I had the pleasure of spending last night at the San Jose Fairmont, as a bonus of attending my annual office party at the San Jose Tech Museum. Being up early this morning, I decided to follow up a night in the South Bay with a day in the South Bay.
I'd been curious about a paved trail I'd seen for years along Coyote Creek south of San Jose, whenever I was driving driving on US 101. This afternoon I treated myself to a little discovery and a nice welcome from one of my favorite things - a long, paved trail.
The trailhead for this 14.5 long (one way) regional trail is east of Morgan Hill off Cochrane Road - take the exit off 101, go east a few miles, following the signs. The parking lot seems smallish, but there was still ample space for me to unload chair and myself. At first look, this trail appears to be a favorite of bicyclists, equestrians, walkers, runners and wheelchairs (I was one of three today).
But popularity isn't everything. The trail got points for following beautiful Coyote Creek, which was probably burbling along peacefully - but I couldn't hear it for the traffic noise from 101. No worries. There were birds - raptors, vultures, jays, woodpeckers and ducks. There were smiling faces from just about everyone, save for the earnest looking bicyclists trying hard to emulate the Tour De France and feeling that acknowledging anyone else might provide clues to some weakness; there was a radio control model aircraft park, hugely entertainiing as the very skilled pilots managed all kinds of tricks, and refraining from buzzing the people who walked past. There was gently rolling terrain, appearing as if the trail had been designed to be engaging without overtaxing the diverse communities of users.
Most of all, though, is that it provides another winter (as in "muck free") place for me to get out and stretch my wheels. One woman told me she thought it ended in Sunnyvale - that's a good, long way off. But this time of year I'm struggling to get trail time, and the Coyote Creek Trail fits the bill for shaking off winter rust and getting back into shape again.
Having arrived around 2:30 this afternoon, I did only a 6 mile round trip and barely scratched the surface. Perhaps next Sunday I'll do the entire 29 miles. Once away from the freeway the trail takes on a wilder character, much like EBRPD's Iron Horse Trail does. It'll also go through neighborhoods, which might add dining opportunities or a chance for coffee - that much is pure speculation, though, but you can bet I'll update you once I finish. Maybe I'll dare my office mates to go with me - I can think of a scarce few who wouldn't flinch at the thought of a 29 mile day hike with the crazy guy in the wheelchair...
My initial impression was quite positive, though. I look forward to the follow up visit as soon as my schedule permits. Some days I feel as if I'm taking on too much...but an afternoon on a trail like Coyote Creek offers the chance to relax, make a cooldown day of it and wander. It was a great find, an excellent alternative to football, and perfect on a 73 degree January afternoon. 4wheelbob gives a tentative "2 wheels UP!" to the Coyote Creek Trail, pending a longer and more thorough analysis. Stay tuned - but in the meantime, check it out. You just might get carried away and get in some copious midwinter mileage. Hope you have as good a time out there as I did! Happy Trails!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Coyote Hills Regional Park, Fremont CA
An extra day added to a weekend - what a novel idea! Spent a long day on the road yesterday exploring hidden canyons in the southern Diablos, and I was tired of driving....but still wanted OUT.
I hadn't decided which direction I'd be taking, and kinda let the car lead. Wanting out of the Valley fog, I headed toward San Francisco Bay and Coyote Hills Regional Park.
Five miles south on Hwy 880 the sun was shining, traffic was moving smoothly, all was well. But as suddenly as the sun appeared, it vanished. As I got near the park's entrance, fog shrouded the grounds, trails, people walking along the road.
But far from being discouraging, I knew that this thick soupy stuff could lift just as quickly as it ate the Hills. I parked and was off, heading for the marsh and the Bayview Trail loop. Birds were bound to be abundant, at least I had hoped.
A slow cruise north from my car came the first signs of Good Things to Come - A "V" of Canada Geese flew just overhead, quietly honking other bird traffic out of the way. Canvasbacks, coots and mallards dotted the marshes. A white tailed kite chased and was chased by a northern harrier. My day had just begun, and was already made.
Bayview is a paved loop, usable by hikers, bikes, runners and wheelchairs alike. It's a gently rolling trail, with built - in accesses to the Alameda Creek Regional Trail as well as Don Edwards National Wildlife Refuge. It's a favorite of Fremonters and Newarkians alike, but there's enough space that no one feels crowded. I rounded a corner and, heading west, got my first look at the Bay.
Soon after I saw my first long - legger, a Common Egret feeding on the hillside between the trail and the Bay. I stopped to chat with her, but she could hardly be bothered. I have that effect on women, I guess. At least she didn't fall asleep.....
The trail is an easy one for me, as it combines gentle up / downhills to make for a low stress hike. Throw in some of my favorite raptors, a gaggle of squirrels, and a few gamebirds (they didn't name it the Quail Trail for nothing!) and you have a recipe for a nice, short hike in bayside suburbia.
As I rounded the corner near Don Edwards and the new group camp at the Old Quarry parking area, the sun broke through, melting away the fog. I sat and chatted with some nice folks who'd made the trip to scout the route for a 5K / 10K / half marathon scheduled for 1/29. I'll be there, but no scouting necessary - I'll be a course worker. I watched a courting pair of kites flutter over various potential lunches, then dart after each other and land in a leafless tree. Another harrier flew low over a goose patrol that barely noticed. Canadas have that "bring it on, dude" collective look when threatened. If I'm that harrier, I'm picking on ground squirrels...
The stroll went faster than I'd anticipated, and I realized once done that I'd better start picking up my conditioning focus. But it made for a pleasant early afternoon, and as I left the park I turned on the radio in time to hear the end of one of my favorite oratory pieces - Dr. King's "I Have A Dream" speech. Hearing it still gives me goose bumps. When it was finished, I turned off the radio and reflected, all the way home. All that reflection makes for quite a glow, and that's how it ended. Another nice day in our parks. Let freedom ring!
I hadn't decided which direction I'd be taking, and kinda let the car lead. Wanting out of the Valley fog, I headed toward San Francisco Bay and Coyote Hills Regional Park.
Five miles south on Hwy 880 the sun was shining, traffic was moving smoothly, all was well. But as suddenly as the sun appeared, it vanished. As I got near the park's entrance, fog shrouded the grounds, trails, people walking along the road.
But far from being discouraging, I knew that this thick soupy stuff could lift just as quickly as it ate the Hills. I parked and was off, heading for the marsh and the Bayview Trail loop. Birds were bound to be abundant, at least I had hoped.
A slow cruise north from my car came the first signs of Good Things to Come - A "V" of Canada Geese flew just overhead, quietly honking other bird traffic out of the way. Canvasbacks, coots and mallards dotted the marshes. A white tailed kite chased and was chased by a northern harrier. My day had just begun, and was already made.
Bayview is a paved loop, usable by hikers, bikes, runners and wheelchairs alike. It's a gently rolling trail, with built - in accesses to the Alameda Creek Regional Trail as well as Don Edwards National Wildlife Refuge. It's a favorite of Fremonters and Newarkians alike, but there's enough space that no one feels crowded. I rounded a corner and, heading west, got my first look at the Bay.
Soon after I saw my first long - legger, a Common Egret feeding on the hillside between the trail and the Bay. I stopped to chat with her, but she could hardly be bothered. I have that effect on women, I guess. At least she didn't fall asleep.....
The trail is an easy one for me, as it combines gentle up / downhills to make for a low stress hike. Throw in some of my favorite raptors, a gaggle of squirrels, and a few gamebirds (they didn't name it the Quail Trail for nothing!) and you have a recipe for a nice, short hike in bayside suburbia.
As I rounded the corner near Don Edwards and the new group camp at the Old Quarry parking area, the sun broke through, melting away the fog. I sat and chatted with some nice folks who'd made the trip to scout the route for a 5K / 10K / half marathon scheduled for 1/29. I'll be there, but no scouting necessary - I'll be a course worker. I watched a courting pair of kites flutter over various potential lunches, then dart after each other and land in a leafless tree. Another harrier flew low over a goose patrol that barely noticed. Canadas have that "bring it on, dude" collective look when threatened. If I'm that harrier, I'm picking on ground squirrels...
The stroll went faster than I'd anticipated, and I realized once done that I'd better start picking up my conditioning focus. But it made for a pleasant early afternoon, and as I left the park I turned on the radio in time to hear the end of one of my favorite oratory pieces - Dr. King's "I Have A Dream" speech. Hearing it still gives me goose bumps. When it was finished, I turned off the radio and reflected, all the way home. All that reflection makes for quite a glow, and that's how it ended. Another nice day in our parks. Let freedom ring!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Just One Wheel After the Other...
I run across a zillion really good, appropriate quotes that put into context my personality and drive. One of my favorites:
"A pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty."
- Sir Winston Churchill
I'm an optimist, perhaps in combination with a realist, and a little masochist. I don't mind a little pain as long as what's gained from it outweighs the hurt. Every time I head out for a hike, to summit North Peak or Mission Peak - again - I know the end of the day is going to find me staring into space after hours of trying to find my limit. And there'll always be a smile.
So far, so good. Limits are sometimes temporary, when common sense tells me that today might not have been the best day for a given trail (or trial, as the case may be). No worries. I'll try again tomorrow. No analysis or self criticism necessary. I'll keep trying until it gets done, or I determine that the pain has finally outweighed the value of the journey.
Now, that doesn't happen too often. I don't like losing, especially to a mountain or long trail. After all, they're usually static, right? It's a matter of pushing each wheel, and if the chair moves forward you'll eventually get there.
Maybe you've sensed that I'm getting to something. Although my experiences are just as slow and perhaps grueling as painted, I propose they are also metaphors to which each of us can relate. There's much value in getting there on our own path, in our own way, however we wish to take the journey. There may be triumphs and setbacks, achievements and failures, elation or frustration. What matters is the story is yours. Each day we have the opportunity to do wonders, or not; to test limits, or not; to participate in our own stories......or not.
For me, the story is written with stark simplicity - it's one wheel after the other. Every day I have to wonder - where will each push lead me? Yet off I go, one more chapter provided, the story's end well down the road. May you take full advantage of yours. Each of us has a Steinbeck, a Keats, a Poe within us, whether we transcribe our stories to page or not. I hope that yours leaves you with a smile on your face and light glowing in your heart. To life!
"A pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty."
- Sir Winston Churchill
I'm an optimist, perhaps in combination with a realist, and a little masochist. I don't mind a little pain as long as what's gained from it outweighs the hurt. Every time I head out for a hike, to summit North Peak or Mission Peak - again - I know the end of the day is going to find me staring into space after hours of trying to find my limit. And there'll always be a smile.
So far, so good. Limits are sometimes temporary, when common sense tells me that today might not have been the best day for a given trail (or trial, as the case may be). No worries. I'll try again tomorrow. No analysis or self criticism necessary. I'll keep trying until it gets done, or I determine that the pain has finally outweighed the value of the journey.
Now, that doesn't happen too often. I don't like losing, especially to a mountain or long trail. After all, they're usually static, right? It's a matter of pushing each wheel, and if the chair moves forward you'll eventually get there.
Maybe you've sensed that I'm getting to something. Although my experiences are just as slow and perhaps grueling as painted, I propose they are also metaphors to which each of us can relate. There's much value in getting there on our own path, in our own way, however we wish to take the journey. There may be triumphs and setbacks, achievements and failures, elation or frustration. What matters is the story is yours. Each day we have the opportunity to do wonders, or not; to test limits, or not; to participate in our own stories......or not.
For me, the story is written with stark simplicity - it's one wheel after the other. Every day I have to wonder - where will each push lead me? Yet off I go, one more chapter provided, the story's end well down the road. May you take full advantage of yours. Each of us has a Steinbeck, a Keats, a Poe within us, whether we transcribe our stories to page or not. I hope that yours leaves you with a smile on your face and light glowing in your heart. To life!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Somber Thoughts After a Tragic Weekend
Being positive is something I endorse heartily. And usually it's easy to see the bright side of things. This weekend's shootings of a US Congressmember and the senseless loss of innocent lives in Arizona got the best of me, though. I drove south of town this afternoon, radio off, just trying to figure out what's up with our civilization these days. Hopefully, this'll make some sense.
There's something about the world we live in compared to even a half century ago. World population has exploded. That's not news. Resources are being consumed at unsustainable levels all over the globe. Tempers run short in our tiny vehicles as we drive to and from work, look at someone in another car a fraction of a second too long, or make a mistake while driving. There seems to be a general decrease in civility among all people these days, whether there's a reason or not.
I notice when I'm out for a roll how people gather but rarely talk. The proliferation of electronic devices with which we can claim to communicate better has really had the opposite effect. The loss of face - to - face contact has emboldened and desensitized us - interpersonal communication is quickly becoming an emotionless, cliche ridden choice for increasing numbers of people. I've watched tables at my favorite coffee shop with 4 or 5 people sitting silently, sending text messages or blogging or using social networking at the expense of looking another human being in the eye, expressing their feelings (along with the emotion which comes with a voice), maybe holding a hand or saying "I love you" to someone who might really need to hear that. Reading a text may be OK for some, but there is no feeling, no soul involved - no real emotion expended, no real connection....and therein lies the rub.
We're losing out on our ability to connect with each other. For the suspect in the Tucson shooting, well, what if a friend had spoken with him, talked to him, not simply seen video or read a rant on a social site? Could something have been said, face to face, so 13 lives wouldn't have had to been either lost or forever changed yesterday? I don't know the answer; I wish I did. But part of who I am is that I enjoy talking to people, in person, as often as I can. The incredible anger, frustration, misguided hostility toward people that's exhibited on virtually every social media channel must be dealt with. No, I'm not talking about censorship, or government intrusion into our use of the internet. It's much simpler than that.
What if we said "hello" to people we pass on the street instead of looking away, avoiding the eyes of another? What if we chose to leave the internet for more hours each day than we are on it, instead making that choice to meet for coffee or a meal or just to come over and play "Monopoly"? What if we took the time to listen to our friends, and lend a shoulder on which to comfort or a hand to hold when we feel we're hearing a cry for our attention? I could go on, as you, hopefully, are doing right now.
A Member of Congress critically woulded, her life never to be the same. The families of those who lost their lives in a state of absolute innocence forever changed. Our nation shaken, once more, by gun violence because, perhaps, there was no one there to listen, to notice, to share a moment...
I wonder if the shooter's on line posts were met with "LOL" or derisive comments by people who didn't know him? I wonder at what point he lost touch with reality and no one was there to check him? I wonder what video games he played to encourage him that it was OK to kill a 9 year old girl? I wondered a lot this weekend. And I've come to no conclusions, solutions or ideas.
I'll humbly make this suggestion, though. Let's shut off the electronic conveniences that seem tethered to our consciousness. Let's listen to each other instead of being afraid to see the look in the eyes of another. We don't have to agree all the time, or rarely, or never. But without an enhanced version of The Human Experience, Early 21st Century - style we may lose touch en masse with those very traits that make us human. Call or meet a friend. Tell them you're thinking of them. Tell them you love them. But for the sake of everyone, don't put them on "Ignore" and leap back into Digi - World for a laugh at a video of someone falling off a roof or something. We need each other. Maybe if we have the capacity to care for one another, this proliferation of inhumane, vile attacks on each other will cease.
It's that hope to which I cling. Share it with me, and with me work toward a more loving world. Thank you!
There's something about the world we live in compared to even a half century ago. World population has exploded. That's not news. Resources are being consumed at unsustainable levels all over the globe. Tempers run short in our tiny vehicles as we drive to and from work, look at someone in another car a fraction of a second too long, or make a mistake while driving. There seems to be a general decrease in civility among all people these days, whether there's a reason or not.
I notice when I'm out for a roll how people gather but rarely talk. The proliferation of electronic devices with which we can claim to communicate better has really had the opposite effect. The loss of face - to - face contact has emboldened and desensitized us - interpersonal communication is quickly becoming an emotionless, cliche ridden choice for increasing numbers of people. I've watched tables at my favorite coffee shop with 4 or 5 people sitting silently, sending text messages or blogging or using social networking at the expense of looking another human being in the eye, expressing their feelings (along with the emotion which comes with a voice), maybe holding a hand or saying "I love you" to someone who might really need to hear that. Reading a text may be OK for some, but there is no feeling, no soul involved - no real emotion expended, no real connection....and therein lies the rub.
We're losing out on our ability to connect with each other. For the suspect in the Tucson shooting, well, what if a friend had spoken with him, talked to him, not simply seen video or read a rant on a social site? Could something have been said, face to face, so 13 lives wouldn't have had to been either lost or forever changed yesterday? I don't know the answer; I wish I did. But part of who I am is that I enjoy talking to people, in person, as often as I can. The incredible anger, frustration, misguided hostility toward people that's exhibited on virtually every social media channel must be dealt with. No, I'm not talking about censorship, or government intrusion into our use of the internet. It's much simpler than that.
What if we said "hello" to people we pass on the street instead of looking away, avoiding the eyes of another? What if we chose to leave the internet for more hours each day than we are on it, instead making that choice to meet for coffee or a meal or just to come over and play "Monopoly"? What if we took the time to listen to our friends, and lend a shoulder on which to comfort or a hand to hold when we feel we're hearing a cry for our attention? I could go on, as you, hopefully, are doing right now.
A Member of Congress critically woulded, her life never to be the same. The families of those who lost their lives in a state of absolute innocence forever changed. Our nation shaken, once more, by gun violence because, perhaps, there was no one there to listen, to notice, to share a moment...
I wonder if the shooter's on line posts were met with "LOL" or derisive comments by people who didn't know him? I wonder at what point he lost touch with reality and no one was there to check him? I wonder what video games he played to encourage him that it was OK to kill a 9 year old girl? I wondered a lot this weekend. And I've come to no conclusions, solutions or ideas.
I'll humbly make this suggestion, though. Let's shut off the electronic conveniences that seem tethered to our consciousness. Let's listen to each other instead of being afraid to see the look in the eyes of another. We don't have to agree all the time, or rarely, or never. But without an enhanced version of The Human Experience, Early 21st Century - style we may lose touch en masse with those very traits that make us human. Call or meet a friend. Tell them you're thinking of them. Tell them you love them. But for the sake of everyone, don't put them on "Ignore" and leap back into Digi - World for a laugh at a video of someone falling off a roof or something. We need each other. Maybe if we have the capacity to care for one another, this proliferation of inhumane, vile attacks on each other will cease.
It's that hope to which I cling. Share it with me, and with me work toward a more loving world. Thank you!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
another Year In The Books!
I'm not sure when, precisely, I stopped giving much thought to getting older. Five, Ten and Fifteen were all good years, looking forward to all the trappings of adult life. Twenty, Twenty five and Thirty had me beating my head against the wall, looking back and wondering what the rush to get here was all about. Along the way I acquired an illness that would become my constant companion for as many years as it chose to behave. And it brought along some friends, none of which are pals of mine.
Nonetheless, each day got easier despite assignment to a wheelchair at Thirty Five, and developing some other, minor deviations from the norm. The chair became a challenge, mostly - a challenge to myself and to the many who believed that such a cruel existance was the end of the line. Needless to say (at least to those who know me well or have read of me or seen me on TV) that little notion was disproved, and by Forty Five I had solidified my place as "America's #1 Wheelchair Hiker" (Tom Stienstra, SF Chronicle) or as the one who spawned "How the hell did you get up to the top of this mountain?" as a common greeting from hikers everywhere.
Here's the best part - from Fifty on, I've felt younger, stronger, more energetic than ever. With each new trail, new mountain, new state there is an accompanying new challange. And have I said that I adore challenges? For this year, maybe I'll have time and funds to head to Tanzania and close down Kilimanjaro without assistance. Maybe I'll FINALLY be able to keep up with Fireman Matt at Livermore's Relay for Life this summer and pace him all 24 hours. Maybe I'll do my long planned Sierra crossing - from east to west over Kearsarge Pass. Each week or weekend will be a gas, though, as I rarely fail to have a good time.
So now it's Fifty Six, an unthinkable number at Fifteen ("56? Your blood boils if you walk too fast!") but both the energy and commitment are still there. Most of all, I hope to be on the road meeting as many of you as I can. Life is all about the people, you see, because we're here for each other - to share ideas, thoughts, successes and failures....and keep coming back for more. So here's to another year - with good friends, whether I've met them yet or not!
Nonetheless, each day got easier despite assignment to a wheelchair at Thirty Five, and developing some other, minor deviations from the norm. The chair became a challenge, mostly - a challenge to myself and to the many who believed that such a cruel existance was the end of the line. Needless to say (at least to those who know me well or have read of me or seen me on TV) that little notion was disproved, and by Forty Five I had solidified my place as "America's #1 Wheelchair Hiker" (Tom Stienstra, SF Chronicle) or as the one who spawned "How the hell did you get up to the top of this mountain?" as a common greeting from hikers everywhere.
Here's the best part - from Fifty on, I've felt younger, stronger, more energetic than ever. With each new trail, new mountain, new state there is an accompanying new challange. And have I said that I adore challenges? For this year, maybe I'll have time and funds to head to Tanzania and close down Kilimanjaro without assistance. Maybe I'll FINALLY be able to keep up with Fireman Matt at Livermore's Relay for Life this summer and pace him all 24 hours. Maybe I'll do my long planned Sierra crossing - from east to west over Kearsarge Pass. Each week or weekend will be a gas, though, as I rarely fail to have a good time.
So now it's Fifty Six, an unthinkable number at Fifteen ("56? Your blood boils if you walk too fast!") but both the energy and commitment are still there. Most of all, I hope to be on the road meeting as many of you as I can. Life is all about the people, you see, because we're here for each other - to share ideas, thoughts, successes and failures....and keep coming back for more. So here's to another year - with good friends, whether I've met them yet or not!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
When You Open Your Eyes...
....to what's going on around you, anything can happen.
Consider today. In the Bay Area, we had two NFL teams finishing lost seasons, the games meaning nothing. As I sipped coffee watching the first quarter of the 49er game this afternoon, I figured that almost ANYTHING would be better than watching the game. I got out to the car and looked around - the rain had turned to the leaky - faucet type, drippy but not adding substantially to the water table. I headed out on a favorite drive, Mines Road south of Livermore. Once on this small, infrequently traveled back road, I could look around for 31 miles before deciding to turn east and down into the San Joaquin Valley, or continue south over Mt. Hamilton. But I get ahead of the story.
Every drive out Mines, as we call it, usually gives us a chance to see some new wildlife or wildlife behavior. This has been my experience for 30 years - it's an incredible drive, quiet, perhaps lonely if you can ascribe such an emotion to a certain topography. For me, it's alive. Water's flowing everywhere, creating miniature waterfalls and creeks in every low rivulet.
Within five miles of the start, I ran across two young eight point bucks, whitetails, it appeared. They were nonchalant even as I stopped to say hello while they grazed. It was a good sign. The inclement weather seems to have stirred the critters....
The drive always gives me time to think, too, maybe sort things out. I can stop almost anywhere and wait for deer to cruise through, or turkeys to forage while I watch from a mere few feet away. Heck, I bring a chair, and can sit for hours. It's amazing what wanders by as I stop to look around. Acorn woodpeckers, crows, flickers...all are well represented on Mines Road. Wood ducks? Yes, I know where they live. Coyotes, foxes, bobcats? Almost every time. All it takes to see them is to turn off the car, turn off all the noise we humans tend to make, and wait. Thank you, Ranger Patti Cole of LARPD for that timeless advice.
The special part of the day came just a few minutes after I pulled in to San Antonio Valley. Usually I make a left and roll down Del Puerto Canyon 30 miles to Patterson. For the first time in years, though, I decided to try Mt. Hamilton Road. I remembered it as a slow, winding morass of a road, especially difficult once past the summit at Lick Observatory and on the downslope to San Jose. Out here, Silicon Valley felt a thousand miles away. Choosing the Mt Hamilton Route would mean a slow, 38 mile drive from San Antonio Valley. It would be dark by the time I was heading down, but the views are fantastic from the Bay Area's highest point.
But back to San Antonio Valley. Moving south towards Mt. Hamilton, I noted several people with cameras or binoculars slowly walking along the road, looking for / at birds, it appeared. I didn't stop to ask, not wanting to disturb them. And since there was no traffic at all, I drove between 20 - 30 MPH toward the mountain while looking out the window.
Still in the valley, and surrounded by sparse woodland and open meadows, I pulled off at a gate when I saw somwthing that made my day. A dozen (I counted an even 12) tule elk were grazing about 250 yards south of the road. I KNEW they lived out here, but had never run across them. I got the chair out along with my small and completely inadequate camera and sidled up to the fence. I was of no concern to them as they slowly moved around to the freshest grass. I sat in a light rain for forty minutes watching these beautiful, huge animals that look to the casual observer like a cross between a mule deer and a draft horse. There was only one adult male (a dang good ratio if you ask me!) keeping a lookout over his girls. He stared me down but wasn't motivated to aggression due to the distance between us. But I was captivated. I'd added this day to my "Once In A Lifetime Mines Road Excursions", usually limited to wildflower season.
The point at which I spotted the elk was on private property just a few miles north of the Henry Coe State Park boundary. And in Silicon Valley, I'll have to explain tomorrow what a tule elk is. That gives me the opportunity to create another bizarre trail story, kinda like my flying rattlesnake and carnivorous butterfly stories...yes, they believe them. No, I don't always come clean and let them know I'm making them up. But I've still got them hooked on jackalope migrations each winter in N. Arizona...wonder where I can take this one? Tule elk...I've got some ideas, though.
After that stop, the ride over Mt Hamilton and into San Jose was anti - climactic. The road was as gnarly as I recalled, and several times I had to remind myself there can't really be any such thing as a 720 degree turn...but it sure seemed like it.
I'll post the photos I took if I can manage some compu - zoom so you can see their smilin' elk faces better. But January 2, 2011 will be remembered as a rare day, indeed - both the Niners and Raiders won, and 4wheelbob communed with elk on a drippy, delightful Sunday! See you out there soon, somewhere, on a trail!
Consider today. In the Bay Area, we had two NFL teams finishing lost seasons, the games meaning nothing. As I sipped coffee watching the first quarter of the 49er game this afternoon, I figured that almost ANYTHING would be better than watching the game. I got out to the car and looked around - the rain had turned to the leaky - faucet type, drippy but not adding substantially to the water table. I headed out on a favorite drive, Mines Road south of Livermore. Once on this small, infrequently traveled back road, I could look around for 31 miles before deciding to turn east and down into the San Joaquin Valley, or continue south over Mt. Hamilton. But I get ahead of the story.
Every drive out Mines, as we call it, usually gives us a chance to see some new wildlife or wildlife behavior. This has been my experience for 30 years - it's an incredible drive, quiet, perhaps lonely if you can ascribe such an emotion to a certain topography. For me, it's alive. Water's flowing everywhere, creating miniature waterfalls and creeks in every low rivulet.
Within five miles of the start, I ran across two young eight point bucks, whitetails, it appeared. They were nonchalant even as I stopped to say hello while they grazed. It was a good sign. The inclement weather seems to have stirred the critters....
The drive always gives me time to think, too, maybe sort things out. I can stop almost anywhere and wait for deer to cruise through, or turkeys to forage while I watch from a mere few feet away. Heck, I bring a chair, and can sit for hours. It's amazing what wanders by as I stop to look around. Acorn woodpeckers, crows, flickers...all are well represented on Mines Road. Wood ducks? Yes, I know where they live. Coyotes, foxes, bobcats? Almost every time. All it takes to see them is to turn off the car, turn off all the noise we humans tend to make, and wait. Thank you, Ranger Patti Cole of LARPD for that timeless advice.
The special part of the day came just a few minutes after I pulled in to San Antonio Valley. Usually I make a left and roll down Del Puerto Canyon 30 miles to Patterson. For the first time in years, though, I decided to try Mt. Hamilton Road. I remembered it as a slow, winding morass of a road, especially difficult once past the summit at Lick Observatory and on the downslope to San Jose. Out here, Silicon Valley felt a thousand miles away. Choosing the Mt Hamilton Route would mean a slow, 38 mile drive from San Antonio Valley. It would be dark by the time I was heading down, but the views are fantastic from the Bay Area's highest point.
But back to San Antonio Valley. Moving south towards Mt. Hamilton, I noted several people with cameras or binoculars slowly walking along the road, looking for / at birds, it appeared. I didn't stop to ask, not wanting to disturb them. And since there was no traffic at all, I drove between 20 - 30 MPH toward the mountain while looking out the window.
Still in the valley, and surrounded by sparse woodland and open meadows, I pulled off at a gate when I saw somwthing that made my day. A dozen (I counted an even 12) tule elk were grazing about 250 yards south of the road. I KNEW they lived out here, but had never run across them. I got the chair out along with my small and completely inadequate camera and sidled up to the fence. I was of no concern to them as they slowly moved around to the freshest grass. I sat in a light rain for forty minutes watching these beautiful, huge animals that look to the casual observer like a cross between a mule deer and a draft horse. There was only one adult male (a dang good ratio if you ask me!) keeping a lookout over his girls. He stared me down but wasn't motivated to aggression due to the distance between us. But I was captivated. I'd added this day to my "Once In A Lifetime Mines Road Excursions", usually limited to wildflower season.
The point at which I spotted the elk was on private property just a few miles north of the Henry Coe State Park boundary. And in Silicon Valley, I'll have to explain tomorrow what a tule elk is. That gives me the opportunity to create another bizarre trail story, kinda like my flying rattlesnake and carnivorous butterfly stories...yes, they believe them. No, I don't always come clean and let them know I'm making them up. But I've still got them hooked on jackalope migrations each winter in N. Arizona...wonder where I can take this one? Tule elk...I've got some ideas, though.
After that stop, the ride over Mt Hamilton and into San Jose was anti - climactic. The road was as gnarly as I recalled, and several times I had to remind myself there can't really be any such thing as a 720 degree turn...but it sure seemed like it.
I'll post the photos I took if I can manage some compu - zoom so you can see their smilin' elk faces better. But January 2, 2011 will be remembered as a rare day, indeed - both the Niners and Raiders won, and 4wheelbob communed with elk on a drippy, delightful Sunday! See you out there soon, somewhere, on a trail!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)