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Over the last year, activists have organized droves of people across the United States to protest and petition Congress over concerns that the Trump administration will sell off our most beloved outdoor spaces.

We’ve worried about general threats to public lands, such as whether the 700,000-acre Angeles National Forest or the 150,000-acre Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area will remain pristine protected landscapes. We’ve also seen specific examples of what activists have cautioned could happen: a large mining operation that could open just outside Joshua Tree National Park and a large housing development proposed at the border of Yosemite National Park.

And although that attention is more than warranted, for those of us living around Los Angeles, it’s crucial that we not miss a similar, quieter battle being fought locally by nonprofits and public agencies. Here in L.A., our wildlands are often protected parcel by parcel.

A bear meanders through the Rubio Canyon Preserve.

(Johanna Turner)

It’s a time-consuming, expensive and rewarding job that the Arroyos & Foothills Conservancy has been performing for, as of Friday, when the group celebrates its anniversary, 25 years.

I spoke with conservancy leaders about their vision to create an expansive corridor for wildlife moving among our mountain ranges. This would help combat climate change locally, make hillsides more fire resistant and ensure biodiversity among our local animals.

The Arroyos & Foothills Conservancy started with four neighbors — Altadena residents Nancy Steele, Astrid Ellersieck, Diane Walters and Lori Paul — who organized against a housing development that ultimately was constructed.

“They were unsuccessful in preventing the project, but they realized that working together, they could be powerful,” said Barbara Goto, the conservancy’s director of operations.

The group first launched the Altadena Foothills Conservancy with the hyperlocal focus of protecting the neighboring hillsides and canyons from development. Over the next seven years, the organization’s vision expanded to include the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, and it started operating under its current name.

The organization has saved more than 140 acres from development since its founding. To identify ideal properties, they’ve used wildlife cameras, mapping software and other available data.

A Pacific tree frog (Pseudacris cadaverina) male, calling with extended throat, at Rubio Canyon.

(Althea Edwards)

The process to purchase those properties is often long and arduous. Conservancy staff must persuade a property owner to sell at fair-market price — a stipulation when the conservancy uses state funding to buy property. The owner must also be patient enough to wait for the conservancy to cobble together grants to buy the land.

After buying the land, the conservancy establishes a “friends” group — like Friends of Rubio — comprised of volunteers who yank invasive plants, reestablish trails (if applicable) and rebuild or restore passageways to make the property as appealing to animals as possible.

And it works.

The 41-acre Rubio Canyon Preserve, which sits about four miles northwest of Eaton Canyon, is regularly frequented by bears, mountain lions and deer passing to and from Angeles National Forest and the foothill landscape.

Two gray foxes appear to play together in Millard Canyon.

(Denis Callet)

At the conservancy’s Rosemont Preserve, volunteers have essentially removed all invasive castor bean, arundo (which clogs streams) and tree tobacco, which crowd out native plants and harm the landscape. It’s no surprise that the conservancy has documented 10 different mountain lions over the last nine years there (even though the preserve is surrounded on multiple sides by neighborhoods).

When the conservancy staff invited me to visit one of their preserves, I was eager and skeptical. I grew up in rural America, where my family’s 300-acre goat ranch was considered small. I’ve met ranchers who own essentially entire counties of land, especially around the Oklahoma-Texas Panhandle.

I had a bias going into this story. I assumed you needed big swaths of property to really make a difference. I realized how wrong I was when I visited the conservancy’s Cottonwood Canyon in Pasadena.

It is only 11 acres, but it is one of the most significant properties the conservancy has acquired. But that wasn’t immediately obvious.

A coyote trudges through the Rosemont Preserve.

(Denis Callet)

As John Howell, the conservancy’s chief executive, and Tim Martinez, the organization’s land manager, led me through the preserve, shaded by massive oak trees, they explained that a local educator had reached out to let the organization know that the property, which had been owned by the same family since 1885, would be up for sale.

The organization soon realized a few key details about the land. For one, it has a small-but-mighty spring that flows year-round into the Arroyo Seco. It is one of only two known year-round water sources for wildlife in the region, they said, a significant resource given how drought can dry up much of the nearby rivers and creeks.

But Cottonwood’s importance grew much larger when a staffer at the California Department of Fish and Wildlife pointed out during a visit to the property, Goto said, that the land could serve as a vital piece in a wildlife corridor puzzle. The land sits between the Hahamongna Watershed Park in La Cañada Flintridge to its east and the San Rafael Hills and Verdugo Mountains to its west.

“They’re like, ‘These are natural open spaces that need to be connected — these natural open spaces are large enough to support wildlife populations,’” Goto said. “So that is when our mission changed.”

A lesser goldfinch sings a little tune at Sycamore Canyon Preserve.

(TJ Hastings)

The organization has since pushed for the creation of the Hahamongna to Tujunga Wildlife Corridor, a 20-mile stretch that would link the San Gabriel Mountains at Hahamongna Watershed Park to the San Gabriels at Big Tujunga Wash for wildlife passage through the San Rafael Hills and the Verdugo Mountains. (For a great visual, visit arroyosfoothills.org.)

This type of effort helps ensure that, for example, mountain lions don’t end up like the famous Griffith Park mountain lion P-22, surrounded by roadways and unable to safely look for a mate, or worse.

“P-41 was the resident cougar in the Verdugos and was there for 10 years with Nikita, and they sired two sets of two cubs,” Howell said. “And [with] the first set, one died on the 134 [Freeway] and the second one died on the 210 [Freeway]. And the second set were found emaciated under a car in Burbank, and they had to be saved.”

A mountain lion crosses through Millard Canyon.

(Johanna Turner)

One challenge the conservancy faces in building out the Hahamongna to Tujunga Wildlife Corridor, Goto said, is how state funding is allocated. It is coincidentally similar to my own bias going into this piece.

Goto said that, as incredible as California’s “30×30” goal is — to conserve 30% of California’s lands and coastal waters by 2030 — “it makes it very difficult to get funding for small parcels.”

Much of the money to buy public lands comes from bond measures, and although L.A. County arguably has one of the biggest voting blocks that passed those measures, a substantial amount of bond money goes to buy property in Northern California, where large plots are more ample, Goto said.

“It’s when we’re working on these wildlife corridors that don’t necessarily have water and are much smaller, that’s where it really gets difficult,” Goto said.

And sometimes all that’s needed is a parcel of land.

A curious deer at Cottonwood Canyon Preserve.

(Arroyos & Foothills Conservancy)

3 things to do

The L.A. River bike trail near Griffith Park.

(Los Angeles Times)

1. Mosey on down the river in Elysian Valley, a.k.a. Frogtown
L.A. Climate Week has organized an L.A. River Crawl from noon to 5 p.m. Saturday in Frogtown. Several local organizations and businesses will be open along the route, offering live music, poetry, food pop-ups and family-friendly activities about climate change and ecology. To learn more, visit laclimateweek.com.

2. Gaze at the stars in San Diego
San Diego County Parks will host the Festival of the Night Sky and Nocturnal Creatures from 5 to 10 p.m. Saturday at the Los Peñasquitos Ranch House (12122 Canyonside Park Drive) in San Diego. This free all-ages event will include birdwatching, stargazing via telescopes and a night hike where participants will try to spot scorpions, crickets and bats. Visitors are encouraged to bring binoculars, flashlights, jackets, drinks and snacks. Learn more at the agency’s Instagram page.

3. Journal with genuine curiosity in L.A.
The L.A. City Department of Recreation and Parks will host a guided walk with nature journaling from 9 to 11 a.m. Sunday at Griffith Park. A guide will take hikers on a short walk before the group pauses to capture what they’ve noticed in journals. Some materials will be provided, but guests are encouraged to bring what supplies they have. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

A professional guide with Times reporter Jack Dolan, right, set off near Donner Pass trailhead on a route taken by a backcountry ski group struck by an avalanche north of Tahoe on Feb. 17.

(Danny Kern / For The Times)

After hearing news of the deadliest avalanche in California history, many of us wondered how such a thing could happen given our access to weather data even in the most remote places. Times staff writer Jack Dolan retraced the steps of a guided backcountry ski trip where 13 people, including nine who died, were buried in snow during an intense blizzard. “Deep in a wooded ravine, bathed in warm sunlight, we knelt behind the makeshift memorial of flowers and looked up the slope that sent tons of snow barreling down,” Dolan wrote. “All we could see was a slight rise and a healthy forest of full-grown pine trees.”

There are no right words to say to capture the magnitude of heartache around this tragedy. The search for answers is one step in a long grieving process.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Valentine continues her quest for love, folks! The wolf who made history earlier this year when she entered Los Angeles County in search of a mate has made history for a second time. “The 3-year-old female with black fur entered Inyo County around 7 a.m. Sunday about 20 miles south of Mt. Whitney,” Times staff writer Lila Seidman wrote. “She became the first documented wolf to set paws in the Eastern Sierra county in more than a century, according to state wildlife officials.” It’s only been two months, meaning Valentine and her future mate could still qualify for a canine version of “90 Day Fiancé”!

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.

In early spring, the California mountain town of Julian sits suspended between seasons. At more than 4,000 feet, up in the Cuyamaca Mountains, it rests among coastal live oak woodlands and Coulter pine forests. Snow sometimes dusts the surrounding slopes, melting by afternoon into damp earth as manzanita and mountain lilac begin to flower. Along Main Street, the mingled scents of woodsmoke and apple pie drift from storefronts.

It is here that my journey along State Route 78 begins, following its long eastward descent from the mountain forest into the stark badlands of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, then skirting the southern edge of the Salton Sea, crossing the Algodones Dunes and continuing toward the Colorado River — a 140-mile corridor spanning one of the most dramatic ecological transitions across public lands in the American Southwest.

This road trip continues a series exploring California’s overlooked scenic highways, inspired in part by artist Earl Thollander’s “Back Roads of California,” whose sketches and travel notes celebrated a slower way of seeing. After tracing Highway 127 along the edge of Death Valley, the journey now shifts south.

Julian Cafe and Bakery, the start of the trip off Route 78.

(Josh Jackson)

Within minutes of leaving town, the pavement twists downward through tight turns and steep grades as the mountain air begins to warm, the vegetation giving way to chaparral and scattered juniper, then to the stark silhouettes of ocotillo and Mojave yucca. By the time it reaches the Pacific Crest Trail crossing 12 miles east of Julian, travelers have already descended nearly 2,000 feet.

Here, the highway passes quietly into Anza-Borrego, homeland of the Kumeyaay, Cahuilla and Cupeño peoples. At nearly 650,000 acres — just smaller than Yosemite — the park unfolds as a vast mosaic of mountains, badlands and open desert valleys extending far beyond the reach of the pavement.

Wildflowers along the route.

(Josh Jackson)

Bri Fordem, executive director of the Anza-Borrego Foundation, said the landscape reveals itself slowly to first-time visitors. “I think a lot of people drive right by it and go, ‘Oh yeah, there’s a desert there,’” she said. “But when you stop and you go a little slower and take a closer look, a whole world opens up.”

That invitation begins at mile 18, where the Yaqui Pass Road turnoff leads northeast toward the desert basin and the gateway community of Borrego Springs. The 2.8-mile Borrego Palm Canyon Trail offers one of the park’s most accessible routes into the desert’s interior. Cholla gardens and brittlebush rise from pale alluvial slopes, and a seasonal stream leads to one of California’s few native fan palm oases.

In wet winters, the valleys beyond town awaken in color as sand verbena, desert sunflower, evening primrose and pincushion gather in brief, luminous blooms across the desert floor. The Anza-Borrego Foundation tracks these seasonal displays and offers guidance on how to witness them responsibly.

The short detour returns to Highway 78 along Borrego Springs Road, where the pavement drops abruptly through the Texas Dip near mile 27 — a stark, cinematic wash where scenes from the closing sequence of “One Battle After Another” were filmed. Wandering through the wash, the mind drifts not to the film but to the flash floods that move through this channel after heavy rains, sudden torrents cutting and reshaping the valley floor in a matter of hours.

Ocotillo plants rise up from the desert floor in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.

(Josh Jackson)

The sun hangs in the middle of the sky as I drive toward one of the most rapidly changing shorelines in California. From almost any vantage point, the Salton Sea appears lifeless — a gray expanse rimmed with salt and windblown dust. But at its southern terminus, that impression begins to shift. The basin gathers into shallow wetlands where movement returns to the landscape.

Sixty miles from Julian, I turn onto Bannister Road and bump north along a gravel track for three miles into the basin, to a parking lot 164 feet below sea level. The lot sits within Unit 1 of the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge. A short walk along an irrigation canal leads to a weathered observation deck rising two stories above a patchwork of saturated flats where saltgrass, iodine bush and cattail take root. Here, the Pacific Flyway compresses into a living mosaic of wings, water and soil. Each spring, hundreds of thousands of birds gather here to feed and rest before lifting north again, following migratory paths far older than the farms and highways that now define the valley.

The wetlands near the Salton Sea provide a vital habitat for birds.

(Josh Jackson)

The place overwhelms the senses: a wash of emerald against open sky, thousands of snow geese honking in chorus, orange-crowned warblers and Abert’s towhees singing in the trees, and the persistent tang of salt in the air.

I meet three birders standing quietly on the platform, scanning the horizon through binoculars and recounting the 73 avian species they had tallied over the last two days — burrowing owls, American avocets, sandhill cranes and black-necked stilts among them. For 30 minutes we watch a northern harrier on the hunt, dive-bombing blue-winged and cinnamon teal, though he always comes up empty. Between scans of the horizon, we bond over “Listers,” the 2025 documentary that turns obsessive birdwatching into both comedy and a tale of devotion.

A burrowing owl stands in the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge.

(Josh Jackson)

Leaving the refuge, the vibrant color palette and moisture give way to muted browns and the returning austerity of desert air. By mile 97, the road rises to the Hugh T. Osborne Overlook, where the landscape shifts once again, opening into a vast ocean of sand.

The Algodones Dunes stretch toward the horizon in pale, wind-sculpted ridges, a narrow ribbon of shifting terrain running south into Mexico. The highway passes directly through their center.

From the overlook, the road reads as a line dividing two expressions of the same dune system. To the south lie the Bureau of Land Management’s Imperial Sand Dunes, where dune buggies and motorcycles trace arcs across bare slopes. North of the pavement, the North Algodones Dunes Wilderness holds a quieter terrain, where sunflower, ephedra and honey mesquite anchor the sand in subtle defiance of the wind.

A person walks along the Algodones Dunes.

(Josh Jackson)

Here the road becomes a boundary between different ways of moving through — and loving — the same landscape: speed and stillness, noise and silence, crowds and solitude.

By late afternoon, the final miles carry me east toward the Colorado River, where it meanders past willow and cottonwood. The light softened toward sunset, an evening echo of the same violet sky that hovered over Julian at the start of the day. After 140 miles, my road trip had come to an end. Yet as I pitched my tent that night, the motion of the landscapes lingered in mind.

The Colorado continued its long course south. Snow geese lifted north from refuge marshes. Wind reshaped the dunes, erasing the day’s tracks. Wildflowers that had briefly lit the desert floor would soon fade as heat gathered strength. The road ended, but the living systems it crossed moved steadily onward, already turning toward the next season.

Road trip planner: State Route 78

Highway 78 illustrated map.

(Illustrated map by Noah Smith)

The route: Julian to Palo Verde.

Distance: 140 miles (one way).

Drive time: 3 hours straight through; allow a full day for stops.

Best time to go: October through April. Summer temperatures frequently exceed 110 degrees.

Fuel and essentials:

• Julian (Mile 0): Gas station, Julian Market and Deli, lots of restaurants.
• Borrego Springs (Mile 18): Gas station, groceries, cafes.
• Brawley (Mile 74): Gas station, restaurants.

Eat and drink:

Camping:

Lodging:

Hike and explore:

Safety notes:

• Water: Carry at least 1 gallon per person per day.
• Connectivity: Cell service is dependable along the route.
• Wildlife: Watch for bighorn sheep and coyotes on the road, especially at dawn and dusk.

  

  Wildflowers along Highway 78.

  (Josh Jackson)

I went to the Santa Monica Mountains on the hunt for wildflowers.

I was nervous. What if I found absolutely nothing? I’d used data collected by plant lovers during previous blooms and checked on iNaturalist, a citizen science app, about where wildflowers had recently been noticed to discern where I’d be most likely to find blooms.

But, even then, I knew the unusual spring heat wave that prompted some wildflowers to bloom early could have also killed them. I knew the heat had already zapped the bright orange beauties at the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve. What if I’d already missed this annual springtime magic?

It was with this level of eagerness and anxiety I recently entered the Santa Monica Mountains. I feel more than lucky to have discovered a resplendent rainbow of native plant blooms.

I hope you also witness this abundance on the three trails below. L.A. is forecast to have more springtime rain, and you know what they say about April showers!

If not, though, I want to underscore that regardless of their foliage, each hike offers its own unique adventure, one I’d take in any season.

Chaparral bird’s-foot trefoil blooms in thick patches throughout the Saddle Peak Trail.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

1. Saddle Peak via Backbone Trail

Distance: 3.3 miles out and back
Elevation gained: About 860 feet
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed? No
Accessible alternative: Inspiration Loop Loop ADA Trail at Will Rogers State Historic Park

This 3.3-mile route to Saddle Peak takes hikers up a lush hillside with sweeping views of the nearby Calabasas Peak, the San Fernando Valley and, toward the top, the Pacific Ocean. Visitors will observe a landscape that features not only a diversity of wildflower species but also ancient sandstone formations.

You’ll start your hike by parking on the side of Stunt Road, a winding paved street with sharp turns popular among cyclists and drivers of very fast sports cars. There is limited parking here, so it’s good to either arrive early or hike this trail on a weekday. Additionally, the parking area on the side opposite the trailhead is near a steep drop-off so take good care if parking there.

The Saddle Peak Trail features multiple stretches where wildflowers grow close to the trail.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

The trailhead sits just south of the road and is well-marked with large signs, including one that warns you that smoking, bicycles and dogs are prohibited on the trail. (Apologies to your cigar-loving circus canine.)

You will first take the short Stunt Road connector trail about 0.2 miles before bearing left, or east, onto the Backbone Trail to Saddle Peak. You’ll immediately start noticing wildflowers.

Chaparral bird’s-foot trefoil, clockwise, mini lupine, purple nightshade, showy penstemon, golden yarrow and large-flowered phacelia.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

I have dubbed myself a “lupine freak” because of my obsession with this genus of plants — not because I enjoy howling at the moon once a month — and I paused just a third of a mile into this trail. “You look like a tiny little lupine,” I said to the short plant with purplish blue petals near my right foot. Turns out it was indeed a miniature lupine!

This would be the first of many delights. Within a half mile on the trail, I’d already spotted golden yarrow, bush poppy, purple nightshade and black sage abundant with purple blooms. And canyon sunflower covers substantial portions of this trail. This suggests the trail burned in recent years, as canyon sunflower is a fire follower.

There’s also a fair amount of California sagebrush, which you can run your fingers along and smell its delicious aroma (which I think smells like spicy Italian salad dressing).

The view from a bench at a lookout point near the Saddle Peak Trail in the Santa Monica Mountains.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

As I hiked onward, I started to feel like Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music” because the hills really were alive! I squinted at one plant I had no memory of seeing, a pink and green plant with bright pink and lemon chiffon-colored petals. Had I finally stumbled upon one of California’s rare, threatened or endangered plants?

I was so eager to Google this floral mystery. Later, I learned it’s a not-so-rare (but oh-so-beautiful) chaparral birdsfoot trefoil. It grew thick throughout the second leg of this trail, a real visual feast!

I briefly hiked through a lull where the trail was beautiful but not bursting with colors outside green and brown. Then, I came around another corner to find more trefoil, large-leaf phacelia and showy penstemon, which would be a great native plants-inspired drag performer name.

A massive sandstone rock wall along the Saddle Peak trail.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Very suddenly, after staring at plants for more than an hour, I looked up and realized I’d reached the massive ancient boulders. I watched as white-throated swifts dived in and out of the rock’s pockets where it might be considered tafoni (maybe!). Fun fact: These birds use “their saliva to glue a little cup of twigs and moss to the vertical wall” to build their nests, according to Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

You’ll take a few well-maintained sets of rock steps up, also navigating some rocky and, at times, somewhat washed-out portions of the trail. Take good care to look before you reach toward a rock for leverage so you don’t end up grabbing a danger noodle (read: snake).

About 1.3 miles in, you will crest a hill and be greeted with gorgeous views of the deep-blue ocean. From here, you can continue up to Saddle Peak, which features more massive rock formations.

I hiked over to a bench at an overlook point just past a few (invasive but pretty) Spanish broom plants. Here, I took stock of the day, savoring both the burrito I packed and the good day I’d had. I don’t know whether anyone would label it “super,” but I found myself chuckling over simply calling it a superb bloom.

The Musch Trail in Topanga State Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

2. Backbone Trail to Musch Trail Camp

Distance: 2 miles out and back (with option to extend via a loop back)
Elevation gained: About 200 feet
Difficulty: Easier end of moderate
Dogs allowed? No
Accessible alternative: Musch Trail road, a 0.6-mile out-and-back trek on a paved path from the parking lot

This two-mile, out-and-back jaunt through Topanga State Park takes you through lush meadows and chaparral where you’ll be near destined to spot wildflowers and wildlife.

To begin your hike, you’ll park at Trippet Ranch and pay to park before heading out. The Musch Trail starts in the northeast corner of the lot. You’ll take the paved path just 1/10 of a mile before turning east onto the dirt path, the Backbone Trail.

Caterpillar scorpionweed with southern bush monkeyflower nearby, clockwise, purple owl’s clover, canyon sunflower, dodder over black sage, California poppy and western blue-eyed grass.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

The ranch was originally called Rancho Las Lomas Celestiales by its owner Cora Larimore Trippet, which translates to “Ranch of Heavenly Hills.” You’ll find, as you hike through those hills covered in oak trees, black sage, ceanothus and more, that the name still rings true today.

I also spied significant blooms of orange-yellow southern bush monkeyflower, canyon sunflower, golden yarrow, a species of Clarkia, light purple caterpillar scorpionweed and exactly one blooming California poppy plant (just past the pond).

A mile in, you’ll arrive at Musch Trail Camp, a small campground with picnic tables and log benches. As you pause, listen to the songs of the birds. California quail, Anna’s hummingbird and yellow-rumped warbler are commonly spotted. Stay quiet enough, and you might just spot a mule deer, desert cottontail or gray fox. On a recent visit, I went to refill my water bottle at a spigot next to the camp, only to discover a Southern alligator lizard lounging in the path.

From the trail camp, you can either turn around or continue northeast to Eagle Rock, which will provide panoramic views of the park. From Eagle Rock, many hikers take Eagle Springs Fire Road to turn this trek into a loop. Regardless of which path you take, please make sure to download a map beforehand.

As the sun sets, golden light blankets the hillsides in Leo Carrillo State Park.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

3. The Willow Creek and Nicholas Flats Trails

Distance: 1.9 miles with an option to extend
Elevation gained: About 630 feet (excluding extension)
Difficulty: Moderate
Dogs allowed? No
Accessible alternative: Sycamore Canyon Road

This 1.9-mile loop is a mostly moderate jaunt connecting two popular routes in Leo Carrillo State Park. As a bonus, you can head over to the beach after your hike, either to cool down, explore the tide pools or both!

To begin, you’ll park at Leo Carrillo State Park. An all-day pass is $12, payable to the ranger at the gate or via the machine in the parking lot. Once parked, you’ll head northeast to the trailhead. You’ll quickly come to a crossroads. Take the Willow Creek Trail east to officially start your hike.

You’ll gain about 575 feet in a mile as you traverse the Willow Creek Trail. I took breaks along the way to gaze at the ocean, watching surfers bobbing on their boards and a kite surfer trying to gain traction. You might spot coast paintbrush and California brittlebush, a flowering shrub that features yellow daisy-like flowers, on the path, along with several lizards.

California poppies growing amid invasive weeds, left, Coulter’s lupine and longleaf bush lupine observed in Leo Carrillo State Park last May.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

A mile in, you’ll come to a junction in the trail where you have three-ish options. You can continue west to a branch of the Nicholas Flat Trail that will take you a mile back down to the parking lot. You can head south onto an ocean vista lookout point (which, though steep, I highly recommend). Or you can turn north onto another branch of the Nicholas Flat Trail.

I did a combination, hiking 235 feet up the lookout path, where I had one of those “Wow, I get to live here” moments. The ocean was varying shades of blue, from turquoise to cerulean to cobalt. I could clearly see in all directions, including about eight miles to the east to Point Dume. I was, once again, amazed to be alone in a beautiful place in a county of 10 million people.

Once I finished at this awe-inspiring point, I headed north onto the Nicholas Flat Trail, taking it about 2.3 miles — and about 1,100 feet up 🥵 — through laurel sumac and other coast sage scrub vegetation into the Nicholas Flat Natural Preserve. Along the way, keep an eye out for deerweed covered in its orange and yellow flowers along with scarlet bugler (which hummingbirds love). Other common sights here include Coulter’s lupine and small patches of California poppies.

If you start this hike early enough in the day, you can simply trek back to your car and change into your swimsuit for an afternoon at the beach. And if the tide is out, you might also be able to walk around the tide pools. You could hang out in the same day with both lizards and starfish, and even spy an endangered bumblebee on the trail and an octopus at the beach.

Please, go have yourself a remarkable Southern California day!

3 things to do

A person takes in the sunset on the beach in Venice.

(Michael Blackshire / Los Angeles Times)

1. Watch the sunset with new friends in Venice
Sunset Club L.A. will host a free community gathering at 6:15 p.m. Thursday at Venice Beach. Guests will meet in front of Fig Tree (431 Ocean Front Walk #2402) before setting up camp on the nearby beach to watch the sunset together. Learn more at the club’s Instagram page.

2. Take a peaceful jaunt in L.A.
L.A. for the Culture Hiking Club will host an adventure at 10:30 a.m. Saturday through Griffith Park. The group will take a 2.6-mile hike that includes the Ferndell Nature Trail. Afterward, guests will hang out at the Trails Cafe near the trailhead. Register at eventbrite.com.

3. Find a new kind of ‘dume’ scrolling in Malibu
California State Parks needs volunteers to help remove invasive plants from 9 a.m. to noon Saturday at Point Dume. Park workers will guide participants on removing weeds while cultural resource staff will teach volunteers about the ecological and cultural importance of the site. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

The Griffith Park Pool has remained fenced in and closed for six years, but there are plans now to renovate and reopen the pool.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Who is ready to take a dip at the Griffith Park historic swimming pool? That might become a reality by July 2029. Times staff writer Christopher Reynolds wrote that city officials aim to give the facility at Riverside Drive and Los Feliz Boulevard, which dates to 1927, a three-year, $40-million facelift. The new design will feature two new pools and rehabilitate the site’s pool house. Officials closed the pool in early 2020 amid COVID-19 shutdowns and later discovered when they tried to refill it that the pool wouldn’t hold water.

I cannot wait to take a hike and then a swim at the same public park!

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Are you ready to transition from hiking around native wildflowers to planting them? Come meet experts from the Theodore Payne Foundation and the California Native Plant Society at the L.A. Times Plants Booth during The Times’ Festival of Books at USC on April 18 and 19. If you sign up for the L.A. Times Plants newsletter, you’ll receive Jeanette’s Mix, a special packet of sunflower and California poppy seeds named for our beloved L.A. Times plants writer Jeanette Marantos, who died in February. I am volunteering at the booth on April 18 and would love to meet 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.

If you grew up in the ‘70s or ‘80s, your vision of suburban America probably looks a lot like South Pasadena. There’s good reason. The picturesque town on the western edge of the San Gabriel Valley was often used as a backdrop in films like “Halloween,” “Pretty in Pink” and “Back to the Future” (the street where George McFly, Lorraine and Biff lived is actually Bushnell Avenue).

Today in South Pasadena, you’ll still find this idyllic Anytown USA landscape — but with a twist: Along with verdant parks, Craftsman bungalows and tree-lined streets, the city gleams with cool new developments like the recently opened Sid the Cat Auditorium, an all-ages live music venue in a converted 1930s elementary school; the always-packed Cannonball from chef Matt Molina; L.A.’s first nonalcoholic bottle shop Burden of Proof and a high-tech head spa imported from Japan. Add on a walkable downtown and a bustling Thursday night farmers market and it’s easy to see why so many Angelenos are drawn to this increasingly hip community.

Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.

“So few pockets of L.A. County are actually great for families and that’s what makes South Pas so compelling,” said my friend Tom, who moved to the area after having a baby two years ago. “Plus, it has light-rail.”

Located six miles from downtown L.A., South Pasadena was marketed as a “garden community” when it was founded in the late 19th century. New residents were promised homes with flowering vines and sweet-smelling gardens, all just a short cable car ride away from a bustling metropolis.

“It was that early promise of suburbia,” said Becky Nicolaides, a historian and author of the book “The New Suburbia: How Diversity Remade Suburban Life in Los Angeles After 1945.” “When it was incorporated, there weren’t cars, so the town was built to be walkable.”

But that peaceful facade hid an ugly truth. Like many suburbs in the L.A. area, the town’s officials put race restrictive covenants into place soon after its founding, making it illegal for residents to sell property to people of color.

Those covenants became illegal in 1948, but the town continued to discourage people of color from living within its boundaries for several more decades. That began to change in the 1960s and South Pasadena has diversified, particularly over the past decade. In recent years, town leadership has taken steps to acknowledge its racist past.

Now, even as a new energy permeates, the city continues to lean into its early suburban history. The town is just 3.4 square miles, but it encompasses 100 acres of parks and playgrounds as well as 21,000 trees. There’s an old-fashioned pharmacy where parents have taken their kids for a phosphate soda (or just a regular old milkshake) for over 100 years and volunteers from the community still decorate a float for the Tournament of Roses each year, just as they have since 1911.

And though its historic Red Car trolleys have been discontinued for decades, today it’s still a comfort to take the Metro home from work at the end of a long day and enjoy the peace and quiet of this pastoral suburb, just like its founders did more than a century ago.

I heard the ribbit of a Pacific chorus frog and couldn’t stop my feet as they veered me off the official trail and onto a foot path leading down to Wiley Creek.

I grew up with a pond in the pasture behind my house where I could listen to the riotous sound of amphibians any evening I wanted. The soundscape of freshwater habitats is such a comfort to me.

I sat down on a boulder near the water, trying to remain still. The frog had quieted after spotting me, and I hoped it would restart its song, understanding I was not a threat but instead just a big fan.

This was the first of many beautiful moments I experienced on my recent hike through Ed Davis Park in Towsley Canyon in Newhall. It features shady canyons with blooming wildflowers and wildlife that appear to be thriving. I would later learn that a walk through Towsley Canyon is also a journey through the history of environmental activism in the Santa Clarita Valley. This area was once slated to become a landfill.

Today, hikers can explore the area by visiting Ed Davis Park in Towsley Canyon, one of four recreation areas that make up the 4,000-acre Santa Clarita Woodlands Park. (The other three are East and Rice canyons, Pico Canyon and Mentryville, each of which are also worth exploring.)

And because I got confused by this, I will point out: The Rivendale Park and Open Space is also nearby, at the mouth of Towsley Canyon near the northeast corner of Ed Davis Park. So you could find yourself hiking along one of its trails as well.

Ed Davis Park offers access to multiple trails, including:

Clockwise, southern bush monkeyflower, blue dicks, phacelia, California poppy, a flower and purple nightshade that appears to be a collinsia heterophylla.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

I arrived at Ed Davis Park just after 9 a.m. last week with a plan to take a short hike, given the high temperatures forecast that day. I parked near the entrance in the large dirt free lot. Note: There were no restrooms or portable toilets that this outdoors reporter could find anywhere nearby, so plan accordingly.

From the parking lot, I headed west, quickly turning south onto Wiley Canyon Trail. I was immediately greeted by a lesser goldfinch, perched on a strand of wild rye like a feathered park ranger.

The trail was initially a bit rutted but quickly smoothed out. As I headed into Wiley Canyon, I found myself in a crisp cool landscape shaded by large oak and California black walnut trees. I quickly heard running water. When I checked the thermometer hanging on my backpack, it read 69 degrees.

Clockwise, lesser goldfinch, western whiptail, convergent lady beetle and a lizard.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Although I could hear nearby traffic and a Southwest plane passing overhead, it didn’t block out the dynamic soundtrack of the canyon’s avian residents: the oak titmouse, northern mockingbird, blue-gray gnatcatcher and Hutton’s vireo, which, according to my birding app, were all above and around me.

As you travel along the canyon, you’ll find purple sage bursting out of the ground, and blue dicks starting to bloom. I passed by several ceanothus with white and blue-violet blooms. I really took my time taking in the native plant landscape and was lucky to spot a convergent lady beetle sipping on dew on a blade of grass.

After my short visit to the creek to find frogs, I was looking up to observe a turkey vulture and red-tail hawk circling overhead, seemingly competing for airspace, when I noticed the California dodder nourishing itself atop several plants on the hillside. Although it is a parasitic vine, this orange otherworldly being does indeed serve an important ecological purpose.

California dodder in the Towsley Canyon area around Newhall.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

“Dodder will flower during the hot summer months, providing native insects with a valuable meal and drink during the months when many other California native plants are dormant,” Jorge Ochoa, an associate professor of horticulture at Long Beach City College, wrote for the Friends of Griffith Park regarding the plant’s purpose.

I continued south, passing a spotted towhee digging in the dirt for its breakfast. Then, just under half a mile in, I turned northwest onto the Don Mullally Trail. The trail is named after a naturalist who, according to park signage, “traversed every canyon, led countless hikes to unforgettable destinations, and shared the Woodlands’ unparalleled native tree associations and ecological majesty.” May we all be so lucky!

A shady portion of a trail in the Towsley Canyon area around Newhall.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

This is where you’ll start to gain some elevation — and sun exposure. But it’s also where you will find the most blooming wildflowers! I quickly spotted phacelia with bright purple blooms, and as I headed west, an increasing number of California poppies and southern bush monkeyflower.

Towsley Peak near Towsley Canyon in Newhall.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Ed Davis Park is home to a robust butterfly population. I found a kaleidoscope of pollinators among the wildflowers and weeds, including a checkered white butterfly who was eagerly drinking from invasive mustard. I chuckled to myself. It didn’t seem to mind feasting on one of the most hated plants in Southern California.

The trail does turn into a narrow single track with thick vegetation, so please take good care as you’re hiking. I was very aware of the likelihood that I would encounter a rattlesnake, and I made sure to stomp my feet and pause from gaping at the flowers to make sure I wasn’t about to step on anyone. Additionally, watch out for poison oak, which I found growing among California black walnut.

Purple sage grows thick along the trails in Towsley and Wiley canyons. You might also spot an outdoors journalist who doesn’t realize their shadow is in the photograph until they get home.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Just over a mile in, I paused to take in the view. Several peaks in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, including Liebre Mountain, Burnt Peak and Jupiter Mountain, were easy to see from the trail, even though they’re about 20 to 25 miles away. I didn’t spend too long there, though, as my thermometer informed me it was 93 degrees in the direct sun. Where did spring go?

I took the Don Mullally Trail down and then the paved Towsley Canyon Road back to where I parked. You’ll notice as you head back that there are at least two paid lots should the free lot be full. You’ll need $7 in cash or a check, which you can deposit in the iron ranger.

The Sierra Pelona Mountains are visible from Towsley Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

A turkey vulture flies low in Towsley Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Given its astounding beauty, it’s hard to comprehend how this parkland almost became a dump. But around 1989, an intense battle broke out between the Los Angeles County Sanitation Districts, which, at the time, managed wastewater and trash for 78 cities in L.A. County, and the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy.

In early 1991, the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy acquired 453 acres of Towsley Canyon, strategically buying a 180-acre parcel at the eastern entrance of the canyon and a 273-acre piece in the heart of it, according to The Times’ archive.

County officials mulled over whether they could still build a smaller dump in Towsley Canyon, but there was a major hiccup. The conservancy’s land was directly across the only two roads into the area, meaning the agency could hinder garbage trucks from using the roads.

“For all practical purposes, the coffin has been nailed on the proposal to turn Towsley Canyon into a landfill,” Joseph T. Edmiston, the conservancy’s executive director, said in a 1991 news article.

At the time, county officials were also considering building a dump at Elsmere Canyon — an effort also successfully fought off by local advocates.

Reflecting on my visit to Towsley and Wiley canyons, I thought about how our trash does indeed end up in someone’s neighborhood, whether that be a canyon wren, a jellyfish or your neighbor in another neighborhood (if we think about humanity and neighbors in a global sense). It’s a further incentive to practice the five Rs: refuse, reduce, reuse, recycle and rot.

I hope your journey through these canyons brings you a similar experience of joy, wonder and deep reflection!

3 things to do

An Egyptian goose in the Sepulveda Basin Wildlife Refuge.

(Amanda Thompson)

1. Better your birding in Pasadena
The Sierra Club Angeles Chapter’s Pasadena group will host “Photographing the Sepulveda Basin Wildlife Reserve” from 7 to 9:30 p.m. Wednesday at Pacific Oaks College. Guests will hear from photographer and storyteller Amanda Thompson and visual communicator Joe Doherty about how to better navigate the Sepulveda Basin to observe the flora and fauna that lives there. RSVP at act.sierraclub.org.

2. Cycle on over to Cudahy
Nature for All, an L.A. climate justice nonprofit, will host an 8-mile bike ride from 9:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday starting at Hollydale Regional Park in South Gate. Riders will peddle along the L.A. River before arriving at Cudahy River Park. Participants can reserve a bike by emailing Priscila Papias at priscila@lanatureforall.com. Register at cosechasoftware.com.

3. Frolic under a full moon in L.A.
We Explore Earth will host a free full-moon gathering from 5:30 to 8:30 p.m. Wednesday at Elysian Park. Participants will come together for a guided group hike cleanup followed by a sound bath and live music, all under the rising full moon. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

Manatees rest at Blue Spring State Park in Orange City, Fla.

(Explore.org)

As I glided my kayak along the aptly named Crystal River in late March 2019, I couldn’t believe just how close the 1,000-pound manatees came to me and my friends. Nearby, my best friend Jenny squealed as a massive sea cow poked its whiskered snout out of the water next to her kayak. Whenever I’m stuck working indoors, I often turn on the live feed of the manatees at Explore.org. Apparently I’m very much not alone! Times staff writer Lila Seidman wrote that the number of nature-themed 24/7 livestreams created per year swelled by about 3,000% between 2019 and 2025. This genre of entertainment has been dubbed “Slow TV,” as it’s unedited and can be quite calming (although there are grisly moments that remind us of nature’s brutality too).

Regardless, during this heat wave, I’d highly recommend checking out some Slow TV, including local livestreams such as Big Bear’s celebrity eagle couple Jackie and Shadow.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

For Wild readers who’ve felt like there’s been a real lack of turtle news featured as of late, this one’s for you: During a recent trip, a visitor at Joshua Tree National Park reported to rangers about multiple Mojave Desert tortoises stuck inside a historic dig site in the northern part of the park. Rangers and the visitor ventured into the park and located three trapped male tortoises. “It’s unknown how long the tortoises were stuck in the hole, so biologists immediately began assessing and rehydrating them,” a staffer wrote on Joshua Tree National Park’s Instagram page. As a quick aside, is anyone else rethinking their life’s choices and wondering why they didn’t consider rehydrating tortoises as a profession? Does it include carrying a tiny water bottle? I digress. The park workers built a ramp out of natural materials to ensure any tortoise who scrambled by the dig site didn’t find themselves stuck inside. After the tortoises experienced the world’s cutest rehydration experience, the biologists discerned they were healthy and strong enough to keep trundling along. Shout out to this thoughtful visitor and our hardworking and earnest park workers for being great stewards to our natural world!

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.

TUCSON — Savannah Guthrie is renewing pleas to neighbors, friends and residents of Tucson to jog their memories in hopes of sparking new leads in the disappearance of her mother, Nancy.

The “Today” show co-host posted a new family statement on her personal Instagram account Sunday morning, hours after the show’s Instagram account shared it.

After expressing gratitude to the community, the family said in its statement that it believes someone in Tucson or in southern Arizona may “hold the key to finding the resolution in this case.”

“Someone knows something. It’s possible a member of this community has information that they do not even realize is significant.”

The family urged people to go over their memories of Jan. 31 — when Nancy Guthrie was last seen — and Feb. 1 as well as the evening of Jan. 11.

“Please consult camera footage, journal notes, text messages, observations, or conversations that in retrospect may hold significance,” the statement said. “No detail is too small.”

They also acknowledged in the statement that their family’s matriarch may no longer be alive.

“We cannot grieve; we can only ache and wonder.”

Nancy Guthrie was reported missing Feb. 1. Authorities believe the 84-year-old was abducted or otherwise taken against her will. The FBI released surveillance videos of a masked man who was outside Guthrie’s front door on the night she vanished.

The Guthrie family has offered a $1-million reward for information leading to the recovery of their mother.

On March 5, Savannah Guthrie visited the NBC “Today” show studio in New York City for the first time since her mother’s disappearance. The show said she plans to return to the air at some point but “remains focused right now supporting her family and working to help bring Nancy home.”

Tucson is a little more than 100 miles south of Phoenix and 70 miles north of the Mexico border. The Catalina Foothills, the neighborhood where Nancy Guthrie lives, is known as an affluent area with popular hiking trails.

Savannah Guthrie has been a co-anchor of the longtime NBC morning show since 2012. One of her former colleagues, Hoda Kotb, has returned to “Today” to fill in during Guthrie’s absence.

Most people think you can’t walk without an Achilles tendon. Jo Giese begs to differ, especially since she hikes without one.

The L.A. hiker, journalist and community activist shares her journey of recovery in her new 240-page book, “You’ll Never Walk Alone: A Hiker’s Memoir of Adventure, Tragedy, and Defying the Odds” (Amplify Publishing). Giese outlines how one fall down the stairs led to eight surgeries and a relentless search for answers for how she could return to the trails she loved.

“The reason I wrote the book is to inspire others,” Giese said, “that if you’re given a grim diagnosis — and it certainly doesn’t have to be your left Achilles — you do not have to accept it.”

Like many of us, Giese’s love of the outdoors started early. At age 5, she regularly took walks alone from her family’s home on Lake Washington Boulevard in Seattle. Wearing a frilly pinafore dress and Mary Jane shoes, she’d walk a few blocks to Seward Park, pausing at the playground, where she’d persuade someone to push her on the swing. That wasn’t the main goal of the trip, though.

“There is a path that leads up into the middle of the peninsula in this old growth forest. The canopies of the trees are two and three stories high. You’re just walking in this green wonderland,” Giese said. “And then after I finished walking all the way up as far as I wanted to go, I’d come back, and I’d walk back along [the route] and go home.”

The cover of “You’ll Never Walk Alone”; and a photo of author Jo Giese.

(Amplify Publishing; Dan Fineman)

Giese has been a walker and hiker ever since, falling in love with waterfall hikes in particular. Giese and her husband, Ed, split time between their house near L.A. and a home in Bozeman, Mont. They hike in the Santa Monica Mountains when they are home in Southern California, but Giese isn’t picky.

“I mainly hike anywhere I am,” Giese said.

That includes an epic vacation “jumping out of helicopters in New Zealand … in my late 60s,” she said. But neither that adventure nor any other is how Giese got injured.

It was a rainy night in late November in L.A. Giese was upstairs when her friend Lana arrived, and not wanting her friend to get drenched, Giese raced down the stairs to open the front door.

“I miss the bottom two steps, and I literally go flying horizontally,” Giese said. “My husband heard the crash. He came running, and I said, ‘Go let in Lana. She’s getting wet!’”

The trio immediately rushed to a nearby urgent care, where an X-ray showed a complete rupture of Giese’s left Achilles tendon, a thick band of tissue that attaches a person’s calf muscle to their heel bone.

Giese quickly called an orthopedist whom she’d seen for a simple knee procedure. He told her to come to his office the following day at 8 a.m. At the appointment, the doctor said, “‘I can do this. I did [an]

Hikers dressed in Dodger Blue gather for a group photo midway through a hike at Griffith Park on March 24, 2024.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Achilles repair 20 or 30 years ago. I can do this,’” Giese recalled.

Giese at Point Dume.

(Jo Giese)

In hindsight, it’s clear she should have found someone who’d done an Achilles repair “20 or 30 minutes ago,” she said. But the relief of not having to wait for surgery mixed with the shock of the moment made Giese and her husband impulsive.

“We were so frightened then — I’m in a wheelchair, and I’m all black and blue and bruised. I cannot walk. And there is someone in front of me who says he can do this,” Giese said. “And that should be a lesson to anybody.”

After the surgery to reattach her Achilles, her doctor left for a two-week vacation while Giese was at home recuperating, studiously following the doctor’s after-care guidelines. At her follow-up appointment, the nurse was unwrapping the bandage when the doctor observed, “That’s necrotic.” At the time, Giese didn’t know that word essentially meant “dead.”

The doctor immediately blamed her, saying it was from an ice burn. Both she and her husband knew that wasn’t true. Another doctor would later suggest that the surgeon introduced the infection during that first surgery.

“I don’t think I’d been so scared since my encounter with a bear,” Giese wrote in her book.

Exactly 49 days from her accident, Giese was scheduled for another surgery (with a different doctor) to debride the wound and reattach her Achilles. It was supposed to take several hours. But less than an hour into surgery, her physician told Ed that Giese’s Achilles had died. Soon, he asked Giese if she wanted to see what was left of the largest and strongest tendon in the body.

It looked like “a nasty little caterpillar that had turned fetal, curled in on itself, and died in a sea of black-and-green muck,” Giese wrote.

Next, Giese needed a skin graft to cover the wound from the previous surgeries. After that, she returned to her doctor’s office — 114 days after her accident — where her doctor removed the bandages from that third surgery and suggested something revelatory: that Giese should put her left foot down, putting her whole weight on it.

“My naked left foot — heel and five toes — made intimate contact with a floor, a cold linoleum floor, for the first time since this medical journey had begun four months earlier,” Giese wrote. From here, she walked her first 20 steps.

But recovery would come in fits and spurts. About a month later, Giese wanted to attend a festival while in Austin, Texas, only to find the 10 blocks of booths and vendors too daunting. She went back to the hotel and screamed, “I cannot walk!”

From here, she demanded better care. Giese was tired of hearing medical professionals say they’d never encountered someone without an Achilles. She wanted to find someone who was experienced with complex muscle injuries.

Her search ended 274 days after her accident when she learned about the Center for Restorative Exercise in Northridge. Giese felt dubious about another physical therapist, though. She’d already been to three physical therapy clinics, and “those had been a waste of time, energy and hope,” she wrote. But here, she was met with science and intentionality.

Taylor-Kevin Isaacs, the clinic’s co-founder, told Giese that she had other muscles still intact that could help her walk again, and she luckily hadn’t suffered any nerve damage, Giese wrote in the book. She spent the next 2½ years working with the center’s staff, which included receiving acupuncture, shockwave therapy and scar tissue massage, which was so painful “you could have heard me screaming from where you are,” Giese said.

After she completed care at the center, Isaacs nominated Giese for an award she won — an Oboz Footwear “Local Hero” award in 2024.

On the photo shoot for the award, Giese hiked with a photographer along a trail to Ousel Falls, a 50-foot waterfall in Big Sky, Mont.

It had been five years since her accident, and Giese thought back to a medical appointment in Montana the first summer after her fall. A physical therapist that Giese had been working with for about a month asked her to walk about 50 feet across the room.

“I hate to be a Debbie Downer,” the therapist said, “but you’re going to be compromised for the rest of your life.”

At that point, Giese told me, all she had was hope — that she’d get better, that she’d walk again.

Here at the waterfall, Giese told the photographer they should take the steps down to the splashdown area for a better shot. She was ready, navigating black ice like she’d done many times before the accident.

“My thought was, ‘If only that person could see me now,’” she said. “This person who said, ‘You’re going to be compromised the rest of your life, and you have to accept it.’ I thought, ‘No, I don’t.’”

3 things to do

Hikers dressed in Dodger Blue gather for a group photo midway through a hike through Griffith Park on March 24, 2024.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

1. Have a home run of a hike in L.A.
The Dodgers Blue Hiking Crew will host an intermediate hike at 6:30 a.m. Sunday at Griffith Park. Participants are required to wear hiking or trail shoes or boots. The group’s hikes are usually six miles and last about three hours. Register at facebook.com.

2. Clear the trail near Ojai
Los Padres Forest Assn. will host a workday from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday along the Potrero John Trail. Volunteers will meet at the Cozy Dell Trailhead before carpooling to the work site. The trail features jagged rock formations, a perennial creek and bigcone Douglas fir. Register at lpforest.salsalabs.org.

3. Wander through nature’s wonders in Whittier
The California Native Plants Society San Gabriel Mountains chapter will host an easy hike from 9 to 11 a.m. Sunday through Sycamore Canyon in the Puente Hills. Cris Sarabia, conservation director for the Palos Verdes Peninsula Land Conservancy, will educate hikers on plants along the trail, both native and nonnative species. Participants should wear long pants to protect against poison oak. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

Sturtevant Falls, a 55-foot waterfall, in Big Santa Anita Canyon in the San Gabriel Mountains.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Perhaps you’re reading this from a dark room, blinds drawn, fan blowing, praying for a return to spring. That’s definitely the scene where I’m writing to you! Whenever L.A. experiences an intense heat wave, I feel a little trapped. That’s why this week I updated our list of the best hikes around L.A. that will offer you shade and, in most cases, streams and rivers where you can cool down.

Please take good care, though. Hike before 11 a.m., stay hydrated and only cross creeks when you feel safe doing so.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Our recent weather pattern — heavy rains followed by intense heat waves — has meant wildflower season came earlier than expected in several regions of Southern California. Times contributor Jessie Schiewe outlines in this guide the hiking areas where you’ll most likely find recent blooms. For example, Towsley Canyon in Newhall, an area I have yet to visit, is likely a spot where you’ll find bright orange poppies. Want to learn a quick hack that I use to better ensure I will see blooms? Search iNaturalist, a citizen science app, for the flower you’d like to see, using the filter option to only view posts from the last two weeks. If users have recently posted, for example, about spotting poppies, your chances are higher that you will too. Keep on reading The Wild, and I promise I will keep giving you my secrets of outdoors reporting!

For the Record: Last week’s edition of The Wild said decentralized seed banks would be built by procuring seeds from L.A. County nature centers. A decentralized seed bank will be developed to procure seeds for and by L.A. County nature centers.

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 mile is a really cool event and it’s nice to do something different.

“I’m just really excited to learn and to move in. I’m not moving up full time, I’m going to go back to the 800m outdoors.

“I’m enjoying it so far. I think in the future I might be a great 1500m runner. So, I’m kind of dipping my toes in to see how it goes. I’m enjoying it, the training’s really good.”

With her recent indoor success, the two-time Olympian is pleased with her form heading to Torun, but insists her enjoyment remains the priority before the outdoor season.

Reekie spoke candidly about how failing to make the 2024 Olympic 800m final pushed her to prioritise her mental health.

The 1500m heats in Torun are on Friday, with the final taking place on Sunday.

“It’s definitely getting there,” she said. “We’ll see how I go this weekend over that distance. I’m definitely having a lot of fun, and that’s the main aim.

“I’ve got no pressure this weekend at all, other than myself. So, I’m just going to go out there and have fun and see what I can do.

“The past two outdoor seasons I’ve missed out on finals, so that’ll definitely be the first step forward to get into that final.”

Reekie, alongside fellow Team GB star Laura Muir, started working with coach Jon Bigg in March 2023, but has brought other people, including psychologists, into her set-up to extract small advantages.

“I’ve been with Jon for a while now, and we’ve been working on lots and I’ve got stronger and stronger as the years have gone by,” she said.

“It’s just adding in those one per cent gains and new people to your team, which I’m really enjoying. I think athletes always can work on something.”

I couldn’t stop looking at the thick bunches of California brittlebush, their bright yellow daisy-like flowers bursting alongside the sandy trail at Eaton Canyon.

I’d last walked the path a week after the Eaton fire, when I observed that “charred limbs of manzanita and other small trees and shrubs jerked out of the earth like seared skeletal remains. Heaps of leathery brown prickly pear pads sagged into the dirt and ash. Even the rocks were burned.”

Last Saturday, almost 14 months later, I marveled at how healthy Eaton Canyon looked as I attended L.A. County Department of Parks and Recreation’s launch of its Landscape Recovery Center. This is in large part thanks to volunteers who’ve dedicated hundreds of hours to restoring the canyon. I’m excited to tell you how you can be a part of those efforts.

The Department of Parks and Rec’s effort is a major step in repairing the damage wreaked by the Eaton fire that started Jan. 7 of last year.

The center includes a nursery full of native plants that will be used not only in Eaton Canyon but also in six other parks damaged by fire, including five in Altadena, and Castaic Lake State Recreation Area. Workers will also reestablish vital tree canopy lost in the fire, planting coast live oak, Engelmann oak and Western sycamores.

Native plants at the nursery at the Landscape Recovery Center at Eaton Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

L.A. County is partnering with the Theodore Payne Foundation and the Altadena Seed Library to achieve two key goals: 1) Grow the plants in the recovery center’s nursery from locally sourced seeds. 2) Build decentralized seed banks by procuring seeds from L.A. County nature centers.

The latter involves the “process of conserving plant genetics by dehydrating and securely storing seeds for future potential restoration or research projects,” said ecologist Nina Raj, founder of Altadena Seed Library, who is working with the county to develop the seed bank project.

“By carving out space at existing nature centers for a bit of tabletop equipment and storage space, the seeds from their adjacent natural areas [will] be conserved alongside backup populations from partnering nature centers — like an insurance policy in case of, or rather, in preparation for the next natural disaster,” Raj said.

A path near the parking lot of Eaton Canyon Natural Area, as seen on Jan. 14, 2025, and on Saturday.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

In the coming months, officials estimate that more than 100,000 seeds sourced from Eaton Canyon will be propagated to aid recovery efforts. The county has also purchased more than 1,000 native shrubs and understory plants, chosen not only for their ecological value but also their cultural significance to the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians Gabrieleno/Tongva, whose leaders have been advising the county on its canyon restoration efforts.

The county also bought 200 native trees whose seeds came from “mother” trees grown in soil “extremely compatible with the organic matter here at Eaton Canyon,” said Norma Edith García-González, director of L.A. County Parks and Recreation.

All of this intentional sowing and planting is a 180-degree turn from previous recovery efforts. After the Kinneloa fire burned through Eaton Canyon in 1993, officials rushed to stabilize the hillsides. An expert team recommended grass seed be dropped from helicopters all over the hillsides, which present-day experts say may have introduced nonnative grasses to the region.

The nursery at L.A. County’s Landscape Recovery Center at Eaton Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

“The Landscape Recovery Center represents a best-practice model for restoring nature, rebuilding habitat diversity and supporting disaster recovery,” García-González said. “[We are] rebuilding with intention, using climate-resilient native species informed by both ecological science and cultural knowledge.”

Most of Eaton Canyon, including its beloved nature center, burned in the 2025 fire. The recovery center’s modular building and the land around it are among the first built improvements, and the area now has electricity, water access, irrigation systems and restrooms. (The recovery center’s footprint is south of the burned nature center, and no announcement was made Saturday regarding when it might be rebuilt.)

These improvements will allow the Landscape Recovery Center, which will have five full-time and four part-time staff members, to host volunteers interested in caring for habitat, supporting the plant nursery or working in local outreach or on community science.

Volunteer events, including hands-on nursery work, will be scheduled Tuesday through Saturday, with times varying depending on the program. Those age 14 and older can sign up by calling or texting (626) 662-5091. (A quick note: Eaton Canyon remains closed to the public, outside of volunteer opportunities.)

A cultural sign welcomes visitors to Eaton Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Many volunteers have already been hard at work. Organized by the Eaton Canyon Nature Center Associates, volunteers have donated hundreds of hours to clear out short-pod mustard, castor bean, tree tobacco and fountain grass, which choke out native plants and serve as flashy fuel for wildfires.

All of this work must be done before hikers and other outdoors lovers can return to Eaton Canyon.

Jeremy Munns, a trails planner for L.A. County Parks and Recreation, said rebuilding the Eaton Canyon Trail and other county trails in the Eaton Canyon Natural Area will be part of a future phase.

The fire and subsequent flooding washed out the trail and caused hillsides to collapse into and around the canyon. Contractors, county staff and conservation corps crews will need to install retaining walls, repair drainages and add rock walls (called rock armoring) to stabilize the canyon and protect it from further erosion, Munns said.

A path near the Landscape Recovery Center.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Munns said there isn’t currently a plan to include volunteers in that work because of safety concerns.

“In the future, there will be opportunities for volunteers to help with the maintenance of these trails, but the timing of that has not yet been determined,” he said.

As I walked through the nursery during Saturday’s event, I found myself feeling hopeful. Several rows of California sagebrush, California buckwheat, chaparral beard tongue, sticky monkey flower and more sat in their pots, awaiting their new homes in the nearby ground.

It’s easy to imagine a future in which the entire canyon is healthy once again.

3 things to do

Workers tend to plants growing at the Santa Monica Mountains Fund seed farm.

(Jacsen Donohue / Santa Monica Mountains Fund)

1. Nurture yourself and nature in Newbury Park
The Santa Monica Mountains Fund and Second Nature Collective will host a yoga and volunteer day from 8 a.m. to noon Saturday in Newbury Park. Participants will first be led through a 45-minute mindful and meditative yoga session before placing hundreds of native plants in the ground. Register at eventbrite.com.

2. Nosh on nonnative plants in Studio City
Urban forager Nick Mann will lead a 3-mile foraging walk from 9:30 a.m. to noon Saturday through Fryman Canyon. He will teach participants how to identify edible nonnative plants commonly found along local trails. Donations requested but not required. Register at eventbrite.com.

3. Ride the river near Azusa
Active SGV will host a 12.4-mile bike ride from 9 a.m. to noon Saturday along the West Fork National Scenic Bikeway north of Azusa. Carpooling is encouraged, as the parking lot at the trailhead fills up. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

Condor A1 (a.k.a. Hlow Hoo-let) soars across the sky in far Northern California.

(Matt Mais / Yurok Tribe)

In a potentially historic win for condor conservation, Yurok wildlife officials say there might be a condor pair tending to an egg in the tribe’s Northern California homeland — where condors haven’t nested for more than a century. Times staff writer Lila Seidman wrote that condors vanished from the state’s North Coast because of violence carried out by European settlers. “The pair believed to be nesting in Yurok country were captive born and released in 2022, as part of the first group reintroduced in that region,” Seidman wrote. “The pair, formally known as A1 and A0, are the oldest birds from their release cohort at nearly 7 years old — and the only ones old enough to reproduce.”

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

It’s officially baby season at the San Dimas Raptor Rescue. The L.A. County facility, which rehabilitates birds of prey, took in its first great horned owlet in early February. The center anticipates taking in dozens of great horned owlets who are found starving and need to be nursed back to health before being released. Generally, the center tries to release a bird back to the area where it was found. In this little baby’s case, that would be Venice Beach. The center is run, in part, by volunteers who are trained by the county before working with the birds. If you ever find a raptor that you perceive is in need, you can call the center at (626) 559-5732 before interacting with the animal. A great service to our local wildlife!

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.