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Making the Grade: END OF THE ROAD

The conclusion of a five part series about Nate Harrison and the road named after him.

By DAVID ROSS

We clambered into our cars and left the stone monument behind as we headed up on the final leg of our journey up “The Nate,” as the locals call it.

Now the road was well-canopied by the trees that crowded in around us, a mixture of oaks and conifers. The ground was cool and mottled with shade and the air was sweet and we made several stops along the way.

While the early miles up The Nate are virtually shadeless and desert-like, the last stretch of road leading into the County park is green and relaxing.

Once we found a strange, flowering plant (see photo) of something of a delicate pink spotted color whose flower looked like an upside down snap dragon with the petals curling back exposing a yellow powder.

Don Seitz examined the petals. “These things are loaded with pollen,” he exclaimed.

A little further along and we came to a series of road signs announcing that we were entering the County park, and to be sure to stop at the park and pay a fee. We walked along by the metal signs, all of which bore the signs of being used for target practice.

Seitz looked at me. “Have you ever been to Boucher Tower?” “No, I haven’t.” “Then you’re in for a treat.”

We got back into the car, turned right instead of going straight ahead, and followed a winding, narrow road up to the summit of Boucher Heights.

The tower was named after William E. Boucher a homesteader and sheep rancher, and a friend of Nate’s.

Boucher lookout is built on a cliff at 5438 feet. It was the last California Dept. of Forestry & Fire Protection towers to be shut down.

It operated about 40 years, from 1949 on. During its heyday lonely park rangers could pinpoint the location of a fire and dispatch crews.

Today, of course, there’s so many people in the County that there’s seldom a problem figuring out where a fire is.

So now Boucher is just a lonely sentinel, with the occasional visitors, like us.

The tower has a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. On clear days you can see Catalina Island, 83 miles away. You can see it from several places in Valley Center if you use binoculars, and from most of Pauma Valley with the naked eye. It is quite a view, probably the best to be had on Palomar Mountain, which is saying a lot.

Next to it is a much higher microwave telephone relay tower, the bane of all of God’s high places.

“I was here last year at night,” recalled Seitz, who sometimes gets it into his head to escape from the bustle of civilization and just drive. He got out of his car and stared at the heavens for many minutes.

The night sky over Palomar has a primitive, almost religious quality that suggests caves and fires and shamen and wise men from the east. You can get lost in that bottomless sky.

After a long while, Seitz said, he got back in and drove down the hill. A large mountain lion leaped from the shadows into his headlights and vanished into the darkness. “I was probably less than a hundred yards from that lion,” said Seitz. Of course, it could have been a saber-tooth tiger.

We followed the road back down, and took it until it merged with S-7, State Park Road.

The entire trip (not counting the protracted visit to Nate Harrison’s homestead) took about two hours.

And so, we were at the end of the road. But the end of every road is also the beginning of another road, and the end of our protracted afternoon’s diversion on Palomar Mountain can be the start of many journeys.

Rather than rendering my ending too zen-like (and risking the sound of only one hand clapping at the end of this piece), let me suggest that each journey belongs to the person who makes it. It’s his possession. And just as you cannot step into the same river twice, you cannot make the same trip up a road like the Nate Harrison Grade. Each trip is unique.

So make the grade yourself. Happy trails.

According to the calls and mail I’ve received, this has been a popular series.

One lady in the bank told me that she and her family recently took a trip up The Nate and carried my articles along to refer to as they drove along.

Several old timers have called, usually to correct me on some historical fact, and I’ve tried to weave those corrections into subsequent installments.

One wrote: “Judging from recent traffic on The Nate, you need to mention that it’s for street-legal vehicles only, driven by licensed drivers. It’s not an off-road vehicle trail.”

I’d like to make some acknowledgements of people who have been particularly helpful: The Catherine Beishline Collection, for some of the better old photos, longtime resident Richard Day, for some valuable information and insights, photographer Theresa Gallagher, historian Petie McHenry and fellow-traveler Don Seitz.

Boucher Tower at the pinacle of Palomar Mountain. On a clear day you can see Catalina Island. On a dark night you can see mountain lions.