I got off bus 90 in Sunland at Foothill boulevard and Oro Vista avenue a little after noon. A mile up Oro Vista Avenue it now turns right (east) and into Big Tujunga Canyon road (I should not have relied on my 1988 Thomas Bros.) The city has apparently sold the rest of Oro Vista to the residents who live on it: signs describing it as private property, passage subject to permission, but not forbidding trespassing, adorn it. I cut off the switchback between Big Tujunga Canyon road and Oro Vista and walked directly up it. At the start of the road up Ebey Canyon (labeled 'Eby' on their sign) I stayed on Oro Vista as it looked more public, less likely to bring me into contact with the residents, in case someone would object; no one did. At the top of the development Oro Vista, about a mile from Big Tujunga Canyon road turns right (east) and Skyland left; I took Skyland. After about a hundred yards I came to a gate where the road up Doane Canyon starts.

I went up Doane Canyon, coming to a fork with Sunset Springs road after about a half mile, helpfully marked with a large arrow sign pointing left, the way I wanted to go (Doane Canyon road goes to a dead end). The road shows no sign of anyone having driven on it this year so the sign surprised me. Foxtail and that weed with copious small yellow flowers (scotch broom?) covered the road. I took the left fork and contoured around the south face of the ridge for about a mile, gaining views down into hazy Sunland and Tujunga. Then Sunset Springs road meets Ebey Canyon road; you can see markers with the road numbers here (Sunset Springs road is NFS 3N43; Ebey Canyon road is NFS 3N30). I headed right (north) up Ebey Canyon road for about fifty yards, where the road curves left (west) and the trail up to Fascination Spring continues north. A flat plastic signpost reading 'Trail' marks it. I regretted that I had not broken in my boots before the trip: I had a large blister on the instep of my right foot.

About fifty yards up the trail I passed a hitching post and a formerly-plumbed porcelain trough. The trail follows the creek from Fascination Spring for about a half mile then climbs out of the canyon steeply to Yerba Buena ridge. An old trail sign which would read 'Oak Spring Trail' if half of it had not broken off marked the trail I just came up. I could see the sign marking the continuation of trail about fifty yards up (to the right, east) Yerba Buena ridge road. This trail descended along an unnamed canyon whose stream was flowing. This joins the stream down from Oak Spring in about a mile, which I follow to Oak Spring, a large open area with old live oaks. I doffed my pack and hiked to the ridge just north of the spring to take in the view. I couldn't see the fire road John Robinson (in his Trails of the Angeles) tells me comes to Oak Spring. A couple of day-hikers taking an afternoon hike from the Gold Creek trailhead came by. We traded hiking stories.

In the morning I hiked down to the Gold Creek trailhead then up Gold Creek road planning to take it to Gold Canyon Saddle. Unfortunately private parties own the right-of-way, object to sharing it with the public, and were there to enforce their desires. So I returned to Yerba Buena ridge road the way I came, a six mile deadend. I became tired and disspirited on my way back, resting a number of times. I stopped at Oak Spring and felt like not moving at all. I restlessly napped for a couple of hours, ate lunch, dressed my feet, and felt a little better. I filled up on water as I would not find any more until Yerba Buena Spring, some seven or eight miles away.

I did not enjoy myself as I dragged up Yerba Buena ridge road to its top then descended around to Gold Canyon Saddle from the east side. Gold Canyon Saddle has an impressive east face: a steep, long, dirt face with nothing growing on it. Unfortunately that included Yerba Buena ridge road's approach. Winter and spring rains had washed away the road's climb up the ridge. I could see a white plastic sawhorse warning sign with orange stripes perched at the top of the road on the saddle; it looked like it would not last the next rain. I took off my pack, dropped down to the lower level of the washout, and reconnoitered the slope. It appeared that someone had scrambled up (I saw bootprints on the road and trail). Falling would mean, at the worst, a thirty-foot fall into thick mud, not death at the bottom of Gold Canyon hundreds of feet below (I would have to go further out to commit suicide.)

With my sore feet, tired legs, general weariness, and knowing that I still had to get to Yerba Buena spring for water, I turned down Gold Canyon Trail, which began just before the washout. It follows along the side of Gold Canyon, often steeply. Rain has washed out much of it and brought down trees across it. I had to scramble along many portions and push trees out of the way. I kept to the trail; lower down it was much overgrown. I made the the canyon bottom about sunset and spent the night there. The trail up has no marker nor any distinguishing characteristic. As near as I can tell Robinson's description has you hike up the canyon until you hit the trail, not the way I came down.

To progress further I had to hike down (south) Gold Canyon to Big Tujunga Canyon road up (east) that road to the road up Tom Lucas trailhead, then up that trail to Indian Ben Saddle to rejoin my original route. More excitingly I could take the Condor Peak trail, but I think I can count on the rains having washed much of that out. Gold Canyon's rocky wash required me to keep my eyes on the ground as I hiked out, something I don't like. The Tujunga had so much water in it, running so fast, that I did not want to ford it, so I hiked up-river about a half-mile to where the road crosses the river to my side, about fifty feet above the canyon bottom. I found a place to scramble up a little past the bridge. On my way up I pulled a muscle in the calf of my left leg. Walking stiffly on the road, only three miles up a paved road from where I started, I decided that I did not want to continue the hike so I hitched out to Foothill boulevard and took the bus home.

In addition to not breaking in my boots (I had gotten too used to the less-rigid boots I had worn for the past fifteen years, boots that did not need breaking-in) I had not prepared myself physically (I never did this before; running and biking appear not to have kept me in shape) or mentally, I suppose: I did not feel ready; I did not feel energetic; I did not enjoy myself. I may have spoiled myself with my indulgent retiring lifestyle. Perhaps I should not have brought Magic Mountain to read.

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