Mount Madonna County Park, Santa Clara County, California

 Waxing Crescent Moon

The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car yesterday at Mt. Madonna County Park was the stark, absolute silence. The absence of sound actually startled me. In an instant, I knew I was home.

Mt. Madonna is not a towering, sharp peak overlooking the surrounding countryside. It is more of a massive, rounded, tree-covered hulk. The high point (1,897 feet) is literally indistinguishable from the area around it, marked only by a modest, concrete, uninscribed monument in the woods. A USGS benchmark is its only embellishment. Mt. Madonna is both humble and great. You are welcome to sit for a minute on its simple throne and soak in the holy quiet.

My plan for this very warm, still, sort of buggy Thursday was a sweaty two-hour loop down the Merry-Go-Round Trail and back through the redwoods to the Henry Miller summer home ruins. Henry Miller was a big-time cattle baron in the 1800's. He built a handful of houses on the mountain, the largest of which cost a quarter of a million dollars in 1901. Ruins of this lavish vacation home still dot the area close to the "peak."

The connector to the Merry-go-Round Trail is all downhill, as are all the trails leaving from the high point, duh. I was greeted by a particularly interesting twisted tree limb right away.

Heading down on the Merry-Go-Round (part of the Bay Area Ridge Trail), I was soon out of the redwoods and into the oak, bay, and manzanita forest. It wasn't too long before the woods opened up to afford long views reaching over to the Diablo Range and down into the closer, adjacent Santa Cruz Mountains.

Relentless downhill walking gets to me these days, pounding my neck and knees, so I was glad to hang a right on the roller coaster Tie Camp Trail for a while. I would much rather hike up and down and around on switchbacks than struggle straight down on a fire road. My mood instantly improved as soon as I made the turn. There were tiny "little apple" berries on the manzanitas and a variety of wildflowers flanking the trail before it began to climb back up into the redwoods. 

After that, I hit my stride, huffing and puffing up the trail, gaining energy from the big trees. I stopped a couple of times to catch my breath and listen to the gentle hoots of a nearby owl. I don't know if it was saying hi or warning me or alerting his amigos to my presence, but I chose to enjoy the melodic echo of its call while it lasted. I made an attempt at an answering call, but it was decidedly un-owl-like. To be honest, it sounded like an old man gurgling in the woods. I wondered for a second if owls ever laugh.

There were intermittent segments of more oak and manzanita trees, too, as the trail made its way around the mountain, providing variety and beauty in their own way.

Soon I turned up the Ridge Trail, another wide fire road which led me (up, this time, which I prefer) to the Loop Trail past the archery range toward the Henry Miller house ruins. This was a good mile and a half of leg work and perspiration regaining the elevation I lost on the Merry-Go-Round Trail. It wasn't all that scenic, but I got to grind hard on this part and really feel the workout. Before too long, I was poking around in the ruins while eating a scrumptious PB & Banana sammie.

Long before there were vacation home-building cattle barons in the Americas, the Ohlone Amah Mutsun and other local tribelets frequented this mountain. I am willing to bet that there were many men, women, boys, and girls back then who could mimic an owl call way better than I can. I gotta work on that.

Peace, Love, and Having a Hoot,

Jim

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