Full Moon
I never met Henry Willard Coe or Rhoda or Sada Coe, or Horace or Lyman Willson for that matter, but judging by the places now named after them, those sonsaguns and daughtersaguns and the Mutsun Ohlone indigenous people before them must have been pretty tough cookies. If you go for a hike on any of the trails leading to the ridges in Henry Coe State Park, you are in for a workout. With an average grade of 12% and a maximum grade of 28%, the Lyman Willson Trail from Hunting Hollow to Steer Ridge is what one goldurn internet whippersnapper called "a healthy climb." Okay, we'll go with that.
Yesterday, I went for a healthy day hike on the Lyman Willson Trail with the idea of maybe doing an overnighter up to Vasquez Peak next month. This was a shakedown cruise of sorts. I had hiked up to Willson Camp and Willson Peak many years ago, but many years ago doesn't really count any more. I needed to determine if I can still romp with the ghosts of the past on their paths into the backcountry. I did not exactly do any romping, but I managed a respectable six miles of walking with a peanut butter and banana sammie picnic at the turnaround point, so I am counting that as a win. I didn't see any other sonsaguns or daughtersaguns up there, so I must have been doing something right.
After four or five easy creek crossings down in Hunting Hollow, I hung a left on Lyman Willson Trail and immediately began to climb up into lacy lichen covered oak forests interspersed with steep wagon trail grass fields. Wildflowers were just beginning to show their faces and I was treated to a sighting of two does and a magnificent, wary, 8-point buck. The does were curious and let me take a couple of pictures (Valentine's Day flirts?), but the buck wasn't having any of that, disappearing into the trees as soon as I reached for my Smartyphone.
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