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At the corner of Lake Avenue and East Loma Alta Drive in Altadena, a huge wrought-iron gate marks the entrance to the Sam Merrill Trail. Flanked by masses of dried-out agave plants and pale green cacti, the trail follows a messy concrete path, and then quickly juts off into the dirt and up Echo Mountain. The hike is on a perpetual incline, rising about 1,400 feet over two miles. The trail is well-maintained, allowing hikers free range across its singular path. But it is also quite thin, barely wide enough for two hikers to walk side by side. All along the trek, a series of switchbacks lead the visitors in a zigzag up the mountain. Throughout Echo Mountain, there is a hushed swell of sound. Instead of the grinding brakes and rolling tires that resonate through Los Angeles, there is a stillness, a pure white noise that rushes over you like the sound of a seashell held to your ear. The air, weightless and clean, pours slowly across your face. On clear days, you can see through it to what seems like all of Southern California: the San Gabriel Valley, downtown Los Angeles, even the Port of Los Angeles. On others, the smog blocks out the sky like a thin, gray cataract. At the mountain’s peak, huge gears from the Mount Lowe Railway’s powerhouse are tilted on their sides. A historical marker sits in front of them commemorating the designation of the site as a National Historical Place in 1993. But only a few feet of the railway remain among the pieces of shattered concrete and weeds. With the incline portion of the railway completely destroyed, the tracks at the peak look as if they travel off the edge of the mountain and on into the clouds. Up the adjacent granite staircase is where the Echo Mountain House once stood. The site looks completely barren, like the grand hotel never even existed. Only pieces of the hotel’s foundation remain, the crumbling bits of stone barely rising out of the dirt. Behind this rubble, cement fountains stand with their rusted pipes half-exposed. What once was the Echo Mountain House’s huge reservoir is now just a gaping cement hole filled with piles of railroad equipment and the occasional water bottle or food wrapper. For most, the ruins are a diversion. The mountain bikers, their orange and blue spandex shirts drenched in morning sweat, prop up their bikes and sit on the Echo Mountain House’s old granite staircase. The veteran hikers, with sweatshirts tied around their waists and canteens hanging from their backpacks, read over the historical markers and remark to their friends that the site seems more overgrown and unkempt than they remember. Most of the visitors, though, are casual, in loose t-shirts and wide-brimmed visors or gardening hats. They clutch large water bottles and daypacks and spend just a few minutes at the site of the ruined hotel, enough to catch their breath, eat a protein bar and drink some water. On their way back down the mountain, they talk about business plans and friends that have found new love. For Michael Patris, however, the hike is more than an exercise. Michael first explored the trail over a decade ago while helping a friend with his physical therapy after he was hit by a drunk driver. Michael noticed the steady grade rising up Echo Mountain. He saw the remnants of the incline railway and the tracks leading to nowhere. At the top of the mountain, he saw the rusting railroad equipment and the deteriorating foundation of Echo Mountain House. In his head, he could imagine how the grand building might have appeared. Now, though, it looked like some lost city of ruin. Intent on piecing together the seeming mystery behind the site’s destruction, Michael began making the hike once a week and immersing himself in the history of Thaddeus Lowe and the railway. Michael Patris has been interested in history and antiques since he was a pre-teen and explains that he felt a natural affinity towards the Mount Lowe Railway. At 46, Michael, a former television producer, now works as a private fiduciary, dealing in estates and antiques. Over the years, he in effect became a fiduciary for the Lowe estate, tracking down information and people and artifacts. It was when Michael’s knowledge of the site grew and grew and he began to be known as “the Mount Lowe guy,” though, that he knew that he should turn his own obsession into something more. And he did: in 2000 he established the Mount Lowe Preservation Society, an organization dedicated to memorializing and documenting the place and the people behind it. As the gregarious and occasionally overzealous president of the Society, Michael has met with the heirs of Thaddeus Lowe and David Macpherson, organizing family reunions and simulated hot-air balloon rides. Michael spends “thousands and thousands” of dollars on the project, he claims, as well as countless hours poring over artifacts and documents. “It’s something that spiraled out of control very quickly,” he admits. * * * (conclusion on page 4) |
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