It has been my privilege to have spent a great deal of time over the years hiking and exploring the back country of San Diego County. As a teen and young man, I would spend time in the desert rather than go surfing. After living for a number of years in the semirural northern part of the county later in life, I discovered a nature preserve called Daley Ranch only a short distance from my home, with more than 30 miles of trails among unspoiled hills and ancient trees. I've been hiking out there as often as possible for the last year.
For those of you who have never been here, this is a landscape of great big rocks. The biggest ones are larger than buildings, and the smallest ones are the gravel under your feet. In between is our land. It's a fertile but arid land - a desert, basically - with the greatest biological diversity in North America. The only animals I can think of offhand that do not have a home in San Diego County's back country are elk and moose. Well, bison. Obviously there are others. My point is that this is a blessed land that has been occupied by amazing people for 10,000 years. Most of that history is unknown. People spend their whole lives in San Diego and see only the modern white man's overlay on this special ground. They see the beaches and drive through the mountains, and even visit the museums where relics of the indigenous people are put on display. They haul their dune buggies out to the desert for a great time. But few ever drive out to the quiet, remote places, get out of their cars, and walk into the wilderness to see what they can find.
As a teen I explored in the desert near the little defunct resort town of Jacumba, about 100 miles east of San Diego and almost on the Mexican border. In the 60s this area was wild and remote, and not trekked daily by migrants and Minutemen. When I asked old-timers in town about piles of stones I'd see atop ridges and silhouetted against the sky, they'd say, "Those are just old Injun trail markers." No one ever thought to seek them out and try to decipher their meaning. I began climbing rocks and exploring the ridges marked by these small but obviously unnatural stacks of rocks. What I discovered was caves, petroglyphs, pottery and other remnants of the ancient indigenous people. If I had known then what I know now, no doubt I'd have found solar alignments and astronomical markers.
What I did not find back then was stone monoliths.
I'm not writing a book here so I won't go into how and when I discovered the amazing landscape of North County. People have noticed the standing stones. One of the largest overlooks I-15 and is called Mesa Rock. Today it's fenced off as part of a major housing project, but back in the day it was a place for young people to smooch. I'm told more sinister things have taken place there, too. When I began hiking at Daley Ranch, I couldn't help noticing an enormous monolith that overlooks the central meadow - an ancient feature that is, I believe, a prehistoric lake bed. From one angle, the stone has the profile of an Indian man. It's not sculpted, it's just shaped that way. I named it The Sentinel. I suspected immediately that its placement was an act of man. As I explored this area I found many more standing stones and other anomalies. When I used GoogleEarth to examine the site from the air, I found many, many interesting features. One end of the meadow is ringed by visible earth faults, and in the middle of this ring is a mound with an ancient grove of trees. When I left the trail and explored this grove, I expected to find beer cans and other signs of visitors. I found instead an untouched, magical place where owl and raven feathers littered the ground and the silence was profound. I found a concave boulder shaped like a psychiatrist's couch. Resting there, the hours flew by and I seemed to be in another dimension. I dubbed this stone the Chair of Dreams. Leaving this place I noticed that the Sentinel Stone and a hilltop I'd previously named The Citadel seemed to be in a straight line in the distance. When I checked the aerial view I realized that the Sentinel Stone is so placed that it establishes a dead-straight line between the Mound and the Citadel which are about a mile apart.
THE CITADEL
The very first time I visited this place I noticed The Citadel. Two of the main trails hook up right at its base. It towers up more than 200 feet over the trail, and it has the look of an impregnable fortress. At its base I saw for the first time the signs of ancient terracing that are also a feature of many of these remote hillsides. I knew right then I had to climb up there, and for weeks I planned my assault. Machete, snakebite kit, rope, all would need to be smuggled into this preserve where it's illegal to leave the trails. Within a month or two, however, I'd discovered a relatively easy trail that leads up the backside of the tor. From the main trail on the back of the ridge one can see a large upright boulder with a smaller stack of rocks on top. This was like the markers I found in the desert, many years ago. I followed a small game trail toward the boulder. Suddenly the trail rounded a curve in the hill and I found myself between two large standing stones - one of which stood directly behind the Citadel. Finding a hidden trail that led in that direction I climbed upward toward the top.
Suddenly I found myself at the base of the outcrop of enormous granite boulders that form the tor, the actual Citadel itself. The trail led between the boulders, upward in level stages like steps until I found myself looking down from a dizzying height onto the trail below. I found no petroglyphs and no caves large enough to be used for shelter. I did find an ancient grove of manzanita and a place that seemed so full of energy it almost knocked me over the cliff.
I know that granite is piezoelectric. When I reached the top of that hill, I felt as if I was standing in the middle of a blast of energy that covered the spectrum. I found it was light - I could recognize its color. It was music - I recognized the key. It was electric. In the distance I could see the Meadow, the Sentinel, and other features I have not explored yet. This place is so powerful, I have only gone there a few times. It is what Moses must have felt like when he realized he was standing on holy ground and yes, I took off my shoes and socks for the time I sat meditating. I have only shown this spot to one person. There is no sign that anyone besides us has walked there. I wonder how long it has been since anyone sat there and bathed in that charged presence.
Twice I have climbed toward the summit and been overcome by a feeling of dread. In each case I slipped away quietly. I have had several near-encounters with mountain lions at Daley Ranch, and so I listen to those feelings. Although I'm dying to photograph one!
I don't yet understand the significance of this ancient ceremonial spot. But I do know I'm not imagining it. Have a look at just a few of the images my camera has recorded. This place is so beautiful and so magical, I'd like to see it preserved forever.