HIKING: HIKER FINDS HIS LIMITS IN VERDUGO MOUNTAINS FOREST AWAITS, BUT HE KNOWS WHEN IT'S TIME TO TURN BACK.

Byline: William Toren Staff Writer

The agony of defeat, it seems, is more strongly felt above the knees.

Perhaps I should backtrack here; it sure wouldn't be the first time. I had set out in the morning with an ambitious goal in mind, the Verdugo Mountains. Rising above Glendale and La Crescenta, these peaks command a spectacular view of the Los Angeles Basin, and on the rare clear day, one can see all the way to the blue Pacific.

I'm a great fan of views, but in planning this hike I'd run across something even more intriguing while thumbing through the indispensable ``Afoot & Afield in Los Angeles County'' by renowned hiker Jerry Schad. It's called the ``experimental forest,'' and although the name might conjure up images of squirrels in lab coats or something, it's a stand of imported cedar, pine and cypress trees planted after a fire in 1927, to see if they'd grow amid the scrub and chaparral more at home around these parts. And grow they did.

That's something I wanted to see, especially since I figured I'd be hitting the forest at the hottest part of the day and I've known since I was a tiny one that you can always count on cedar for good, fragrant shade. So I filled my trustiest water bottle and donned my widest-brim hat for a trek up the hill and into the woods.

Taking something of a departure from the established route, I decided to tackle the crest from the opposite end of the network of fire roads that cross the range, up Whiting Woods Road off Honolulu Avenue in Glendale. At the end of a street lined with majestic trees that created a canopy of shade across its entire span, the trailhead rose invitingly up the hill.

The trail wasn't terribly steep, and I trudged up 3,126-foot Verdugo Peak, pausing from time to time to wipe my brow and take in the increasingly expansive view of the La Crescenta Valley. After little more than an hour of this vertical climb, however, I encountered that mirage that is to mountain hikers what the date-palm oasis is to the Sahara caravan. I kept thinking the peak was just around the next turn, pushing my reserves as the sun rose higher in the sky. By the time I got near enough to the top to get my bearings, at the base of some antenna towers, I knew it would be all I could muster to make it back the way I came.

The view, to be sure, was all that was expected; no ocean vistas, but the exhilarating feeling of having spanned each step of the earth below and being able to look back in wonder at how far the horizon stretches.

As I took a moment to sit and take it all in, however, I found myself meditating on what is, for any physical activity, an important lesson: knowing your limits. And knowing the weather: In the springtime months, getting a late start on a day hike isn't going to hurt much unless you've got plans for an early dinner, but in June it's another matter. The long way 'round might seem appealing, but if it's uphill and without shade, it's sometimes better to take the short and low road.

Another important thing to consider is that every hike involves not only the distance to your destination, but also the distance back. And although downhill hiking is considerably easier than uphill hiking, it's still hiking. Unless you're very confident in your abilities, don't wait until you cannot possibly go forward anymore before turning around and coming back. An abundance of pride is best saved for a cloudy day.

Which is not to diminish the satisfaction of the climb. Having felt a bit like Hannibal crossing the Alps after the climb, though, it occurred to me that the champion of Carthage's failure to conquer Rome didn't diminish his fame some 2,000 years later, and maybe skipping the extra mile to the experimental forest wasn't worth risking overheating. Then I sipped some more water and realized I must be dazed by the sun's rays if I'm comparing myself to Hannibal. After all, for him the elephants did most of the work.

So I strolled back down the hill, thinking about a quiche recipe I wanted to try out and noticing that, hey, the view is better from this angle. Or would you call that rationalizing?

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Verdugo Mtns - La Tuna Cyn. Trail