The professor told us that he’d recommended that the City refill the main pond, build another, and supplement the food supply as well as eradicate the African clawed frogs that had escaped from aquariums. Drought and famine depressed the numbers. They’d caught 75 but all the new specimens of Actinemys pallida had been birthed last year. He and his students had been out trapping Western Pond Turtles at a covert location. “I think I can do the rest,” I said, “but it is better to play it safe.” We waved goodbye as they set off down the Little Sycamore Trail into the Laguna Coast Wilderness, then started a brief climb on the Serrano Trail summit where I paused to eat and drink thereby relieving my near-vomiting.Ī biologist drove by as we discussed the many routes of the Irvine backcountry. You already know the nature of that disaster.Īt the top of the trail, Joan informed Gary, the group leader, that she was taking me back. The new path took us to an intersection that pointed us to the base of Fox Run. Once upon a time this trail had taken a different route, but so many had fallen in navigating it that they replaced a section with a gentler set of curves. Cattle Crest cut across the top of a beige formation that presented few obstacles. I could easily see where my wife worked in the Core Logic building near the Irvine Spectrum Center. One of the docents - Joan who had the job of sweeper and my natural companion because of that position at the end - told me that on a clear day you could see the Hollywood sign, which looked like a white dash against the shadowy face of the Santa Monicas through binoculars. When you hike through the chaparral, you learn that the memory of the flame is long. The leader turned right onto Cattle Crest - where did they get these names? - past a burnt post that wordlessly memorialized a 1993 fire. We started by surmounting the almost straight-up foot of the latter which flattened out into gentle switchbacks winding through rocky crests and rolling hills. One rounds the little mount and the other goes up an entirely different slope. It is curious that there are two Quail Hill trails starting at the same trailhead. The feature for which it is named has a comely backside, typically yellow orange at this time of the year. We began our morning by ascending the Quail Hill Trail.
I couldn’t imagine any foxes using this route for anything other than suicide. Another hiker on the trip gave me warning: “Fox Run,” she groaned when she heard the leader outline our route.
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