Darkness sheds light on workers’ wild ambitions

Night falls quickly in November, so when I meet the hikers for an evening trek at 6 p.m. in the Hacienda Hills, it’s already dark. But that doesn’t keep a persistent group of trail enthusiasts from getting their mountain air in the middle of pavementville.

The course heading up a dirt track from Orange Grove Avenue in Hacienda Heights is invisible except for bursts of green and wood illuminated by head lamps. It’s so dark, the blackness cloaks the hikers.

Most of the 15 or so folks ascending the gradual dirt path come twice a week with religious devotion, in daylight in the summer, in inky shadows in the winter. They are a diverse group: Asian and Latino immigrants alongside African Americans.

They hike a four-mile loop, climbing and descending approximately 800 feet alongside tall trees that screen out the houses below. They have lost pounds, decided to change their lives, summitted Mt. Whitney, discovered they belong outdoors.

All because of Frank Gallegos, 34, a small, tightly built man -- usually always in motion, always telling a joke. He’s a customer service representative at the large garment company where most of them work.

Frank has always hiked and began climbing these hills with a friend who wanted to lose weight. It started as a small thing, he explains, a way to spend time with friends. It has become the most consistent, most important part of his life.

This hike is all about conditioning, to prepare for bigger conquests in the Sierra and beyond. “It’s not the prettiest, but it gets the job done,” Frank says.

At the beginning of the hike Frank and his co-conspirator Mike Garcia, 38, hand out walking poles and headlamps.

They’re here every Tuesday and Wednesday after work, ready to encourage anyone who shows up.

They started a company -- Beyond Basecamp -- guiding amateur hikers in forests throughout the West. Someday, if fate is kind, they’ll quit the garment industry and just be outdoors, away from bosses and ex-wives in a place where decisions are pure, where every judgment improves someone’s life, where there is no such thing as daily boredom.

“Frank changed my life,” says Carmen Pina, 34, mother of two. “He would tell me all these stories, and I went from doing nothing to doing this twice a week.”

Carmen’s 13-year-old son comes sometimes too. Frank tells him stories about the outdoors, points out bobcat tracks, helps him get to the hilltop to gaze out on the ocean of yellow pinpoints where he lives. “If it wasn’t for Frank I never would have accomplished climbing Mt. Whitney,” says Carmen. “Now, I feel like I can conquer everything.”

The cool night air fills with Spanish and Chinese as walkers find their own companions and pace. The only competition is the far-off noise of the 60 Freeway and howling coyotes.

Laughter floats toward the stars, and occasionally someone yells “Mike,” indicating Garcia is running down the path.

The group stomps its way up a segment of the Skyline Trail to the top of a hill near a water tank. In the distance, when it is lighter, you can see the Puente Hills Landfill.

Behind them is Turnbull Canyon; to the south there’s the wooded community of La Habra Heights and beyond, the coastal plains of Orange County.

At the hilltop, everyone gathers to take in the city lights, to celebrate with a drink from their water bottles. And enthuse to Frank.

“They’ll tell me, ‘Frank, I lost 2 pounds,’ ‘Frank, I feel sore!’ ” he says. “It makes me feel great.”

Everyone starts down, but Frank hangs back to make sure no stragglers are lost in the dark. “I’m living my dreams,” he says.

He runs after his flock, his headlamp one of many bobbing beams down the trail.

The particulars

Where: Hacienda Hills in Hacienda Heights

What: Four-mile hike with 800 feet of gain

How: Take the 60 Freeway past the 605 Freeway and exit at 7th Avenue. From 7th take a left onto Orange Grove Avenue and park at the end of the street. The night hikes meet at 6 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

Back story: This part of the Skyline Trail lies in the Puente-Chino Hills Wildlife Corridor, a swath of land that has been pieced together over the last two decades and runs through four counties. The corridor provides critters access to the Cleveland National Forest.

Do you have a favorite hike you’d like to share? Invite us to tag along and get all the dirt. E-mail takeme@latimes.com.