Chino Hills State Park S

Back in the mid-1980s, when California bought up the ranchland that would become Chino Hills State Park, plenty of people howled about the price tag. Why spend precious conservation dollars on some nondescript grassy hills on the edge of suburbia? Wouldn’t a redwood grove or a coastline seem more worthy? Fast-forward a few decades and the answer is clear: this big sweep of open space was one of the best bargains the state ever made.

Hike the South Ridge Trail and you’ll see exactly why. Look over your shoulder and suburbia presses right up against the park boundary-condos, cul-de-sacs, and traffic-choked arterials. Without the park, every last slope would have been scraped bare, paved over, and stamped into a development brochure. Instead, we have 14,000 acres of rolling hills and ridges, a refuge for both wildlife and humans who need a little elbow room.

The park is full of surprises. Deer still slip through the tall grass. Red-tailed hawks wheel overhead. Bobcats sometimes prowl the drainages. And when the breeze is just right, you’ll swear the air smells fresher here than anywhere in the L.A. Basin.

Of course, the hills have changed-and continue to change. Fire has always been a natural part of California’s ecosystems, but in Chino Hills it’s become unnaturally frequent, fueled by invasive mustard and other flashy grasses that burn hot and fast. From a distance in spring, the mustard looks almost picturesque-fields of yellow draped across the slopes-but ecologists will tell you it’s trouble. Mustard chokes out native vegetation, provides poor habitat for wildlife, and turns the hills into kindling. Climate change only intensifies the pattern: hotter summers, drier winters, and more stress on native oaks, sycamores, and the wildflowers that once painted these hills.

And yet, the story of Chino Hills is one of resilience. After every fire, the land greens up again, the deer return, the hawks circle. Hikers too return, grateful for a patch of countryside in the middle of one of the most crowded corners of California.

Your destination on this outing is San Juan Hill, at 1,781 feet the park’s high point. The name conjures up Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders charging into battle during the Spanish-American War. Here the charge is gentler: a steady climb up a wide fire road. No need to summon the cavalry-just a pair of good boots and a bottle of water.

At the summit, you’ll find a concrete survey marker and sweeping views in every direction. To the north: the San Gabriels rising above the smog. To the south: Orange County stretching toward the sea. To the east: the ridges rolling into the Santa Ana Mountains. And right around you, if the wind’s up, the grasses ripple like waves on a golden-green ocean.

So yes, Chino Hills is a park shaped by fire, crowded by development, and tangled with invasive weeds. But it’s also a park that gives you space to breathe, to walk, to remember what Southern California once looked like-and still does, if we’re smart enough to protect it.