Green Girl

So happy to see Piet sporting the birthday shirt Kyrrha got him in Seattle, shows you how racy racy bike activists can be:

So enjoyed chilling with his peeps at Pidgeon Point Lighthouse on a calm, sweet night.

Robert drove us up Carmel Valley Road in the greenlyness of it all spring and dripping with spanish moss up to Pine Ridge Trailhead at China Camp where we parked and started walking the ridge trail in the wind and mist whipping snow-cold up the south flank of the hill.

We were headed to South Ventana Cone but the weather changed our minds as we stood on the Church Creek Divide watershed a sweet saddle where the rain chooses its route to the sea either winding Pine Valley Way northwest toward the Carmel River or easterly into Church Creek which joins Tassajara Creek to Arroyo Seco and the wide (for California) Salinas River.

Taking the trail less traveled we wandered south dropping into the soft green bouquet of Church Creek drainage,

with its uplifted rock formations reminding us that faults can be beautiful,

through fire damaged forest and its resurgent undergrowth, wildflowers - banks of them - everywhere.

lunched on a log after hopping over Church Creek,

and sat surrounded by lupin on top of the world watching the clouds come our way

Rain all day, and wind, and clouds swirling up at our feet from the valleys below obscuring, allowing, long narrow views. Smack dab in the middle of orographic enhancement, total failure of raingear, wet to the bone, smiling big anyway at new plant friends, at a hedgehoggy popcorny mushroom and at the always sexy sinewy manzanita shining an even darker blood red in the wet.  Wind banging doors on the old relay shacks, finding another Chalk Peak 30 feet higher than the one I’ve known, point-to-point turned around in on itself and back up over the same rolling hogback ridges, back through the rain, up over the mountain, over dozens of newts winding their way up steep slopes as we walked down through the cathedral of young redwooded canyons. Dry clothes, warm truck, cold hand of a new friend.

chalk_peak (click for cool GIS map, route speed and elevation)

Lately I cannot imagine a better way to spend a

whole                   entire                    day

than walking through the wilds, letting my mind unwind, spin

itself to still, legs still moving, heart pulling uphill,

experiencing the day become itself through the forest, fern

on the dance floor, feeling the sun summer itself

along the bottom of the creek bed, then unfold back

down into sunset, then into night, leaving

me, legs still walking, with the trees and the

darkening trail, stars, frogsong.

I can’t wait for summer backpacking season!

Still recovering from last weekend where a bunch of us gals piled into a car and headed north to help Lise host a Metal Tiger Chinese Spring Festival (new years) party up in Dry Creek Valley. She house sits this mansion with its own vineyard and kitchen garden overlooking a rushing creek and Dry Creek Valley. Of course Healdsburg is also such a food mecca (fried goat cheese turnovers with passionfruit honey for breakfast BOTH DAYS we were there, paired with an affogado [espresso over a bourbon gelato float] - too decadent for words) that we enjoyed much in-town as well. They have the best cheese shop I’ve ever been in and I purchased a flight of aged goudas to taste back at home.  Driving through the lovely springtime in SoCo, with greening landscape rolling out under everything, and fields of sunshiney mustard, we aproached a hillock row of blooming plums so attention getting that I drove through a 4 way stop just oggling them.

But the adventure started back in the Bay area with Natashca and I locating an asian market in Cuppertino and purchasing four BBQed ducks and bagloads of mochi and rice snacks. We then picked up Dona, touring her office at Apple and headed north, watching the amazing storm cloud show and the full moon rise just before sunset over Protrero Hill.

The party was a hit  with the forty odd guests of all ages.  Lise, our hostess was ceaseless in her spinning out handmade chinese dishes (won tons, rice salad wraps,  various glutens, shrimp corn cakes, etc) and her barback Dana keeping us well stocked with the two custom drinks of the night  - the Tiger Tail (similar to a Dark and Stormy) and the Great Walltini (elderflower and kampari martini) as well as many great bottles of local champagne the guests brought.  We had folks draw their chinese zodiac signs on nametags, and handed out “Chinese MisFortune Cookies” which when broken open offer such thoughts as “f*ck you” and “you will die alone and poorly dressed” (these can be ordered online for YOUR next asian theme party).  We also handed out blessings and lucky candy as guests departed under the full moon.  Overall a smashing success.  Dona took over 300 photos documenting the beauty of the weekend (”you will find this house is very photogenic” - Mick) and I will link that here once she gets em posted.

Pinnacles National Monument

Visited once in Fall, it was still hellishly hot and dry, so when my brother shared pics of the magical verdant ferny world he saw there two weeks ago I was inspired to revisit, now, in this sweet short season of wet in the near desert.  Here on the eve of the Year of the Metal Tiger it indeed felt like the turning of the year, a bit of dry in the air still cool from winter, a soft caress on arms bare after months of long sleeves and wildflowers everywhere. For the first time in months a hat and sunscreen on my hike.

The route: park at Peak View because the upper day use lots are full.  Eschew the touristy park shuttle in exchange for a few miles extra hiking. Head up along a rushing creek banked with fern to Bear Gulch, then up High Peak’s Trail stopping at the pass for lunch and condor viewing, then squiggy around the Peaks on the “Steep and Narrow” section of the trail to cruise down Tunnel Trail, stopping half way for a nap in the sun.  It was a relief to run into no one on the backside of the mountain.   I didn’t realize how quiet it was on that still, dry slope until I was tracking an odd whoosh-whistling sound and realized it was the air moving through the ailerons of the buzzards soaring a hundred feet overhead. I sat and listened to that coming and going sound for quite some time, saw the condor soar up and out west, and rested a nice while there on that rocky grassy bank halfway down slope.  Sun starting to sink I set out downhill through the tunnel and to the Balconies Trail, which leads to caves that have been formed by large boulders falling down into a narrow gorge and piling up over the creek bed. You always need a light and this time of year, water shoes.  I backtracked not wanting to hike out the remaining miles with wet socks. That meant more uphill but a fabulous show of cliff swallows chattering and diving against the red rocks lit up warm by the sunset.  Dusk turned to dark as I walked, my eyes adjusting and feet finding the trail as I hiked out a last few miles along the creekbed with no headlamp, just silence, stars, and frogsong.  The day: just over 10 miles and a 2,000 foot elevation change in 5 hours.

Back at the car I pulled out my cedar flute and played a tune to the sky and the frogs and the oak trees before heading toward home.  Hungry, I stopped in Tres Pinos [pop. 500] at The 19th Hole who’s sign proffered “Booze & Food”.  The place was hopping for the holiday weekend and the clientele wore Stetsons and Harley Davidson’s vests that looked like they’d been around since the 70s when earning one of those still meant something. They wore rhinestone belts and blue eyeshadowed eyes under big blond bangs. Whatever the outfit they stomped their boots vigorously on the hardwood floor as they laughed at something, slapping their buddy hard on the back. They ate large plates of steak and ordered five Coors Lights for the table.  No Coors Light? Hell, five of anything will do.  The walls were adorned with old rifles and arrows and the high ceiling was covered in dollar bills somehow stuck up there with tacks, each one hosting a special message or signature.   Reading up on their history, they say “Once a saloon, always a saloon. Founded in 1883, The 19th Hole is an authentic saloon and eatery that has been in continuous operation for over 120 years.  For our San Benito locals, anyone who visits has probably known someone who got looped, hitched, or both at this town favorite.”

Amidst the din I ordered the Valentine’s Special - a three course meal starting with ceasar salad, followed by a large plate of baked potato, brocoli, garlic bread and a grilled breast of chicken in a balsamic reduction drizzle.  They made the night special ending the meal with a glass of champagne and a little round red velvet cake.  The cost?  $20.  They eat well in the country.  So did I.

Wonder filled wonderful spring green.

Rain or no I am hiking somewhere tomorrow.

Here, my nephews at Pinnacles. If not this weekend there, then next.

Rain - Near

Just got back from my for-sure-I-make-at-least-this-class-weekly yoga followed by a quick run to my neighborhood Live Oak Farmer’s Market to spend what cash I had in my wallet.  They are attempting for the first time to go year round, so especially when the weather is bad I try to go by  and pick up some baked goods, breakfast, and whatnot.  (A tip for you locals - you can get great deals on days like this as the vendors are concurrently freezing, long on inventory, and short on customers  thus willing to bargain).

There are two vendors that do not have store fronts in town so I follow them around the market circuit on weekends religiously to indulge in their wonderfuness - one is Companion Bakery (they hooked me initially in July with their chocolate cherry scones and while the fruit changes seasonally the generous chocolate part does not)  and one a lovely family that makes the most amazing gorditas [fresh masa patted out thick, deep fried, then stuffed with spicy chicken, cooked organic root veggies, lettuce, queso fresco, crema, salsa verde y rojo - mmm!].  En route there I enjoyed meandering along the oceanside streets to look out and feel like we are on the edge of the known world with the wild grey sea stretched out whitecapping into cloud horizons.

Natascha and I hosted a lovely potluck last night of over a dozen cool ladies cozied up in my modest living room with a fire going and about a million candles flickering - some guitar playing and all night chatting warmed the house up. Today I am enjoying the quiet and this morning happily left my bed unmade in anticipation of a cozy rainy afternoon nap.

Rain - Afar

(Gold Bluff Beach - Leisyka and Izzak in his dino raincoat)

I rushed and relaxed both through a car-train-bus trip up the coast on a combined trip to visit Robby, Sneaky and her 6 three day old pups, and to help Leisyka, Blair, and Izaak settle in after their big move from Surprise Valley in Modoc County to Arcata (Izaak:  “this is HUMBOLT momma?” Leisyka: (with big smile) “Yes Izzak!  This is HUMBOLT”).  Thankfully on the latter, where I had pictured shelf papering, unpacking boxes and snarfing pizza dinners, they were really almost all moved in thanks to Blair’s efficient moving process and only requested my help with interior decorating and cooking up great meals - what fun!   We also hiked amongst old groves and played in the sand under beautiful bluffs.

(love the outfit!)

The train/bus rides were all day adventures -  got pole position seats both trips and the huge bus windows were like experiencing an iMax theatre screen of tall tall trees and forested ridges marching off into the distance.  Josy was a new driver and was fun, sweet and a perfect chauffeur for us.  I finished two knitting projects and met neat folks including a handsome  22 year old football scholarship student headed into his last months at Humbolt State and had quite the nice conversation on the bus.  He still looked clean cut and SoCal but was considering staying up in the laid back foggy north.  He kept pointing things out like where someone had written in the dirt on the back of a van (peace symbol) + (heart) = (smiley face) and saying “you wouldn’t see THAT in San Diego”.

After the year turns I hike to the mountaintop and find Joy there.  She does not fly off, fearless as she is, when I approach but stays perched in her treetop squeaking out her happy call.  Its nothin but sky up here, clouds brushed out horizon to horizon.  The only sound’s the winter surf far below and the wind in your ears and the pines.  A few weeks into winter and its oddly balmy even up here today.  Manzanita are already tossing out their pearly bell flowers and there’s a spring green in things even under the thin hazy winter sky. Like, you know, how sometimes in life a thing you really need comes at a time when everything else is sorta dead, or sleeping?  Like a love arriving late in life, or when you receive a sweet kind act and really let it land in the midst of depression?  Water is like that here in our Western winters - the air so thin, the sunlight so stingy, the plants all sleeping - it is only then the sky is so generous with rain that life springs up out of everything anyway. Fields of mustard celebrate, shout out golden blooms.  Everything else glowing green underneath.  I pause in my journaling, what else did I want to say?  Only this: shhhh. Look up. The sun sets right now.

‘ i imaging that Yes is the only living thing’ ~ e.e. cummings

The month and half since last post has seen spiritual catharsis, various sicknesses, good lovin’, rest, mind blowing walk in old growth tall trees, navel gazing, silent retreat at Esalen and finally a return to work. Still meditating everyday to keep the thread of the Unknown and Unknowable alive in the Marketplace.  Some snippets and links to photosets:

All Hallows Eve journal post. When I first moved to my 769 place I thought I heard coyotes deep in one evening.  “No coyotes here” neighbors said and I did not hear them again until last night, four years later, yipping and keening in one of the nearby creek drainages, calling us.

Season’s First Shrooms. October hike with Donna, Peter and Izhar - Big Basin

Learning to sit in my own lap. Silent yoga meditation retreat, Esalen, early November 2009

Fall on the Coast. Duncan’s Mills weekend with Robby, November 2009

Sapaque Valley Ranch. New friends and the beginning of a lifelong romance.

“The most important thing is this:  to be ready to give up what you are for what you might become.” ~ w.e.b du bois

“Teach us to care and not to care. Teach us to sit still.” ~ T.S. Elliot