Grass Mountain and Figueroa Mountain. 
Hurricane Deck and the Sierra Madres. 
A rock formation dubbed the “Willow Spring Jumble” from the Davy Brown Trail. 
Mosaic Canyon along the upper Davy Brown Trail. 
Reaching the top of the Davy Brown Trail, where there’s a sign-in box. 
A Davy Brown Trail sign and an oak tree at Figueroa Mountain Road.
After some rainfall on the weekdays leading into the Martin Luther King Jr. Day three-day weekend, my two hiking colleagues and I wondered if any Santa Barbarans would drive into Davy Brown Camp and try clambering up the backside of Figueroa Mountain via picturesque Fir Canyon.
Due to the wet weather and all the recent wrecks on Highway 154, I chose to make the 90-minute drive from Santa Barbara via Highway 101 all the way around through the Gaviota Tunnel and then double-back to Los Olivos on a bit of Highway 154 (see 4.1.1. for driving).
This was a shuttle hike where we pre-positioned a vehicle on Figueroa Mountain Road on the way in, and thus began the steeply ascending canyon hike itself from Davy Brown Camp.
While the springtime promises wildflowers galore and plenty of animal sightings, enchanting Fir Canyon was damp this time and even muddy in the lowest sections. All we saw mammal-wise was a leggy bobcat streaking up an opposing slope when we surprised it.
Driving in, we had wonderful views not only of the Santa Ynez Valley but also the Sierra Madre transverse range and the fabulous Hurricane Deck formation.
Over the entire 73-mile drive, we never encountered another vehicle, although there was a single dayhiker car parked on Figueroa Mountain Road.
After setting up at site No. 7 — there is a $20 overnight fee — my two teacher friends and I set off onto muddy Davy Brown Trail.
Wild Pete managed somehow to fall down twice in the early slippery going, and I very much needed my twin hiking poles, which the two younger guys eschewed in their middle-age hauteur.
After about a mile, the trail begins to ascend quite steeply, and overall the average angle of incline for this trail is 5.2 degrees (a 1,650-foot climb over the 3.4 miles uphill).
About midway, we could spot the compelling rock formation that I’ve dubbed the “Willow Spring Jumble” across the canyon. I’ve written about this side trail, and we avoided it this trip since it would be even more slippery than the Davy Brown Trail.
Trudging on, we spotted some huge boulders with Native American bedrock mortars ground into them, ideal spots for indigenous people to grind up acorns and other food resources.
We kept trudging upward, rather happy about the very cool weather — this hike can be excruciating in summer heat. All the while, the creek bubbled along, and we could even spot fingerling trout in certain upper pools (no fishing here).
After resting for 10 minutes at the Davison Cabin plaque, we entered an even steeper section that we enjoy terming our own local “mosaic canyon.” The orange-colored shale here has fractured geometrically into rectangular cubes that resemble the colored tesserae used in ancient tile mosaics.
Breathing hard and enjoying the strenuous three-hour workout, beyond the orange-colored shale cliffs, we came to the final, extremely steep section that tops out at an iron sign-in register. There aren’t a lot of these weather-proofed sign-in boxes, and I’m not really sure what their exact function is.
Our Santa Barbara lives here in the early Anthropocene Era are quite lovely despite the regular occurrence of wildfires, catastrophic debris flows (e.g. after the Thomas Fire in January 2018), and earthquakes.
Poet Rainer Maria Rilke mentions the contradictory connections between “beauty and terror” that we endure in nature’s world, and I have to think of the Australians who suffer from unbelievably massive forest fires that are essentially unstoppable.
This is what the Anthropocene means — human confrontations with nature’s raw power where our various technologies offer few effective solutions.
As singer Greg Brown writes in his unique backpacking song “Billy From the Hills,” sometimes when we’re out hiking we pitch our mental “tent” at a trail fork “where knowledge meets remorse,” and we then “try to hide in the progressive dream” while small screens take over social reality (Slant Six Mind).
We met only one other hiker on the trail, an older Asian-American woman hiking alone wearing fancy red shoes and a cheerful mien.
At the top, beat, my two friends and I hopped into the pre-positioned truck and drove the 10 miles back down to Davy Brown Camp.
There, after a washup in freezing Davy Brown Creek and a hearty campfire, we ate a sumptuous meal of scorched carne asada slices mixed into massive flour burritos with black beans, cooked peppers, avocado and salsa.
I supplied the cerveza for my buddies while sipping apple cider myself and nursing the old legs back with ointments and auto-massage.
4-1-1
» Driving directions that enable hikers to leave one (of two) vehicle at the top of Davy Brown Trail on Figueroa Mountain Road, then all hikers drive the next 10 miles past Cachuma Saddle and park at campsite No. 7 — 73 miles. On the return to Santa Barbara, stay on Happy Canyon at Cachuma Saddle, take Armour Ranch Road to Highway 154, go left at the river, and get to Santa Barbara in 25 fewer miles. Some of this is dirt, so a four-wheel-drive vehicle is recommended.
— Dan McCaslin is the author of Stone Anchors in Antiquity and has written extensively about the local backcountry. His latest book, Autobiography in the Anthropocene, is available at Lulu.com. He serves as an archaeological site steward for the U.S. Forest Service in the Los Padres National Forest. He welcomes reader ideas for future Noozhawk columns, and can be reached at cazmania3@gmail.com. Click here to read additional columns. The opinions expressed are his own.