My preferred route to the ruins of the ‘White City’, or Echo mountain resort, follows the steep incline on the eastern ridge, where the funicular once hauled visitors from the bottom of Rubio canyon to the resort. It avoids the crowds that flock to the very popular Sam Merrill trail on the western slope. In fact, it avoids them so well that hikers are as scarce as mountain lions on that trail; I haven’t encountered either in the fifteen years I’ve frequented it. But, as the saying goes, this was one of those first times. I passed two couples on the way up. It’s not a crowd, and I really don’t care. Actually, it’s nice to have company sometimes, and to see others ‘dwell among the mysteries and beauties of the earth’, as Rachel Carson puts it. What gives me pause however, is that both couples found the trail thanks to our friend Google. How long before some googlorithm of sorts sends crowds to this secluded spot? Another thing I don’t remember seeing in Rubio, except in thin, rare patches, is a steady flow of water in the creek, gushing downward, carving yet a few more inches out of the floor of the canyon, sculpting the ever changing landscape, and occasionally washing out a portion of trail.