If you live in Forest Falls, they’re hard to miss. Standing over Forest Home, they offer a majestic backdrop and an alluring call to their sheer heights.  At 8,400 ft., they stand over 3,000 ft. above Mill Creek at the canyon floor.  Many residents as well as guests of Forest Home admire their beauty throughout the seasons of the year.  Over seasons they may be seen wrapped in clouds, covered in snow or bathed in the brilliant sun of summer.   

Forest Falls has always been a gateway the San Gorgonio wilderness, at least since the Vivian brothers cut a trail from the canyon floor up to the peak in the late 19th century.  There are other trails as well but nothing downstream of Momyer Creek.  The mountains and canyons northeast of Valley of the Falls Drive to Highway 38 up to lower Angelus Oaks are some of the wildest and steepest in the San Bernardino Range.  So while the Palisades above Forest Home look majestic, the inclination to scale their heights is thwarted by the lack of trails and the incredible steepness of the terrain.  

It so happens that a close friend of mine has a home in lower canyon with a view of the Palisades that is to die for.  Many times as we have sat on his deck looking up, I have fantasized about standing on top of the Palisades looking up the Valley of the Falls to see the canyon and the peaks of the range beyond.  For years we have casually discussed hiking up to the Palisades and the various routes that might be taken.  My friend has had experience climbing in this area and has been up Monkeyface Creek and Oak Cove Creek but not to the top of the Palisades.  We have looked at maps, discussed possible routes and dropped the conversation many times.   

It occurred to me that I was not getting any younger, and while I was in fairly good shape the longer it took me to get my act together to take a shot at standing on the top of the Palisades it wasn’t going to get any easier.  There are plenty of hikes in this wilderness that are longer and perhaps cover more elevation gain, but this one turned out to be one of the most strenuous and unforgiving walks I’ve done in these mountains.  

Looking at the topo map gave me a few different options about where to begin.  I chose a small draw next to Frustration Creek, slightly up from the turnoff to Forest Falls on Highway 38.  From the highway to the top of the Palisades it is about a mile and three quarters as the crow flies.  Ought to be a good day hike at most, right?  Not exactly, as the elevation gain needs to be accounted for as well.  From Highway 38 at 4,600 ft. to the top of the Palisades over 8,000 ft. offers a considerable challenge when crossing down through Monkeyface Creek and up again to reach the top of the Palisades.  

Wanting to get an early start I leave my home in Mountain Home Village at 6 AM to my starting point at the highway above the turnoff.  Taking only a few minutes to get there, I bring with me three quarts of water, food for the day, and a new digital camera with extra batteries.  As always, I bring my ten essentials plus my cell phone.  The cell phone turns out to be a very good idea. Not able to find anyone who can take a walk with me that day doesn't seem so bad. After all, it's just a day hike.  By 6:10 AM, I am in the bush, finding my way up to the first ridge about 1,600 ft. above me.  

After about a half hour it becomes clear that this is no cake walk. There are critter trails coming and going: deer trails, bear trails, coyote trails, cat trails--lots of evidence of an abundant wildlife. About halfway up to the first ridge I find a pile of bones that look to be deer.  There are two jaw bones from different animals--good evidence that a mountain lion has had more than one meal here.  Truly, this is a wild part of the mountain.   

As I work my way up to the ridge, a rattle snake with 12 to 13 rattles passes ahead of me, going from somewhere to another. His impressive length of 6 ft. or so has me keep my distance.  We soon part company, hopefully in opposite directions. It does seem to sharpen my senses as I can't see around every rock and bush.  

It’s amazing how rock outcrops that look so small from down below can be such a challenge when standing directly beneath them.  Scrambling around them requires more effort not to lose ground than one might think.  I’m looking for evidence of critter trails to help me pick my way past whatever obstacle is in the way.  Animals have good sense about such things.  The fact that most of them have four feet, paws or hooves is something worth remembering.  Somehow, two feet with lug soles leaves a little to be desired in this terrain. 

Where the terrain becomes steeper and my exposure greater I move with caution, careful to disturb the ground as little as possible to avoid starting a rock slide that may loosen the ground above. 

The temperature continues to rise even as I gain elevation and by 9:30 AM, it’s 90 degrees F.  I’m not a person to work up much of a sweat, but by this time I am completely soaked from head to toe in perspiration.  The wet clothes help me stay cooler but water consumption is a concern.  Looking for shade becomes a priority.  Occasionally, I take a break under bushes or scrub oaks, which there are in abundance.  This didn’t start out as a bushwhacking adventure but is rapidly turning into one--literally.  

Eventually, I find myself on the first ridge, so steep that I can't see the highway where I started from.  The view of Yucaipa Ridge is getting better, and I can see Bear Paw Preserve across Mill Creek.  To the east, I am looking down to the bottom of Monkeyface Creek 500 ft. below. After a 1,600 ft. gain it is almost painful to think about having to lose so much elevation.  Not much choice, as the ridge I need to be on is on the other side of the creek.  Standing there, I see that Monkeyface Creek is fed by a large drainage that is the south face of San Bernardino Peak. It's on the topo map but not something you see from the highway below. I am totally taken back by the size of the drainage above and below as the exit of Monkeyface Creek into Mill Creek is very misleading, giving no clue of what lies above it. With caution I make my way down to the creek bed while looking for the path of my next assent.  Looking across the canyon, in which the creek flows, I see a line of trees from the bottom making their way up a draw toward the top of the ridge in front of me.  I take some bearings on the surrounding terrain to recognize where the draw begins when I arrive at the bottom of the creek bed.  

The creek bed is dry where I come down into it, and there is a great deal of fresh rock along the bottom, caused by rock slides that most likely occurred during the ’91 Landers quake.  Walking across the rocks makes an eerie sound as the sharp edges of the rocks scrape against each other.  I am always careful. These rocks are unstable, and it's easy to lose balance as I travel across them. There is a carpet of live oak leaves--a foot thick--as I enter a small grove of very large trees that could easily be more than 200 years old. Up off the bottom of the creek bed I take a break and have something to eat.  It's times like these when an orange seems like the tastiest, most delicious fruit on the planet.  The oaks offer shade and a respite from the heat of the day.  

After a refreshing break and with a few new calories to burn, it is time to head up the creek to find the draw I saw from the ridge.  Looking around, I try to orient myself to the landmarks I took bearings on earlier.  No trivial undertaking as the view from the bottom is quite different--with trees, rock outcroppings and brush in my line of sight.  After a while, I make it to a point where I believe the beginning of the draw is that I want to follow, and I begin my upward climb to the next ridge.  

The route up through the trees is steep but doable without any major concerns.  In the rough spots there are tree roots or plants to grab when I run out of anything else solid enough to hold onto.  Every once in a while I need to take a break to catch my breath and drink some water.  The trees are mixed with a combination of pines, cedars and oaks along the way.  This eventually brings me to the ridge line at 7,000 ft., where I take a break.  The view has continued to get better and I can now see over Allen Peak on the Yucaipa Ridge. Unfortunately, there is a great deal more haze than I'd hoped--with visibility less than I had desired.  

Turning my attention to the ridgeline, I see that the brush has thinned a bit and the going should be a bit easier.  Water is an issue, and I am working on my third quart.  I still have over a 1,000 ft of vertical to climb.  Time is a problem as I had wanted to summit the Palisades by 2 PM--but that’s not going to happen.  I know that if I don’t continue I probably won’t try this again. It has been far more difficult than I had perceived.  But at this point, I’m not willing to call it quits.   

I continue my quest and follow the ridgeline to my destination. Everything is going OK--except it is a grunt and it’s still pretty warm, in the high 80s.  As I top 8,000 ft. I can see up the canyon but want to get further up the ridge.  The going is very steep now and exposure is now a concern.  Just how far am I willing to be between myself and the nearest landing spot should I fall?  At this point, everything is solid rock with nothing soft to land on.  I'm very cautious, I'm alone, and I’m tired.  So far I’ve done over 4,000 vertical feet of climbing in temperatures around 90 degrees.  I’ve been at it over nine hours, and aside from stopping to catch my breath, I’ve taken only two twenty-minute breaks.  The funny thing is that I’m only about a mile and a half from where I started earlier this morning.   

Deciding to push on, I scramble up higher to get myself more towards the middle of the Palisades.  I realize that I’ve gone as far as I’m going on this trip.  I’m somewhere in the middle on top around 8,100 to 8,200 ft. elevation. It’s after 4 PM, and I’ve been at this for more than ten hours.  Enough!  It’s time to take a break and look around.  

During the past few hours I’ve been in contact with my friend via cell phone, and he has been following my progress on a topo map in front of him.  I give him a call to tell him where I am, and I tell him that I am going to try to signal him with a mirror I have with me.  As I talk with him on the cell phone I try in vain to aim my mirror so that he can see it flash.  No luck. It would have been exciting to have someone see me on top.  Oh, well...  

I take out my camera for the first time today.  It’s just been too much of a grunt to take the time to take pictures.  But now, as I look over the vista before me, I begin to take a few shots. Looking up canyon, I can see San G and the other peaks leading up to it, over to Dragons Head, down to the jump-off at the end of the canyon and back up to Galena Peak and the Yucaipa Ridge.  Down below me is Forest Home and Lakeview.  Lower Canyon is just below and you can see the homes around Prospect and Canyon drives.  I would have really liked it if there wasn’t so much haze.  I just picked the wrong day.  

Around 4:30 PM, after finishing what food and water remained in my pack, I begin making my way down from the top.  I see a way that looks like it will drop me into the upper end of Monkeyface Creek.  At this elevation it is mostly scree, and working my way around a couple of pinnacles drops me into the upper draw, which is fairly clear in the center.  One would think that going down would take less energy and be easier.  And to some degree it is true, but this is where most people get into trouble. Loosing elevation requires a great deal of caution.  Looking for the right path, maintaining control of your velocity, balance, and being safe takes concentration and discipline.  Fatigue and thirst can be enemies.    

Eventually, I make my way down to the first spring.  It's 6 o’clock, and I’m glad to see water.  After drinking and refilling my water bottle I make my way down the creek.  The terrain has changed dramatically as the water gives life to a myriad of flora and fauna.  Where earlier there were nothing but rocks and a few hardy plants here and there, in front of me lies a green plush environment with native columbine in full bloom surrounded by large bay trees and my not so favorite poison oak.   

The next hour or so down is gorgeous--with a beautiful creek dropping over several waterfalls, some as high as 70 to 80 ft. Climbing around them is challenging, and I am treated to some great photo opportunities as I make my way further down Monkeyface Creek.  As I follow the water, the walls of the canyon become steeper.  Also, the sun is now beginning to set and light is fading rapidly.  To feel safer I begin to climb up the west side of the canyon, crawling out of the creek bed. Soon, however, it becomes clear that any further travel would be too hazardous because even with a flashlight I can see no more than 10 ft.  Digging a flat spot into the side of the canyon wall, I manage to create a space for myself to rest until dawn. Not having planned to make an overnight trip, I make due with a rain jacket and a space blanket to keep warm through the night.  

After a fitful night, I pull myself together at first light, making a decision to continue uphill out of the creek.  It’s hard to pick a good route when the terrain is steep, and I encounter quite a bit of brush and scree in my path.  Climbing up, I find a center stalk from a Yucca plant that I use to beat my way through the brush and oak thickets along the way.  More effective than a machete because I don't have to worry about cutting myself with it if I stumble or fall. It's about five feet long when I first pick it up and about three feet long by the time my trip is over.  It is the best piece of gear I have over the next 4 hours.   

The closer I get to the ridge, the more brush I encounter.  Walking over the top of some buckthorn brush toward a clearing under a large sugarpine tree I fall through the canopy of the brush to the ground.  With the tree about fifty feet away, I find myself buried in Buckthorn brush seven feet high.  It takes me 35 minutes to reach the tree before I can stand up again. I have climbed 1000 ft up out of the creek through some of the nastiest rock and brush I have ever encountered.  

By this time I am getting pretty hot and have no more water.  I am on the ridge between Monkeyface Creek and Frustration Creek.  I decide to work my way down into Frustration Creek, hoping to find water and a little shade as the temperature is climbing faster than I am.  Descending into the creek, I continue to be amazed by how long it takes to lose elevation.  At this point, I'm really fatigued and hot.  Again, water is my quest.   

Carefully picking my way down among the oaks, I can smell the signs of water and soon find myself at another spring that fills Frustration Creek.  Looking around, I am in the midst of the largest California Baytrees that I’ve ever seen.  I never knew they could grow so huge. The scent of bay is overwhelming in the hot summer air, and I feel totally enveloped by the trees.  Ah, yes--water and shade.  I drink and drink, trying to top off my own internal tank as I rest for awhile. It’s 10:30 AM and the temperature is already over 90 degrees in the shade. It will take me another hour to get down to the highway.  

Only one small problem with being in Frustration Creek, the waterfall at the end, with walls so shear that there is now way down without technical climbing gear, of which I have none with me.  My only alternative is to climb out over the ridge to my left as I look downstream.  This will put me into the draw that I first climbed up from the highway.  At this point I’m shaking my head.  Not having eaten since the day before I’m running out of calories to burn.  With the reserves that I have left, I make my way up and over to the little draw where I began and pick my way down to the highway coming out of the brush about 30 feet from where I had started.  When I get home I find that I have lost 7 lbs. in a little more than 29 hours.  

This is not an adventure I would do the same way again.  There are easier ways up to the Palisades without having to go over the ridge west of Monkeyface Creek.  I could cut off about 4 hours in both directions making it a one day adventure.  Picking a cooler day would also make a lot more sense, as well as taking a companion.   I’ve decided that any solo hikes I take in the future will be with an avalanche transceiver.    

Sitting under 7 ft. of brush can make it hard for anyone to spot me if I needed to be rescued.   Finally, I’ve been climbing in these mountains for over 30 years, you might think I would know better.  

Author's Biography

Neil Brosnahan is a resident of Mountain Home Village, California, where he is a professional photographer and avid mountain hiker.

E-mail Neil at neil@burgessphoto.com

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