Moss Landing State Beach, California

 Waxing Gibbous Moon

What do I like about Moss Landing State Beach? 1) It's close to home (25 minutes), 2) it's free, 3) the dunes are protected, 4) there are lots of animals, 4) it's mostly clean, and 5) you can walk in the sand for a few miles from the jetty to the mouth of the Pajaro River and turn around to do it again for another few miles. The weather here is usually good, but even if it isn't, the beach is still great. Also, the tiny town of Moss Landing has more than a few good places to eat, so if you get hungry, they gotcha covered. All that said, I'd prefer that you only visit once a year and leave the place to the locals the rest of the time!

Yesterday was windy and cold, but that's what layers are for. I suited up and walked my walk as the tide receded, leaving all kinds of cool stuff behind. I saw several places where curlews had been hunting for sand crabs, poking their long, curved beaks into the wet sand and hopping around the hole in a hurry to snag their prey before the waves might come in to interrupt the hunt. Their footprints and the hole told the story. I think this one must have been a success because it had not been washed away yet. 

About halfway toward the Pajaro River I passed a group of folks with their kids and dogs having fun in the surf. I asked what appeared to be grandparents standing back in the dry sand watching the scene if it was okay to take the kids' picture and they said okay. This is pure California. It makes me happy to see it. I can imagine this scene happening a thousand years ago - with different kids and different grownups and different dogs and different clothes, but with the same grins and giggles.

I didn't see many pelicans, gulls, vultures, or sea mammals, which was unusual, but I did see a lot of curlews, snowy plovers, intact shells, and sand dollars plus a ton of polished pebbles. I had a small towel in my daypack so just for fun I made a little display of some of the jewels I found. I appreciate the work that many artists and craftspeople put into their creations, but what I really like is straight-up Mother Nature. Each one of these things represent changes over time - cycles and and processes that never end - impermanent beauty frozen in this moment - destined to morph into something else. I love it.

Peace and Love from the Beach,

Jim

#2,022 in 2022 *

* My friend Jessica (Happy Birthday, Jessica!) made me think about this 2,022 hiking goal of mine. To clarify, the miles I am recording are only miles I walk toward this specific goal of hiking 2,022 miles this calendar year. I don't keep track of my total daily steps, but Jessica started doing that and she discovered that she was walking about three times as many miles every day as her normal daily 3-mile fast morning walk. So that 10,000-step thing that many people subscribe to really adds up and that  has to be great for your health. However you choose to do it, I hope you walk or hike or bike or run, etc. for your mental and physical health every day. You don't have to keep a running total if you don't want to, but it can add to the fun and keep you committed to daily exercise and the act of paying attention, which for me is the whole point. 

Manzanita County Park, Monterey County, Prunedale, California

 Waxing Crescent Moon

Manzanita County Park is described on one internet site like this: "Baseball & soccer fields dominate this county park that's surrounded by scrubby hillsides." Hmmm. Someone was in a bit of a hurry, I guess.

The Manzanita County Park baseball and soccer fields are part of a massive sports complex operated with great care by the North County Youth Recreation Association. Youth baseball, softball, and soccer games plus BMX races are scheduled on weekends when the gates on Castroville Boulevard open to vehicles. Hiking/equestrian trails wind around and through the "scrubby hillsides" that feature stands of Monterey pine, eucalyptus, and oak trees interspersed with thick tangles of manzanita and ceanothus bushes. Much of the hiking is relatively flat, with moderate ups and downs along sandstone trails that horses have crushed into fine, soft, dusty tread. During the week, when the gates are closed, several walk-in/ride-in entrances allow the general public to make use of the trails. I like the "scrubby hillsides" personally.

Yesterday I drove through the open gates and parked in one of the spacious lots full of cars and vans and folks carrying lawn chairs. The colorfully uniformed kids on every field were really organized - colorfully uniformed coaches were putting them through very serious warm-up drills prior to the games. I didn't spend much time waiting around to see if any actual fun was going to break out, but I assume that the kids would be allowed to be kids at some point. What surprised and somewhat concerned me about the whole scene was how quiet it was. Weird! Anyway, I walked past the complex and onto the trail to get into my own quiet space. There were occasional small groups and couples out for their hikes, but mostly I had the place to myself for a couple of hours.

I was reminded that Fremont Peak is visible from its surrounding area in just about every direction.

Dense tangles of manzanita cover much of the interior of the park.

I think this is ceanothus?

These yellow flowers flank the sunny open hillsides.

These guys look like little exploded yellow trumpets.

In the steeper areas, off the flatter beaten path, the sandstone (pretty sure it is part of the rather famous Monterey Formation, but it might be a little younger than that) is still intact, forming convenient steps and ramps. In the dusty trails where horses have broken down the harder materials, animal tracks are all over the place.

Raccoon?

As I moved around the outer reaches of the park, I passed through tall stands of eucalyptus and pine trees and later, an oak forest, home of a sleepy old bull. There was a group of cows reclining under some trees about fifty yards away. Everybody looked exhausted.

It's good to be King.

Looping past the bovines and around the busy sports fields, the trail was hidden from the BMX course and team activities by big oaks and more "scrubby hillsides" until finally I circled back to the parking lot. The games were mostly over by then. It was still eerily quiet. Yo kids! Make some noise! Hey, batter, batter, swing!

Peace, Love, and Infield Chatter is Fun,

Jim

#2,022 in 2022

Toro Park, Monterey County, California

 New Moon

Toro Park, next to Highway 68 between Monterey and Salinas, is a well-used county park with a Youth Overnight Area and an Environmental Center used by local schools and over 20 miles of hiking, horseback riding, and mountain biking trails. Bikes are not permitted on some of the hiking and equestrian trails, so if you go, read the signs and keep the peace.

Yesterday I parked at the Quail Meadow parking area and hiked up the Ollason Trail for a while before returning to my car via the Gilson Gap Trail. The only map available was an online version that is pretty basic, but I ballparked the distance at around 6 or 7 miles. It was a chilly, overcast day with a persistent wind, but I was comfortable in a fleece jacket and windbreaker. 

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The trees in the lower part of the trail were laced with lots of beautiful hanging moss

As the trail gains elevation, evidence of an old cattle ranching operation appeared here and there - an old, rusty, noisy windmill and this nearly dry watering trough from 1913. Scattered around this area were a few wooden guzzlers constructed where birds and small animals can get a drink.

Continuing up toward Ollason Peak I saw lots of wildflowers, predominantly these purple and white  ones that I think people call silver lupine (?) or something like that. I don't spend much time worrying about what to call them - I just like seeing them. If you are one of my many friends who like to name flowers, you probably already know what to call these. Some of you can name them in more than one language and that's okay, too.

The hike became more interesting when I began the return run down Gilson Gap. From one point up there I had a long view toward overcast Monterey Bay. As I was admiring that scene, a pretty good-sized bobcat padded across the trail about 50 yards ahead of me. It was not in a big hurry it seemed, but it was gone in a few seconds - too fast for a photo - and it vanished into a brushy ravine lickety split. Just past that point were some conspicuous granite outcrops that were by themselves on a ridge - like random, shapeless monuments. 

Soon I was treated to a turkey sighting. Several turkeys, actually, but I was only able to get a couple of good shots. A rebellious bicyclist zoomed past me while I was taking a picture and blew up the whole scene as the turkeys slinked off into the cover of some bushes. Rude dude. Not a bike trail, rude dude. Not even a vocal warning "On Your Right" or a grunt or a hello, either. Rude dude. Anyway, the turkeys were cool.

As I neared the end of the hike, the air temperature warmed a bit and the wind died down enough to find a spot to stop and eat my sandwich. I was thankful for the animal sightings and the chance to visit this beautiful park I have passed by hundreds of times, always in a rush to get somewhere else - to the beach or to the mountains. Toro Park is a great in-between stop to hike and check out the scenery. I'm sure I will be back. The Cougar Ridge Trail is next.

Peace, Love, and Locals,

Jim

#2,022 in 2022 Update: 509 miles to date

Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park, Felton, California

 Waning Crescent Moon

Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park (not to be confused with Henry Coe State Park) is nestled along iconic Highway 9 near Felton, CA, seven miles inland from Santa Cruz. As its name suggests, the park's main feature is its gorgeous redwood forests, but there is also a campground, visitor center, nature store, and miles of hiking and riding trails next to and above the San Lorenzo River. 

Just about everything along Highway 9 retains a little bit of flavor from the long-gone hippie era - it's kind of nostalgic now for anyone who spent time in the area 50 or more years ago. You can still find holdouts, wannabes, and grandchildren of hippies minding stores in Felton, Ben Lomond, and Boulder Creek if you hunt for them. Just look for establishments with the word Mystic on the street sign. In general, they sell plants, jewelry, and sandwiches. 

Yesterday I cruised up Highway 1 through Santa Cruz, boomeranged around the crazy fishhook exit to River Street and snaked along 9 to the park for a loop hike through the forest. Conditions were warm and sunny with lots of folks buzzing around gaining energy from the big trees. The visitor center was closed but the nature store sold trail maps, one of which helped me figure out where I wanted to go. I eyeballed a route that would let me walk next to the river for a while, circle around to the centrally located observation deck, and wind my way back down to the river. Even though the map didn't include mileages for any of the trails, I judged the route to be about 7.5 miles by adding up the numbers on the trail signs and comparing that total to my map scale estimate. Worked out great! I had not visited this park since about 1975, so it was exciting to compare this trip with my fuzzy old memories. Walking through the trees will never get old.

There are many ways to do a loop hike through the park. I started at the visitor center and followed these paths: the River Trail past Cable Car Beach to the Eagle Creek Trail connector, up Pipeline Road for a snack at the Overlook Bench, continue on Pipeline Road, left on Powder Mill Fire Road, left on the Pine Trail to the very cool Observation Deck, continue down the Pine Trail to a left on the Eagle Creek Trail which loops around back down to a right on the River Trail to the visitor center. 

I met a couple of friendly women on horseback, a few young couples, two families with kids from some European country I could not identify, and a gaggle of energetic college women who were happy to get a look at my map to decipher the way back from the Observation Deck. In between slices of my tangerine, I pointed out the route and suggested a pneumonic to help them remember. Unfazed by my absurd pneumonic, they bounded down the Pine Trail, happy to not be unfound in the wilderness, haha. I was equally happy to have performed a directional service other than making sure I myself had another pleasant day wandering around on planet Earth. 

The ocean view was obscured by a marine layer when I was up there,
but this northwest view from the Observation Deck was fine.  

The flow was predictably low, but I really liked winding my way along the River Trail in both directions. I have enjoyed hiking beside rivers and streams in so many locations for as long as I can remember. I hope I can keep doing that for eternity.

Near the visitor center there is a short loop through a beautiful stand of giant redwoods. Some of them are so big I couldn't figure out where to stand to photograph them. As usual, I just pointed my Smartyphone and clicked. Take my word for it, these puppies are huge.

Insider info: Johnnie's Super Market in Boulder Creek has a deli in the back where hilarious grandchildren of old-time Santa Cruz hippies make the best sandwiches from here to Mazama, Washington. I got a funny tip about a Netflix series called Is It Cake? which I will investigate soon in between March Madness festivities. You can't go wrong with sandwiches or Netflix tips  from the grandchildren of hippies. Count on it. Take that advice to a Mystic Savings and Loan in a mountain town near you. Many happy returns.

Peace, Love, and Redwoods,

Jim

#2,022 in 2022

"Emergence"

 Waning Gibbous Moon

Just in time for the Spring Equinox this past Sunday, a group of local Native artists and engaged citizens combined to create a street mandala they call Emergence on Mariposa Street in the center of the San Juan Bautista historical district. It was painted with non-toxic tempura paints that will wash off/erode in a month or two. Like any work of art, it is open to different interpretations depending on the beholder. You might see it as a symbol of changing seasons or of mother nature's patterns or of a shift in a socio-political paradigm, or of an emergence from the past few years of being cocooned by social distancing. These photos are not very professional and they do not show the best (overhead) angles of the mandala, but I hope they give you an idea of its beauty.

I feel a combination of things when I stand there and soak in the messages of the mandala. Most moving for me are the cyclical nature components. They reinforce the sense I have that it is time to get back to my roots, to emerge from being so carefully restricted, to put on my pack and hike real miles with my "home" hanging off my shoulders, changing places nightly. I want to go backpacking and I want to go soon, while I still have the strength and the health to move along with the rhythms of the land.

Of course, for me, carrying a pack in the mountains requires training beforehand lest old bones and connecting tissues rebel and sideline me for untold days and weeks. After much consideration and map study, yesterday I took my first steps in that direction by driving. I followed the twisting, narrow road up to nearby Henry Coe State Park with a full pack in the back of my trusty Hondo. This was to be my first overnight hike with gear in almost three years. 

However, when I arrived at Park Headquarters and consulted with the friendly and efficient Ranger, I learned that many local colleges are on Spring break right now. Most of the backcountry campsites within my current realistic hiking range were already taken. The dispersed camping sites (undeveloped areas you can camp without a permit) are located beyond the miles I wanted to or could do at this point. So I decided to do a three-hour loop hike wearing my pack over lots of steep hills just for practice. I accepted the facts that my emergence will be a slow grind and that this day was just its beginning. Henry Coe's trails (mostly hilly) and dirt roads (ridiculously steep) are terrific training grounds for long hikes. It was a great day for hauling a load up and down in this most perfect season. 

My chief observation from yesterday's walk? That place is a woodpecker paradise.

I have no idea how this tree came to be, but I like it.
No, I don't think woodpeckers sculpted this tree!

The Monument Trail

View from very steep Hobbs Road

Another view from Hobbs Road

I am happy to say that I awoke this morning none the worse for wear, but very cognizant of the need for further loaded shakedown cruises and simple overnights before the summer comes and I can head for the high country. 

Peace, Love, and Re-Emergence,

Jim

#2,022 in 2022