I was on a quick tour of Southern California, trying to visit a couple peaks that I had failed on in previous years for various reasons. I had just a few days before the new school year started at ASU and wanted to get at least one good energetic hike in before the grind of teaching began. Yesterday I had success on Alamo Mountain, and from there, drove into Santa Barbara for a planned hike up Santa Ynez Peak. In all the years I lived in Southern California, I have never spent time in Santa Barbara, usually just passing through. I arrived late in the day, got a burger from In-N-Out, then drove up over the pass along highway CA-154 to the Lake Cachuma County Park, where I camped for the night.

My objective, Santa Ynez Peak, is the highest peak of a broad wall of mountains—called the Santa Ynez Mountains, of course—that serve as a backdrop for Santa Barbara. The range is fairly long and uniform, and Santa Ynez Peak is pretty obvious, set more toward the west end of the range, and topped by some communications towers. A slightly-lower peak, Broadcast Peak, is to the east of Santa Ynez Peak, and is also covered in towers. A road actually goes all the way to the top, and another road—Camino Cielo (Cloud Road)—runs nearly the entire length of the range. Despite Santa Ynez’ elevation of “just” 4,298 feet, it does stand impressively tall, given the ocean is just a few miles south.

I was here in 2007, but only because some other peaks I had on my original agenda were closed due to fire damage and road closures. I had no maps and no information, plus I was coping with a minor cold. I drove up Camino Cielo from its east terminus at highway CA-154, and got about 6 miles up the steep, curvy, paved-and-dirt road, before coming to a point where the road seemed to peter out. Given my cold, I decided to skip any attempt of the summit at that time. I placed Santa Ynez Peak on my to-do list, figuring it would make a good excuse to visit Santa Barbara.

For this attempt, I specifically wanted a hike, and found some interesting resources for the Tequepis Trail, a steep trail that starts on the mountain’s north side near Lake Cachuma. The Tequepis Trail ends at Camino Cielo, but about 2 miles east of Santa Ynez Peak and just east of Broadcast Peak. I decided I would follow this trail, then walk the road to the top. Logistically, very simple, but potentially long. I left the Lake Cachuma campground and drove the short distance west on CA-154 to a road on my right marked for the St. Vincent de Paul Ranch (and other ranches, another run by United Way and a third for the Boy Scouts). I followed this road about 1.5 miles to its end in a parking lot beneath a giant oak, with the “St. V. de P.” gates nearby. It was just before 8 a.m. in slightly foggy conditions when I rolled in, the only one here today. The St. V. de P. runs a camp for kids, and the Tequepis Trail access is across the St. V. de P. grounds. Apparently they do not mind hikers crossing to gain the trail. However, today being a Monday and the schools just starting, there was no one about, not even a caretaker I could see. I walked up past a pool, some bunk houses, and shortly, came to a stream crossing and the National Forest boundary.

The next mile follows a fire road and parallels a stream (it was flowing today), gaining at an easy grade. I was in shade, and by now the fog had burned off. When I was in the sun, I could tell this was going to be a hot day. Given my hike was on the lee-side of the range from the ocean, I could not expect any nice sea-breezes to cool me. For now, though, the temperatures were pleasant, and I had plenty of shade.

The road ends at a sign, and the trail continues to the left, and begins some moderately steep sections through shady forest before breaking out into the lower man-high scrub that covers every peak in Southern California, it seems. The manzanita and chapparal scrub is extremely thick and impenetrable without a trail. In the open, it was warm, but I made good time up the trail. Once the trail gains onto a ridge trending north off the main range crest, it makes about five long switchbacks. Often, the towers of Santa Ynez Peak were visible above me. Each time I would swing around to that side, the towers would seem to be closer. The final half-mile of trail sweeps southeast through a small glen of trees, which provided nice shade, then comes to the main range crest in a grassy area. The trail then drops about 30 feet to meet Camino Cielo. The trail junction is not obvious, marked only by a small cairn; I made sure to memorize this for the return. So far, so good. It had taken me about two hours to cover the Tequepis to the range crest, a distance of four miles and a gain of about 2,400 feet.

Now on the Camino Cielo, I had no more tree cover, and alas, no real breezes from the ocean either; it was warm, still and buggy. The Camino Cielo segment would cover about 2.5 miles each way, gaining about 500 feet, an easy overall grade. A lot of that gain came quick as the road traversed to the south of Broadcast Peak. Rounding a bend, there was Santa Ynez Peak not far ahead. Fortunately, the road does not drop drastically between the two peaks (no more than 30 feet). I trudged westward along Camino Cielo, eyeballing a grassy open ridge coming off Santa Ynez Peak that looked like a possible short-cut. Then I saw a snake—a rattler—crossing the road. Not sure what he was, I let him pass, then as I walked past, got a look at his tail, and saw the eight or so rattles. Well, forget about the short-cut! The hillsides are probably covered in his brethren. I was obliged to walk the road past the peak, then catch a spur road to the top, doubling back eastward to gain the top. This added probably a half-mile each way.

The spur road was paved, and when I got on top, there was a service truck parked there and I could hear some guy doing work in a building. Not surprisingly, the summit is covered in many towers and support buildings, and the true highpoint is just a bare hump of unexciting dirt. I walked up and over the top, walked to a couple viewpoints for photos, and got moving downward, never really stopping for a break. I walked back down the spur road and a little bit east on Camino Cielo before I stopped for my “summit break”, in the shade of a hillside. I celebrated with a diet Shasta coke. It had taken me 3 hours and 20 minutes to make the summit, 6.5 miles one way with about 2,900 feet of gain. But it was warm and I knew I had some serious distance to cover, so I didn’t rest long.

The walk back to the Tequepis Trail junction took me about 40 minutes (saw no snakes), and only when I was back down into the tree-cover of the trail did I stop for an extended break and to do a water bottle count. I had three bottles—1.5 liters total—which would probably be just enough to cover me for the hike out. While the shade was welcome, the bugs, mainly gnats, were extremely annoying. Ironically I didn’t get any relief from them until I was down a bit in the more open portions of the trail. The trail is fantastic: well constructed, minimal rocks, and a nice consistent grade. Now the sun was high so I had little shade, but I made good time as I descended, taking a break every 20 minutes to drink up. I was again reminded of a seeming contradiction of Southern California’s coastal ranges: despite being just a few air-miles from the ocean, it was downright hot here, probably 20 degrees hotter than in Santa Barbara. The whole region had been in a heatwave the past few days. I’d say it was in the low 90s where I was.

It was a minor moral victory to be down off the switchbacks and back into the shaded lower portion of the trail. By now I was pretty beat, sunburned, sweaty and stinky. I had just a half-bottle of water when I stumbled out to my truck, but there I had plenty more in a cooler. I spent a few minutes relaxing and re-hydrating. It was just past 2 p.m., giving me a round-trip time of 6 hours, 15 minutes. For the distance and gain, not a bad time for me. I didn’t stay long here, exiting back onto CA-154 and deciding to go for a scenic drive back into Santa Barbara via Solvang and Buellton. Solvang has a cutesy Danish downtown theme and lot of tourists. Me, something to do once, and today was it—from my truck. Buellton has wineries and more important, gas and drinks. I caught the US-101 here back into Santa Barbara.

The drive into Los Angeles was a bitch, battling late-day traffic and horrible, un-maintained freeways that are nothing but ruts, potholes and seams that don’t meet quite right. The road signs were all decorated in graffiti. Oh yeah, no wonder I can’t stand L.A. and moved away 18 years ago. I crashed at my pal Schneider’s place in Monrovia, where we got Japanese takeout and watched a video of the L.A. Kings hockey team from 1991. It was amusing to note how primitive the production quality was from back then, and also to note this was when the mullet (hockey hair) was just coming into style. All good fun. From Schneider’s place, I left very early the next morning for the long hot drive back to Arizona, the end of a short but productive trip. The hikes were just what I was after, and I was glad to be home with my wife and kitties. We were treated to one of the most intense monsoon thunderstorms I can recall that afternoon. It flooded the streets and knocked over some trees and a light pole.