Great Hikes VI: The Legend of Marty Falls

Scott Regberg

Mirror Contributing Writer

   You can’t find Marty Falls on a map. We didn’t set out to discover it but rather to find a connecting route between the “Quarry Trail” in the canyons below the Palisades Highlands and “Trailer Trail” in the upper Highlands.
   Six of us entered the Topanga State Park along the same path that many hikers casually refer to as the “Waterfall” trail, although a very different waterfall than the one we were to discover. This gentle path is actually the take-off point for a half a dozen different and very interesting hikes including the familiar Santa Inez trail to Trippet Ranch, the “windcave ridge” route;, and one of my favorites, the “crack” up to the Oaktree.
   On this day, we started up the common pathway to all of these routes. After about 15 minutes there is a clearly marked signpost that indicates “Waterfall” in one direction and “Santa Inez Trail” in another. Ignoring both of these options, we step over a large tree blocking an obscured trail toward what we know is the “old quarry.”
   Bushy to our chests, the trail is narrow and overgrown with poison oak and blind step-downs, gradually winding down to a jungle of shrubs, stream beds and fallen trees. A good hike to remember gloves and decent boots. The quarry itself, and some very rusted equipment, are barely visible derelicts virtually reclaimed by nature.
   A true bushwhack is before us. We’ve done this portion at night and floundered around looking for a route. Now, by day, the path is still only vaguely accessible. We’re grabbing bushes, and probably poison oak, to haul ourselves through the wet bramble.
   The jungle gives way to a narrow canyon passageway, the sky obliterated by high canopy growth and bold rock overhangs. This trail at night is wondrously mysterious, with mini-mag lights softly illuminating the narrowing rock formation.
   It only takes about 40 minutes to arrive at a dead end wall of rock ascending up 20 or 30 feet. It is, however, an easy climb, a class 3 challenge that we relish. We need both hands, but the footholds are generous and stable. We go up one at a time, hugging the facing, with relative ease. The only trepidation for first timers is how to get back down.
   Our vision is that we’ll discover an ascending side-trail that will connect to “Trailer” further north along the ridge line of the Highlands, and then we can loop back down to the cars.
   We’re literally moving up a ravine, the trail is the only dry spot alongside a cascade of streams lined with poison oak. It’s a slippery rock-hopping trek toward the rising sound of falling water.
   The rumble of a waterfall dramatically changes the mood, and as the stream becomes increasingly steep, the roar becomes too loud to talk over. We weren’t expecting this much water but it’s a stimulating surprise.
   Portions of the stream bed are deep and as wide as eight feet. Several of us have gotten thoroughly wet - and we still haven’t come to the source.
   Around one more curve and we could swear that we’re in the back jungle of Hawaii. The 30-foot waterfall is almost obscured by the spray and mist that’s filling the air. It’s tumbling down a half dome rock enclosure and filling a pool at the base. We’re shouting to one another over the roar. For a short day hike, this is a real discovery.
   The well known “Waterfall” trail in the opposite direction is actually rather tame compared to this woodsy discovery. Plus, the terrain of the other falls is more Utah-like, with bare boulders and little foliage. This is a tropical oasis.
   Beautiful as it is, we still haven’t found our way out and up to Trailer. Our internal compasses tell us that the direction we want is above the falls.
   Just under the arch of water is what may be a path traversing up the bowl. Marty, one of our regular hikers, scampers up the narrow rocky shelf to explore the way. Standing fifteen feet above us he shouts down that the course is clear.
   As if on cue, the wet decomposed granite and flaky shale collapses and Marty tumbles straight down into the pool at the bottom. He emerges out of the water holding one gloved hand in another and screams: “Oh my god, I’ve torn-off my thumb!”
   For an indeterminate period of time, there is utter silence. Even the waterfall is frozen still, dumbfounded quiet. And then the reality switch is turned back-on and we all scramble to examine the injury and figure out how to dress it - and how to quickly get out of this canyon.
   The thumb is attached but bleeding and dangling sideways from the joint below the nail. We splint it and wrap it up. Going back the way we came is too long and difficult for Marty with only one hand. We decide to just tough it out straight up the hillside next to the falls. There is no trail but it’s a do-able bushwhack in the direction toward Trailer.
   Our instincts are right. It’s a difficult 30 minutes on hands and knees, over and under the shrubs. But we crest the ridge right to the Trailer trail. Jacques, one of our leaders, runs ahead to meet us at the trailhead with his car and borrowed ice for Marty’s thumb. It’s still a 30 minute walk down to the road, but we do it in record time and Marty is off to the emergency room.
   Later, we named the waterfall “Marty Falls” and have returned there twice just for fun. The last visit, in summer, found the Falls totally dry and barren - and as seemingly derelict as the old quarry below it.
   Post Script: Marty’s thumb was frighteningly dislocated and cut at the knuckle, but has since healed.
   Readers interested in Monday and Wednesday evening hikes are welcome to join. A regular group departs at 6:30 p.m. from various locations in the Santa Monica Mountains. For more information call (310) 475-5735.