Spring Break April 8: Outdoor Adventures

At 3 am, light dosing became restless awakening when the yard was visited by a furry and feisty pair of somethings. The noise started out as rustles and progressed into aggressive ____-fighting; they were certainly not cats making those noises. I listened for about a half hour as they duked it out, wanting badly to pee but really not needing to find out what critters were in such grumpy moods. They stopped then, but my sleep was hopelessly lost. Finally at four, I heard Alice stir as though she had been faking sleep for some time and I nudged her gently. "Hey, can you not sleep either?" I pestered.

We had been planning to get up early and drive to Point Reyes just north of San Francisco a must-have nosh at the local bakery ("My dad is so silly," she had said the other day. "He's like 'now you know me, I don't do bakeries! But this...'") and Aliah and Paz already knew we'd be gone before they woke up. We'd only be looking crazy to ourselves.

By 5:30am, we were on our way to breakfast. Diligently keeping with the trend of poor time estimation, it was good we had. I probably could have bypassed San Francisco but going over the Golden Gate bridge felt like a must. We may have hit rush hour traffic but then again, I'm pretty sure it wasn't much different from any-hour traffic here. Plus, we got bonus morning glow.

The bakery wasn't hard to find on the one-street town of Point Reyes Station. It was the hot spot for well over 20 bike riders, all crowding the doorway in neon gear and coffee cups. We weaved through the athlete obstacle into Bovine Bakery. While Alice ordered, I gawked at the decor of hand painted coffee mugs and folk art before finally laying eyes on the pastry window. 

I got a Vegan Whole Wheat Raspberry Scone and while I was paying, a slightly dazed looking woman came up beside me to talk to the cashier. "I'm sorry, I think I took one of those mugs for drinking. Are they not for drinking?" They were indeed sale items and she apologetically handed it to the cashier who nudged it back her way. "Go ahead and finish first." She gulped and asked "How do I get to the water?" then turned to me "I'm looking for the water. I just got here." I was feeling rather chipper and talkative and god her we were looking also. In the small cafe, we caught wind of how to reach the nearby National Seashore. But first thing was first: food. Alice had gone ahead, eager to munch and I went out to join her and find a park that had the invaluable public restrooms as well. The woman followed me. "I'm looking for a bathroom too!" She was carrying a large black bag and I wondered at her story as we walked to the park together. Bathroomed and seated, I learned her name was Casey. It wasn't always Casey but she liked Casey. She was in town with friends that weren't good friends. She had disability and felt unrecognized for it. And she recycled for her work. And picked up trash. She actually seemed like a well versed activist from talking to her and talented as well - she sang and played guitar. But this broke off on a tangent about a partner that had screwed her over and her wisdom and poise was overshadowed by a reactionary resentment. She had a personal vendetta out for this guy and although I managed to talk her into a bit of a smile or thoughtfulness here and there, I could tell that this was something that was slowly eating all potential she had at a brilliant life. At least for that morning though, I could share warmth. And she shared with me, information on an annual festival that I may have to check out in Hawaii one day.

Once we'd parted ways, Alice and I decided we should drive out to the Seashore. Apparently this area was known for that. Not, surprisingly, a bakery = P

The road took us about an hour out through valley hills and grazing cows - perhaps the bovines of the bakery. In the parking lot, a ranger explained to us what we had stumbled upon. There was a lighthouse a short walk away that was not open for touring but still worth a look. Then, he said, if we headed back the way we'd came and veered off a road to the right, we would find the Elephant Seal nesting grounds. "For free?" I asked, as the last time I'd tried to see seals, this Coastal Tourist trap wanted to wrangle $40 out of me.

Controlling our excitement about seeing seals, we thanked him and meandered around the nearby overlook for a bit before heading towards the lighthouse. The overlook was fairly high but we could make out small specks that we supposed were seals and someone said they saw a whale spout in the distance. While I didn't catch a glimpse, I'm sure they were in our midst. It was migration season and Grey Whales were making their way back up the coast, Northbound on their 10,000 mile migration routine. The population had been steadily rising back up after a huge decline between 1850-1940 due to increased hunting and Point Reyes was a hot spot to view them, being a part of the NOAA's 150,000 square miles of US marine sanctuary.

We had been told that the winds can get pretty intense right out at the point but we were fortunate enough to receive a day of perfect weather. There was some thick fog that covered the view further out, but even that was impressive, making it look like we were at the edge of the world. As we neared the lookout for the lighthouse, a giant cement dome appeared to the left. While Point Reyes is surrounded in water, the annual rainfall is significantly less than inland so fresh water was always a scarce commodity for light keepers. The dome housed a large cistern that was placed to collect runoff from the rocks further up and in. This water had to be enough not only for drinking, but for the steam powered generator that worked the lights since the machinery couldn't afford to be contaminated with mineral deposits. During droughts, workers would sometimes have to buy water from those inland.

I took a few minutes at the lighthouse overlook to try and spot a bird called the Common Murrer which was said to frequent the rocks below. They sounded like rather nifty creatures, having mad-agility skills and cleverly shaped eggs that had developed to keep them from rolling off rocks. I saw neither. But this meant it was time for Elephant Seals!

The first parking lot we saw was packed full but the road beyond it seemed sort of uninviting. It was narrow, with very few pull offs and as I inched down, a couple walking up ahead kept looking back as though to say "what are you doing with your big wheels here?" It did however turn out to be a road and much closer to our destination.

Had we had more time, there was a wildflower hike to our right and an old Coast Guard home to explore. Since 1889, the coast guard had had a strong presence in the area since it was so isolated and many ships had no help to call for. A nearby sign shared their ominous motto: "You have to go out, but you don't have to come back."

We carried on to cheerier matters: I remembered Elephant Seals being one of my mom's favorite creatures and I was excited to get some photos to share. They were the most ridiculous things ever! Because males and females migrate separately, the eccentric proboscises of this mostly-girl group were not as pronounced but their voices had us not wanting to leave. While we stood there, we hear a symphony of sounds ranging everywhere from pig grunts, to odd horse sounds to off-key opera singers. They had quite the tonal variety. I texted Mary excitedly and got back an "ewwww." We finally had to pull ourselves away and get going to our next stop.

I was surprised I hadn't heard about Muir Woods when I was down in the area before. I had just a slight obsession with the man since first reading a description a couple years ago, of him sitting in trees during blundering storms in order to understand how they feel. Travels In Alaska only boosted my affinity. The drive down was another windy one, changing quickly from valleys and coast into rocky dried-up lake area. I didn't realize a big a thing these woods were. Over a mile before the entrance, cars were already appearing lined up on the road. As it turned out, Muir Woods shared territory with the Dipsea trail which hosted the first ever trail race in 1905 and continues the annual race to this day. Another thing to add to my list of things to come back with more time for.

As our schedule allowed, we only had time for the shortest loop, a boardwalk trail along the Redwood Creek. As I meandered through, I felt like I could have stayed there for hours. Small trees extended out of old, fallen limbs and spindly vines wove elaborate designs around them. And even with the short time limit, there was a lot to learn about the woods. Despite the sun-blocking brunches of these trees, the plants that keep the forest floor such a lush green had learned to adapt in some interesting ways. One of the more prominent plants no the walk was Redwood Sorrel which has developed such sensitivity to light that it actually folds its leaves in to hide when it is too sunny.

It was difficult to imagine this populated, up kept trail to have been the wilderness that Muir so very much thrived off exploring. But even more difficult to imagine way before that. The area of these particular woods had first been occupied by the Miwok peoples who called the tree tc-ole. It was not until 1769 when missionary Father John Crespi ventured to the area that the name Redwood was coined. The scientific name, Sequoia Sempervirens came even later in 1847 as a way to honor the Cherokee scholar Sequoia. Of course, how many are aware of that? I wasn't

I also didn't know there were so many kinds of Redwoods. Over 100 million years ago, over 40 varieties of Taxodiaceae were spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere. Today there are only 14 varieties remaining. These woods would have been lost as well if private owners William and Elizabeth Kent had not handed over the woods to the government in 1908, preventing a water company from buying them out for a dam. With help from Gifford Pinchot, they put in a recommendation to Theodore Roosevelt that the woods be named after their friend John Muir.

The reason we were pressed for time was because Alice's friends were hosting us in Berkely and we'd needed to get a hold of them by 6 or so. Reception was no where to be found near us. We probably wouldn't have survived much longer anyhow; it had been a long day.

In Berkely, we were given a warm welcome by her dad's friends and told to make ourselves at home. They even insisted I drape my tent inside their kitchen to dry out. Alice had been unsure about our stay, feeling as though we were intruding. This made it feel like both of us were entering equally unfamiliar with the people. That was odd but as we chatted, the awkwardness wore off. They had just gotten back from a trip themselves so we didn't occupy their time long. Once we were unpacked and introduced to our real bed, I ended up writing, staying awake much later than planned.


Its funny how one almost gets more tired when there is less going on.