Nestled deep in the Santa Ana Mountains, there is a place tinged with congruent terror and beauty, where all of its oxymoronic allure is captured in the name - Black Star Canyon. Deep ravines gash the surface of rugged peaks and exposed red sandstone facades jut from swaths of lush green vegetation, a fleeting snapshot of an especially wet winter. The recent rain is in fact a boon, the ultimate goal of the hike happens to be a waterfall, which under normal dry conditions is known to be more of a trickle.
From the moment I step out of the car, a natural urge pushes me to venture into this harsh, strikingly vivid slice of Southern California wilderness. But, forging ahead, the sense of freedom that I often feel while hiking in wide-open spaces now eludes me, with the towering, claustrophobia-inducing peaks pressing in on all sides.
It’s a perfect day for some physical exertion. Dark cloud masses hover overhead, keeping the air cool amid sporadic sunlight. As I fall into rhythm marching along the dusty trail, my mind wanders to the murky history that surrounds the area. An unsubstantiated, yet widely believed tale of an Indian massacre, the apparent retaliation to horse theft, is only square one on a bloody path bookmarked by spooky Satanic cults, violent crimes, and territorial, armed locals. Today, it is a hotspot for paranormal investigators due to claims of spectral soirees, crashed every now and then by Bigfoot and extraterrestrials.
While I don’t give much credence to these legends, it’s hard to ignore the eerie presence of electrical fences, razor wire, and security cameras that very forcefully delineate private property along the road, a barrier excessively marked with countless warnings against potential trespassers.
As soon as I’m starting to get over the bizarre nature of this adventure, something even stranger slaps me in the face. Across the creek sits an old homestead, complete with an abandoned sluice box mining operation and a guard peacock, pecking the ground for bugs and belting out its wailing call. Weird.
We finally drop into the creek for the final stretch and encounter perhaps the scariest sight of all, the stuff of nightmares - poison oak. Here, there and everywhere, never before have I seen so much of the itch inducing plant. Some may guffaw at my abhorrence, but as someone who is extremely allergic, it’s no laughing matter. As I sit here writing, days later, it appears I have escaped its leafy jaws, though I certainly touched it at least twice.
On the bright side, those nasty leaves of three do not grow in flowing water, so we take to the rocks in the stream, jumping from side to side. Eventually, we’re not the only ones traversing them like parkour experts, in fact, Black Star Canyon is living up to its reputation; the ravine narrows and steepens, and the water cascades over increasingly large boulders, making the climb slow going.
At long last, we stand at the base of Black Star Canyon Falls, which drops 40 feet into a seam in the limestone cliff, reappearing again from the mouth of a cave to the left, a quirky feature that’s only fitting for such a peculiar experience. If the tall tales, poison oak, and rattlesnakes (did I forget to mention that?) don’t discourage you, Black Star Canyon can be a truly breathtaking expedition into the great outdoors.