After finishing up with my quick visit to the Norco Power House, and vowing to return when the lighting conditions were more propitious, that is, when the sun was rising in the east, I set out along the trails, heading north. I told myself, the Santa Ana River is supposed to be around here, where is it? I found this scrub land, with these anguished, austere trees, blackened as if by fire (or thirst), but the dusty trail marks (car tires, horse tracks, footprints) told me that this was a well-transited spot. It must be. I continued walking and walking, thinking that eventually the trail would lead me to water, but it didn't, it just got more and more desolate, and it seemed to be taking me all the way to Fontana. I didn't want to get stuck out there in the middle of the bamboo shrubs, so I turned back.
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