The first 'real' hiking trail I discovered out here was the Joshua Ranch Trail. I think it was Leslie Teske who introduced me to the trail and it was a match made in hiking heaven.
The first time we went it was spring and the wildflowers were in bloom. The meandering trails, which went this way and that, went all over the place and up to the ridge overlooking Leona Valley on one side, the aqueduct on the other. The wildflowers were gorgeous and I recall my breath literally being taken away as we climbed over each hill and found another batch of bright purples, blues, yellows, and oranges.
The city, I learned, received some kind of grant to develop these trails, complete with trail markers and resting benches. The area had been somewhat wild before that, with trails created by bicyclists, hikers, and the occasional dirt bike. The area had been a recreational area for years - and city residents were promised it was a preserved woodland. This was actually a selling point in the Rancho Vista area - miles of hiking and biking trails just minutes from home.
I spent many Sundays and occasional Saturdays hiking these various trails, getting to know which routes took how long and which burned more calories and which had fewer cyclists. There were families on these trails too and many people let their dogs off-leash for some real canine fun - the natural romp, without the 'steenkin' leashes.'
There were many times I quickly releashed the dogs when a group of hikers were approaching from the other side - and they did the same for me when my little pack approached their big dogs, who were often busy having the time of their lives. People were like that on the Joshua Ranch Trail - polite, friendly, and courteous. It was much-needed time off. It was relaxation. It was fun.
And then the unthinkable happened: A local developer erected a No Tresspassing Sign at the Highland High School entrance of the trail. How could this be? First, the high school's natural wetland was drained because the school needed more parking lots, and now our trail was endangered?
Most of us couldn't believe it. This was insane! So we did the most logical thing.
We ignored the sign and just kept hiking and biking - cursing the developer and wondering just how many acres of our woodland was being taken for profit.
Inquiries to the city yielded thoughtfully composed responses that assured us that the trail blockage was only temporary and that the trail would be restored and available again soon. This hasn't happened. One wonders what the city's definition of "soon" might be.
And then - a bigger sign. A billboard that threatened anybody bold enough to venture onto what was supposed to be public land with prosecution for trespassing . The implications were dire. You half expected some camoflauged gunman to step off the trail about 25 steps in - to shoo you away with a shot to the ankles just for trying.
I wrote to the city again. Again I was reassured that the trail would be reopened shortly and the sign was merely a matter of protection from liability - because heavy machinery and bulldozers don't mix.
Not wanting to be a scofflaw, I retreated from the trail, withered with disappointment until, several months later, I saw several hikers coming off the back side of the Joshua Hills Trail, which leads to the aqueduct where it crosses Godde Hills Road. I was so excited, thinking the trail was open again.
The dogs and I geared up one Saturday afternoon and hit the trail from the back side. We came upon one resting bench and then another, and then another. This was a section I had made it to only a couple times from the other end. It was very invigorating.
Up and over, up and over, I followed the trail. Exactly one hour from the trailhead I came upon the most devastating scene: Acres and acres of grading, which had cut the trail off at the knees. I could see where it picked up again, but it would mean walking across the graded disaster that the developer had wrought - clearly 'tresspassing.' No more wildflowers. No access to the rest of the trail. Just homesite after homesite after homesite, scraped hillsides, and perfectly graded cookie cutter "lots."
Again, I eMailed the city to ask about the trail and this time I was told that the city was asking everybody to please stay off the trail because they weren't sure "where the development ends and city property begins." HUH?
And just how did one of the richest families in the valley get to buy what was supposed to be preserved woodland for recreational use by local families? I am not ignorant. I know sweetheart deals are made all the time between corporations and city governments. But that doesn't make it any less appalling. And how could the city accept grant money to develop the trails, only to make them practically useless within a few short years?
Take a gander at what this developer has built over in Lancaster. His name is actually on the entrance of the tract. He went so far as to have bronze medalions, with his name on them, inlaid into the walk ways of the ricky-ticky cookie cutter houses he built. And the funny thing? The medalions are all crooked. Pride in workmanship, there.
So now he will build mini-mansions on these lots and sell them for over a million dollars each, I suppose. The new happy homeowners can feel good about keeping the riff-raff out while they put forth money to sow wildflower seeds and other landscape plants - in a haphazard way, of course, so that it looks perfectly natural. And they'll have that view all for themselves because they bought and paid for it - on the backs of all the people who loved it first.
The first time we went it was spring and the wildflowers were in bloom. The meandering trails, which went this way and that, went all over the place and up to the ridge overlooking Leona Valley on one side, the aqueduct on the other. The wildflowers were gorgeous and I recall my breath literally being taken away as we climbed over each hill and found another batch of bright purples, blues, yellows, and oranges.
The city, I learned, received some kind of grant to develop these trails, complete with trail markers and resting benches. The area had been somewhat wild before that, with trails created by bicyclists, hikers, and the occasional dirt bike. The area had been a recreational area for years - and city residents were promised it was a preserved woodland. This was actually a selling point in the Rancho Vista area - miles of hiking and biking trails just minutes from home.
I spent many Sundays and occasional Saturdays hiking these various trails, getting to know which routes took how long and which burned more calories and which had fewer cyclists. There were families on these trails too and many people let their dogs off-leash for some real canine fun - the natural romp, without the 'steenkin' leashes.'
There were many times I quickly releashed the dogs when a group of hikers were approaching from the other side - and they did the same for me when my little pack approached their big dogs, who were often busy having the time of their lives. People were like that on the Joshua Ranch Trail - polite, friendly, and courteous. It was much-needed time off. It was relaxation. It was fun.
And then the unthinkable happened: A local developer erected a No Tresspassing Sign at the Highland High School entrance of the trail. How could this be? First, the high school's natural wetland was drained because the school needed more parking lots, and now our trail was endangered?
Most of us couldn't believe it. This was insane! So we did the most logical thing.
We ignored the sign and just kept hiking and biking - cursing the developer and wondering just how many acres of our woodland was being taken for profit.
Inquiries to the city yielded thoughtfully composed responses that assured us that the trail blockage was only temporary and that the trail would be restored and available again soon. This hasn't happened. One wonders what the city's definition of "soon" might be.
And then - a bigger sign. A billboard that threatened anybody bold enough to venture onto what was supposed to be public land with prosecution for trespassing . The implications were dire. You half expected some camoflauged gunman to step off the trail about 25 steps in - to shoo you away with a shot to the ankles just for trying.
I wrote to the city again. Again I was reassured that the trail would be reopened shortly and the sign was merely a matter of protection from liability - because heavy machinery and bulldozers don't mix.
Not wanting to be a scofflaw, I retreated from the trail, withered with disappointment until, several months later, I saw several hikers coming off the back side of the Joshua Hills Trail, which leads to the aqueduct where it crosses Godde Hills Road. I was so excited, thinking the trail was open again.
The dogs and I geared up one Saturday afternoon and hit the trail from the back side. We came upon one resting bench and then another, and then another. This was a section I had made it to only a couple times from the other end. It was very invigorating.
Up and over, up and over, I followed the trail. Exactly one hour from the trailhead I came upon the most devastating scene: Acres and acres of grading, which had cut the trail off at the knees. I could see where it picked up again, but it would mean walking across the graded disaster that the developer had wrought - clearly 'tresspassing.' No more wildflowers. No access to the rest of the trail. Just homesite after homesite after homesite, scraped hillsides, and perfectly graded cookie cutter "lots."
Again, I eMailed the city to ask about the trail and this time I was told that the city was asking everybody to please stay off the trail because they weren't sure "where the development ends and city property begins." HUH?
And just how did one of the richest families in the valley get to buy what was supposed to be preserved woodland for recreational use by local families? I am not ignorant. I know sweetheart deals are made all the time between corporations and city governments. But that doesn't make it any less appalling. And how could the city accept grant money to develop the trails, only to make them practically useless within a few short years?
Take a gander at what this developer has built over in Lancaster. His name is actually on the entrance of the tract. He went so far as to have bronze medalions, with his name on them, inlaid into the walk ways of the ricky-ticky cookie cutter houses he built. And the funny thing? The medalions are all crooked. Pride in workmanship, there.
So now he will build mini-mansions on these lots and sell them for over a million dollars each, I suppose. The new happy homeowners can feel good about keeping the riff-raff out while they put forth money to sow wildflower seeds and other landscape plants - in a haphazard way, of course, so that it looks perfectly natural. And they'll have that view all for themselves because they bought and paid for it - on the backs of all the people who loved it first.
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