Climbing El Toro

For twenty years or so, the town I live in has held an annual spring hike to the top of El Toro (Spanish for "the bull"), the unique westerly peak that appears as the official town logo. It's the first thing I see as I leave the house and ever since moving here three years ago, I've wanted to climb it. Of course, as with anything that is close and easy to do, I never got around to it, which turns out to be a good thing because El Toro is private property. The only way to make it to the top without trespassing is to attend the yearly event sponsored by the town's historical museum that obtains permission from the landowners.

Early on Saturday morning, about a hundred townspeople gathered in front of the museum to make the trek. The local Boy Scout troop had climbed El Toro the night before to clear the trail and set up ropes. The hike itself isn't very long or hard. It took about thirty minutes to reach the ropes and another ten to reach the summit (approximately 1,402 feet above sea level). From one angle, El Toro looked like a greener version of Half Dome.

While not as steep as Yosemite's granite giant, the climb was still challenging. Loose soil and ropes increased the difficulty level. As long as my gloved hands held onto the rope and my feet were on the ground, I was okay, for the most part. Every now and then, the person in front me would slip and yank the rope, which caused a whole group of us to swing two feet to the left and into the waiting branches of poison oak. Luckily, my skin and the leaves never made contact, so I didn't develop a rash, only severe case of paranoia.

On a geological note, the base and most of El Toro is composed of greenstone (a.k.a. red rock), a type of volcanic rock. According to the local geologist, as one nears the top, the brownish rock, which is neither green nor red, gives way to limestone (which tastes nothing like lime). Of course, grass and trees cover everything, so the entire hill actually looks green.

When I reached the top, a young Boy Scout greeted me. He was a scrawny kid who took his job of passing out tickets seriously. Nobody got by him without receiving one. "Here's your ticket," he said, thrusting a blue raffle ticket into my hand and smiling. "Take it back to the museum for a certificate." I don't exactly know why, but I liked him.

The top of El Toro isn't very big. If I were to take a wild guess, I'd say it's between sixty and seventy feet in diameter. To get a panoramic view of the valley, one has to circle the peak. On Saturday, it was hazy, so visibility was limited, but one could still see the town limits, the rolling green hills and Chesbro Reservoir.

I spent about ten minutes on the summit before making my descent. It took about half the time of the climb to reach the bottom. Back at the museum, I had a sip of coffee and traded my ticket for a certificate proclaiming I had reached the top. I'm hoping to return next year. With any luck, the skies will be clear and I'll have more time to enjoy the view.