectural extravagance were all prohibited — as was, alas, anyone who wasn’t Protestant or white.

The Palisades Assn., under Scott’s guidance, purchased nearly 2,000 acres of mesa, foothills and coastline. Pasadena landscape architect Clarence Day drew up the first plans, establishing a new axis, Via de la Paz, or Way of Peace, eventually home to Pacific Palisades United Methodist Community Church (1930) and terminating at a neoclassical, Napoleonic-scaled Peace Temple, atop Peace Hill. He laid out two tracts: Founders Tract I, a tight-knit grid of streets (now known as the Alphabet Streets) for modest homes above Sunset Boulevard, and the curving Founders Tract II, closer to the coast with larger lots for more affluent residents.

Soon after, Day was replaced by the renowned Olmsted Brothers, who refined the layout to follow natural contours, planted thousands of trees and designed a stately civic center in which they wanted to include a library, hotel, lake, a park with a concert grove and a far larger, permanent auditorium. Only one major element of that center was realized: Clifton Nourse’s Churrigueresque-style Business Block building at Swarthmore and Sunset, completed in 1924.

Residents gather on Peace Hill on Easter Sunday in 1922.

(Pacific Palisades Historical Society)

By the end of 1923, it seemed as if the Palisades was destined to become a boom town, with 1,725 people making down payments totaling more than $1.5 million on 99-year renewable leases. In early 1924, demand slumped, never to revive. To preserve the dream, in 1926 Scott abandoned the lease-only model and began selling lots. That same year the association borrowed heavily to purchase 226 more ocean-view acres from the estate of railway magnate Collis P. Huntington, installing underground utilities and ornamental street lighting in an area that would become known as the Huntington Palisades. Debt soared from $800,000 in 1925 to $3.5 million by the end of 1926.

As the 1929 stock market crash hit and revenue dried up in the Great Depression, the association collapsed. Its assets were sold off. Grand plans, like the Civic Center and the Peace Temple, were abandoned. The dream withered.

“There wasn’t a moment where they said ‘we’re stopping,’” Young said. “It just sort of petered out.”

Yet fragments endured, stubbornly. In 1943, the Presbyterian Synod purchased the Chautauqua site and operated it as a retreat. In the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, local activists fought off a plan to extend Reseda Boulevard right through Temescal Canyon (though buildings like the library and assembly hall had already been torn down in anticipation of the roadway). In 1994, the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy acquired the land. Today, it survives as the city-run Temescal Gateway Park, its board-and-batten cabins and rustic halls weathered but largely intact.

The Business Block — since January a fire-blackened shell awaiting its undetermined fate — narrowly escaped demolition in the 1980s when a developer proposed replacing it with a concrete and glass mall. A preservationist campaign under the slogan “Don’t Mall the Palisades” saved the structure.

But by then, the character of the Palisades had begun to shift. Faint echoes of the quiet, rustic past remained, but modest bungalows had given way to mansions. The artists, radicals and missionaries were largely gone.

“It’s not Chautauqua anymore — it’s Château Taco Bell,” Young quipped, of much of the area’s soulless new built forms.

Today, thanks to the fire’s brutality, the original Chautauqua sites offer something unusual: a landscape where past and present momentarily coexist. Slate roofs held firm. Ancient oak groves performed better than modern landscaping. For Young, the fires stripped away modern gloss to reveal what continues to matter.

“When you go through a fire,” he said, “you get down to the basics.” He added: “The fires brought us back to 1928.”

Pacific Palisades is one of a long list of failed California utopias. Like Llano del Rio, the socialist settlement in the Antelope Valley, or the Kaweah Colony, a cooperative in the Sierra foothills, it was a high-minded gamble dashed on the shoals of capitalism and human nature. The idealistic outpost lingers, etched into the land, embossed in the Palisades’ deeper memory. The dream may no longer be intact, but its traces are still legible.

Brendan Yates says he’s learned innumerable things fronting his band Turnstile over the last decade and a half, not the least of which is that an ambitious musician needn’t move to Los Angeles or New York to make it.

“There’s nothing we haven’t been able to figure out living in Baltimore,” Yates says, and Turnstile’s success suggests he’s right: In 2021, the band — which spent the 2010s steadily rising through the East Coast hardcore scene — scored three Grammy nominations with its breakout album, “Glow On,” a set of fervent yet luscious punk jams laced with bits of funk, dream-pop and electronic dance music. The next year, Turnstile toured arenas as an opening act for My Chemical Romance then did the same for Blink-182. At April’s Coachella festival, Charli XCX ended her main-stage performance with a video message predicting a “Turnstile Summer.”

Even so, the proud Charm City quintet — Yates on vocals along with guitarists Pat McCrory and Meg Mills, bassist Franz Lyons and drummer Daniel Fang — did come to L.A. to record its new follow-up LP, “Never Enough,” setting up a studio in a rented mansion in Laurel Canyon where the band camped out for more than a month.

“We were looking for the experience where you kind of isolate a little bit, and Laurel Canyon has this tucked-away thing,” says Yates, who led the sessions as the album’s producer. “It was such a vibe.” The result extends “Glow On’s” adventurous spirit with sensual R&B grooves, guest appearances by Paramore’s Hayley Williams and Blood Orange’s Dev Hynes, even a flute solo by the British jazz star Shabaka Hutchings; “Never Enough” comes accompanied by a short film that just premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival and will screen in selected theaters this weekend.

Yates, 35, discussed the album over coffee last month in Silver Lake, a few days after Turnstile played a rowdy gig at L.A.’s Ukrainian Culture Center that featured an endless succession of stage-diving fans.

Who did the cooking while you were recording in the house?

We had a couple friends come in and cook meals. And we kept the fridge stocked. “What are we gonna eat?” — you can lose hours out of every day to that.

What’s the advantage of making a record the way you did?

You can kind of break away from normal life for a little bit and just exist in the music. You’re not going to the studio but thinking, “I’ve got to go to the grocery store later.” You wake up, have your little peaceful time in the morning before you get started, then just go right into the living room. We didn’t really need to leave the house for weeks at a time.

In a recent New York Times profile, the writer referred to you as Turnstile’s “workaholic frontman.” A fair characterization?

I wouldn’t describe myself that way, but I understand the sentiment. I’m in a band with people I grew up with — my closest friends — and we’re really passionate about what we’re doing. I give myself to it, but it never feels like work. When I was younger, I always separated music and real life. I thought of music as the thing that I love and real life as going to school and hating it. Even when I went to university, I was like, I’m not gonna do music.

You wanted to protect music from the strictures of school.

I guess so. I was doing these majors that I had no interest in. I started with kinesiology until I realized I suck at science and math. I switched to criminal justice, then I was like, “Wait, what am I doing?” Honestly, I think I was just looking for whatever major I could mentally check out on the most to make more space for music.

Did you graduate?

I left early because I wasn’t interested and I wasn’t doing well, and I got the opportunity to tour with this band that I played drums in. Eventually, years later, I went back and got a communications degree online.

Why?

I ask myself the same question all the time. One thing is, I’d started and I wanted to finish it. I probably wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t for remote schooling. I never went back into the classroom — I was in the back of the van writing essays.

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Did you get tickets to the Turnstile show in L.A. last night?

Does 35 feel old in hardcore years?

It would have seemed ancient to me as a 16-year-old. Never in my wildest dreams would I think at 35 that I’d be doing the same things I was hyped on doing when I was in high school. But I feel like age is a bit of an illusion. When you’re 12, you’re like, “I’m definitely gonna be married by 18 and have my first kid at 19.”

Certain aspects of aging are less illusory, right? Physical sturdiness, for example. How does that compare to 10 years ago?

I remember playing shows 10 years ago, and I had two knee braces on. At that time, I was just like, “This is what it is — here on out, this is what my knees are doing.”

You’re saying in fact you’re sturdier now.

What I figured out — look, I’m not a singer. Earlier on in playing shows, I’d throw the mic down and just jump into the crowd, mostly because of nerves and adrenaline.

Feels important to say that you’re definitely a singer.

I sing, but I wouldn’t call myself a singer. I’ve never done vocal lessons. Even forming the band, at that time everyone was like, “OK, we’ve got this band, but we should start one where you’re on the drums.” This band was literally: “Let’s do one on the side where I’m singing and you should get on guitar. Franz, you’ve never played bass, but you should play bass in this one.” Then you wake up 10 years later and — oh, shoot — this is the one we’ve put a lot into.

Turnstile, from left: Daniel Fang, Franz Lyons, Brendan Yates, Meg Mills and Pat McCrory.

(Atiba Jefferson)

For every fan of Turnstile, you’ve got someone accusing you of ruining hardcore. Ever hear a critique that actually stung?

I have no interest in having any dialogue about anyone’s opinion about anything that I’m doing.

I appreciate the definitiveness of that.

It just doesn’t matter.

Whose praise has been especially meaningful? There’s a great viral TikTok of James Hetfield and Rob Halford digging your set at some festival.

We’ve had so many cool moments like that — just like, “How is this real?” Obviously, getting to meet your childhood heroes is huge. But then there’s also the people you build relationships with and end up in the studio together — Dev or our friend Mary Jane Dunphe. You realize: These are actually my favorite people making music right now.

Notwithstanding your view on the opinions of others, what’s a moment on this album that feels creatively risky?

In the first single [“Never Enough”], after the band drops out, there’s like two minutes of just this synth chord. There was very much a conversation: “Is this too long? Should we shorten it?” And I’m sure there’s plenty of people where it might just be white noise to them — like, “Skip — I don’t need this.” But I feel like with this album there’s this intention to force yourself to sit with the chaotic moments and then sit with the very still moments and kind of have that relationship going back and forth. I think those moments of stillness are very connected to the film — you’ll kind of see how it all works together and why those moments are necessary. Our dream scenario would be that people’s first time hearing the album, they’re watching it with the film.

Someone says to you, “I didn’t really get the album until I saw the film” — that’s OK by you?

I would love that.

Who opened the door to the idea that you could make a movie?

The last album, we did a four-song EP [“Turnstile Love Connection”] that came with a video. I’d called my friend Ian [Hurdle], who’s the DP, and I was like, “Hey, I have an idea: We do this video, and it does all this and it’s about 10 or 11 minutes with these four songs.” I told him the whole idea, and then I asked him, “So who should we get to direct it?” He goes, “It sounds like you’re directing it.” I was like, “I guess you’re right.” I mean, I’m not a director.

You’ve now called yourself not a singer and not a director.

On paper, I don’t have any experience. The only thing I have experience in is really being excited about trying to make something work. But that video was a huge learning experience — the idea of, like, OK, this is possible.

There’s a rainbow color pattern that recurs throughout the new album’s videos. You’re using it as a live backdrop too. What’s it mean?

There’s a lot in the album that maybe ties into those colors. The record cover itself is a double rainbow. We were in Paris playing shows like a year and a half ago. We were walking around and it started raining while the sun was out. We’re like, “Yo, look” — there was this double rainbow. My friend snapped a photo, and that’s the album cover. Maybe there’s interpretations of that on a spiritual level — new beginnings or a transformation or openings to a different dimension.

Daniel Fang, Pat McCrory, Franz Lyons and Brendan Yates of Turnstile attend the 65th Grammy Awards in 2023.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

The album cover is very subtle. You could easily look at it and just see blue.

That was brought to me — how intangible the cover is. But that’s the point: I don’t want vibrant rainbows. I want it to almost feel like nothingness. A small speck in a vast universe is kind of the feeling that was going into the music. The blue too — in the film, there’s lots of ties to water and the vastness of the ocean.

Very Malibu of you.

I mean, side note: I drowned like 10 years ago in the ocean. I was saved by some locals — this was on a big surfer beach in Hawaii. This is not necessarily what the album is about, but more just like a thought process. What’s always fascinated me about the ocean is its power and how small I felt in that moment as I was passing out. And I truly did pass out — saw the white light and everything. Just how fast that could happen and how small I could feel put things into perspective in a different way.

OK, few more for you: One thing you guys have sort of crept up to but not quite done yet is a full-on ballad.

The final song on the new record [“Magic Man”] is literally just me and a Juno [synthesizer] in my room. In some ways it’s uncomfortable, but simultaneously it felt like it needed to happen. I needed to sing that.

You don’t drink. Does that have to do with your upbringing? Is it connected to a hardcore or straight-edge ideology?

Maybe experience seeing things when you’re younger that can lead you in a different way? But, I mean, getting into hardcore, finding out about straight-edge and stuff — I felt a little more comfortable in my own skin, not needing to drink. I like to make sure it’s never from a place of being stubborn, where I’m just like, “I don’t drink because I made up this idea in my head that I’m not going to drink.” I don’t think that’s a good way to be about anything in life.

Turnstile at the Ukrainian Culture Center.

(Eric Thayer / For The Times)

If you were starting the band now, would you still put your website at turnstilehardcore.com?

Probably. At the time, turnstile.com was taken. I feel like that was such a cool time, where every band’s MySpace or Twitter, it was the band’s name plus “HC.” That was such a time stamp. But yeah — hardcore music is what we all grew up in. It was like the funnel for us to find ourselves through a music scene and a culture and a community.

What feels outside the window of possibility for Turnstile? “We’ll never write a country song,” or “We’ll never play a cruise.”

We’ve done so many things that were outside our comfort zone. We did some arena shows, and that was such a cool learning experience — how to connect to someone who’s 100 yards away, sitting down in a chair, versus a kid that’s onstage with you. That show in L.A. the other night was like the ideal for us, where the stage is low and it’s this intimate room. But then I had so many close friends who couldn’t get in.

You could see the show as Turnstile keeping it real or as Turnstile indulging itself.

In a way, it made us inaccessible.

I look forward to the Turnstile Cruise in 2028.

It’s been offered. It’s never made sense. My first question is: What does the show feel like? Is it more about people going on a boat just to day-drink and throw up while we’re playing? Or can you figure out a way to make it an actual thing? I don’t know — it’s not off the table. But I’ve never been on a cruise in my life.

You’ve accurately sussed the vibe.

I’ve seen the pictures.

Standing near the ledge of a magnificent canyon in Utah’s Dead Horse Point State Park in the hours before sunset, my fiancée Gia and I looked each other in the eyes as we read our vows. But our officiant was nowhere in sight.

That’s because she was darting around the rocks, seeking the perfect angle to capture the moment with her camera. We hired Aimée Flynn as our photographer, but she became our officiant as well. She was also our location scout, wedding planner and even our tour guide. On the short hike to our ceremony spot, she told us about the park’s flora and fauna and how “Thelma and Louise” was filmed at a spot below where we stood.

For Flynn, it’s all part of her job as an elopement adventure photographer. Those who pursue this style of specialized wedding photography forgo old-school events for unique adventures, guiding couples through the most intimate ceremonies in nature’s most spectacular settings. Flynn, who’s based in Flagstaff, Ariz., photographed one couple embraced in a Spider-Man-style kiss while climbing on sheer rock face in Moab and another under the moonlight at Yosemite’s Glacier Point after a middle-of-the-night hike in total isolation.

Aimée Flynn goes to great lengths — and heights — to get the shot.

(Aimée Flynn Photo)

Elopement adventure photography was born in earnest 10 years ago, pioneered by Maddie Mae, a wedding photographer who’d grown disillusioned with traditional weddings. “There was a lot of discontentment from people feeling pressure to do things they didn’t want, like the garter toss, or who had family members trying to make the event about them,” recalls Maddie Mae, who goes by one name. “Eighty percent seemed like they just wanted it to be over with.”

There were already photographers taking couples out in gorgeous outdoor settings, but “I didn’t see anyone offering a full-day experience treated with the same importance as a big wedding,” Maddie Mae says.

Maddie Mae changed the game — her elopement adventures took people wherever they wanted to go, giving them permission to have whatever kind of ceremony they desired. When she shot her first elopement in Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park, she was transformed. All the traditional wedding details were stripped away: There was no venue, no decor, no distracting crowd, no strict timeline. Just two people committing their lives to each other in nature, which she calls “the most sacred of sanctuaries.”

“It was the first time I’d seen a couple where they were fully present in their eyes the entire day,” Maddie Mae says. “It was the purest form of a wedding.”

Other photographers followed in Maddie Mae’s footsteps, especially after she began leading workshops on elopement adventures; the three other photographers I interviewed for this piece, Flynn, Traci Edwards and Karen Agurto, all took her courses.

Karen Agurto photographed a couple in the Lava Tube at the Mojave National Preserve in the Mojave Desert.

(Karen Agurto Photography)

Elopement adventures remained a “very niche” field until the COVID-19 pandemic, Flynn says. “People couldn’t have their big weddings but still wanted to get married.” (Maddie Mae received 284 inquiries in May 2020 alone.)

The photographers emphasize that their job involves much more than taking beautiful pictures. “These couples are rejecting the default template, which opens this world of possibilities,” Maddie Mae says. “But then they wonder, ‘Where do we go, what do we do, how can we make this ours?’ Elopement photographers are experience creators.”

Traci Edwards captured an elopement at Yosemite National Park.

(Traci Edwards / Adventure + Vow)

Maddie Mae photographed a couple who kayaked and said their vows on an Alaskan glacier.

(Maddie Mae / Adventure Instead)

For starters, the photographers double as trip planners. Sometimes, Agurto, who’s based in Orange County and shoots entirely in California, says she has some blanket recommendations — no Death Valley in the summer or Big Sur during mudslide season, for instance — but each couple is different. Some have clear visions for their adventure while others are more open. Edwards, similarly, has seen all sorts of requests, from a couple who would go anywhere in the desert under a night sky (she chose Joshua Tree) to one who wanted to be photographed on a specific 11-mile hike in Washington. She encourages couples to choose a place that “matches their relationship.” During the elopements, her husband Bill takes photos via drone and shoots video.

(Maddie Mae, who is in a different echelon in terms of pricing and clientele, has photographed elopements in more than 20 countries, including at the Dolomites in Italy, the deserts in Namibia and glaciers in Iceland. She says at this point in her career, clients often give her free rein.)

My fiancée and I knew we wanted to get married somewhere beautiful in a location new to both of us, and we found Flynn after searching online. We had originally planned for Canyonlands rather than Dead Horse Point — not because of the unromantic name but because we’d never heard of it. But Flynn explained that the national park had more restrictions and less privacy while Dead Horse offered equally monumental vistas.

She educated us about the pros and cons of sunrise versus sunset shoots (we chose sunset), recommended hair stylists and makeup artists for Gia, made restaurant suggestions and encouraged my idea of a kayaking trip on the Colorado River the day after our wedding as a nice contrast with our hikes in Canyonlands and Arches the two days before the ceremony. (Quick aside: We found lodging on our own. If you’re heading to Moab, definitely go to Red Moon Lodge, which features cozy rooms that open onto majestic views, a garden, a pond and an outdoor space where one of the co-owners, Danny, teaches yoga classes.)

Aimée Flynn left her former career as a therapist and started chasing what she calls “peak existence on top of the world moments.”

(Aimée Flynn Photo)

Flynn says communication is crucial, which keeps couples calm if things go awry. The photographers build flex time into their schedule so if bad weather looms, they can shift ceremony timing by a few hours or even a day.

Another must is a bag of emergency provisions, in case they have to save the day. Agurto’s bag includes hairspray, Band-Aids and Tylenol; Flynn’s has safety pins, blankets, clear umbrellas and eyelash glue (“when people are hiking, their eyelashes can come undone”); and Edwards says snacks are a critical item (she witnessed one person almost pass out in a remote area), as is a sewing kit (“I’ve sewn several brides back into their dresses after a zipper broke or sleeve ripped on the trail,” she says).

Above all, the photographers prioritize creating emotional connections as much as capturing epic pictures. “With AI, you could fake these photos, but the people who hire elopement adventure photographers want the full experience,” says Flynn.

Maddie Mae has photographed couples on all seven continents.

(Maddie Mae / Adventure Instead)

At ceremony time, Agurto, who used to teach yoga, starts her couples off by asking them to close their eyes and do a breathing exercise. “I want to calm them and get them in the moment,” she says. (We adopted that idea and it helped us savor the experience.) The photographers also make sure to give couples as much privacy as needed — that’s what zoom lenses are for, Flynn notes, while Agurto adds that she offers to wear headphones during the vows.

After exchanging vows and rings, Gia and I sipped prosecco, ate brownies and danced to Langhorne Slim’s “House of My Soul,” while Flynn continued shooting (taking a break only to share some bubbly), sometimes asking for specific poses but mostly letting us be.

And while the ceremony is obviously the emotional centerpiece, the day doesn’t end there. For us, the rest of the evening was almost as memorable, a mix of jaw-dropping beauty and carefree fun. Flynn took us to different spots for more photos as the sun was setting. Then she took out lanterns for us to pose with in the moonlight. Flynn’s infectious enthusiasm made us feel like models or movie stars on a photo shoot. (Enhancing that feeling was the way people reacted when they saw us hiking in formal wedding attire and boots.)

Later still, we drove to Arches National Park, with Flynn enjoying her work so much she went well beyond the four-hour window we had hired her for.

The evening ended with Gia and I standing beneath North Window Arch, illuminated by the nearly full moon, with a sky full of stars behind us. It was as romantic and as visually stunning as it sounds. Because Flynn does her job so well, we were able to fully relax into the moment, trusting that we would have both our memories and exquisite photos to preserve this day forever.

The author and his wife Gia under the stars in Arches National Park.

(Aimée Flynn Photo)