Year In Review: 2025 Updates to Past Posts

Los Angeles has been through a lot in the time that I've lived here. It took a big hit during the pandemic, and the homelessness crisis just keeps getting worse and worse. 

But nothing in my tenure here has compared to January 2025, when the entire city seemed to be surrounded by fire—and two communities were flattened in the blink of an eye. 

I can't even speak to what so many people went through, losing their homes and possessions and all sense of safety. I can only document a little bit of it, and help preserve the memory of some of our public places with the photos I've taken and the stories I've written. 

The more time that passes, the more it feels that I have a certain duty to share these stories and spread the word about places in danger of being lost, and places that have been spared and saved (including those from the Eaton and Palisades fires and the Sunset Fire at Runyon Canyon).

Because for as much as we mourn and grieve, we must also pay attention, intervene, and celebrate.

We couldn't manage to hold onto Pacific Dining Car. Or David Lynch. But the building that once housed Corky's returned to its former Googie glory. The Crystal Cave in Sequoia National Park finally reopened. And The Los Angeles Breakfast Club turned 100.

While those all got their own new blog posts, here are the updates I made to older posts in 2025:

 

Photo Essay: Things That Were Spared from the Fires (Palisades & Eaton Fires Edition—Continuously Updated)

[Last updated 1/20/25 5:32 PM PT—Added Christmas Tree Lane Model Railroad and added some info about Mountain View Cemetery.]

[Updated 1/18/25 9:36 AM PT—Added San Vicente Mountain Park.]

[Updated 1/15/25 7:11 PM PT—Added Saddle Peak Lodge, Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, and Inn of the Seventh Ray.]

[Updated 1/13/25 9:48 PM PT—Added Balian House]

How am I faring in the tragic firestorms of Los Angeles? I'm safe for now, but I'm stressed. I'm grieving. I'm in mourning. All of LA is.

So I turn my attention to documenting. It feels like all I can do. 

I've already started a running tally of the places that were lost in the Palisades and the Eaton Fires, focusing on those I'd already photographed and knew pretty intimately. 

But I'd like to add some good news in the mix, so here's what I know about some of the places I care about and their survival status. 

Lake Shrine

 

Photo Essay: Things We Lost In the Fires (Palisades and Eaton Edition—Continuously Updated)

[Last updated 1/20/25 5:13 PM PT—Clarified status of Christmas Tree Lane and its model railroad in Altadena]

[Updated 1/13/25 10:04 PM PT—Added Mt. Lowe's Inspiration Point]

Los Angeles is currently on fire as it has never been on fire before. 

The Palisades Fire alone is almost twice the size of the island of Manhattan in terms of acreage. 

It seems like a new fire pops up every day. 

I've had two fires near me—a structure fire on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood and a brushfire between Wattles Mansion and Runyon Canyon, the latter of which I could see from my building. That second one almost sent me evacuating, but I decided to pack up and wait it out until I was told to leave, rather than trying to get my cat in the carrier. 

I have been so very lucky so far. 

But all of Los Angeles is in mourning. And the grief has only just begun. 

Because I'm me, I've set my attention to documenting what's been saved and what's been lost. It feels productive. Maybe it's helpful.

I haven't been able to leave my apartment yet to go see anything. The air quality is not good for my weak lungs. I'd have too much separation anxiety being from my kittyboy during what feels like an apocalyptic time. (Besides, there are too many looky-loos with drones and cameras shooting photos and videos out there already, and they're getting in the way of emergency crews and the residents trying to go and check on their own homes.)

So, I'm keeping tabs on things remotely for now. From what I've seen on the internet and the local news, I'm not sure I'd want to see any of this in person. 

So here are some of the major updates as I know them—particularly about places I've documented before and was pretty familiar with, so I can confidently report what's going on with them.

The first conflagration to erupt, the Palisades Fire, first raged through the Pacific Palisades community of Los Angeles. It's wiped out entire residential neighborhoods, a commercial district, and historic structures in Palisades—and it's not done, as it rages towards the 405 to the east and the 101 to the north as I write this. (It's headed straight for San Vicente Mountain Park!)

 Photo: California State Parks

Photo Essay: Powering the Railway to the Clouds [Updated for 2025]

[Last updated 1/13/25 10:14 PM PT—The power house miraculously survived the 2025 Eaton Fire, despite the fact that the flames raged down Lake Avenue and burned everything directly across the street. I've added more historical info from Altadena Heritage below.]

I've felt drawn to Mount Lowe in the wilderness above Altadena even before I moved to LA—even before I actually liked LA.

A train in the middle of the mountains—nay, UP the mountain—just seemed so preposterous to me.

I had to see it (or, what was left of it); and, once I did, I just kept going back.

It's been a while since I've climbed the Sam Merrill Trail up to Echo Mountain (the endpoint of the Mount Lowe Incline Railway) or walked the old right-of-way of the trolley that once rounded the mountain to its final destination, the Alpine Tavern (which opened in 1895 and burned in 1936).

But it turns out that there was a piece of the historical narrative of the Mount Lowe Railway that I'd been missing, though I didn't know I'd been missing it: Pacific Electric Railway Company Substation No. 8.

Photo: Herald-Examiner Collection, Los Angeles Public Library

After all, something had to provide power to the PE trolley line that once ran north of Pasadena, all the way up Lake Avenue (once known as Prospect Avenue) into "the Highlands."



But it wasn't until I found myself driving up that old path that I realized that there might be something else train-related to see...



...when I was thankfully tipped off by an image of a trolley on the sign for a local strip mall.



Here, at the intersection of Lake Avenue and Calaveras Street, is where the Mount Lowe Railway actually began (and ended)—at a station once known as Mountain Junction (sometimes called "Altadena Junction"), starting in 1893. The narrow gauge track brought passengers on a 10-minute ride from Altadena to Rubio Canyon, where they could transfer to the incline railway at the foot of Echo Mountain. Soon, this intersection became a hub of mountain tourism in the "Great Era of Hiking."



But disaster struck—and continued to strike— the Mount Lowe Railway, and by 1897, infamous balloonist Thaddeus Lowe lost control of the project. In 1901, the railway was sold to the Los Angeles Railway Company, which was then conveyed to Pacific Electric (of the "Red Cars" fame).



The Mountain Division's tracks were converted to standard gauge in 1903, and a proper power station came in the form of Substation #8 in 1905. The substation that preceded it was subsequently and unceremoniously demolished (and no traces of it are visible today).



In the decades that followed, structures in Rubio Canyon and on Mount Lowe and Echo Mountain suffered fires, winds, storms, and vandalism.



Still, in the 1920s, Altadena remained a "streetcar suburb"—despite the rise of the automobile pretty much everywhere else in Southern California.



Once the Alpine Tavern (then renamed the Mount Lowe Tavern) burned down, there was little hope of salvaging anything. By 1938, all passenger rail service into Rubio Canyon had ceased, and by 1941, the rail had been removed—and anything valuable was taken by scrappers (particularly after the start of World War II).

In 1959, whatever remained up there was dynamited by the U.S. Forest Service, which had taken over control of all of the Mount Lowe Railway-related sites as part of Angeles National Forest.



Somehow, the power station remained long enough to be landmarked in 1979. (The former Mount Lowe Incline Railway wasn't even landmarked until 1993, for the centennial of its opening.) It was Altadena's first national landmark, according to Altadena Heritage—and the effort to preserve it was precipitated by a demolition threat.



It remained vacant, though, for long stretches of time—most commercial businesses unable to make the space work, given the restricted access to parking. For a short time, it served as a private office building—housing Jim Dickson Real Estate Company and the Mount Lowe Railway Museum in 1980 and, in 1992, the Spencer/Hoskins Associates architectural firm. 



Finally, the Mennonites opened their Full Circle Thrift Shop in September 2016—which means you can actually get inside and explore the space.



Upstairs, you can get up close to the 40-foot cathedral ceilings...



...and gaze down at the large bay windows...



...which appear to be original—or, at least, very old.



It might look like there's not much left inside, but towards the back, on street level...



...you can find some traces of the former inner workings of the power plant...

...which once held a 300-kilowatt rotary converter, several large motor-generator units used to convert the electrical power...



...as well as 15,000-volt circuit transformers.

Those, of course, were the nuts and bolts of the electrical engineering necessary to (eventually) power all of Mount Lowe and Echo Mountain—and the railway that took passengers "to the clouds."

But there's a lot of romance and tragedy to the story of Thaddeus Lowe, an aeronaut who wished to help regular people take to the skies (as he had) on a trip that was at once thrilling and breathtaking as well as downright terrifying.

The LA Times has called Lowe the "quintessential California dreamer." I guess that means that we Californians are always trying to reach new heights.

You have to risk a lot to climb higher than anyone else has before. And the higher you go, the farther you have to fall.

But hopefully, in California—this "land of opportunity"—the dreamers have a better chance of successfully launching those airships and racing through the clouds without all those tall buildings getting in the way.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Pasadena to the Mt. Lowe Alpine Tavern
Photo Essay: Mt. Lowe's Inspiration Point to Altadena
Photo Essay: Heart-Pounding Hike to a Lost City
Echo Mountain, The Hard Way
Photo Essay: Getting to Echo Mountain via Mt. Lowe, Past the Hard Part
Photo Essay: Belmont Tunnel and the Hollywood Subway's Fade Into Oblivion
Photo Essay: MTA Substation #13 (Open House NY)

Photo Essay: Getting to Echo Mountain via Mt. Lowe, Past the Hard Part

For my third time summiting Echo Mountain, I went up the hard way. And I had a hard time. The steep climb - which required a lot of scrambling with hands and absolutely zero fear of heights - was just enough beyond my skill level to bring me to tears, a condition worsened by a know-it-all intruder who decided to help out by yelling at me that I was going to fall, and barking orders at me to grab his rope.

Of course, that only made me cry harder.

Amidst the thoughts of "My God, what have I done?" and "There's no turning back now" and "How am I ever going to get through this?", it did occur to me that maybe I shouldn't have even tried this hike, despite the fact that my Sierra Club hiking companions didn't discourage me from it or even remotely warn me how bad it was going to be. I didn't have to pass a physical or psychological test to climb Echo Mountain the hard way. I just had to show up early on a Saturday in the rain.



And there I was, having gotten through the worst of it, having hung off the side of a cliff supported only by a thin nylon rope, my white knuckles, and my hiking boots in crumbling footholds, about to embark on the section of the hike that made the whole ordeal worthwhile:



...the old path of the Mt. Lowe Railway.



At the top of the last steep climb, we met up with a paved fire road that led us to the juncture of Sunset Point, a popular junction for mountain bikers as well, as clouds hung low.



The paved road continued up the mountain (which I believe I had ridden up and down during our carpool trip to the Alpine Tavern site and Inspiration Point two years ago)...



...but we proceeded down the dirt trail which would led us to our destination, Echo Mountain, the original dropoff point for the Mt. Lowe Incline Railway (which climbed to Echo Mountain's White City from Rubio Canyon down below).



We hadn't gone that far distance-wise, but I'd taken a long journey physically, mentally and emotionally already.



After all, in the heyday of the Mt. Lowe Railway, the only way for people to get up this mountain was to buy a ticket for a trolley that would zig-zag its way to the top.



Along the old railway bed of the Alpine Division of the Mt. Lowe Railway, you can see a lot of preserved relics of the train's path, including retaining walls and supports.



We humans teetered along the ridge trail, where only a couple railings might keep us from falling if we leaned over too far.



It's a marvel how modern engineering (at the time) was able to cut through the granite...



...and how some of the ties still remain underfoot.



Thanks to interpretive signage posted by the U.S. Forest Service and the Scenic Mt. Lowe Railway Historic Committee, many of the well-known features along the route to the Alpine Tavern (which ran from 1893-1936, until an electrical fire burned the tavern down) can still be identified...



...like Sentinel Rock...


image courtesy of the Mt. Lowe Preservation Society Inc.

...a popular subject for postcards...



...as well as where wooden trestles like High Bridge used to cross the deep Los Flores Canyon below.



The original rail trip was so harrowing that it required three bridges (High Bridge, Circular Bridge, and Vertical Rock Bridge) to navigate the steep inclines and hairpin turns. It's an amazing feat to imagine, and a real treat to walk along its path.



I was able to recover quickly (and relatively easily) from my terror of hanging off the side of a cliff just a few minutes earlier.



Walking along that path, I was reminded that sometimes you have to take the long way to get where you're going. In the case of Mt. Lowe, the railway required over a mile of track just to travel about 1/5 of a mile as the crow flies.



And it would take 15 minutes to travel a mere 1.75 miles of track.



Trekking downhill, it didn't take us very long to make our way over to Echo Mountain...



...looking back, barely believing the way we'd gotten up there...



...finally reaching a trail and its markers that looked familiar.



When you get to Echo Mountain - either via the Sam Merrill Trail or the Hard Way - you have the choice of heading up the Castle Canyon trail to Inspiration Point...



...or taking some time to explore the ruins of the former White City at Echo Mountain, which once housed an observatory and a luxurious Victorian hotel (which also burned down).



I was glad we had some time to explore Echo Mountain, though I'd been there twice before, because I find something new upon each visit.



I hadn't remembered the old power station...



...and although I recalled the Great Incline's terminus...



...whose remaining tracks now drop off to nowhere...



...I'd never spotted the extant concrete footings at the top of the incline...



...or really realize that these stairs were the platform from which passengers would embark and disembark from the incline railway.



I hadn't even noticed that you could still see a bit of track embedded in the hillside.



On this hiking trip, we lingered around the ruins for a while to catch our breath and explore, but we'd taken a long time to get up there, and as the sun began to peek through the cloudy sky, we had to return to our cars on Lake Avenue for the rest of our day.



Thankfully, our return trip took us down the familiar and far easier Sam Merrill Trail, from which we could visually trace our steps up the ridge trail, past the reservoir, where we saw other hikers pausing to consider their route.

For us, it was all downhill from there, our vertical climb a slowly fading memory. But my tearstained face, the dirt under my nails and the aching in my lower body were all a constant reminder of how we'd gotten there.

I won't be going up to Echo Mountain the Hard Way again. Ever. But next time I summit Echo Mountain, I think I'll take an extra walk over to where the trolley once careened around Mt. Lowe on its way to the Alpine Tavern, just to have another look.

Related Posts:
Echo Mountain, The Hard Way
Photo Essay: Pasadena to the Mt. Lowe Alpine Tavern
Photo Essay: Mt. Lowe's Inspiration Point to Altadena
Photo Essay: Heart-Pounding Hike to a Lost City