Each year, it seems, I have to post something about gas prices, and how American consumers can lower them at the pump. Each year, I have the same answer.
It's not about Libya. It's not about unrest in the Arab world. It's not about anything political at all, no matter what the New York Times says.
It's about economics. It's about you and your driving habits. It's about American consumers setting the marketplace to their advantage. Really. It's this easy......
This is the time of year excuses spew from the PR machines of the oil companies. The Middle East unrest made it easy for 2011, and it's as good as they've been able to come up with in a while. It's not the usual "refineries close for maintenence" or "deliveries from Alaska are stalled by pipeline repairs". We now have Libya to blame for $4.00 / gallon gas. But the fix it is close as our car keys...
Here's how we do it, America. I want your undivided attention.
Stop driving so damn much. There. I said it. Believe it or not, the U.S.A. is almost oversupplied at this very point in time. As I drove CA Hwy 33 a couple of weeks ago, I found the Kern County oil fields blazing away with production - it appeared that 80 - 90% of the pumps were cranked up, well above the norm. Easy to wind them up when per barrel prices were above $92, much better now that Mideast "tensions" have moved the marketplace over $100.
But get on the floor in your lotus position and visualize something with me.
Close your eyes. Imagine planning a daily trip route each morning over that first cup of coffee. How often do you need to go out? Can you combine trips by parking at one shopping center or mall and picking up several things? Or can you walk to your kid's school with them, eliminating one short drive and perhaps getting to know your kids a little better?
Can you look at how many times you use the car each day and for how many miles, and cross at least one trip off - every day? If all drivers did that every day, we'd be at a critical oversupply in less than a month - really. It IS that simple. We've done it before, mostly in a reactive mode because we couldn't afford to use gas at the rates lower prices encourage.
Now is our chance to make a proactive statement. Stop making unplanned trips. Walk downtown once in awhile. Ride your bike. Walk the dogs to the local dog park instead of driving them. Then watch gas prices at the pump. Any contrived scarcity issues will have abated. Overstock will take its place - then it becomes as simple as supply and demand, just like high school economics taught us. Don't drive as much, the marketplace will react within weeks. Prices will drop, and it won't matter if the Mad Hatter or Santa Claus becomes the leader of Libya. If nobody's buying oil, the price will drop until we decide it's fair again.
But make no mistake - the oil companies will, believe it or not, report record profits in the first quarter. With your support, though, by the end of the third quarter their profits will be merely obscene rather than unconscionable. It's in our hands now. Park the pick up or SUV and drive the smaller car to work, or take public transportation (ACE train to the South Bay from Livermore is a special ride, by the way). Walk instead of driving when you can. All I ask is that you forego ONE TRIP a day. That's all it will take. All the phony "experts" in business or government won't convince me otherwise.
Take charge now! To quote Peter Finch in "Network": we should be "as mad as hell, and we're not going to take it anymore." Walk, ride, lose one trip a day....and you watch - prices will drop as we drive fewer miles. It's in our hands. Make it happen. Do your part to reduce oil industry bonuses! One less trip. And please - let me know what you're doing and how it's working for you! See you on the trail - NOT driving!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Scouting Mission - Carrizo Plain Nat'l Monument
The drive down Interstate 5 is always a long, boring drag. Fast food and speeding traffic are the norm, but yesterday I made my first overnight foray of 2011 to a Central CA favorite of mine, the Carrizo Plain National Monument.
As far as monuments go, Carrizo is a little utilized, barely known three quarters of a million acre paradise. The main attraction each year, besides free campgrounds, is the early spring wildflower bloom. Although it's too early to tell yet how the bloom will be or when the peak will happen, I took a sunny weekend before a week full of rain to check on the potential for this season, and to see some of the other features of the monument.
Taking the Highway 58 exit which most people use to get to Bakersfield, I turned west instead, putting me on track to travel through such small stalwarts as Buttonwillow and McKittrick. Neither would be mistaken for a burgeoning suburb, and although they are just a few miles apart each is grounded in a completely different economy - Buttonwillow is an agricultural crossroads, while McKittrick is in the middle of Kern County's vast oil fields. For the sightseer, getting through them without stopping is the right thing to do.
Hwy 58 would eventually lead to Santa Margarita on the Central Coast, near Morro Bay and San Luis Obispo. But I wasn't going that far. This was a solo overnight campout on a perfect, warm winter day. I was going to gauge the pending wildflower bloom, to find out if Carrizo had gotten the early rainfall the rest of California got hammered with in late fall. 58 was empty, as usual. Not many cars or trucks travel this desolute route, which traverses western Kern County and its oil fields into the fertile farm and ranch land of eastern San Luis Obispo County. Parts of the monument are in Kern, the rest in SLO. One thing is unmistakeable - this is a monument with a zillion natural features, even when it's not yet wildflower season.
One of the most obvious as 58 ambles down toward the Plain, is the San Andreas Fault. The fault runs on the east side of the monument, at the base of the Temblor Range, a rugged series of wrinkles and push ups rising to over 4,000 feet. The animals and birds are what attract me, along with the wildflowers. You might run across a herd of pronghorn, or a small band of Tule Elk. Kangaroo rats will inevitably invade your campside as soon as the sun goes down, especially at the southernmost canpground, known simply as KCL. I've seen or caught an endangered snake, the San Joaquin Coachwhip, in the hills. Mega - sized jackrabbits might convince some that jackalopes live, and live at Carrizo. Small voles and mice abound.
My attraction to this place is all of the afore stated; the two campgrounds, Selby to the north and KCL farther south, each sport wheelchair accessible outhouses and nicely put together campsites. I've been comfortable here in warm sun and driving rain. And if you're not here during wildflower season, it's likely you won't have much company. I like that part in winter.
I chose to camp at KCL toward the southern acreage, because I knew there would be great horned owls and I needed an owl fix. The birds at sunrise are very noisy, so if you wish to camp at KCL be a bird lover. It annoys many. I found the perfect campsite, with just one drawback - the tent would be beneath one of the large eucalyptus trees, which are bird hotels. Knowing this, and that I'd have to wash the tent fly when I got home, I began to set up the tent anyway. I placed it with the entrance facing the south east, to get a wake up call from the rising sun right in my face. Didn't want to sleep too late, although it would be a relaxing night.
The setup was perfect. Not only did I have a clear view of the sunrise ready made in the morning, I found that as the half moon set a thousand galaxies became visible; I had camped in a postcard - view site, able to look out over a half million acres of green beauty, and all the stars in Heaven staring right back at me.
I wasn't very hungry and decided after the long drive to head to the tent and look up from inside. Laying flat on my back felt great; before I know it I had drifted off to dreamland, awakened only by the respectfully soft "whooo - who who" of at least three resident owls. I woke at midnight, already having slept 5 hours. Took a short roll outside to listen for critters and saw in my headlamp another of my favorite residents, a kangaroo rat. I had to race him to the tent because I'd left the tent fly unzipped and he was making a b - line for it. They are such cool creatures! I herded him away from the tent and listened as he made his way into the thick, fresh stalks of young fiddlenecks, a ubiquitous early bloomer at Carrizo.
All night long I heard mice and other small rodents in the plants outside. At the same time the owls hooted, every so often getting an answer from a compadre in another tree. It was delightful to hear, happening just as I'd hoped it would, and caused a great sense of relaxation. I awoke this morning at 7:30 AM - I guess I needed it, and a 4wheelbob "thank you" to the Great Horned owls of Carrizo Plain.
I set off early this morning to come home, packing up quickly at 8:30. My camp is an easy set up, easy take down - nothing very difficult except finding the energy to say "time to go home." And for the first time in all my visits, I was going to exit the Plain at the south end, toward the sunny burg of Maricopa and the quiet, old empty Highway 33.
The south side of the monument was considerably greener than the grass of the north portion. Fiddlenecks and buttercups were beginning to show, and it looked as if this might be another banner year for wildflowers. The large number of marked BLM sites included Padrone Canyon and Traver Ranch, both begging for further exploration. The folds of the hills, hidden canyons a walk away, endless dirt roads to who - knows - where...all are among the features that call me back at least twice each year. I missed the pronghorns this time, but I'm sure they knew where I was. I'll be back in another month to six weeks to watch the bloom explode all over the monument. I expect it'll be a very good year, especially if this week's rain forecast holds true. Soda Lake, a seasonal alkaline sink was very close to full at this time. The lake is yet another attraction, as are the great fields of flowers north of the lake along the feeder creeks.
For the first time visitor, here's how it goes during wildflower season. Get there on a Thursday or very early Friday to be assured of a campsite in either Selby or KCL. Selby's got more sites and more room to improvise, but KCL is more picturesque. Oh, bring water - there isn't any available at either campsite, and it's a long drive to find any. I usually pack a 7 gallon jug no matter how long I'm there, just in case. And firewood...it gets cold at night, no matter what time of year. It can get windy, or rainy, or be hotter'n...well, you know. Dress accordingly.
Carrizo Plain National Monument deserves your attention. I suggest reading about it first on the BLM website (that's federal Bureau of Land Management for you who stay home too much), and call the number of the Guy Goodwin Education Center at the Plain for best wildflower viewing information. Will you see me down there? Watch this space for updates. Planning may be no more than a week in advance. But I'll be there again at some point, chasing kangaroo rats, listening to owls and convincing newbies that if you drive across the Plain to the San Andreas Fault and start jumping, you'll register on the seismograph at Parkfield....heh heh heh....I love newbies! See you there!
As far as monuments go, Carrizo is a little utilized, barely known three quarters of a million acre paradise. The main attraction each year, besides free campgrounds, is the early spring wildflower bloom. Although it's too early to tell yet how the bloom will be or when the peak will happen, I took a sunny weekend before a week full of rain to check on the potential for this season, and to see some of the other features of the monument.
Taking the Highway 58 exit which most people use to get to Bakersfield, I turned west instead, putting me on track to travel through such small stalwarts as Buttonwillow and McKittrick. Neither would be mistaken for a burgeoning suburb, and although they are just a few miles apart each is grounded in a completely different economy - Buttonwillow is an agricultural crossroads, while McKittrick is in the middle of Kern County's vast oil fields. For the sightseer, getting through them without stopping is the right thing to do.
Hwy 58 would eventually lead to Santa Margarita on the Central Coast, near Morro Bay and San Luis Obispo. But I wasn't going that far. This was a solo overnight campout on a perfect, warm winter day. I was going to gauge the pending wildflower bloom, to find out if Carrizo had gotten the early rainfall the rest of California got hammered with in late fall. 58 was empty, as usual. Not many cars or trucks travel this desolute route, which traverses western Kern County and its oil fields into the fertile farm and ranch land of eastern San Luis Obispo County. Parts of the monument are in Kern, the rest in SLO. One thing is unmistakeable - this is a monument with a zillion natural features, even when it's not yet wildflower season.
One of the most obvious as 58 ambles down toward the Plain, is the San Andreas Fault. The fault runs on the east side of the monument, at the base of the Temblor Range, a rugged series of wrinkles and push ups rising to over 4,000 feet. The animals and birds are what attract me, along with the wildflowers. You might run across a herd of pronghorn, or a small band of Tule Elk. Kangaroo rats will inevitably invade your campside as soon as the sun goes down, especially at the southernmost canpground, known simply as KCL. I've seen or caught an endangered snake, the San Joaquin Coachwhip, in the hills. Mega - sized jackrabbits might convince some that jackalopes live, and live at Carrizo. Small voles and mice abound.
My attraction to this place is all of the afore stated; the two campgrounds, Selby to the north and KCL farther south, each sport wheelchair accessible outhouses and nicely put together campsites. I've been comfortable here in warm sun and driving rain. And if you're not here during wildflower season, it's likely you won't have much company. I like that part in winter.
I chose to camp at KCL toward the southern acreage, because I knew there would be great horned owls and I needed an owl fix. The birds at sunrise are very noisy, so if you wish to camp at KCL be a bird lover. It annoys many. I found the perfect campsite, with just one drawback - the tent would be beneath one of the large eucalyptus trees, which are bird hotels. Knowing this, and that I'd have to wash the tent fly when I got home, I began to set up the tent anyway. I placed it with the entrance facing the south east, to get a wake up call from the rising sun right in my face. Didn't want to sleep too late, although it would be a relaxing night.
The setup was perfect. Not only did I have a clear view of the sunrise ready made in the morning, I found that as the half moon set a thousand galaxies became visible; I had camped in a postcard - view site, able to look out over a half million acres of green beauty, and all the stars in Heaven staring right back at me.
I wasn't very hungry and decided after the long drive to head to the tent and look up from inside. Laying flat on my back felt great; before I know it I had drifted off to dreamland, awakened only by the respectfully soft "whooo - who who" of at least three resident owls. I woke at midnight, already having slept 5 hours. Took a short roll outside to listen for critters and saw in my headlamp another of my favorite residents, a kangaroo rat. I had to race him to the tent because I'd left the tent fly unzipped and he was making a b - line for it. They are such cool creatures! I herded him away from the tent and listened as he made his way into the thick, fresh stalks of young fiddlenecks, a ubiquitous early bloomer at Carrizo.
All night long I heard mice and other small rodents in the plants outside. At the same time the owls hooted, every so often getting an answer from a compadre in another tree. It was delightful to hear, happening just as I'd hoped it would, and caused a great sense of relaxation. I awoke this morning at 7:30 AM - I guess I needed it, and a 4wheelbob "thank you" to the Great Horned owls of Carrizo Plain.
I set off early this morning to come home, packing up quickly at 8:30. My camp is an easy set up, easy take down - nothing very difficult except finding the energy to say "time to go home." And for the first time in all my visits, I was going to exit the Plain at the south end, toward the sunny burg of Maricopa and the quiet, old empty Highway 33.
The south side of the monument was considerably greener than the grass of the north portion. Fiddlenecks and buttercups were beginning to show, and it looked as if this might be another banner year for wildflowers. The large number of marked BLM sites included Padrone Canyon and Traver Ranch, both begging for further exploration. The folds of the hills, hidden canyons a walk away, endless dirt roads to who - knows - where...all are among the features that call me back at least twice each year. I missed the pronghorns this time, but I'm sure they knew where I was. I'll be back in another month to six weeks to watch the bloom explode all over the monument. I expect it'll be a very good year, especially if this week's rain forecast holds true. Soda Lake, a seasonal alkaline sink was very close to full at this time. The lake is yet another attraction, as are the great fields of flowers north of the lake along the feeder creeks.
For the first time visitor, here's how it goes during wildflower season. Get there on a Thursday or very early Friday to be assured of a campsite in either Selby or KCL. Selby's got more sites and more room to improvise, but KCL is more picturesque. Oh, bring water - there isn't any available at either campsite, and it's a long drive to find any. I usually pack a 7 gallon jug no matter how long I'm there, just in case. And firewood...it gets cold at night, no matter what time of year. It can get windy, or rainy, or be hotter'n...well, you know. Dress accordingly.
Carrizo Plain National Monument deserves your attention. I suggest reading about it first on the BLM website (that's federal Bureau of Land Management for you who stay home too much), and call the number of the Guy Goodwin Education Center at the Plain for best wildflower viewing information. Will you see me down there? Watch this space for updates. Planning may be no more than a week in advance. But I'll be there again at some point, chasing kangaroo rats, listening to owls and convincing newbies that if you drive across the Plain to the San Andreas Fault and start jumping, you'll register on the seismograph at Parkfield....heh heh heh....I love newbies! See you there!
Monday, February 7, 2011
February? Winter? REALLY????
Thoughts of snow, ice, cars sliding on Slurpee - covered roads and highways...that's been the past week in America, at least that's all we see day after day on the news. So for those of you experiencing such conditions, let me tell you how we in NorCal suffered over Super Bowl weekend:
It started with me getting out of the house at 9 AM Saturday. Expecting the usual low 40's of winter, I found instead a thermometer reading 68 degrees. It was 70 by 10. No clouds. No fog. Sabbath and I left a couple hours later for Saint Mary's College and a fantastic event for young people as well as old farts such as myself. After an afternoon of inspiring speakers and enthusiastic attendees, as well as Chris Major's incredible energy and leadership, we made it to McKeon Pavillion to sit on the floor as St Mary's (that's 20 - 4 SMC) put a whuppin' on Loyola Marymount. But Saturday was just a warm up.
Sunday morning came too quickly. We hemmed and hawed about where we'd go when Gina and I came up with the perfect solution - Pt. Reyes National Seashore. It would be a wonderful day (almost 80 in sunny Livermore) featuring unchecked visability - would we see the Farallons today? I was more interested in the great herds of elk that roam Pt. Reyes. We even had a trail in mind, one we'd partially finished a couple of years ago - Tomales Point Trail just above McClure's Beach.
The drive was sensationally easy, as most of the sedentary world was pre - filling up on Super snacks well before the kick off. We had no allegiances in the game so had no concerns about missing it. Arriving at the historic farm buildings at the Tomales Point Trailhead, we found it was already 2 PM. The sun was high and bright, though, and the cool (60) air cruising sedately over us from the sea to Tomales Bay created perfect conditions for a fine day on the trail, or to sit on a hillside and watch the waves.
We started off northbound on this perfect trail, rolling over soft dirt mixed with assorted rock on a level path. If a hiker stopped every few yards to look around, he or she would find a complete change of scenery with the movement along the path. It was easy to stop and take it all in on this spectacular winter day, too. The cool air tempted a good pace, and with each slight downgrade I coasted along the trail effortlessly taking it all in.
One of my favorite features of this trail is the short drop to a saddle followed by a long but fairly gentle uphill. It wasn't the grade that made this stretch a challenge as much as the ruts and narrow sections where I had to balance the chair on thin ridges of soft, sandy support. There was no danger unless I wished to take the more difficult parts. But the hill seemed unending; there was a summit point, but with each turn it moved farther away - it was a bit like watching parts of "The Shining", those parts where the hallways stretched out more and more.
This was not a hill that would have me breathing hard, either. It was just long. I stopped a lot, mostly to keep an eye out for the whales that cruise past this time of year. I had barely a few hours over our rainy winter to get some trail time in, so to say I reveled in this long roll is probably an understatement.
Gina and Sabbath had taken residence on a grassy hillside overlooking the beach and a beautiful feeder canyon where seasonal streams ran. Lest I forget this part as I froth over the wonderful day and trail, we watched a large (maybe 3 dozen) herd of elk munch fresh vittles as they grazed along unruffled by human observers. Elk were everywhere - my only outside disappointment was the lack of raptors riding the breeze. But I know I can expect them soon on the Bear Valley Trail as the ospreys nest. Gee, a reason to go back...what a tragedy!
This day was quite literally one in a thousand. Mother Nature might well have been sitting in my lap for the warmth I felt. And she's a loving Mom, too, tossing out a few early wildflowers as well as elk and deer by the dozen during the drive home. We were glad it was such a long, sedate drive from the trailhead to Highway 1. Although we all had obligations today, had this been a Saturday night we might have stayed in one of the many wonderful inns or B&B's in Olema or Pt Reyes Station. The day had been surreal, beauty at every turn and green being the Color of the Day - extending, we found on the drive home, to the football game that dominated America.
So for all of you in the Midwest and East, we're sorry we had no snow and 80 degree weather around the Bay. We apologize profusely that as we laughed in short sleeves along a coastal trail, you may not have had electricity and are huddled around the fireplace trying to keep warm. Mom Nature was riding the trail with us, and we didn't want her to be disappointed. For you, let's hope you thaw out soon, that you have ample firewood in the meantime and soon can think of a Spring that will be here shortly. And as you read news reports and headlines and wonder why we who are California natives love our state even with all its issues, look no further than a long coastal trail in a large national seashore...then wonder no more.
It started with me getting out of the house at 9 AM Saturday. Expecting the usual low 40's of winter, I found instead a thermometer reading 68 degrees. It was 70 by 10. No clouds. No fog. Sabbath and I left a couple hours later for Saint Mary's College and a fantastic event for young people as well as old farts such as myself. After an afternoon of inspiring speakers and enthusiastic attendees, as well as Chris Major's incredible energy and leadership, we made it to McKeon Pavillion to sit on the floor as St Mary's (that's 20 - 4 SMC) put a whuppin' on Loyola Marymount. But Saturday was just a warm up.
Sunday morning came too quickly. We hemmed and hawed about where we'd go when Gina and I came up with the perfect solution - Pt. Reyes National Seashore. It would be a wonderful day (almost 80 in sunny Livermore) featuring unchecked visability - would we see the Farallons today? I was more interested in the great herds of elk that roam Pt. Reyes. We even had a trail in mind, one we'd partially finished a couple of years ago - Tomales Point Trail just above McClure's Beach.
The drive was sensationally easy, as most of the sedentary world was pre - filling up on Super snacks well before the kick off. We had no allegiances in the game so had no concerns about missing it. Arriving at the historic farm buildings at the Tomales Point Trailhead, we found it was already 2 PM. The sun was high and bright, though, and the cool (60) air cruising sedately over us from the sea to Tomales Bay created perfect conditions for a fine day on the trail, or to sit on a hillside and watch the waves.
We started off northbound on this perfect trail, rolling over soft dirt mixed with assorted rock on a level path. If a hiker stopped every few yards to look around, he or she would find a complete change of scenery with the movement along the path. It was easy to stop and take it all in on this spectacular winter day, too. The cool air tempted a good pace, and with each slight downgrade I coasted along the trail effortlessly taking it all in.
One of my favorite features of this trail is the short drop to a saddle followed by a long but fairly gentle uphill. It wasn't the grade that made this stretch a challenge as much as the ruts and narrow sections where I had to balance the chair on thin ridges of soft, sandy support. There was no danger unless I wished to take the more difficult parts. But the hill seemed unending; there was a summit point, but with each turn it moved farther away - it was a bit like watching parts of "The Shining", those parts where the hallways stretched out more and more.
This was not a hill that would have me breathing hard, either. It was just long. I stopped a lot, mostly to keep an eye out for the whales that cruise past this time of year. I had barely a few hours over our rainy winter to get some trail time in, so to say I reveled in this long roll is probably an understatement.
Gina and Sabbath had taken residence on a grassy hillside overlooking the beach and a beautiful feeder canyon where seasonal streams ran. Lest I forget this part as I froth over the wonderful day and trail, we watched a large (maybe 3 dozen) herd of elk munch fresh vittles as they grazed along unruffled by human observers. Elk were everywhere - my only outside disappointment was the lack of raptors riding the breeze. But I know I can expect them soon on the Bear Valley Trail as the ospreys nest. Gee, a reason to go back...what a tragedy!
This day was quite literally one in a thousand. Mother Nature might well have been sitting in my lap for the warmth I felt. And she's a loving Mom, too, tossing out a few early wildflowers as well as elk and deer by the dozen during the drive home. We were glad it was such a long, sedate drive from the trailhead to Highway 1. Although we all had obligations today, had this been a Saturday night we might have stayed in one of the many wonderful inns or B&B's in Olema or Pt Reyes Station. The day had been surreal, beauty at every turn and green being the Color of the Day - extending, we found on the drive home, to the football game that dominated America.
So for all of you in the Midwest and East, we're sorry we had no snow and 80 degree weather around the Bay. We apologize profusely that as we laughed in short sleeves along a coastal trail, you may not have had electricity and are huddled around the fireplace trying to keep warm. Mom Nature was riding the trail with us, and we didn't want her to be disappointed. For you, let's hope you thaw out soon, that you have ample firewood in the meantime and soon can think of a Spring that will be here shortly. And as you read news reports and headlines and wonder why we who are California natives love our state even with all its issues, look no further than a long coastal trail in a large national seashore...then wonder no more.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
A First Look At The Coyote Creek Trail
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!
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!
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!
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