Crossed Off the LA Bucket List: M*A*S*H at Malibu Creek State Park (Updated for 2018)

[Last updated 12/23/18 9:08 AM PT—The Woolsey Fire ravaged through Malibu Creek State Park, taking a number of other historical resources in the park with it. The vehicles remain, but the site has sustained some damage.]

"So what places haven't you visited yet in LA?" my hiking partner asked me as we were walking back from the M*A*S*H site in Malibu Creek State Park.

"Oh my God, so many. Everywhere!" I said, thinking there were too many to enumerate.

"Yeah but what's like on your Bucket List?" he persisted.

"Well, this was towards the top of it..."

It's hard to believe I already have a Bucket List for LA, having only been here four months, but given the temporal nature of everything out here, of life - job, lakes, love - it seems like a good idea to get in as much as I can before something happens to change things before I get the chance to do everything.

I'm not used to having a hiking partner, so I agonized over where we should meet, wanting to try somewhere new. The opportunity to see the M*A*S*H site kept nagging at me, because, as I am new in town, I'm still somewhat of a tourist, and still get tickled when I recognize sites from movies, TV and music videos. In a relatively short drive, you can find yourself hanging out in Mayberry, Walnut Grove, Southeast Asia, or on another planet.

It's not the most difficult hike, clocking in at just over four miles and a couple of hours of meandering and gawking, but it sure is pretty, and interesting.



There is actually a creek in Malibu Creek State Park, but most of the year it's dry. We found plenty of water on a windy spring day after a rainy winter.



There's also plenty of shade, with oak-lined paths intermittently scattered on the main trail, Crags Road, along the creek.



There are wide open spaces too, and soon the trail opens up to a landscape that looks familiar: grasslands and bush-dotted mountains, hills, peaks, rocks, none of which look terribly Californian.



But maybe that's because when I'd seen it before, it was during the Korean War.

The trail becomes shady again...



...as you're walking along a rocky path that looks like an old stream bed...







...with all kinds of hidden treasures...



...like pipes...



...California poppies...

...and horses!



The pièce de résistance is the site where much of the outdoor scenes of the M*A*S*H TV series were shot...



...including the opening credits with the helicopters.



The former set has been cleared of decades of brush and overgrowth and somewhat restored to its functioning set condition.



It's well-marked with interpretive signs, historical photographs, maps, and drawings.



There are even some goodies that were left behind, like old vehicles and an ambulance.



The M*A*S*H site is probably what brings most people to Malibu Creek, but there were plenty of other interesting trails that caught my eye on our way out there: Lost Cabin Trail, Forest Trail, Grasslands Trail, Crystal Lake, Rock Pool...

I may be trying to conquer the LA area one park (or canyon, or whatever) at a time, but at some point, I will have pretty much hit them all, and will have to start going back and conquering the other, unhiked trails.

Because for me, the unhiked trails will always appear at the top of my Bucket List—which is, by nature, populated by those things I haven't done yet.

But at what point will I allow myself to designate some favorites, and begin to revisit those?



Update: The shed and the directional sign were particularly hit by the 2018 Woolsey Fire, the latter of which survived but needs repair, according to the Conejo Valley Guide. No word on interpretive signage, but the vehicles survived. While the trail to it is open, there are many hazards resulting from the fire along the way.

Photo Essay: Chasing Phantoms in Malibu Creek State Park

Despite its proximity to the ghost town of Cornell and "Three Magical Miles," I'd really only hiked through Malibu Creek State Park once before, after I first moved to LA, to visit the set from the TV show M*A*S*H.



I knew there was more—a lot more—but since I wasn't sure what to find and where, I joined the Malibu Creek Docents on a trek through the Santa Monica Mountains.



Parking our car shuttles along Mulholland Highway, we set off on the so-called "Phantom Trail"...



...which would take us across the northeastern reaches of the park...



...up and above King Gillette Ranch and Reagan Ranch...



...past patches of black and purple sage and lots of late-blooming wildflowers...



...and scramblimg up periodic peaks that never seemed to end.



At one point, we found ourselves at the benchmark for the LA County Survey Control System triangulation station, set in 1968 and marked "Seminole" (for "creek").



That's when you know you're pretty high up.



And it wasn;t until we started to head back down that I finally asked, "Why's it called the Phantom Trail?"



"That's for the Phantom Stagecoach," the docents told me.



"Wait, a stagecoach went through here?" I sputtered. "A real one or a ghost one?"



As it turns out, the answer was more or less "both"—as a stagecoach called "Phantom" did once traverse these ups and downs along a single-track trail.



Of course, the topography may have changed a bit since the 19th century—including the slippery scars of erosion.



And nowadays, the only other living souls you're likely to come across on this under-the-radar trail include snakes and lizards (including this horned toad we found in the brush, a surprisingly mellow fella).



Among the morning glories, though, there have been some other ghostly sightings—not terribly unusual along decommissioned stagecoach trails throughout Southern California.



Our journey into the rare valley oak savanna habitat (a grassland preserved by the Liberty Canyon Natural Preserve), though, was interrupted by neither wheel nor Wells Fargo wraith...



...as we waded through meadow and black mustard (Brassica nigra)...



...on our way to Liberty Canyon Fire Road, which would take some of us back to our cars at Liberty Canyon in Agoura Hills.

Surely, traveling through here by stagecoach was no easy feat—for horse, driver, passenger, or cargo. Equestrians on horseback are still allowed on the trail, but no bicycles (or dogs, for that matter).

After researching the area, I'm left wondering whether the Phantom Stagecoach Trail is named more after the 1957 movie The Phantom Stagecoach, in which robbers craft an armored, driverless stagecoach to aid them in their thievery.

That movie was produced by Columbia Pictures and shot nearby at the Iverson Movie Ranch (somewhere near Garden of the Gods and Santa Susana Pass) and not at the former Fox Lot—a.k.a. Malibu Creek—but at this point, I can't find a better explanation.

Can you?

Related Posts:
Crossed Off the LA Bucket List: M*A*S*H at Malibu Creek State Park
Photo Essay: Along the Old Stagecoach Pass
Photo Essay: The Ghost Town of Cornell and Its Abandoned Lake Enchanto (Updated for 2018)

Photo Essay: Before Malibu Was Malibu

[Last updated 8/13/20 6:02 PM PT—some minor edits to text and layout]

Malibu is now known for its scenic beaches, active surf, and imposing mountains whose rocky soil gives rise to enough grapes for an entire wine industry to spring forth. Vista-seeking celebrities and socialites have flocked there since parcels were first leased to the public in the late 1920s (and still populate what's now the gated community of Malibu Colony).

But before that, Malibu secured its place in Southern California history in surprising and fascinating ways: the former native Chumash settlement became a sprawling rancho operated by May K. Rindge and her husband Frederick, who purchased it as the final owners of one of the last Spanish land grants.

Frederick preserved the integrity of his land by warding off the encroachment of the Southern Pacific Railroad with the construction of his own tiny, private railway. After his death, the Widow Rindge couldn't prevent the future Pacific Coast Highway from being built right down the middle of her prized rancho, which she was now running.

And so the pristine beachfront property, once known to the Chumash as Humaliwo ("where the surf sounds loudly"), evolved into present-day Malibu.

The Adamson House, situated at what was the center of the rancho, was originally built in 1929 not only as a vacation home for May's daughter Rhoda Rindge Adamson and her husband Merritt Huntley Adamson, but also primarily as a showcase for the tiles from the factory May founded, Malibu Potteries.

Although it only operated for six years during the heyday of California's decorative tile manufacturing before burning down in 1932, Malibu Potteries established Malibu Tile in the world of ceramics, a legacy that is being honored by several modern tile manufacturers (e.g. Malibu Tile Works, Catalina Classic Tile Co., Malibu Ceramic Works, Native Tile and Ceramics).

Neptune Fountain

But there is nothing like the original. And so, on the beach by the Malibu Lagoon at the mouth of Malibu Creek, the Adamson House stands as a reminder of what Malibu once was.

Designed by architect Stiles O. Clements with a number of Moorish influences in the Spanish Colonial Revival style, the house features decorative elements derived from Islamic art.



The original paving stones are still set in the courtyard...

...and both the interior and exterior of the house resemble a combination of a castle...



...and a ship.



There's even a turret.



But while even the windows are ornate in their design...



...including some stained glass...



...the real attraction of the Adamson House is the tile.



At the front entrance, a cacophony of broken tile pieces confuse evil sprits at the doorstep (which apparently can only travel along straight lines).



There are tiles everywhere - both inside and out - and in every style offered by Malibu Potteries at the time, including the distinctive cuerda seca style of keeping the colors from running by outlining them in black (a technique also seen in art of the Islamic world) and the cuenca method of depressing the pattern into the clay so the colors would sink in and not run into each other (also seen in Spanish tile).



Unfortunately, photos are not allowed inside the house...



...but there are plenty of tiles to be seen outside...



...lining every fountain...



...on every patio...

...and even at the poolhouse and pool...



...to which you need a docent to give you access.



The pool, with its stunning ocean view, was constructed by combining decorative and utilitarian tiles...



...those immediately surrounding the pool's edge having a non-slip surface.

The original wooden diving board still hovers over the honeycomb tile pattern at the bottom of the 10-foot deep end...



...as does the original ladder, which descends all ten feet down to the bottom.



It's really a shame...



...because the only light of day that the pool house ever really sees anymore is through a couple of original windows...



...and it's been a long time since any clothes hung off the rods in the outdoor laundry room.



In fact, although the Adamson House has been carefully preserved (including its furnishings, which were painstakingly catalogued and locked away during the years after Rhoda's 1962 death, after which the State of California leased the property to Pepperdine University), it really has not undergone any restoration. Amazingly, it doesn't seem to need it: The only tiles that really show any wear and tear  (despite many of them exposed to constant sunlight and moist air conditions) are those on the kitchen floor, presumably because of heavy foot traffic.



Among the historic relics outside the house along the rest of the property include an original railroad tie which was found nearby...



...the original greenhouse of Rhoda, who was an avid gardener...



...and a relic of original flooring from the burned-down Malibu Potteries factory, which washed ashore out of the Pacific Ocean.

The Adamson House's presence on Malibu Beach is now somewhat eclipsed by the surfers on Surfrider Beach, sportfishermen on Malibu Pier, affluents at upscale restaurants and shopping, and lots of cars passing by on the highway.

But if you look beyond the trees, behind the stone wall that marks the estate, you'll find one of the many treasures of LA's historical past.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Mosaic Tile House, Venice
Photo Essay: Tile House, Hollywood Hills