One of the things I intended to do this semester to to resume walking in places I’ve neglected the last few years. Once the semester got under way, that didn’t happen–but today I decided to head out into an area I haven’t been to in several years, partly because to even get out to that area is now a serious walk on it’s own, because of the ways they’ve been shutting down access to the land and because of the development:
This was started years ago–it’s what my sacred grove was bulldozed to make way for–but then stalled in the economic downturn–you know, the one before the national one, the one that hit California a few years earlier. Back when Arne was governator. Lately they’ve resumed work on it. You may not be able to see, but way out there almost to the trees there are some houses almost finished. (That’s what’s left of the East Garrison area for anyone who knew the place back when.) I skirted the back of that area, which is still pretty nice. Here are a couple of pics along the say:
I’m still in love with the moss or whatever it is, and with the Monterey pines. The moss usually hangs out on the oaks, it’s unusual to see it on the pines, hence that picture,
used to look like this
That’s from the opposite side of the pond area, but you get the idea. It was a really lovely place to walk to and just set a spell.
There used to be a large flock of redwing blackbirds that displayed in the late afternoon-early evenings. I tried to capture the effect on camera several times, but was never really successful. This is about as close as I came:
All that had disappeared even before they bulldozed the land for the development. The pond had been kept filled from groundwater, and they just stopped filling it not too long after those pictures were taken.
Anyway, I used to be able to drive out almost to here
Which is the entry to the prime walking area I was headed for. I was actually surprised to see that sign still hanging in there (literally) , it had already fallen to this extent the last time I was in here, which has to be over 6 years ago. Today it took me over an hour just to walk this far.
But it was worth it. This used to be one of my favorite walking areas, and it was nice to see it again. I even used to drag other people out there–brother and sister in law, nephew, I may have even gotten my niece out there once, I can’t remember for sure. I walked back in a short way and had lunch. Here’s my view as I ate:
And here’s where I was sitting when I took that:
I think that was a bit more decrepit than when I saw it last; I don’t think the roof had fallen yet. Went on down the road, and began to remember why I’d liked this walk so much. I have no idea how many times I’ve taken pictures of essentially this same scene:
Those people down there are growing your food, folks–what they grow around here gets shipped all over the country. There’s something about the contrast between the natural landscape up where I am and the regularity of the agricultural land below that I like, I think.
A bit further down the road you come to this. I’ve tried to capture the essence of the next few scenes several times, too–never with 100% satisfaction.
On a very small scale, it reminds me of the formations in Zion National Park and Cedar Breaks National Monument.
For this next one, you have to scale your mind down, down, down. Now, think cathedral. Can you see it?
One of my favorite stories about my my littlest Shiba, who died quite a long time ago now, happened along here. We were walking along this road and encountered a couple of coyotes. Usually the coyotes pretty much leave us alone when we’re out walking–they’ll tail us, and ki-yi about us a good deal, but from a distance. But these two started going after the dogs, and since there were two of them, they were tag-teaming us. (My theory is they were a mated pair with a lair with pups nearby, or I don’t think they’d have bothered us.) I’d chase one off of one dog, and the other would go for another one (this was back in the days I had four dogs.) I was trying to get all the dogs back on leash so I could control the situation, so it was a bit chaotic for awhile. At one point, one of them seriously went for the littlest girl (mother to the one I still have). I managed to chase him off, but she was totally spooked by then and wouldn’t come when I called her–in fact, she just plain took off. I called and called, and gathered up the other dogs, and headed back to the car, calling her the whole way–but nothing. I took the rest of the dogs home, figuring I’d head back out to see if I could find her later–and about 30 minutes after I got home, there she was, crying to be let into the house. She’d found her way all the way home, even though we’d never walked all that way from the house. She was what, about ten inches high at the shoulder. I was pretty proud of her.
Back in those days, we used to walk way out this road
and I may try to get out there one more time before I go, but I’d already been walking an hour and a half at this point and figured I’d better head back so the trip home wouldn’t become a misery.
Just a couple of things from the trip back. This one is just because it gave me a kick. If you look, you can see four years of cones–two years ago, last year, this year, and up there at the top, those little round knobs are next year’s, I figure.
And finally, my view of civilization as I get back to my housing area
The statice (that’s what I call it, but don’t quote me–I don’t know where I got the name) in the background are looking really good right now, but in the not too distant future the housing people in their great wisdom will mow them down.
One of the things I’ve been mulling over is the fact that in some ways it totally does not feel like I’ve been here (almost) 15 years. I think that’s partly because of the routine of the academic year–the sameness means the individual years don’t stand out in my memory vary clearly. I don’t have a lot of clear time markers. Used to be I moved every 2-5 years, and that gave me a way to keep track of the passage of time. When I was in college, when I was in the Peace Corps, when I worked for the probation dept., like that. But the past 15 years tend to blur into each other a bit. So taking this walk, and thinking about those past walks, and even nailing down parts of those memories by writing about them here–that helps me realize that it really has been 15 years. I made it. Retirement is almost here, and I’ve earned it.
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