hike

The cost of a standard TV Licence rose this year, with the Government increasing the price to £174.50 in April

The cost of the standard TV Licence has seen a hike for many this year, with the Government jacking up the price to £174.50 in April. This annual fee is typically mandatory for households or businesses that watch live TV or use BBC iPlayer.

However, it might come as a surprise that certain people could be eligible for a free or discounted licence under specific conditions. These reductions could also apply to those with black-and-white TVs, which usually incur a yearly cost of £58.50 under the licence scheme.

Government guidance suggests that it’s primarily people over 75 years old who receive Pension Credit who can bag a free TV Licence. The same applies if you live with a partner who receives Pension Credit, as the licence covers everyone at a particular address.

It’s crucial to make clear that Pension Credit is different from the State Pension. It refers to a means-tested benefit for people over State Pension age on a low income, topping up weekly income to £227.10 if you’re single or £346.60 with a partner.

Those claiming Pension Credit can apply for a free TV Licence when they turn 74, but will still need to cough up until the end of the month before their 75th birthday. After this point, they will be covered by the free licence, according to the Express.

Additionally, the Government states that anyone who is blind or in residential care can apply for a discounted TV Licence. To be eligible for the residential care home discount, a person must be either retired and over 60 or disabled.

For those who are eligible, the TV Licence cost plummets to just £7.50. Housing managers at residential care homes can also make applications on behalf of residents.

Furthermore, anyone who is registered blind or lives with someone who is can get a 50% reduction on their TV Licence. This slashes the price of a colour licence to £87.25.

Government guidance explains: “The licence must be in the blind person’s name – if it’s not, you can make a new application to transfer it into their name. You’ll need to provide your existing TV Licence number when you apply.”

People over 75 who receive Pension Credit can apply for a free licence online or by telephone. The Government’s official numbers for this are 0300 790 6071 (telephone) and 0300 709 6050 (minicom).

Others who are registered blind can apply for a licence on the TV Licensing website. For more information, head to GOV.UK or the official TV Licensing website.

Why did the licence fee change?

Last year, the Secretary of State announced a 2.9% price rise, coming into force from April 1 2025, in line with annual CPI inflation.

The official TV Licensing site confirms this represented an increase of slightly more than 1p daily and marks only the second licence fee rise since April 1 2021.

The change has seen the annual colour licence fee rise to £174.50, while the black and white licence fee now stands at £58.50 per annum. Future increases in the licence fee will be tied to CPI inflation for the next four years, ending in 2027.

Now, according to a fresh Mirror report, several newspapers have speculated that the annual cost could reach £182 next year. However, the Department for Culture, Media and Sport reportedly told Sky Money: “No final decision has yet been made on the exact level of next year’s licence fee. We will set this out in due course.”

About a week ago, I was chatting with friends at a gathering when I realized I had before me a diverse range of political ideologies. “How are you guys voting on Prop 50?” I asked.

I received a range of answers, including folks who wanted more information before casting their ballot and those who remained conflicted. As a journalist, I don’t share how I vote on, well, anything, and I also don’t tell people how they should vote. But I want to encourage you to vote.

If you, like my friends, remain conflicted or want more information, what better way to work those feelings out than out on the trail? Using a strategy known as temptation bundling — where you pair something you enjoy with something you’re perhaps procrastinating — you could download a few political podcasts beforehand and listen as you hike (leaving one earbud out) or invite a few pals and talk out your thoughts on Prop 50 as you hike along.

Here you’ll find three great hiking areas near ballot drop boxes. We aren’t forced to vote in one specific place here in L.A. County, so let’s take full advantage of that.

The Glendale Sports Complex and Verdugo Mountains from the Catalina Verdugo Trail.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

1. Area around the Glendale Sports Complex

Ballot drop-off point: Glendale Adult Sports Office

Hikers have a few options when adventuring around the Glendale Sports Complex, including the 2-mile Catalina Verdugo Trail loop. This trail leads hikers through the San Rafael Hills around the Glendale Sports Complex. It’s not an escape from urban life, but it is well-maintained and has much to appreciate, including native trees like laurel sumac, lemonade berry, oak trees, toyon and ceanothus. You can run your fingers through the zesty California sagebrush as you consider your podcast’s or friend’s points on our current political dynamic.

At 1.25 miles on the trail, you have the choice to continue up to the Ridge Motorway, or you can go down .7 of a mile back via the Catalina Verdugo Trail. The Ridge Motorway continues upward, offering ocean views, before connecting with the Descanso Motorway and several other trails.

The accessible alternative is the Mountain Do Trail that runs around the border of the sports fields. You can extend your journey beyond the Mountain Do Trail, which I drew out via CalTopo here. It’s overall a wide path with a gentle slope and a few picnic tables where it’d be nice to take a break and consider how to complete your ballot.

Native California wildflowers in the scenic Alta Vicente Reserve in spring 2024.

(Kendra Frankle / For The Times)

2. Palos Verdes Nature Preserve

Ballot drop box location: Rancho Palos Verdes City Hall

The Palos Verdes Nature Preserve is actually 15 individual preserves totaling about 1,500 acres. That includes the Alta Vicente Reserve, 55 acres around and below Rancho Palos Verdes City Hall where a ballot drop box is located.

The Alta Vicente Reserve features a few different trails that can be turned into a 2-mile loop. If you want to further your adventure, you can hit one of the trails that remains open despite landslides. Regardless, you’ll be treated to gorgeous ocean views, a sight that always helps me think.

Those seeking an accessible option can take the Seascape Trail and see the Point Vicente Lighthouse or try the Terranea Beach Trail.

After hiking and voting, you can also visit the Point Vicente Interpretive Center to learn about local flora and fauna. It is open daily and also features a fun gift shop.

Visitors to Vasquez Rocks Natural Area walk up the photogenic rock formation.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

3. Vasquez Rocks Natural Area and Nature Center

Ballot drop box location: Vasquez Rocks Natural Area and Nature Center

Vasquez Rocks Natural Area is one of those places you can visit over and over, and keep seeing something new. I enjoy taking the Apwinga Loop Trail, a 3.4-mile trek where you’ll pass massive pancake-like rock formations along with the park’s appropriately named “Famous Rocks.” This trail connects with others in the park, including the Bobcat Trail, Tokupar Ridgetop Trail or the Pacific Crest Trail as it descends into the canyon.

The Juniper Meadow Walking Loop is about a half mile and is an accessible loop. Its trailhead is near the parking lot where visitors can see the park’s iconic geography. Hopefully, the high desert atmosphere provides you with ample time and space to consider the choice you’d like to make on your ballot!

The good news is, if these trails aren’t calling to you, there are voting centers and ballot drop boxes all over L.A. County. It doesn’t matter where you go — just that you vote!

3 things to do

Gladys Samuel, from Long Island, N.Y., visits the community altar at Grand Park in downtown Los Angeles. Grand Park pays tribute to the cultural tradition of Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, every year.

(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)

1. Observe Day of the Dead around L.A.
Several local parks are hosting Día de los Muertos events, including from 3 to 7 p.m. Sunday at Grand Park. The event, titled Noche de los Muertos, is a closing ceremony that will feature music, dancing, lanterns and a community mercado. Nature for All and other local groups will host a Día de los Muertos event from 1 to 3 p.m. Saturday at Marson Park in Panorama City. Participants can help build a community altar and design mini paper altars. San Gabriel River Park will host its Día de los Muertos event from 10 a.m. to noon Saturday. Learn more about additional park Day of the Dead events at L.A. County Park’s Instagram page.

2. Hike with an almost full moon in L.A.
The Sierra Club Angeles Chapter will host a 5-mile moderate hike from 7 to 9:30 p.m. Saturday through Griffith Park. Guests should arrive by 6:45 p.m., allowing for extra time because of the park’s Haunted Hay Ride. For additional details and to sign up, visit meetup.com.

3. Do the most for the least tern in Huntington Beach
OC Habitats, a local conservation nonprofit, will host a dune preservation work day at 8:30 a.m. Wednesday at Huntington State Beach. Volunteers will pick up trash and remove invasive species to help improve the nesting habitat of the endangered California least tern. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

I am terrified to report that it’s tarantula mating season, meaning these eight-legged furry residents will be far easier to spot on the trails. Times staff writer Lila Seidman wrote — in a story I was almost too scared to read — that in California, “October is typically a prime mating month for the bulky, hirsute spiders. Natural cues are key, with autumn’s initial precipitation generally triggering the march. Experts suspect males are following pheromones to hunkered-down females.” Although I will never personally find out, some parts of the tarantula feel almost like sable fur, Seidman wrote. “They’re soft like kitties,” said Lisa Gonzalez, program manager of invertebrate living collections at the county Natural History Museum.

I will take my chances trying to pet the fuzzy tummies of my actual cats because, regardless of how reasonable it is, their fangs scare me less! (I am much less of a wiener when it comes to literally any other spider — judge me not!)

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

If like me, you’ve never been to Big Sur, now is the time for Southern Californians to go. My colleague Christopher Reynolds reports that because Big Sur’s South Coast highway remains closed, there’s a rare window of solitude: “empty beaches, dramatic cliffs and nearly empty trails for six months.” Whaaaaa? Amazing. Let’s take full advantage of this opportunity and support local businesses in the process!

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

US scientist Dr Fred Ramsdell was on the last day of a three-week hike with his wife Laura O’Neill and their two dogs, deep in Montana’s grizzly bear country, when Ms O’Neill suddenly started screaming.

But it was not a predator that had disturbed the quiet of their off-grid holiday: it was a flurry of text messages bearing the news that Dr Ramsdell had won the Nobel Prize for medicine.

Dr Ramsdell, whose phone had been on airplane mode when the Nobel committee tried to call him, told the BBC’s Newshour Programme that his first response when his wife said, “You’ve won the Nobel prize” was: “I did not.”

To which Ms O’Neill replied that she had 200 text messages that suggested he had.

Dr Ramsdell, along with two other scientists, won the prize for their research into how the immune system attacks hostile infections.

The winners share a prize fund worth 11m Swedish kronor (£870,000).

After Ms O’Neill received the messages, the couple drove down to a small town in southern Montana in search of good phone signal.

“By then it was probably three o’clock in the afternoon here, I called the Nobel Committee. Of course they were in bed, because it was probably one o’clock in the morning there,” Dr Ramsell said.

Eventually, the immunologist was able to reach his fellow laureates, friends and officials at the Nobel Assembly – 20 hours after they first tried to reach him.

“So it was an interesting day,” he said.

Dr Thomas Perlmann, the secretary-general of the Nobel Assembly, told the New York Times it was the most difficult attempt to contact a winner since he assumed the role in 2016.

While the committee was trying to reach him, he “was living his best life and was off the grid on a preplanned hiking trip,” a spokesperson for his lab, Sonoma Biotherapeutics, said.

When asked by the BBC whether he thought it might be a trick that his wife might play on him, Dr Ramsdell said: “I have a lot of friends, but they’re not coordinated enough to pull off this joke, not with that many of them at the same time.”

It was the latest incident in an often comic history of laureates learning they had won the prize.

In 2020, economist Paul Milgrom unplugged the phone when the Nobel committee called – in the middle of the night – to tell him he had won the Nobel for economics.

Instead, his co-winner Bob Wilson was forced to walk over to Milgrom’s house, dressed in his pyjamas, and deliver the news through the security camera on his front door.

When a journalist informed the novelist Doris Lessing she had won the 2007 Nobel Prize for literature, she responded: “Oh, Christ.”

New Delhi, India — Meghna Gupta* had planned it all – a master’s degree by 23, a few years of working in India, and then a move to the United States before she turned 30 to eventually settle there.

So, she clocked countless hours at the Hyderabad office of Tata Consultancy Services (TCS), India’s largest IT firm and a driver of the country’s emergence as the global outsourcing powerhouse in the sector. She waited to get to the promotion that would mean a stint on California’s West Coast.

Now, Gupta is 29, and her dreams lie in tatters after US President Donald Trump’s administration upended the H-1B visa programme that tech firms have used for more than three decades to bring skilled workers to the US.

Trump’s decision to increase the fee for the visas from about $2,000, in many cases, to $100,000 has imposed dramatic new costs on companies that sponsor these applications. The base salary an H-1B visa employee is supposed to be paid is $60,000. But the employer’s cost now rises to $160,000 at the minimum, and in many cases, companies will likely find American workers with similar skills for lower pay.

This is the Trump administration’s rationale as it presses US companies to hire local talent amid its larger anti-immigration policies. But for thousands of young people around the world still captivated by the American dream, this is a blow. And nowhere is that more so than in India, the world’s most populous nation, that, despite an economy that is growing faster than most other major nations, has still been bleeding skilled young people to developed nations.

For years, Indian IT companies themselves sponsored the most H-1B visas of all firms, using them to bring Indian employees to the US and then contractually outsourcing their expertise to other businesses, too. This changed: In 2014, seven out of the 10 companies that received the most H-1B visas were Indian or started in India; In 2024, that number dropped to four.

And in the first six months of 2025, Gupta’s TCS was the only Indian company in the top-10 H-1B visa recipients, in a list otherwise dominated by Amazon, Microsoft, Meta and Apple.

But what had not changed until now was the demographic of the workers that even the above US companies hired on H-1B visas. More than 70 percent of all H-1B visas were granted to Indian nationals in 2024, ranging from the tech sector to medicine. Chinese nationals were a distant second, with less than 12 percent.

Now, thousands across India fear that this pathway to the US is being slammed shut.

“It has left me heartbroken,” Gupta told Al Jazeera of Trump’s fee hike.

“All my life, I planned for this; everything circled around this goal for me to move to the US,” said Gupta, who was born and raised in Bageshwar, a town of 10,000 people in the northern Indian state of Uttarakhand.

“The so-called ‘American Dream’ looks like a cruel joke now.”

‘In the hole’

Gupta’s crisis reflects a broader contradiction that defines India today. On the one hand, the country — as Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his government frequently mention — is the world’s fastest-growing major economy.

India today boasts the world’s fourth-largest gross domestic product (GDP), behind just the US, China and Germany, after it passed Japan earlier this year. But the country’s creation of new jobs lags far behind the number of young people who enter its workforce every year, widening its employment gap. India’s biggest cities are creaking under inadequate public infrastructure, potholed roads, traffic snarls and growing income inequality.

The result: Millions like Gupta aspire to a life in the West, picking their career choices, usually in sectors like engineering or medicine, and working to get into hard-fought seats in top colleges – and then migrating. In the last five years, India has witnessed a drastic rise in the outflow of skilled professionals, particularly in STEM fields, who migrate to countries like Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and the US.

As per the Indian government’s data, those numbers rose from 94,145 Indians in 2020 to 348,629 by 2024 — a 270 percent rise.

Trump’s new visa regime could now effectively close the pipeline of those skilled workers into the US. The fee hike comes on the back of a series of tension points in a souring US-India relationship in recent months. New Delhi is also currently facing a steep 50 percent tariff on its exports to the US — half of that for buying Russian crude, which the US says is funding the Kremlin’s war on Ukraine.

Ajay Srivastava, a former Indian trade officer and founder of the Global Trade Research Initiative (GTRI), a Delhi-based think tank, told Al Jazeera that the hardest-hit sectors after the new visa policy will be “the ones that Indian professionals dominate: mid-level IT services jobs, software developers, project managers, and back-end support in finance and healthcare”.

For many of these positions, the new $100,000 fee exceeds an entry-level employee’s annual salary, making sponsorship uneconomical, especially for smaller firms and startups, said Srivastava. “The cost of hiring a foreign worker now exceeds local hiring by a wide margin,” he said, adding that this would shift the hiring calculus of US firms.

“American firms will scout more domestic talent, reserve H-1Bs for only the hardest-to-fill specialist roles, and push routine work offshore to India or other hubs,” said Srivastava.

“The market has already priced in this pivot,” he said, citing the fall of Indian stock markets since Trump’s announcement, “as investors brace for shrinking US hiring”.

Indian STEM graduates and students, he said, “have to rethink US career plans altogether”.

To Sudhanshu Kaushik, founder of the North American Association of Indian Students, a body with members across 120 universities, the Trump administration’s “motive is to create panic and distress among H-1B visa holders and other immigrant visa holders”.

“To remind them that they don’t belong,” Kaushik told Al Jazeera. “And at any time, at any whim, the possibility of remaining in the United States can become incredibly difficult and excruciatingly impossible.”

The announcement came soon after the start of the new academic session, when many international students – including from India, which sends the largest cohort of foreign students to the US – have begun classes.

Typically, a large chunk of such students stay back in the US for work after graduating. An analysis of the National Survey of College Graduates suggests that 41 percent of international students who graduated between 2012 and 2020 were still in the US in 2021. For PhD holders, that figure jumps to 75 percent.

But Kaushik said he has received more than 80 queries on their hotline for students now worried about what the future holds.

“They know that they’re already in the hole,” he said, referring to the tuition and other fees running into tens of thousands of dollars that they have invested in a US education, with increasingly unclear job prospects.

The landscape in the US today, Srivastava of GTRI said, represents “fewer opportunities, tougher competition, and shrinking returns on US education”.

Nasscom, India’s apex IT trade body, has said the policy’s abrupt rollout could “potentially disrupt families” and the continuity of ongoing onshore projects for the country’s technology services firms.

The new policy, it added, could have “ripple effects” on the US innovation ecosystem and global job markets, pointing out that for companies, “additional cost will require adjustments”.

‘They do not care for people at all’

Ansh*, a senior software engineer at Meta, graduated from an Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), one in a chain of India’s most prestigious engineering school, and landed a job with Facebook soon after that.

He now lives with his wife in Menlo Park, in the heart of the US’s Silicon Valley, and drives a BMW sedan to work. Both Ansh and his wife are in the US on H-1B visas.

Last Saturday’s news from the White House left him rattled.

He spent that evening figuring out flights for his friends — Indians on H-1B visas who were out of the country, one in London, another in Bengaluru, India — to see if they could rush back to the US before the new rules kicked in on Sunday, as major US tech firms had recommended to their employees.

Since then, the Trump administration has clarified that the new fees will not apply to existing H-1B visas or renewals. For now, Ansh’s job and status in the US are secure.

But this is little reassurance, he said.

“In the last 11 years, I have never felt like going back to India,” Ansh told Al Jazeera. “But this sort of instability triggers people to make those life changes. And now we are here, wondering if one should return to India?”

Because he and his wife do not have children, Ansh said that a move back to India — while a dramatic rupture in their lives and plans — was at least something they could consider. But what of his colleagues and friends on H-1B visas, who have children, he asked?

“The way this has been done by the US government shows that they do not care for people at all,” he said. “These types of decisions are like … brain wave strikes, and then it is just executed.”

Ansh believes that the US also stands to lose from the new visa policy. “The immigrant contribution is deeply sprinkled into the DNA of the US’s success,” he said.

“Once talent goes away, innovation won’t happen,” he said. “It is going to have long-term consequences for visa holders and their families. Its impact would reach everyone, one way or the other.”

India’s struggle

After the announcement from the White House on Saturday, Prime Minister Modi’s principal secretary, PK Mishra, said that the government was encouraging Indians working abroad to return to the country.

Mishra’s comments were in tune with some experts who have suggested that the disruption in the H-1B visa policy could serve as an opportunity for India — as it could, in theory, stanch the brain drain that the country has long suffered from.

GTRI’s Srivastava said that US companies that have until now relied on immigrant visas like the H-1B might now explore more local hiring or offshore some jobs. “The $100,000 H-1B fee makes onsite deployment prohibitively expensive, so Indian IT firms will double down on offshore and remote delivery,” he said.

“US postings will be reserved only for mission-critical roles, while the bulk of hiring and project execution shifts to India and other offshore hubs,” he told Al Jazeera. “For US clients, this means higher dependence on offshore teams — raising familiar concerns about data security, compliance, and time-zone coordination — even as costs climb.”

Srivastava noted that India’s tech sector can absorb some returning H-1B workers, if they choose to return.

But that won’t be easy. He said that even though hiring in India’s IT and services sector has been growing year-on-year, the gaps are real, ranging from dipping job postings to new openings clustered in AI, cloud, and data science. And US-trained returnees would expect salaries well above Indian benchmarks.

And in reality, Kaushik said, many H-1B aspirants are looking at different countries as alternatives to the US — not India.

Ansh, the senior engineer at Meta, agreed. “In the US, we operate at the cutting edge of technology,” whereas the Indian tech ecosystem was still geared towards delivering immediate services.

“The Indian ecosystem is not at the pace where you innovate the next big thing in the world,” he said. “It is, in fact, far from there.”

When you’re trekking in 40C heat, there’s nothing more welcome than a swimming hole. This particular oasis was a perfect circle of inky, deliciously cold-looking water. Only problem was, it was 10 metres below the trail. I took a deep breath and channelled my inner Tom Daley. One, two, three – go! I leapt into the void and plummeted like a stone – points deducted for the huge splash as I hit the water.

When I came up for air, I had the cenote, or sinkhole, to myself, barring the birds nesting in the craggy rocks that formed it. I floated on my back and watched as a black vulture tried to coax her fluffy chick to take its first flight. Who knew carrion-eaters were so cute?

WASHINGTON — The Indian government expressed concern Saturday about President Trump’s latest push to overhaul American immigration policy, dramatically raising the fee for visas that bring tech workers from India and other countries to the United States.

The president on Friday signed a proclamation that will require a $100,000 annual fee for H-1B visas — meant for high-skilled jobs that tech companies find hard to fill. He also rolled out a $1-million “gold card” visa for wealthy individuals, moves that face near-certain legal challenges amid widespread criticism that he is sidestepping Congress.

If the moves survive legal muster, they will deliver staggering price increases. The visa fee for skilled workers is currently $215.

India’s Ministry of External Affairs said Saturday that Trump’s plan “was being studied by all concerned, including by Indian industry.” The ministry warned that “this measure is likely to have humanitarian consequences by way of the disruption caused for families. Government hopes that these disruptions can be addressed suitably by the U.S. authorities.”

More than 70% of H-1B visa holders are from India.

H-1B visas, which require at least a bachelor’s degree, are meant for high-skilled jobs that tech companies find difficult to fill. Critics say the program undercuts American workers, luring people from overseas who are often willing to work for as little as $60,000 annually. That is well below the $100,000-plus salaries typically paid to U.S. technology workers.

Trump said Friday that the tech industry would not oppose the move. Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick claimed that “all big companies” are on board.

Representatives for the biggest tech companies, including Amazon, Apple, Google and Meta, did not immediately respond to messages for comment. Microsoft declined to comment.

“We’re concerned about the impact on employees, their families and American employers,” the U.S. Chamber of Commerce said in a statement. “We’re working with the Administration and our members to understand the full implications and the best path forward.”

Lutnick said the change would probably result in far fewer H-1B visas than the 85,000 annual cap allows because “it’s just not economic anymore.”

“If you’re going to train people, you’re going to train Americans,” Lutnick said on a conference call with reporters. “If you have a very sophisticated engineer and you want to bring them in … then you can pay $100,000 a year for your H-1B visa.”

Trump also announced that he will start selling a “gold card” visa with a path to U.S. citizenship for $1 million after vetting. For companies, it would cost $2 million to sponsor an employee.

Trump also announced a “platinum card,” which could be obtained for $5 million and would allow foreigners to spend up to 270 days in the U.S. without being subject to U.S. taxes on non-U.S. income. Trump announced a $5-million gold card in February to replace an existing investor visa — this is now the platinum card.

Lutnick said the gold and platinum cards would replace employment-based visas that offer paths to citizenship, including for professors, scientists, artists and athletes.

Critics of H-1Bs visas who say they are used to replace U.S. citizens in certain jobs applauded the move. U.S. Tech Workers, an advocacy group, called it “the next best thing” to abolishing the visas.

Doug Rand, a senior official at U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services during the Biden administration, said the proposed fee increase was “ludicrously lawless.”

“This isn’t real policy — it’s fan service for immigration restrictionists,” Rand said. “Trump gets his headlines, and inflicts a jolt of panic, and doesn’t care whether this survives first contact with the courts.”

“The president has no legal authority to tax American visas,” said Michael Clemens, a George Mason University economist who studies immigration. “He has the authority to charge reasonable fees for cost recovery, not set fees at $100,000 or $100 million or whatever suits his personal … arbitrary capricious whims.

“If the president feels that H-1B visas are harmful, he can work with the people’s representatives in Congress to reform the laws that regulate those visas. His choice to legislate by proclamation subverts our entire immigration governance system,’’ said Clemens, who is also a senior fellow at the Peterson Institute for International Economics. “Beyond that, it is poisonous [and] irresponsible to do so with no warning, no public debate, leaving hundreds of thousands of workers and millions of their colleagues and family members in chaos and fear.’’

Lutnick said the H-1B fees and gold card could be introduced by the president but the platinum card needs congressional approval.

Historically, H-1B visas have been doled out through lottery. This year, Amazon was by far the top recipient of H-1B visas, with more than 10,000 awarded, followed by the Indian firm Tata Consultancy, then Microsoft, Apple and Google. Geographically, California has the highest number of H-1B workers.

Critics say H-1B spots often go to entry-level jobs, rather than senior positions with unique skill requirements. And while the program isn’t supposed to undercut U.S. wages or displace U.S. workers, critics say companies can pay less by classifying jobs at the lowest skill levels, even if the specific workers hired have more experience.

As a result, many U.S. companies find it cheaper to contract out help desks, programming and other basic tasks to consulting companies such as Wipro, Infosys, HCL Technologies and Tata — all in India — and IBM and Cognizant in the U.S. These consulting companies hire foreign workers, often from India, and contract them out to U.S. employers looking to save money.

Ron Hira, a professor in the political science department at Howard University and a longtime critic of H-1B visas, said the plan was a move in the right direction.

“It’s a recognition that the program is abused,’’ he said.

Raising the visa fee, he said, was an unusual way to address the H-1B program’s shortcomings. Normally, he said, reformers seek ways to raise the pay of the foreign workers, eliminating the incentive to use them to replace higher-paid Americans. He noted approvingly that Trump’s proclamation calls for the U.S. Labor Department to “initiate a rule-making [process] to revise the prevailing wage levels’’ under the visa program.

Critics of H-1B visas have also called on the lottery to be replaced by an auction in which companies vie for the right to bring in foreign workers.

First Lady Melania Trump, the Slovenian-born former Melania Knauss, was granted an H-1B work visa in October 1996 to work as a model.

In 2024, lottery bids for the visas plunged nearly 40%, which authorities said was due to success against people who were “gaming the system” by submitting multiple, sometimes dubious, applications to unfairly increase chances of being selected.

Major technology companies that use H-1B visas sought changes after massive increases in bids left their employees and prospective hires with slimmer chances of winning the random lottery. Facing what it acknowledged was likely fraud and abuse, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services this year said each employee had only one shot at the lottery, whether the person had one job offer or 50.

Critics welcomed the change but said more needs to be done. The AFL-CIO wrote last year that while changes to the lottery “included some steps in the right direction,” it fell short of needed reforms. The labor group wants visas awarded to companies that pay the highest wages instead of by random lottery, a change that Trump sought during his first term in the White House.

Associated Press writers Ortutay and Kim reported from Oakland and Washington, respectively. AP writers Adriana Gomez Licon in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., Elliot Spagat in San Diego and Paul Wiseman in Washington contributed to this report.

Many of the treks to reach the San Gabriel Mountains’ highest peaks are arduous slogs up steep hillsides, all-day affairs that, while rewarding, are not simple day hikes.

But then there’s Throop Peak (pronounced “troop”).

Reachable via a four-mile, round-trip hike over moderate terrain, this 9,138-foot summit offers panoramic views of Los Angeles County and beyond, with some hikers reportedly seeing not only the Pacific Ocean but also Death Valley from this mountaintop.

A few reminders before we dive in:

• Always check the weather before leaving, especially right now when L.A.’s weather patterns are flip-flopping between autumnal 🍂 and summer. 🥵
• Pack more water than you think you need; there is none on this trail (although Little Jimmy and Lamel Springs — seasonal water options — are nearby).
• Print this form, place it on your vehicle’s dash and remember to share a digital copy with a loved one before you leave.

A view of Mount Lewis and the Antelope Valley from the trail near Throop Peak.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You’ll start your trek to Throop Peak at Dawson Saddle, a mountain pass that’s about an hour-and-a-half northeast of downtown L.A. There are no toilets at the trailhead, so make sure to stop beforehand if needed, perhaps at the nearby Jarvi Vista Overlook, which you’ll pass if you’re taking Angeles Crest Highway to reach the trail.

A view of the Antelope Valley, including Three Sisters and Black Butte, from the Dawson Saddle trail.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

You’ll find the trailhead across the highway from a large maintenance shed. Please take good care as you head up the first third of a mile of the trail, which is narrow and slippery. Hiking poles would be helpful here.

Need to catch your breath as you get acclimated? Turn and appreciate the immediate views of the Antelope Valley to the north!

Soon, you’ll reach a ridgeline that you’ll take south past fallen logs, green pine trees and thick manzanita. From here, about half a mile in, you can look to the southeast and see where you’re headed. Throop Peak will be already visible! The trail is fairly moderate from here.

The trail to Throop Peak includes a lush segment through pine forest.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

About 1.25 miles in, you will notice on your map that you can take one of two paths to reach the summit.

Mostly out of curiosity, I took the more direct route: a third of a mile up steep terrain where I crushed over sandy, rocky soil that at times was unstable. I wished I had trekking poles, but in what seems to be my curse, I forgot them at home (again!).

Just before reaching the summit, I followed the path through a thick stand of manzanita. I crossed through, although doing so always gives me the willies because snakes love shady shrubs.

The other path to the summit is twice as long, but only two-thirds of a mile, so still a short jaunt. With either path, you will gain just over 460 feet in elevation, and either path will reward you with increasingly stunning views.

I was blown away when I reached the summit, quickly noticing nearby Mt. Baden Powell, which I’ve hiked many times. Farther out, I observed layers of mountains seemingly stacked against each other, like views a painter using aerial or atmospheric perspective employs to show depth.

Layers of peaks visible from the Throop Peak summit.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

I read the plaque at the summit that identifies its namesake, Amos G. Throop, founder of “Throop University in 1891,” which eventually became CalTech. (For transparency, Throop founded a Universalist group in Pasadena that exists now as the church I attend; hence I knew how to pronounce the peak’s name.)

The official and unofficial signs that mark the summit of Throop Peak.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

One of the nice parts of this hike is that it isn’t terribly crowded. I encountered only five people and three dogs on my late afternoon hike last week. I had the summit to myself, which meant I could sit and really appreciate not only the surrounding vistas but also its native plants, including thick patches of yellow rabbitbrush, some lupine and maybe a bit of San Bernardino beardtongue, if my plant identification app is correct.

If you’d like to continue hiking, you have the option — as long as you have a good map — to keep hiking, hitting Mt. Baden Powell, Mt. Hawkins or any number of other surrounding peaks.

On my way down, I listened to two Clark’s nutcrackers calling back and forth to each other, and then later, the echoing squawks of ravens communicating as they foraged together.

The view from Throop Peak, a less popular hike in Angeles National Forest.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Given its short distance, moderate difficulty level and high payoff, this is one of my new favorite hikes. I’d like to return soon with friends to watch the moon rise from the summit, as the clear views to the east offer excellent opportunity for that. With every new adventure comes inspiration for the next one. May you find the same!

Throop Peak via Dawson Saddle
Distance: 4 miles
Elevation gained: About 1,200 feet
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed? Yes
Accessible alternative: For desert vibes, the Prime Desert Woodland Preserve; for views, Mount Wilson Observatory

3 things to do

Beachgoers enjoying the sun at Bluebird beach.

(Jacqueline Pinedo / Los Angeles Times)

1. Hunt for “trashure” along L.A’s coastline
The California Coastal Commission’s annual coastal cleanup day will be from 9 a.m. to noon Saturday, with cleanup events across the coastline. Several volunteer events are scheduled in L.A. County from Malibu to Long Beach. This year, volunteers can participate in what the commission has dubbed the “world’s largest scavenger hunt.” Various “trashure,” which can be redeemed for prizes including hotel stays, sporting event tickets and gift cards, will be hidden at cleanup sites. Learn more and sign up at coastal.ca.gov.

2. Begin your birding journey in Huntington Beach
Bolsa Chica Conservancy in Huntington Beach will host a beginner birder workshop from 9 a.m. to noon Sunday at its interpretative center (3842 Warner Ave.). Participants will learn how to use binoculars and how to spot and identify local birds. The class is $20 per person. Space is limited. Sign up at bolsachica.org.

3. Hike near herons in Harbor City
Los Angeles City Department of Recreation and Parks will host a nature hike from 8 to 10 a.m. Saturday through Ken Malloy Harbor Regional Park in Harbor City. Ryan Kinzel, the park department’s junior urban ecologist, will guide participants on this free trek near Machado Lake, home to more than 300 species of migratory birds, including multiple species of herons. Register at eventbrite.com, although walkups are welcome.

The must-read

A coyote at Ayala Cove located on Angel Island, a state park in the San Francisco Bay Area, on Aug. 29.

(California State Parks)

At first, the dog-like creature swimming through the San Francisco Bay looked to be a seal or sea lion. Times staff writer Alex Wigglesworth reported that onlookers, including seasoned wildlife scientists, were amazed to discover that it was instead a coyote, swimming a quarter mile off the coast of Angel Island. Coyotes have lived at Angel Island State Park since 2017, when scientists observed the first one to arrive. That ’yote may have howled enough pleas for companionship across the bay to entice more to join it. Brett Furnas, an environmental scientist with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, pointed out that the coyote recently spotted was swimming away from the island. “That’s consistent with dispersal,” he said. “I think some of those coyotes are now saying, ‘Hey, we want our own territory,’ and they’re trying to swim back to Marin.”

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Our local parks are for everyone. That’s why it’s so important that as many residents as possible weigh in on the city of Los Angeles Park Needs Assessment. Is your community in dire need of green spaces? Does your local park need better lighting? What’s missing? What’s your dream for your neighborhood park? You can submit your comments at needs.parks.lacity.gov to help shape the future of our green spaces and more. On the website, you can also learn about when the next community meeting is scheduled near you.

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

Stephen Low, 48, was celebrating the end of his first year teaching English in South Korea when he decided to go on a hike near the North-South border – but he got more than he bargained for

A British man found himself at the business end of a South Korean guard’s gun during an innocent hike.

Stephen Low had just finished his first year teaching English at a school near the infamous DMZ (Demilitarized Zone) between North and South Korea. He had no idea then that his language teaching abilities were ultimately what would rescue him when facing the barrel of a gun.

The now 48-year-old decided to walk down a well-known trail near the North-South border. There, sniper posts and echoes of conflict provided a spine-chilling reminder of the hostilities across the divide.

Stephen knew the area was no place to mess around. In fact, one of his friends found themselves in hot water after they hopped on a military bus by mistake and “ended up in the military side of the DMZ.”

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“I just went hiking up to a hiking trail,” Stephen said.

As he approached the peak, the temperature dropped dramatically, and so Stephen sought refuge in one of the shelters scattered around the mountainside. He warmed himself by igniting a small fire, using a copy of the vampire fantasy novel Twilight as tinder.

Unfortunately, much like the romance in the Stephenie Meyer book, the fire burned too hot.

“As the fire burned, lots of thick smoke began wafting out from the hut. Suddenly, I heard shouting and as I emerged coughing and spluttering from the smoke-filled sniper hole, a ton of soldiers came down the mountain; they must have thought they were under attack,” Stephen continued.

Happily the teacher managed to slip away from the fire and the approaching soldiers, only to come face-to-face with a beekeeper, surrounded by bees.

“The bees swarmed me and got inside my clothing. I basically tore everything off to avoid being stung and ended up in just my boots, beanie, and boxers, which just so happened to be Union Jack boxers. That beekeeper must have thought I looked crazy…patriotic, but crazy,” he continued.

The misadventure wasn’t to end there however. Stephen rushed back towards the town where he was staying, only to stumble into a soldier. Despite Stephen’s best efforts to explain in Korean that he was simply lost, the guard remained deeply suspicious.

And as he stared at the guard’s M16 machine gun with its grenade launcher attachment, Stephen realized he needed to be far more persuasive. In a desperate bid to prove his innocence, Stephen called a former Korean student of his, who was now serving as the personal doctor to the South Korean president.

Handing the phone to the guard, Stephen pleaded, “Hangook chingu, Hangook chingu!”, translating to “Korean friend, Korean friend!”.

Despite initial fears that the guard was trigger-happy, he took the call instead. The ex-student managed to convince the soldier to escort Stephen safely through the base.

Stephen recounted, “It was hard to believe the guard actually thought I was a spy. But it’s exactly what my friend later told me the guard was accusing me of being. Back then, South Koreans were very wary of North Korean espionage; you even had options on your mobile emergency list for reporting spies!”.

“The guard was prepared for a North Korean around the corner, not a semi-naked hiker from the UK. South Korean guards have emergency numbers on speed dial that let them report a spy.”

While having a gun waved in your face is an experience best avoided if possible, the whole escapade has taught Stephen a valuable lesson.

“The lesson learnt is don’t set fire to things in public places,” he concluded.

‘So, it’ll be like a DofE camping expedition, but without any of my friends?” Lying on his bed in our stone gite in Lescun, a picturesque mountain village beneath a towering glacial cirque, it’s fair to say the 15-year-old isn’t leaping with enthusiasm for our bivouac hike. He and his 13-year-old brother would rather have stayed at the beach, where we spent the first part of our holiday.

My husband and I last hiked with the kids in the French Pyrenees when they were five and three, yet they barely fussed on that trip despite walking for two full days. Back then we had a secret weapon – a donkey called Lazou who carried our packs, and the youngest when he got tired, and proved a great distraction.

On this trip I’m hoping our local guide, Gilles Bergeras, will have a similar effect. He doesn’t speak much English – good French conversation practice for school, I say, to a barrage of eye rolls – but he’s funny and expressive in a way that transcends language.

Driving up to our start point in his van, he throws up his hands and says, “C’est quoi ce bordel!?” (“What’s this chaos!?”) every time we see another car. It’s not remotely busy – we pass six cars at most – but his exasperation with these tiny holiday crowds makes us laugh.

He also gets the measure of the boys quickly, letting the youngest choose our route – he opts for dramatic pointed peaks instead of rolling hills – and giving the eldest more to carry when we divvy up the tents and food supplies for our backpacks, sensing he needs to be slowed down.

We set off west along the GR10, a long-distance trail that runs the length of the French Pyrenees from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, following the painted red and white striped marks through a thick forest full of moss-covered boulders.

The next canicule, or heatwave (increasingly common here due to the climate crisis) won’t hit for a few days, but the air still feels close, even though we’re at altitude – our start point was 1,439m – and we’re glad to be shaded from the sun.

Bivouacking, or overnight camping in the wilderness, is allowed in the Béarn Pyrenees, says Gilles, as long as you camp at least one hour’s hike from parking areas, leave no trace and head off early in the morning. But one of the biggest challenges in high summer is finding water sources, so Gilles suggests we camp near a shepherd’s hut, which has a natural spring where we can fill up our bottles.

When we arrive at the hut, Gilles is greeted warmly by the shepherds, a young couple who graze sheep up here for three months in summer, while we fuss over their friendly sheepdogs. They let us stash our backpacks in their hut while we leave the GR10 to climb a nearby summit.

Hiking without packs is a great relief, as the trail quickly steepens. Our target is the 2,507m (8,225ft) Pic d’Anie, the kind of perfect pyramidal peak a child draws when depicting a mountain. Before long, the grass gives way to loose slates and spiky, angular rock formations, save the odd patch of bright violet thistles and dark purple ancolie (columbine) flowers.

Gilles urges us to tread carefully in parts, where gouffres, or chasms, can run for hundreds of metres below the surface, like crevasses in a glacier. But mostly he walks swiftly, and the boys have been right behind him all day, treating the hike as a race, instead of pacing themselves like their less fit but ultimately wiser parents. They won’t admit it, but I can tell they’re beginning to flag when Gilles suggests we stop for our picnic lunch.

Gilles points out two izards, a local species of goat-antelope, on a precipitous ridge above us, and we watch them pause and then deftly make their way down the slope. By the time we reach the summit, around four hours’ climb from our start point, we’re all quite broken. We bring out the high-energy snacks and Haribo, and enjoy the panoramic views that stretch across the Spanish border and towards the Atlantic coast.

We start our descent with a spring in our step, but we’re glad to eventually reach the hut, quench our thirst in the fast-flowing natural spring and drink in the incredible view.

This area is often called the “Dolomites of the Pyrenees” and it’s easy to see why. To our left is a long, high ridge of vertical rock, above a forest; while to our right the slopes are rounder, with the same mix of grass and rock that fills the U-shaped valley below, and the Pic d’Anie peeking out in the distance.

We set up our tents, while Gilles gets dinner together – a circular bread, which we tear off in greedy chunks, mountain cheese and ham, followed by a beef stew from a tin for the meat eaters, and lentils and couscous for the veggies.

We had met a French couple in the gite the night before who live near the Alps but always come to the Pyrenees to hike in summer with their 10-year-son. “It’s wilder than the Alps with fewer people,” the dad told me when I asked why, and I get that now. Apart from the shepherds and a French couple whose tent we don’t notice until the morning, we have this huge valley to ourselves. And as Gilles uncorks a bottle of local red, and golden light floods our makeshift campsite, even the boys seem awestruck.

The next morning, Gilles sings to wake up the teens, or “les ados anglais” as he’s taken to calling them, and after a quick breakfast of brioche we pack up the tents and get on our way. We take a different route back, this time crossing a series of small rivers and rock gardens that fan out across the hillside, eventually rejoining the GR10 in the forest where our walk began.

Getting tired teenagers to concede that they have enjoyed something is as tricky as getting them to smile in photos, but I took it as a win that mine didn’t just want lots of pictures with Gilles throughout the hike, but actually looked cheery in most of them.

When I asked the eldest how it compared with his Duke of Edinburgh expedition, he said: “Obviously the landscapes were better; my DofE was in East Grinstead … ” But the youngest perhaps best summed up their experience when he said: “At times it felt like homework, but at the end it was like we’d handed it in, and we felt happy and proud.”

An overnight bivouac hike with Gilles Bergeras in the Béarn Pyrenees is €400 for a family of four, rando-bike.fr/randonnée. Tours run year-round, with cabins and equipment (snowshoes/touring skis) used in winter. Sam Haddad writes the newsletter Climate & Board Sports

PRET A Manger is set to launch meal deals in a bid to take on major supermarkets, which have been offering them for years.

The high street sandwich chain’s move comes after Tesco and Sainsbury’s hiked their prices on lunchtime meal deals.

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Pret plans to trial the meal deal format in the final three months of the year.

Boss Pano Christou said the chain’s focus is on “offering great value for money” as part of its medium-term strategy to grow and return to sustainable profits.

Details on pricing and locations for the trial have yet to be revealed.

While major supermarkets have long offered meal deals – typically including a sandwich, snack and drink – Tesco recently hiked its price by 25p, blaming ongoing food inflation.

Pret’s latest accounts showed a pre-tax loss of £525.2 million for the year to January 2 – largely due to a £552.9 million write-down after a reassessment by owner JAB, which bought the chain in 2018.

This followed a £61.7 million loss the year before.

Despite the losses, Pret said its earnings before adjustments rose 36 per cent to £98 million for the year.

Meanwhile, total revenue dipped 4.2 per cent to £868.4 million compared to the previous year.

Like-for-like sales grew by 2.8 per cent, helped by an 11 per cent expansion to 717 shops as the business continued to grow internationally.

Pret said it is keen to expand further in the US, especially around city centres and travel hubs.

Christou, Pret’s CEO, said: “2024 was another year of growth for Pret, where we took disciplined decisions to protect sales, despite intense strains on the hospitality industry.

“Going forward our priority will be to drive transactions and sustainable growth by offering great value for money for Pret customers.

“Our focus will be on growing Pret’s market share in the UK and internationally, prioritising city centres and travel hubs, backed by the experience and expertise of additional world-class board members and a strengthened management team.”

Pret opened its first shop in London in 1986 and now employs 12,500 staff across over 700 locations in 21 countries.

Christou, who has been the chain’s CEO since 2019, started out as an assistant manager at a central London branch aged 22.

The minicab driver’s son, now 45, grew up in Tooting, South London – and earns over £400,000 a year.

The Luxembourg-based firm JAB Holding – which also owns Krispy Kreme doughnuts and Keurig Dr Pepper – bought Pret for £1.5 billion in 2018.

But the pandemic hit hard, with the chain posting a £343 million loss in 2020 as its key customers – office workers and commuters – stayed home.

To win them back, Pret launched cut-priced food and coffee subscription services, which helped sales jump 20 per cent in 2023.

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HIKING gambling taxes at the Budget would “backfire” and push punters to the unsafe black market, the sector has said.

Chancellor Rachel Reeves has been warned not to press ahead with proposals to introduce a single remote betting tax amid the damage to horse racing.

Enormous damage would be caused if the 15 per cent tax paid by bookmakers is brought into line with online gaming which is taxed at 21 per cent.

Horse racing will go on strike next Wednesday when four race meetings are put on hold in protest at the proposed changes.

The horse racing industry would be dealt a £66 million a year hit and threaten thousands of jobs.

Ministers have been warned that any such move will have be catastrophic for racing’s fragile finances with punters also being driven to illicit markets.

A spokesperson for the Betting and Gaming Council said: “Hiking gambling taxes would backfire spectacularly.

“Far from boosting the Treasury, it will push punters towards the unsafe black market, which pays no tax, backs no sport and has zero standards.”

They add that it would shrink the legal market and damage sport.

The industry says it already pays £4 billion in taxes, supports 109,000 jobs and pumps £6.8 billion into the economy.

Ex-PM Gordon Brown has called for an increase on gambling taxes to help take children out of poverty.

The Treasury has previously said: “We are consulting on bringing the treatment of online betting in line with other forms of online gambling to cut down bureaucracy – it is not about increasing or decreasing rates, and we welcome views from all stakeholders including businesses, trade bodies, the third sector and individuals.”

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There are stone bunkers shrouded in the mist on the hillside to my right, just shy of the ridgeline marking the Albanian-Kosovo border. To my left, the view is not just clear but startlingly beautiful.

I’m able to see back down to the tiny mountain hamlet of Gacaferi, where I’d slept the previous night, to look across the deep greenery of Deçan Gorge beyond, over dense pine forests and grasslands that pop with pink and yellow wildflowers, and gaze all the way to the 2,461m summit of Çfërla and the rugged peaks of western Kosovo’s Accursed mountains.

We are on stage nine of the Via Dinarica Kosovo, a 75-mile, 13-stage hiking trail through this storied country. The route links up to the Via Dinarica, a Balkan trail that runs from Slovenia through to Albania. The Kosovo section opened in 2015, but was recently remapped and relaunched as part of a three-year, £1.2m project funded by the Italian agency AICS.

There was a Yugoslav barracks in Gacaferi during the Kosovo war – the brutal conflict between the Kosovo Liberation Army (known locally as the UÇK) and Slobodan Milošević’s Yugoslavia, which ended with an aerial Nato bombing campaign against Yugoslavia in 1999. UÇK fighters used to launch surprise attacks over the border ridge here, and arms were smuggled into Kosovo for use by liberation fighters.

The barracks is long gone. Today, the handful of locals in Gacaferi fly red Albanian flags outside their houses alongside Kosovo blue. They tend to their sheep and warmly welcome hikers, who trade travel stories while feasting on burek and Rugova cheese in the scenic guesthouse.

“I wish the stones here could talk,” says Uta Ibrahimi, my mountain guide. Uta is the founder of Butterfly Outdoor Adventure, and was an integral part of the Via Dinarica Kosovo project. She also happens to be the first person from Kosovo to have climbed Mount Everest, having done so in 2017. And on 10 May 2025, when she stood on the 8,586-metre summit of Kanchenjunga in the Himalayas, Ibrahimi became the first woman from the Balkans to have climbed all 14 of the world’s 8,000-metre mountains. Uta returned to a hero’s welcome at Pristina airport. “I did it for myself, but also for my country,” Uta says. “Not just for the Himalayan views.”

I had arrived in the capital of Pristina some days earlier. I walked past statues of Bill Clinton and Bob Dole; past new cathedrals and centuries-old mosques. Brilliant, bizarre brutalist architecture draws the gaze here – most notably the National Library of Kosovo, formed of a cluster of exposed concrete blocks, caged in metal and topped by domes.

The Via Dinarica connects the municipalities of Peja, Deçan and Junik in western Kosovo. To start our adventure – hiking a 40-mile stint of the Via Dinarica – we drove to the city of Peja, behind which the Accursed mountains rise like fortress walls.

We began on stage three, with sunny alpine views and green slopes rising to prominent peaks. Red and white waymarkers guided us up narrow trails to the 2,403-metre Hajla peak, on the border of Kosovo and Montenegro. On one side, the ridgeline slopes sharply down to the Balkan pines of Kosovo and across green valleys to the mountains of Albania. On the other side, there is a near vertical drop down to Montenegro, via rugged, exposed limestone cliff.

I ate spinach burek for lunch on the summit of Hajla, sitting next to fuzzy, star-shaped edelweiss flowers, while alpine choughs circled above. We slept at ERA Lodge, a homely wooden mountain cabin run by Fatos Lajçi, a passionate conservationist. “Everything that’s in Europe, we have here,” he said; brown bears, wild boars, wolves and even the endangered Balkan lynx. This lynx is at serious risk of extinction, but has on occasion wandered by Lajçi’s camera traps.

As we left the next morning, a shepherd sang songs of love and lost heroes to his flock, and we rejoined the Via Dinarica on a freshly built section of trail. Descending into a meadow, we were engulfed in blueberry bushes; our boots brushing against wild strawberries and carrots.

It was not until a few days later, when we reached Kulla Guesthouse in Milishevc, a building styled like an old stone tower, that we met another hiker. Here, we gorged on köfte, washed down with rakı, “for digestion”.

The border with Montenegro soon became the border with Albania. We walked by memorials to fallen UÇK soldiers. Hard rain and mist clouded the view, but limestone monoliths poked through and wildflowers defied the clouds with sprinkles of colour. By the time we arrived in Gacaferi, the sun was shining on the tractors and goats of this remote hamlet.

In the evenings there was time for me to bug Uta for stories. She is full of tales; of crampons received as Valentine’s gifts; of poles perilously dropped at 8,000 metres; of loved ones lost on mountain faces, or to war; of emotional summit days and ecstatic nights dancing at festivals.

Ibrahimi was 15 years old when war hit, but she speaks with a contagious positivity. “We had to stay inside for three months of bombing, and you never knew if it was the last day of your life,” she says. “We had to jump walls to run away from the police. That whole idea, of waiting for that moment they will come – and who knows what they will do to you – it just made us stronger and more willing to live. Then when you are free, you do not see any limits.”

From Gacaferi, we set our sights on the 2,656-metre Gjeravica. It is a hulking peak surrounded by heart-shaped mountain lakes and patches of snow. This side of the Accursed mountains is more dramatic than the border with Montenegro, the gentle green replaced by fierce grey. Above the 2,400-metre mark, we hike on limestone slabs bright with lichen. On the summit, a Kosovo flag flies above a trig point bearing the double-headed eagle of Albania. There is a metal marker with a UÇK head, and a view over Kosovo’s flatland. Our descent is remarkably pretty, running along the secluded Gjeravica Lake, through fields of blueberry bushes, on to grassland peppered with yellow flowers.

There is a soft beauty to this country; in the mint you smell in the meadows, in the sound of the whinchats on the hills, in the fluff of the edelweiss flowers on high ridges, and in the warmth of the guesthouses, where the burek is plentiful and the coffee strong.

“People want somewhere quiet, super-wild, without any roads,” says Uta. “It’s here to explore.”

The trip was provided by NaturKosovo. A five-day trip on the Via Dinarica Kosovo with Butterfly Outdoor Adventure costs €590, or a nine-day adventure from €990, including transfers, accommodation and meals. The Via Dinarica Kosovo project is being implemented by Volontari nel Mondo RTM and CELIM in collaboration with Utalaya Foundation, Club Alpino Italiano, AITR, CNSAS and AICS

In “The Paper,” the much anticipated mockumentary spinoff to “The Office,” Alex Edelman plays intrepid accountant/reporter Adam Cooper, part of the team tasked with reviving local newspaper “The Toledo Truth-Teller.” Edelman was also a writer and consulting producer for the show, which premieres on Peacock on Sept. 4 with all 10 episodes, and says the project gave him “the thing that is rarest in Los Angeles”: routine.

“It was a really wonderful routine,” he adds.

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

Of course, routines must end and new routines must be created. Edelman, who won an Obie and a Special Tony for his stand-up show “Just For Us,” about attending a meeting of Nazis as an Orthodox Jew (it became the HBO original comedy special “Alex Edelman: Just For Us,” for which he won an Emmy), is back on the road and adding new dates for his current show, “What Are You Going to Do.” In his spare time, he’s working on a nonfiction book, “I Don’t Belong Here.”

The perfect Sunday, for Edelman, is always a little bit different, with currents of consistency woven through. (He calls himself a “recommendation machine,” which feels accurate.) There’s always a hike. There are always friends involved. There’s always food. There are plenty of laughs. But for all the tried-and-true recs, novelty is important too. “I guess my headline is, Sunday’s the day to try new things,” he says.

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.

7 a.m.: Wake up and go on a coffee walk
On the weekends, I like to walk. The only thing left to do on planet Earth apparently is to get coffee. Do you know that our whole lives revolve around a series of silly little coffees? I only drink espresso drinks, which is a fact about me, which is very boring. I might walk between coffee stations, like a man journeying between oases. I’ll walk down and I’ll get to All Time and be like, do I want a coffee here or can I make it to Maru? And when I get to Maru, do I get a coffee here? Or can I make it to Camel? And then I’ll make it to Camel, which apparently is now called Handles? And I’m like, do I get a coffee here or do I go to Dinosaur? And then, do I do a coffee here or do I go to Tartine or LaLo in Silver Lake or Lamill, which is also in Silver Lake. It feels like a long time, but that’s only about an hour walk.

I might get some breakfast too. I like Telegrama or Friends and Family — a favorite there is the olive oil eggs. I spend a lot of my money at All Time. I like to get the thing they call “the B.O.A.T.” I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s really good.

8 a.m.: Get in a bit of writing
I like to park myself at Telegrama or Maru; you can find a little corner and really groove.

10 a.m.: Hike and have an adventure
I’m a keen weekend hiker. And I have hiking buddies. My friend [TV writer] Jenji [Kohan] and I started to do a thing in the pandemic where every weekend we would go hike somewhere and eat somewhere. I’ll hike with Jenji or my friend Rebecca or my friend Morgan. We’ll get after it. You hike with someone, you complain. It’s a lot of fun.

There are some really, really gorgeous hikes around Los Angeles. I use AllTrails to keep track of them. If we’re doing a hike out of town, we’ll go up to Santa Barbara or down into Orange County for one of the heavy beach hikes. Or any hikes with the word “Punchbowl” in them. And we’ll go to Charlie Brown Farms right afterwards.

We hike and eat and there’s always an adventure in there. We use the Atlas Obscura and go check out things, like, I heard there’s this weird store where this guy who makes things out of pop tabs or whatever it is. One of my favorite things is just getting to look at a little midcentury modern house I’ll never be able to afford. If there’s a house by Lautner or Neutra or Frank Lloyd Wright, sometimes we’ll take a schlep just for the house, to even just see from the street. One of the hikes in Malibu, Solstice, has an old Paul Williams house. It’s like a ruin.

1 p.m.: Lunchtime
We like going into the San Gabriel Valley and eating at Chengdu Taste in Alhambra or Bistro Na’s. I can’t eat pork or shellfish, so whatever falls within the electric fence, my lapsing Judaism. Whenever we drive south for a hike, we like to go to Pho 79 in the Anaheim area, or Garden Grove maybe. And I get something vegetarian or chicken or something like that.

2:30 p.m.: Thrifting and a snack
The thrift stores in Pasadena, those places are so good. Downtown, we always stop at the old mochi spot, Fugetsu-Do. They’ve been around for 117 years, even longer. I think they opened in 1903. On Sundays, sometimes the line can be long, but it’s worth waiting in. I like the regular rainbow-colored, strawberry-stained stuff. A thousand percent fruity or candy and no gelatin because of my Judaism.

4 p.m.: Catching up on books
Since we’re downtown, I’ll stop by the Last Bookstore. I also really love Skylight. And I love a used bookstore. I love a browse.

I like reading and listening to music on a Sunday. For a while, I was rationing out my friend Taffy Akner’s last book, “Long Island Compromise.” I’d read a couple of chunks every Sunday until I ran out. I just bought a couple of plays by Kimberly Bellflower and Noah Haidle. And I am reading Carrie Courogen’s “Miss May Does Not Exist” about Elaine May, who I worship and actually met once at a friend’s house.

7 p.m.: Pizza and movie night at Phil’s
I have a friend, Phil, who sometimes makes Sunday his movie night. His house has a little pizza oven. Phil will have pizza made in the style of the pizza from Mozza, which he loves. And we’ll watch movies on a projector. I watched “A New Leaf” there and enjoyed it very much, speaking of Elaine May.

9:30 p.m.: A stand-up set
Late in the day, my favorite thing to do is stand-up comedy. There are a lot of good places to perform in Los Angeles. So I’d do a late spot at the Comedy Store, the Lyric Hyperion, Laugh Factory or Dynasty Typewriter.

11 p.m.: Late-night meal
I’m out late, especially for Los Angeles. And there’s nowhere to eat very late at night in Los Angeles, unless you’re going to venture into Koreatown, where there’s Dan Sung Sa. I love to eat late and hey, we’re four meals deep, but that’s fine. Or Canter’s is open until 11:30 on Sunday. And Same Same Thai on Sunset is open until 11. They do something called khao soi, which is really hard to find in a lot of places. So I’ll sometimes get a really late night khao soi.

12 a.m.: Scrolling, reading, maybe a phone call or two
I’m up for a bit. I watch, I’ll scroll. I’ll scroll until I drift off, which I shouldn’t. Or I’ll call friends in London who are just waking up, stand-up comics. My friend Josie Long was in Glasgow, and sometimes I’ll call her, or I’ll catch my friend Isobel, who’s a composer, who’s in Europe all the time. But in my ideal situation, I’m asleep by 1. I’ll read this book by Lizzy Goodman called “Meet Me in the Bathroom,” or I’ll listen to this podcast called “Search Engine” by PJ Vogt, and sort of drift off.

CHANCELLOR Rachel Reeves was warned she will hit tenants if the Treasury pursues plans to hike taxes on landlords.

She is considering putting National Insurance on rental income to fill a £50billion black hole at the autumn Budget.

2

But housing experts blasted the move.

TV property show presenter Kirstie Allsopp, said: “This is tenant bashing under the guise of landlord bashing. It’s like having the economy run by Baldrick.”

Ben Beadle, of the National Residential Landlords Association, said: “This will hit the very households the Government wants to protect.”

Earlier in the week, The Sun reported that firms were bracing themselves for a £2.5billion Labour tax double whammy.

They would be clobbered twice — first by an inflation rate increase in business rates in April, then by a Rachel Reeves surcharge, experts said.

Business rates are the property tax that companies must pay just to occupy their shops, pubs, factories and offices.

The Tories warned thousands of struggling firms would be crippled.

Shadow Housing Secretary James Cleverly said: “Once again, Labour is hammering the high street. Raising business rates for thousands of hard-working small businesses across England was one of Labour’s first acts in office.

“And despite our opposition to it, and clear evidence of the damaging impact it will have, they have pressed ahead — consequences be damned.”

The first squeeze would come in April when bills rise automatically with inflation.

The Bank of England expects the rate will hit four per cent next month.

Global tax firm Ryan said that would add £1.11billion to business rates across England.

The second blow would come when Chancellor Ms Reeves introduces a supplementary multiplier on larger premises next year.

2

Let’s just get this out of the way: Hiking through Yosemite Valley, whether it be to Vernal and Nevada falls or through Cook’s Meadow, is a mesmerizing and special experience.

The hulking granite walls will remind you how small you are — and how remarkable our world is. Listening as waterfalls thunder down the mountain can place you in a meditative trance if you let it. The beauty of the valley is the best kind of sensory overload. It’s the reason that, at times, Yosemite can feel a bit crowded and why so many Angelenos are willing to drive 5½ hours north to reach it.

Patrick, a friend of The Wild, stands at the railing in the Taft Point area of Yosemite National Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

If you’re wanting to experience Yosemite’s beauty without the crowds, then dear Wilder, I have a little treat for you. Last week, I visited the park with my friend Patrick in search of a hike around Yosemite Valley where we could still find solitude. I’m so excited to share it with you!

Before we dive in, though, a few reminders:

• Never trod off path into any of Yosemite’s meadows, as they are sensitive habitats.
• Check the weather before heading out; Yosemite’s elevation varies widely, and it heats up in the summer, especially in the valley.
• Pack accordingly — especially on day hikes — as rescue can take hours; your pack should include anything you’d need should you have to spend the night outside.
• Do not feed the wildlife, including squirrels. 🐿️🥜🙅
• In short, please practice Leave No Trace as you explore this national treasure.

Last week, Patrick and I took a 10.4-mile journey to Taft Point, an epic lookout point that many hikers reach through a shorter 2.2-mile trek from the Sentinel Dome/Taft Point Trailhead. Let me tell you why, if your schedule and body allow, the long way is better.

For much of the hike from McGurk Meadow to Taft Point, you’ll be under the shade of massive pine trees and evergreens.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

We started our hike from our campsite in nearby Bridalveil Creek, one of about half a dozen campgrounds in Yosemite where you can book two weeks ahead, and walked .7 miles to the McGurk Meadow Trailhead, where around 11 a.m., there remained ample parking.

The green and golden grasses of McGurk Meadow dappled with white flowers glowing in the August sun.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

I was concerned about how hot it would get since we had gotten a later start, but we were immediately shaded on the trail by tall evergreens amid a forest floor of ferns and other greenery. After a short jaunt through the woods, we spotted the green and golden grasses of McGurk Meadow, still dappled with wildflowers.

As we traversed the narrow dirt path, we stopped to observe the red paintbrushes, purply pink fireweed and yellow goldenrod growing along the trail. No one rushed past us as we debated whether a particular white flower was yarrow or something else. (It was something else.)

About 1.8 miles from the trailhead, we reached the end of the McGurk Meadows Trail and continued northeast on the Pohono Trail. We’d seen around eight people at this point, including SoCal-based photographer Jason Anderson who told us about a bear he’d spotted ahead on the trail. (More on bears later!)

Bridalveil Creek is a good spot to cool off or filter water for your canteens along the Pohono Trail in Yosemite National Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

We arrived at Bridalveil Creek shortly thereafter, just over two miles in. We crossed a wooden bridge that takes hikers over the waterway, pausing to observe rainbow trout and chat with a hiker who’d spent the night in a nearby backcountry camp. This creek appeared to be the only water source this late in the summer, so if you have a filter and need to refill your bottles, this is where you should stop.

As we hiked through more pine forest, past yellow California coneflower and purple Sierra Larkspur, I asked Patrick: “Does this hike feel like a ‘Yosemite hike’? Or was this like any other walk in the woods?”

Red paintbrush, clockwise, inflorescence of fireweed, a type of goldenrod, common yarrow, sierra larkspur and California coneflower grow in Yosemite National Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Patrick paused to consider. We’d already passed a large pristine meadow. We’d seen several wildflowers still blooming and the crystal clear river still flowing despite the August heat. And we were almost always hiking under the shade of giant trees.

Still, when you are hiking in Yosemite, you’re expecting to experience the cream of America’s national park crop. Patrick confided in me that although he’d enjoyed everything so far, much of his expectations for our hike would depend on what we observed at Taft Point.

Unlike me, he hadn’t Googled it before coming on the trip and didn’t know what to expect. And although I’d seen the images, I feared this: What if it’s all just clever Instagram angles, and this turns out to be a waste of precious time? (I am perpetually concerned about letting you down, dear Wilder!)

Then, just under four miles from the trailhead, the landscape shifted from pine forest to boulders and short trees and shrubs. We spotted a short metal railing and marched over boulders to the outlook. I gazed down at Yosemite Valley, my fears about the trail’s splendor (or lack thereof) dissipating. El Capitan, which rises over 3,000 feet above the valley floor, was in full view. Yosemite Falls, mostly dry this time of year, was easy to spot.

Wild writer Jaclyn Cosgrove celebrates their successful jaunt to Taft Point, an epic lookout point in Yosemite National Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

I went to check out the famous rock outcropping I’d spotted online. Patrick, who was rapidly discovering his fear of heights, stayed at the railing to take my photo. I marveled all around me at all that rivers and glaciers had carved over millions of years.

The view from the railing near the Taft Point lookout.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Taft Point was the busiest point of our hike, but it was still easy enough to find a spot in the shade to enjoy our lunch. We saw fewer than 20 people on the trail and just a few dozen total at Taft Point. It never felt crowded.

As we headed back, I remarked to Patrick how surprised I was not to see a single bear given how few people were on the trail. I learned why when we met a group of about eight kids from South L.A. swimming in Bridalveil Creek.

“We saw four bears!” one of them shouted to us.

One of their chaperones showed us a picture of a bruin just off trail. I chuckled to myself. The children’s joy over the sightings was infectious. And we still got to see squirrels, chipmunks, woodpeckers, blue jays and one deer just a few feet off trail (who wasn’t particularly concerned about our presence).

A deer rests just off the McGurk Meadow Trail in Yosemite National Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

I understand that writing about a less crowded hike in Yosemite will undoubtedly mean more people take this path. I heard similar complaints when I wrote about Kings Canyon last year. This is why I try to always include Leave No Trace principles and encourage hikers to respect the space.

Additionally, I hope my words not only inspire you to visit Yosemite but also to do further research, as this is only one of several less-crowded hikes in the park. Given the park’s fever-pitch overcrowding, I was surprised to learn just how easy it remains to be alone in Yosemite!

I hope you find a similar solitude, should that be what your heart needs.

3 things to do

Dogs are allowed to swim during Pooches in the Pool, an L.A. County Parks and Recreation event that marks the end of the county’s pool season. All pools are drained and cleaned for the year after the event.

(L.A. County Parks)

1. Enjoy the dog days of summer in L.A.
L.A. County Parks and Recreation will host its Pooches in the Pool event on Saturday morning at two county pools. Dogs can swim at Ted Watkins Memorial Park (1335 E. 103rd St.) or Don Knabe Community Regional Park (19700 S. Bloomfield Ave. in Cerritos). Swim times are split between small and large dogs, with small dogs swimming from 9 to 10 a.m. and large dogs from 10 to 11 a.m. Learn more at parks.lacounty.gov.

2. Hike and swim with new pals in Malibu
The Just Trek Crew will celebrate its sixth anniversary with a hike and beach day from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday in Malibu. The group will hike 2.5 miles and then dance and lounge on a secluded beach in Malibu. Register at partiful.com.

3. Soak up the stars in Beverly Hills
TreePeople will host a moonlight hike Friday in Coldwater Canyon Park in Beverly Hills. The event starts at 7 p.m. with a performance by local musicians. Guided hikes will start at 8 p.m., and the group will be split among those taking easy, moderate or strenuous routes. Tickets are $20 per adult and $10 per child under 15. Register at treepeople.org.

The must-read

Yellow 2291, an adult female black bear, gave birth to three cubs (two males, one female) in mid-January in the Santa Monica Mountains, making them the first family of black bears living in the range in years.

(Steve Gonzalez / California Department of Fish and Wildlife)

The bohemian enclave of Topanga Canyon has a new celebrity resident: a roughly 175-pound female black bear known as Yellow 2291, reports Times staff writer Andrew Campa. The 5- to 7-year-old bruin recently gave birth to three cubs, and wildlife officials say the quartet is the first black bear family to reside in the Santa Monica Mountains in years. Thanks to a tracking tag applied to the mama bear by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, officials know she has an extensive travel history, traversing at least 100 miles across L.A. County before landing in Topanga Canyon. If you happen to spot her and her babies, please give them a wide berth. It’s always best to respect the locals!

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

REI’s annual Labor Day sale starts tomorrow and runs through Sept. 1. You will find 25% off REI Co-op brand tents, sleeping bags and sleeping pads and other deep discounts on the brand’s clothing. I plan to take advantage of the 25% off all Darn Tough socks, my favorite brand of (blister-free!) hiking socks, which I reviewed in last year’s holiday Gift Guide from The Times. This is also a great time to grab a discounted Garmin inReach Mini 2, which will enable you to keep in touch with loved ones while out in the wild. Have fun out there!

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

Glacier National Park, Mont. — JOHAN looked up. Jenna was running toward him. She had yelled something, he wasn’t sure what. Then he saw it. The open mouth, the tongue, the teeth, the flattened ears. Jenna ran right past him, and it struck him — a flash of fur, two jumps, 400 pounds of lightning.

It was a grizzly, and it had him by his left thigh. His mind started racing — to Jenna, to the trip, to fighting, to escaping. The bear jerked him back and forth like a rag doll, but he remembered no pain, just disbelief. It bit into him again and again, its jaw like a sharp vise stopping at nothing until teeth hit bone. Then came the claws, rising like shiny knife blades, long and stark.

Classic stories from the Los Angeles Times’ 143-year archive

Johan and Jenna had been on the trail little more than an hour. They had just followed a series of switchbacks above Grinnell Lake and were on a narrow ledge cut into a cliff. It was an easy ascent, rocky and just slightly muddy from yesterday’s rain.

Johan took some pictures. Jenna pushed ahead. It was one of the most spectacular hikes they’d taken on this trip, a father-daughter getaway to celebrate her graduation from high school. There were some steps, a small outcropping, a blind turn, and there it was, the worst possibility: a surprised bear with two yearling cubs.

The bear kept pounding into him. He had to break away. To his right was the wall of the mountain, to his left a sheer drop. Slightly behind him, however, and 20 feet below the trail, a thimbleberry and alder patch grew on a small slope jutting from the cliff. As a boy growing up in Holland, Johan had roughhoused with his brother and had fallen into bushes. He knew it would hurt, but at least it wouldn’t kill him.

So like a linebacker hurtling for a tackle, he dived for that thimbleberry patch. The landing rattled him, but he was OK. His right eye was bleeding, but he didn’t have time to think about that. Jenna was now alone with the bear.

She had reached down to pick up the bear spray. The small red canister had fallen out of the side pocket of his day pack, and there it was, on the ground. But she couldn’t remove the safety clip, and the bear was coming at her again. She screamed.

“Jenna, come down here,” he yelled.

She never heard him. She was falling, arms and legs striking the rocky cliff, then nothing for seconds before she landed hard.

The bear did hear him, however. It looked over the cliff and pounced. Johan had never seen anything move so fast in his life. He tucked into a fetal position. The bear fell upon him, clawing and biting at his back. His day pack protected him, and his mind started racing again.

His daughter didn’t have a pack. He always carried the water and snacks. If the bear got to her, it’d tear her apart.

He turned, swung to his right and let himself go. Only this time there wasn’t a thimbleberry patch to break his fall. It was a straight drop to where Jenna had landed, and instead of taking the bear away from her, as he had hoped, he was taking the bear to her.

JOHAN Otter lived with his wife, Marilyn, and their two teenage daughters in a two-story home in a semirural neighborhood of Escondido, Calif. He worked as an administrator at Scripps Memorial Hospital in La Jolla. He ran in marathons and bred exotic birds. He knew the love of his family, success at his job, good health. At 43, he had dreams of a long and happy life. But dreams are often upended. Johan knew this, and whenever possible, he tried to distance himself and his family from risk.

It was Aug. 25, 2005. Seven days earlier, Johan and Jenna had packed up the family pickup truck and driven north through Nevada and Utah. In September, she would begin her freshman year at UC Irvine. Hiking was their special bond. He was a runner, she was a dancer; they both were in good shape for the trail, and it wasn’t unusual for Marilyn and Stephanie, their younger daughter, to stay home.

Johan Otter, top photo at Logan Pass in Glacier National Park on Aug. 24, 2005. A day hike that he and his daugther Jenna took. “My last day with hair,” Otter said. Bottom photo shows Jenna Otter in of the last photos taken by Johan Otter before being attacked by a Grizzly bear on the Grinnell Glacier Trail in Glacier National Park, Montana.

(Jenna Otter)

Johan and Jenna checked into a motor lodge on the east side of Glacier. Johan was eager to experience the wildness of the park, and the first night he did. A black bear, just outside the lodge.

For millenniums, bears have lurked on the periphery of everyday life, dark shadows just beyond the firelight. On this continent, they have been our respected competition and greatest threat. Even though close encounters with bears, especially grizzlies, are rare, they trigger a conditioned response, a reflex of fear and flight that is seldom called upon in modern life. Sometimes we get away. Sometimes we can’t.

But most of all, bears inspire a deep fascination. Johan remembered how, as a boy, he would go with his family on vacations to Norway and how his parents, his brother and he had always wanted to see a bear. The curiosity never left him. Three years ago, during a trip to Canada with the family, he and Stephanie saw a cub. Marilyn and Jenna stayed back.

On this trip to Glacier, they had an ambitious hiking schedule, and they were disappointed when it rained their first full day. They contented themselves with driving to various sights. The next day was beautiful. The sun cut through scattered, misting clouds. Johan was eager to get out on the trail before anyone else. It was 7:30 a.m.

The path wound through a lush carpet of thimbleberry, beargrass and lilies growing beneath a mix of Engelmann spruce and Scotch pine. They skirted Lake Josephine, and in less than an hour, Johan and Jenna were above the tree line. Surrounding peaks were lightly dusted with snow. At one point Johan spotted a golden eagle trying to catch a thermal. They talked loudly, just as you’re supposed to do in bear country. Jenna was trying to figure out how she could be both a dancer and a doctor. He wondered if he’d be able to qualify for the Boston Marathon.

As they made their way along the southern flank of Mt. Grinnell, a glacier-carved cliff that rises nearly 3,500 vertical feet from the valley floor, they fell silent, lost in the sounds of the wind and the water, the beauty of the moment. Ahead of them were the Gem and Salamander glaciers. A ribbon of water cascaded into the forest below. A river flowed into the turquoise stillness of Grinnell Lake.

Penstemon, columbines and fireweed bloomed amid the low-lying alder scrub. They passed through Thunderbird Falls, a landmark on the trail where a stream often pours from the cliff above onto a platform of flat stones. Today it was only wet and slippery, but the drop-off was unforgiving.

(Doug Stevens / Los Angeles Times)

TEN minutes past the falls, they ran into the bear. In a matter of minutes, they had all tumbled 30 feet down a rocky V-shaped chute, landing on a ledge beneath the trail. Jenna had scrambled away, and the grizzly was on top of Johan.

The attack had just started, and it had been going on too long. He grabbed the bear by the fur on its throat. The feeling of the coarse hair, as on a dirty dog, was unforgettable, and for a moment the animal just stared at him, two amber-brown eyes, its snout straight in his face. It showed no emotion, no fear, no anger. There were just those eyes looking down at him.

Johan considered fighting. He reached to his left for a rock. A piece of shale, it crumbled in his fist. He tucked his knees to his chest and tried to cover his head.

The bear bit again and again on his right arm. So this is what it feels like to have your flesh torn, he thought, still trying to comprehend the attack. He tussled about, trying to avoid greater injury.

“Aaagh,” he screamed.

Now the bear was tugging on his back. It felt as if someone were jumping up and down on him, and he found himself growing angry. Throw it off the mountain. If only he could throw it off the mountain.

He felt a sharp pressure on the top of his neck and his head. The bear was biting into his skull, chewing into the bone. This could be it, he thought. This could be his death, and his right hand was useless. He could not push the bear away.

If only this were a movie or one of those old episodes of “Bonanza” he used to watch on TV. He’d be a stuntman, and they’d stop shooting any time.

But this was real. He’d die if he didn’t make another move, so he rolled and fell again, sliding 20 feet down the slope to a small ledge and then over that and onto a narrow shelf. Right foot, left foot. He landed on his feet. He was lucky he stopped. He wouldn’t have survived the next long straight drop.

He was silent. The bear stood above him, unable to reach him. It felt good to be left alone. Water flowed down his back. Cold water. He’d fallen into a small stream, runoff from yesterday’s rain.

Jenna heard the bear panting as it came closer to where she lay beneath the branches of a low-lying alder. She felt woozy from her fall. She had a knot on her head. Her back ached, and her ankle was bleeding.

She tried to stay tucked in, but when the bear got close to her face, she had to push it away. It nipped at the right corner of her mouth, at her hair, her right shoulder. Each bite was quick, followed by a slight jostle.

Her screams split the morning silence like an ax.

Source: National Park Service. Graphics reporting by Thomas Curwen

(Thomas Suh Lauder/Los Angeles Times; Photo by Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

JOHAN pressed himself against the mountain. There was no room to sit or lie down. He heard Jenna, but he couldn’t do anything. He would remember the sound as the worst he had ever heard, and then there was nothing. All was still.

He was wet and dirty, soaked with blood and starting to shiver. The attack had lasted at most 15 minutes. He looked at his right arm and saw exposed tendons. His medical training as a physical therapist told him no major nerves or arteries had been cut. They can sew that together, he thought, and that, and that.

Then he touched the top of his head and felt only bone. He stopped exploring. It was enough to know that his scalp had been torn off. His neck hurt. He wondered if something was broken.

He couldn’t see out of his right eye. He reached up. It was full of blood and caked over. Was his eyeball hanging out? No, it was still in place. He carefully parted his eyelids. The sweet turquoise stillness of Grinnell Lake shimmered nearly 1,500 feet below him. He could see. He was relieved.

“Jenna,” he eventually called out.

“Dad.”

She had played dead, and the bear had moved on. She assessed her injuries. A bite on her shoulder as deep as a knuckle. Lower lip torn down to her chin. Hair caked with blood.

Her father’s voice was the best sound she’d ever heard.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“I’m OK. How are you?”

“I’m bleeding a lot.” He thought of his own injuries and of his daughter’s appearance. “How’s your face? Did it get you?”

“Just my mouth.”

“And your eyes?”

“They’re fine.”

He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was OK. Thank you, God.

He gazed up into the sky above Mt. Gould on the far side of the valley. He thought of the people he knew who were dead. His mother and father. Thank you, Mom, and thank you, Dad, for being an energy that he could draw on. Somehow it made him less afraid.

And thank you, Sophie. She was a patient of his, an 80-year-old woman who had died last year. They had grown close as Johan worked with her. She would complain — I’m going to die, she’d say — and he’d tell her to be quiet. You’re not going to die, Sophie. And to think he nearly had.

And thank you, Steve, his father-in-law, Marilyn’s dad, who had become his own dad in a way.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Then he called back to Jenna. “It got me kind of bad.”

It was the only time he told her how he felt. After that, he turned stoic. No complaining. No despairing. He knew his dad would have reacted the same way. He chalked it up to being Dutch: You take care of yourself and your children. Jenna would do the same.

Together, unprompted, they began to call out.

“Helllp.”

“Helllp.”

GLACIER National Park straddles the Continental Divide. Popularly thought of as North America’s Switzerland, famous for its snowy peaks, alpine meadows, rivers and lakes, the park attracts nearly 2 million visitors each year. On the east side of the park, the Grinnell Glacier Trail is one of the most popular day hikes.

“Helllp.”

Johan knew he couldn’t stand here much longer. He took off his day pack and camcorder. His digital camera was gone, lost in the chaos. He pulled a jacket out of his pack and put the hood over his head. The night before, he’d read a book about bear attacks: how a woman in Alaska had stopped the bleeding of her scalp by covering her head. He also thought it might be easier on Jenna or anyone else who might happen to see him.

He wanted to climb to the ledge above. He didn’t know how he’d carry his pack and camcorder. Then it came to him, what they say on airplanes. Leave your luggage and take care of yourself. It made sense. He clambered and crawled off the narrow shelf and up to the ledge. He felt dizzy, so he sat down.

Johan and Jenna alternated their calls. Jenna had decided to stay where she was. She too was dizzy and uncertain of her injuries. Perched on the side of the mountain, about 75 feet apart, they looked down into the valley. Their cries disappeared in the vast open space. It was windy and cold, and the quiet seemed unreal after the intensity of the attack.

“Helllp.”

Then Jenna called out. “Dad, the boat just got to the dock. I see people getting off.” It was a water taxi that ran a regular service across Lake Josephine.

Johan knew that with the arrival of the boat, hikers would soon be streaming along the trail and their shouts would be heard. He was tired. He stopped yelling and tried not to think about how badly injured he was. Nothing a little surgery can’t fix, he told himself. Besides, he was alive, and his daughter was fine.

Amid the isolation and the cold, he grew sore and stiff and numb. Lying down, sitting up, nothing helped. Forty-five minutes later, he heard Jenna talking with someone. She called to him. “Dad, there are people here now. They’re getting help.”

Still it seemed like forever. Then Johan saw a man cutting through the bushes and sliding down toward him. The man’s eyes were wide open. The expression said everything.

“Are you OK?” the man asked.

“Do you see a camera?” Johan replied.

Jim Knapp was surprised by the question, but very little was making sense.

Knapp and his wife had started their hike that morning a little past 8, well ahead of the water taxi. After an hour on the trail, they heard what sounded like a coyote or a hawk or some animal being attacked. Then there was more, and it sounded human. They started running. Someone must have fallen or sprained an ankle.

Knapp told Johan he would look for the camera, but his attention was focused on the injured man before him. It was the most gruesome sight he had ever seen.

Blood covered Johan’s face. His arms and legs oozed blood. His voice and sentences were jerky and repetitive. He reminded Knapp of Dustin Hoffman in “Rainman,” and with his sweat shirt pulled up over his head, he looked like Beavis in an episode of “Beavis and Butthead.”

“Jenna’s OK,” Knapp said, as he began to get a sense of Johan’s injuries. He noticed the day pack — but no camera — on the shelf beneath them, and he climbed down to retrieve it. Inside were a sweat shirt and four water bottles. He covered Johan and tried to make him drink. He took off his T-shirt and wrapped it around a deep gash on Johan’s leg. He laid out some nuts and a granola bar and took some water up to Jenna.

Then Johan saw a girl. She was sliding down to him. Her name was Kari.

Kari Schweigert and Heidi Reindl had been car-camping in Glacier. They were just starting on an 11-mile hike when they ran into Jim Knapp’s wife, running down the trail, screaming for help.

Then there were two teenage boys. Johan couldn’t keep track of everyone, but one of the boys — the one who wore a beanie — did get his camera. It was the camcorder, and Johan was glad to see it. He was also glad that people were finally getting there, but he felt bad for them. He knew stumbling upon a bear attack — and finding him as bloody as he was — couldn’t be easy for them. A fall or a sprain, sure, but a bear attack? He tried to tell himself that it would be OK. He tried to console himself. If he and Jenna had not been attacked, then these other hikers would have.

What can we do, everyone asked. How can we help?

The rock at the back of his head felt like it was digging into his skull. He squirmed about. He wanted them to help him sit up, but they didn’t want to. They were worried about his neck.

Then he’d have to do it himself. He simply wanted to sit up, have a drink of water and then maybe lie down again.

But he was fading.

Grinnell Glacier at Glacier National Park

(Ryan Herron/Getty Images/iStockphoto)

VOICES told him that help was on the way, only he was losing interest. He didn’t want to deal with any of this anymore. It was all too much: wondering how they’d get him and Jenna off the mountain; wanting to be cleaned up from the dirt and sticky blood; saddened that their trip was ending this way.

Kari Schweigert sat beside him, talking. Her curly hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was in a tank top; Johan was wearing her jacket. He was shaking and numb with cold.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“The pain is OK,” he said. “I’d just like to take a nap.”

Then she started to move in closer to him. She knew he was cold. She said she wanted to warm him up. She angled around him and covered his abdomen and chest with her body, her legs off to a side.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. He didn’t want her to get covered with blood; it would be impossible to wash out.

She couldn’t cover him completely, but she did shield him from the wind. It was a moment he would never forget. How strange, he thought, to be hiking along on this trail one moment, thinking about running in a marathon, and then suddenly not being able to walk, being so dependent upon strangers, and now this girl so close to him, so tender and different from the savagery of the attack.

His mind kept going back to Jenna. Everyone told him that she was not as badly injured as he was. He felt guilty. Why had he wanted to go hiking here? Why wasn’t he a better parent?

Schweigert kept talking to him. She told him not to fall asleep. It made sense. He knew he’d lost a lot of blood, and he knew he was in shock. The wash of voices and movement of people around him, once reassuring, began to blur.

A park ranger and a dozen hikers were on the trail above them. The ranger radioed a report on Johan and Jenna’s status to the ranger station at Many Glacier, where an incident commander was assembling a rescue team.

A few of the hikers peered over the edge.

“Do you need anything?” they yelled.

“More jackets.”

Someone tucked one under Johan’s head.

His neck felt broken.

“WHAT’S your name?”

“Johan Otter.”

“Where are you?”

“Glacier National Park.”

“What time of day is it?”

“Late morning.”

“What happened?”

“Bear attack….”

The name badge said Katie. She wore the green and gray uniform of the park service. She had slid down the slope, balancing a medical kit and a shotgun in her hands, and once she determined that he was alert and oriented, she started dressing his wounds.

Katie Fullerton had pulled into the Many Glacier parking lot expecting just another summer day. Then she heard about the attack. She and another ranger were ordered to get to Johan and Jenna as soon as possible. Since opening in 1910, Glacier National Park has had only 10 bear fatalities, and they were enough.

The incident commander at Many Glacier had put a call out for additional rangers, some stationed on the west side of the park, 70 miles — a two-hour drive — away. A helicopter, chartered from Minuteman Aviation, would ferry those rangers to the site of the attack and would be used to shuttle equipment and personnel up to the mountain.

Whup, whup, whup.

Katie Fullerton looked up. At 9,000 feet, the white chopper had negotiated a U-shaped notch in the Garden Wall, a narrow filigree of stone crowning the Continental Divide. As it drew close, it circled, looking for a place to land. Johan and Jenna Otter could not have fallen in a less accessible place.

Three hours had passed since the attack, and Johan’s metabolism was slowing down. The blast of adrenaline triggered by the attack was long gone; the 15-minute torrent of thought and reaction had dissipated in a miasma of pain, discomfort and boredom. Why was the rescue taking so long?

Crashing mentally and emotionally, he knew he needed to stay warm and awake. Gusts of wind ghosted along the cliff; temperatures shot from warm to freezing as clouds drifted beneath the sun. Hikers on the trail were tossing down energy bars, water and more outerwear. A ranger was talking on the radio.

A second ranger crouched beside Johan. He had arrived with nearly 50 pounds of gear, including a life-support pack with IV fluids, medications and an oxygen tank, and he began cutting away Johan’s jackets and clothing. He introduced himself as Gary, Gary Moses. Johan appreciated his calm and confident manner.

Moses explained that the plan was to place Johan and Jenna on litters, have them lifted up to the trail and then carried down to a landing zone, where the chopper would take them to the Kalispell Regional Medical Center in Kalispell, Mont., in the Flathead Valley on the west side of the park.

Rangers on the trail set up a belaying system. They knew they had to move fast. Moses took Johan’s vitals. His blood pressure was 80 over 30, his pulse 44, his temperature dropping.

Moses prepared an IV line. Johan tried to lie still, but he was shivering uncontrollably. Then he heard something. It was Katie Fullerton; she was crying. The sound startled him at first.

“Do you want to stand down?” Moses asked his fellow ranger.

She shook her head.

Johan was glad. She had worked hard to make him comfortable and safe.

This was her first season as a patrol ranger, her first major trauma. Just last year, she’d been collecting user fees, and she had grown up near the park. She and her family had hiked these trails. This could just as easily have been her father.

Her tears reminded Johan how grave his situation was.

THE helicopter was making a second landing, and all Johan could think was: Hurry up. A second medic had joined Moses and Fullerton.

“How’s Jenna?” It was his steady refrain.

“There’re people with her.”

Moses and the other medic put a C-collar around Johan’s neck and got ready to insert a urinary catheter. Johan reminded them about a scene in “Seinfeld” in which an embarrassed George Costanza is caught naked and complains about “shrinkage.” They burst out laughing, and Johan relaxed a little. This is who he was: not just a bloodied man but someone always there with an easy line, ready to lighten the mood, to give to others.

Moses reassessed the rescue plan. It had taken nearly an hour to find a vein and get the IV started. Carrying Johan out, lifting him to the trail and then down to the helicopter landing zone was going to be too traumatic, and the afternoon was getting on.

He thought a helicopter could lift Johan directly off this ledge, in a rescue known as a short haul. It would be quicker but riskier. Still, he didn’t see any way around it. He radioed in his recommendation. The incident commander agreed. They called in the rescue helicopter operated by the hospital in Kalispell.

As they waited, Johan remembered an Air Force chopper that had crashed during a rescue on Mt. Hood little more than three years earlier. Everything — the foundering, the dipping, the rolling down the slope in a cascade of snow — had been televised on the evening news.

It made him nervous.

“Am I going to die?” Johan asked.

“You’re not going to die up here,” the second medic said.

RED against the blue sky and white clouds, the short-haul helicopter was easier to spot than the Minuteman.

“Hear that?” Gary Moses looked out over the valley. “That’s the sound of your rescue.”

Pilot Ken Justus adjusted the foot pedals and hand controls to bring the Bell 407 closer to the cliff. Travis Willcut, the flight nurse, sat next to him, calling out positions, monitoring radio traffic. Jerry Anderson, a medic, dangled 150 feet beneath them on a rope with a red Bauman Bag and a body board at his waist.

Piloting a helicopter at moments like this is like pedaling an exercise bike on the roof of a two-story building while trying to dangle a hot dog into the mouth of a jar on the ground. Lying on his back, Johan watched.

The IV had kicked in. Though stiff and still cold, he was wide awake and in no pain. Anticipation was everything, and he remembered feeling a little afraid. He hated roller coasters and worried about his stomach.

“You’ll have the best view of your life,” Moses said, hiding his worry. He knew getting Anderson in would be tricky. Because helicopters can’t cast sharply defined shadows on steep terrain, pilots flying short-haul missions have trouble judging closing speeds and distances.

Johan Otter is airlifted from the Grinnell Glacier Trail with medic Jerry Anderson, after being attacked by a grizzly bear and her two cubs in Glacier National Park, Montana on August 25, 2005. Johan tumbled down a steep chute about 75 feet where he almost died.

(Heidi Reindl)

Anderson, dangling at the end of the rope, had a radio in his helmet. He was using it to direct Justus lower and closer to Johan. Abruptly, the radio died.

“I’m at your 11 o’clock position, a mile out,” Moses broke in with his radio, once he understood the problem. “Half mile, 12 o’clock.”

“Do I need to come up or down?”

“Up about 10 feet.”

Then just as Justus got closer, he caught Anderson’s shadow on the ledge and set him down about 20 feet to the right of Johan. The other rangers shielded Johan from the rotor wash and dust.

Anderson unhooked himself. Justus moved the helicopter away. With the rangers’ help, Anderson slid the body board beneath Johan and strapped the Bauman Bag around him. He waved Justus back in.

“We’re ready to lift.”

“Roger, ready to lift.”

Johan couldn’t tell when he was off the ground. Dangling with Anderson beside him, 150 feet beneath the helicopter, all Johan would see was Anderson’s face, the blue sky and the belly of the chopper. The wind whistled around him.

“Woo hoo!” The hikers and rangers on the mountain started cheering and clapping.

With Johan and Anderson still beneath him, Justus accelerated down the valley to the helipad at Many Glacier. A waiting crowd was asked not to take pictures. Johan was transferred into an ambulance while Justus went back to pick up Jenna. Finally Johan was out of the wind and in a warm place.

Then he heard the news.

“Jenna is here,” someone said.

“Hi, sweetie,” he called out as they prepared to fly him to the medical center in Kalispell. With his head wrapped in bandages, mummy slits for his eyes and the C-collar on his neck, Johan couldn’t see her. “Make sure when they call Mom that you talk to her.”

He knew he wouldn’t be the one making that call.

“Otherwise she’ll totally freak out,” he said.

About this article

The accounts in this article are drawn from interviews over a span of 18 months with Johan, Marilyn and Jenna Otter. Additional interviews were conducted with the following individuals:

National Park Service: Jan Cauthorn-Page, Katie Fullerton, Rachel Jenkins, Kathy Krisko, Gary Moses, Rick Mulligan, Melissa Wilson, Amy Vanderbilt and Andrew Winslow.

Hikers on the Grinnell Trail: Julie Aitchison, Colin Aitchison, Kathleen MacDonald, Jim Knapp, Marla Moore, Robin Malone and Heidi Reindl.

Minuteman Aviation: Jerry Mamuzich.

Kalispell Regional Medical Center’s Advanced Life Support and Emergency Rescue Team (ALERT helicopter): Jerry Anderson, Addison Clark, Ken Justus, Travis Willcut, Patricia Harmon and Keith Hannon.

Additional reporting came from the National Park Service’s investigation report concerning the attack.

LONDONERS have seen a 75 per cent rise in the “Sadiq Khan stealth tax” during the mayor’s time in office, we can reveal.

The levy — officially known as the mayoral precept — is added to council tax bills in all 32 city boroughs and has risen steadily since the Labour politician’s 2016 election.

For a Band D home, it has jumped from £280.02 in 2017 to £490.38 today.

In comparison, Liverpool asks £24, Cambridge £36 and Greater Manchester £128.95.

West Midlands Mayor Richard Parker charges nothing.

Much of this year’s London fee — £319.13 — goes to the Met Police to pay for cops.

Another £71.72 is for the London Fire Brigade and £77.09 for transport services.

The Greater London Authority, which includes Mr Khan’s office, takes the remaining £22.44.

The Sun told last week that he is on course to rake in £14million, most of it from motorists failing to pay the £12.50 daily ultra low emission zone (Ulez) charge.

City Hall Conservative Group leader Susan Hall said: “Sadiq Khan has taxed the life out of our city. Where has it all gone? Crime is out of control, traffic is at a standstill, nightlife is dead, house building’s virtually stopped and the green belt is at risk.

“To paraphrase the president of the USA, he’s a terrible mayor.”

A spokesman for the mayor said a record £1.16billion had been invested in policing this year, providing 935 neighbourhood cops.

He added: “Keeping Londoners safe is Sadiq’s top priority.”

1

Police say four people were killed and 500 others arrested at protests in the capital, Luanda.

At least four people were killed and hundreds were arrested during a protest against a fuel price hike in Angola’s capital, police said.

The protests erupted on Monday in response to the government’s decision earlier this month to raise the price of diesel by 30 percent, which led to large hikes in fares by minibus taxis, an important method of transport for many Angolans.

Gunfire could be heard in central Luanda’s Cazenga area, where people were seen taking food and other items from shops.

Social media images showed clashes in the Rocha Pinto suburb near the airport, as well as in the Prenda area.

Police said in a statement on Tuesday that hundreds of arrests were made in connection with rioting, vandalism and looting of shops. Cars and buses were damaged and roads were blocked.

Transport in Luanda remained suspended and shops closed on Tuesday.

The government’s decision to raise heavily subsidised fuel prices from 300 to 400 kwanzas ($0.33 to $0.44) per litre has caused anger in Angola, one of Africa’s top oil producers, where many people live in poverty.

Minibus taxi associations, which in turn hiked their fares by up to 50 percent, launched a three-day strike to protest the move beginning on Monday.

“We are tired … they must announce something for things to change … for us to live in better conditions,” a protester told Angola’s TV Nzinga.

“Why do you make us suffer like this? How will we feed our children? The prices have to go down,” a woman said, addressing President Joao Lourenco.

Deputy Commissioner Mateus Rodrigues told reporters in a briefing about Monday’s violence that the police “currently report four deaths”. He did not specify how they occurred.

Police arrested 400 people overnight for suspected involvement in the unrest after arresting 100 on Monday, Rodrigues said. About 45 shops were vandalised, while 25 private vehicles and 20 public buses were damaged, he added. Banks were also targeted.

Protests have been taking place since the announcement of the diesel price hike on July 1.

Human Rights Watch said police had used excessive force in a July 12 protest, including firing tear gas and rubber bullets.

Angola has been gradually cutting fuel subsidies since 2023, when protests over a petrol price hike also turned deadly.

I was concerned when I arrived Tuesday to the Bridge to Nowhere trailhead about the conditions I’d find in the canyon.

Last September, the Bridge fire broke out near the trailhead and burned 56,030 acres, destroying 81 structures, flattening campgrounds and scorching many miles of beloved trails.

The area, which sits a short drive northeast of Azusa, had been closed since the fire started Sept. 8 and was expected to remain so through at least May 22, 2026, per the closure order that officials renewed just three weeks ago.

Then, last Friday, officials terminated that closure order “to once again allow the public to access and enjoy their public lands.”

“We understand how important these areas are for recreation, connection, and well-being,” Angeles National Forest spokeswoman Keila Vizcarra told me in an emailed statement.

That means every trail in the Bridge fire burn scar has reopened to the public, including the Bridge to Nowhere hike and, one of my personal favorites, the Mt. Baden-Powell hike. (You can see a full list here.)

Poking around with my trekking poles last week, I tried to understand this shift in mindset by officials. I asked and have yet to receive an answer regarding their reasoning.

So I was left to ponder a couple of things. First, a closure order usually stays in place for months, if not years, to allow the land to heal and because post-fire hazards need to be remediated before the public returns, a point forest service officials have stressed many times.

Although the trees and foliage are growing near the East Fork of the San Gabriel River, the mountains around the canyon leading to the Bridge to Nowhere trail are varying levels of bare.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

After the Bobcat fire in 2020, the popular Big Santa Anita Canyon area remained closed for four years, reopening after volunteer trail crews spent hundreds of hours repairing the damage to trails from the fire and subsequent flooding. And the Eaton fire closure order is expected to remain in place at least through 2026, maybe even 2027.

Second, I asked Justin Seastrand, forest recreation manager at Angeles National Forest, at a May 22 news conference about the status of the Bridge fire closure order. Many in the hiking community were angry that the order had closed the trails leading to Mt. Baldy, and I wanted to know whether hope was on the horizon.

Seastrand told me that two of the three trails to the top of Mt. Baldy would reopen soon (which they did), but Bear Canyon (sometimes called Old Mt. Baldy Trail) would remain closed. “Most of the remaining trails that were in that original closure are going to stay closed another year,” Seastrand said, adding that doing closures on a year-to-year basis was “standard practice.”

Also, I asked him to clarify whether he had any specific updates on the the East Fork of the San Gabriel River area, including the Bridge to Nowhere trail. Before the Bridge fire, it was one of the most popular swimming areas in the region, visited (and trashed) by thousands.

“That’s going to stay closed again for another year, and possibly longer, because that entire watershed is burned,” Seastrand told me at the May 22 news conference. “That trail is one of the primary dangers I mentioned of being in a canyon bottom subject to flooding and possible debris flows.”

The East Fork of the San Gabriel River northeast of Azusa.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Seastrand said the forest service has several science partners that help the agency monitor watershed response, and “sometimes it recovers quicker than others, but that watershed was severely, severely burned.”

So what gives?

I’m not the only one with questions. A concerned reader emailed me Friday (thank you!) about the sudden termination of the order. Also, on Reddit, the online hiking community quickly spun, somewhat understandably given the lack of clarity from local officials, into conspiracy theories regarding the termination.

“This has the smell of politics attached to it and may be connected to this discussion of selling off public lands. Probably more details will be coming out over the next couple of months,” one Reddit user wrote. (For context on the proposed public land sale, see our Must Read below.)

“Trying to be a bit more optimistic… Maybe they don’t have the staff to enforce these closures? I know I’m reaching here… but like I said, I’m trying to be positive,” another user replied, referencing the Trump administration’s firing of thousands of U.S. Forest Service workers, including in our local Southern California forests.

Western fence lizards and other reptiles are easy to spot as you hike alongside the East Fork of the San Gabriel River.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

When I learned the Bridge fire closure order was terminated, my first concern was about trail safety. A wildfire can, and often does, destroy chaparral that grows along steep hillsides. The roots of the manzanita and other trees and shrubs provide stability to steep canyon walls. Given the flooding following the Bridge fire, what types of conditions would hikers face when taking the Bridge to Nowhere trail?

I asked Vizcarra in my email request about whether crews completed any repairs on the 9.5-mile trek to the iconic bridge or any of the other trails in the Bridge fire closure area before the area reopened.

“No restoration work has been completed on the San Gabriel River Trail leading into the Sheep Mountain Wilderness,” Vizcarra said in an email. “Trail maintenance in the Angeles National Forest is largely dependent on dedicated volunteers, and given the vast number of trail miles, not all can be regularly maintained. It may take considerable time for some trails to be fully restored. That said, the Forest Service does not close trails solely due to lack of maintenance, as such closures often lead to off-trail hiking and increased safety risks. Visitors should always exercise caution and be prepared for rugged conditions when exploring public lands.”

The path to the Bridge to Nowhere trail is lush and healthy near the river.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

During my visit Tuesday, I was relieved as I drove along East Fork Road to see several dumpsters and trash cans that hopefully visitors will use when they come to swim and play in the river. In recent years, volunteer groups have repeatedly removed hundreds of pounds of trash from the East Fork area after visitors on busy weekends left it polluted.

Right before the trailhead, I paused at a stoplight, which controls traffic while workers perform construction in the area. Plan accordingly. A sign cautions visitors to expect delays.

I arrived and had been parked two minutes before someone pulled up next to me, asked whether this was the Bridge to Nowhere trailhead and told me they’d gotten lost and hiked in the wrong area (but had fun, nonetheless).

Starting out, I quickly noticed the first of many landslides. They’re not terribly challenging to navigate, at least for now. I spoke to several hikers who made it the 4.75 miles to the bridge, and although they had a great time, they noted the trail looked a lot different because of all the landslides.

The trail to the Bridge to Nowhere includes taking narrow, sandy paths with steep drop-offs.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

This made me wonder: Although the trail is passable now, what will those landslides — which have blasted away parts of the trail — look like after thousands of people clomp over them on their way to the bridge? How will those landslides and surrounding trail fare after the next winter rains wash away more dirt and dead plants?

Just over half a mile in, I arrived at a restroom that a location scout for a horror film would have been delighted to discover. Its floor was caked in mud, and graffiti surrounded an accidentally ironic sign that read, “Please keep restroom clean.”

Soon, I arrived at wooden railroad ties that previously served as steps down the path. I am petitioning we rename them the Stairs to Somewhere, because they currently lead down into a ditch where you shouldn’t go. Instead, the trail now jags around them.

On your way to the Bridge to Nowhere, avoid these stairs to somewhere. The trail goes around them, as they lead into a steep drop-off.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Continuing forward, I observed a healthy-looking canyon surrounded by hillsides and mountains that were varying levels of bare. There were leafy green pines and walnut trees near the river and blackened (possibly dead) manzanita and other chaparral up on the mountains.

Overall, I found the trail itself fairly easy to follow as long as I looked at the map I downloaded on my hiking app, comparing the route that it recommended with the official East Fork Trail. I missed a turn a few times, but I faced the same problem the first time I hiked to the Bridge to Nowhere in 2020.

Also, on that trek, I didn’t feel particularly safe in a few spots. I remember navigating a narrow, sandy path high above the canyon floor that felt unstable as I rushed over it. It was one reason — the biggest being the crowds — that I avoided the area, hiking at less crowded parts of the river.

Every hike carries risk. Whenever you enter the backcountry, which includes the Bridge to Nowhere hike, it’s good to remember the hiking adage YOYO, or you’re on your own.

This dam, created using rocks and sticks, is a harmful practice that visitors should refrain from when visiting the San Gabriel River. Damming the river inhibits trout and other animals from moving about their home.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

That said, the Bridge to Nowhere hike carries with it some specific risks that I plan to consider when visiting. If your hiking app or map suggests you do something that doesn’t feel safe, reconsider. If your friend thinks you should ford the river, pause and think about it. People have drowned here.

Also, I wouldn’t hike here if the forecast called for rain, as the bare hillsides could be unstable and cause debris flows. And unless a local trail crew adopts this hike and maintains it, it’s important to remember that new hazards could pop up after a wind or rainstorm.

When I mentally put my concerns aside, I did have a fabulous time hiking this trail, and although I remain worried about the long-term effects of thousands of people visiting a trail with several landslides, I found it to be a beautiful and peaceful place as I hiked past pine and walnut trees and small bursts of wildflowers and buckwheat.

On my way out, I texted my friend, excited to return, but I will do so with some caution.

3 things to do

Cyclists peddle through Culver City during a previous Pride ride.

(Karim Sahli)

1. Bike, skate or scoot to Pride in Culver City
Culver City Pride will host a 5(ish)-mile bike ride at 4 p.m. from Syd Kronenthal Park in Culver City to the annual Pride festival. Cyclists, skaters and anyone else traveling on wheels can participate and are encouraged to wear rainbow colors. Don’t have a bike? Metro Bike Share will host a 1.4-mile, one-way bike ride to the park, and participants can rent wheels from the agency’s program. Culver City Pride requires helmets for all participants. Riders should also bring sunscreen and a refillable water bottle. Register for the ride at eventbrite.com.

2. Learn about local ecology at Elephant Hill
Coyotl + Macehualli and a group of scientists will host a guided ecological walk from 8 a.m. to noon Saturday through Elephant Hill in El Sereno. The event is the launch for long-term, community-led research focused on how to be good stewards of the land and what data are needed to do so. Participants will learn about local birds, insects and plants from scientists, along with field methods in gathering data. Guests should wear sturdy shoes and bring walking sticks, as the group will traverse uneven land. Learn more and register at eventbrite.com.

3. Celebrate the last of Pride season with L.A. County Parks
L.A. County Department of Parks and Recreation will host the final week of its Pride Outside events Thursday through Sunday at public spaces across the region. Each event is about two hours and features entertainment, giveaways and information from local nonprofit groups. San Gabriel River Park will host its event from 9 a.m. to noon. Guests can take nature walks and make buttons, among other activities. Vasquez Rocks will have its Pride event from 4 to 7 p.m. Sunday and offer s’mores and more. Learn more at the department’s Instagram page.

The must-read

Snow-covered peaks and sagebrush frame a view of Mono Lake in Lee Vining, Calif., in 2021.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Last week, news broke that Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah) had proposed selling up to 3.3 million acres in public lands managed by the U.S. Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management, aiming to allow the land to be developed for affordable housing. Environmental and outdoors advocates were skeptical, fearing it could open public land to a litany of harmful uses. Proponents said the U.S. is protecting way too much land, and the concept would help rural communities. But the proposal was put on ice on Monday after the “Senate parliamentarian — who advises the government body on interpreting procedural rules — determined the proposal didn’t pass muster under the the Byrd Rule, which prevents the inclusion of provisions that are extraneous to the budget in a reconciliation bill,” wrote Times staff writer Lila Seidman. Whether the proposal will be brought back in a different iteration remains to be seen.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Facing a significant budget cut, the L.A. County Department of Parks and Recreation is scaling back operations and hours at multiple locations. The county parks department will close six of its regional parks — Castaic Lake, Frank G. Bonelli (already temporarily closed because of a high-voltage transformer failure on May 5), Kenneth Hahn, Peter F. Schabarum, Santa Fe Dam and Whittier Narrows — on Mondays and Tuesdays. It also will shorten the summer pool season and end much of the popular Parks After Dark programming. If you’d like to help the parks in this challenging time, you can volunteer at your favorite park or donate to the parks foundation. You can learn more here.

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.

The US has been pressuring its allies to adopt new targets for defence spending in response to the Russian threat.

A who’s who of world leaders has been converging on the Netherlands for the annual North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) summit, where members are expected to sign off on major boosts to defence spending in response to pressure from the United States.

The two-day NATO meeting kicks off in The Hague on Tuesday against a backdrop of increasing global instability, with ongoing conflicts in Ukraine, Gaza and the Middle East. High on the agenda is an agreement to significantly increase defence expenditure across the 32 member states. This follows pointed criticism from the administration of US President Donald Trump, who says the US carries too much of the military burden.

Trump has demanded that NATO allies increase their defence spending to 5 percent of their gross domestic product (GDP), up from the current target of 2 percent. He has questioned whether the alliance should defend countries that fail to meet the spending targets, and has even threatened to leave the bloc.

Speaking to reporters in The Hague ahead of the summit on Tuesday, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen said that NATO members were set to approve “historic new spending targets” at the summit.

“The security architecture that we relied on for decades can no longer be taken for granted,” she said, describing it as a “once-in-a-generation tectonic shift”.

“In recent months, Europe has taken action, action that seemed unthinkable just a year ago,” she said. “The Europe of defence has finally awakened.”

Speaking ahead of the summit, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte stressed that there was “total commitment” from the US to the alliance, but he noted that it came with the expectation of a boost in defence spending.

US pressure

Earlier this month, US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth delivered an ultimatum to NATO defence ministers at a meeting in Brussels, saying that the commitment to 5 percent spending “​​has to happen by the summit at The Hague”.

In response to the pressure, Rutte will ask member states at the summit to approve new targets of 5 percent of GDP for their defence budgets by 2032, with 3.5 percent to be spent on core defence spending and the remainder allocated to “soft spending” on infrastructure and cybersecurity.

In 2023, in response to Russia’s war on Ukraine, NATO leaders agreed to raise defence spending targets from 1.5 percent to 2 percent of GDP. However, only 22 of the alliance’s 32 members met the revised targets.

While some countries like Spain have pushed back against the latest proposed hike as unrealistic, other members have already announced plans to significantly ramp up military spending in response to a changed security environment.

Delivering a major foreign policy address in Berlin on Tuesday, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz said that Germany would ramp up its spending to become “Europe’s strongest conventional army” — not as a “favour” to Washington, but in response to the threat from Russia.

“We must fear that Russia wants to continue its war beyond Ukraine,” he said.

“We must together be so strong that no one dares to attack us.”

Kremlin: NATO ‘created for confrontation’

The summit will be attended by the leaders of all 32 members of the transatlantic alliance, along with the leaders of allied countries, including Japan, New Zealand and Ukraine.

While Kyiv is not a member of the alliance, its desire to join NATO was cited by the Kremlin as one of the reasons it attacked Ukraine in 2022.

On Tuesday, Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov said Moscow had no plans to attack NATO, but that it was “a wasted effort” to assure the alliance of this because it was determined to demonise Russia as a “fiend of hell”.

“It is an alliance created for confrontation … It is not an instrument of peace and stability,” Peskov said, the Reuters news agency reported.