A Woodsy Reprise

Having hiked this trail just a few weeks ago, why return so soon?

Volunteer naturalists from the local open space authority would be leading the hike: that's why.

I was glad I mustered enough enthusiasm to show up; there were three naturalists and three hikers. I was looking forward to learning on this outing, but certainly didn't expect one-on-one time.

I think I earned some trail cred early on, when I called out “columbine!”after the group breezed right past it.

We had a slow and casual stroll, stopping often to admire butterflies and identify plants. It became clear, once one of the leaders pointed it out, that invasive plants colonize the disturbed areas (e.g., adjacent to the trail), gradually crowding out the natives.

Elsewhere, the native plants—like this dense patch of (native) deerweed—are better able to stand their ground.

As we returned to the start, one of our naturalists spotted a flower that was new to me—the cardinal catchfly. She shared that it's in the same family as carnations, another surprise. How had we managed to overlook those bright red blooms poking up through the brush?

Well-worth the (admittedly minor) effort it took to join this hike today. Looking forward to more!

Backup Plan

The best laid plans ... sometimes go poof!

Look in the mirror. Don't take the efforts of your fellow hikers so much for granted. Step up. Even though you biked 50+ miles yesterday. (Different muscles.)

My comrades have been hiking all over the Bay Area, regularly, for years. Proposing an alternative that's not already familiar to me felt unwise.

Mt. Um to the rescue!

There would be views, there would be flowers and butterflies and lizards and The Cube.

There would be few people. [All good.]

A little over seven miles and 1,000 feet of elevation gain (give or take), plus good stories shared along the way.

Pollinator Party

On the lookout for another volunteer gig suitable for sharing with my former teammates, I discovered that the Don Edwards San Francisco Bay National Wildlife Refuge was hosting a “weeding party” on a weekday evening at their Alviso location. Not far from the office, that seemed ideal! The idea was to support local pollinators by removing invasive plants from their butterfly native garden.

I spent some time wandering around the marshland before the party started. I realized there were two distinct types of swallow swooping around at high speed; a helpful staff member educated me about the difference between barn swallows (forked tails) and cliff swallows (flat tails).

It was much less challenging to snap a photo of a determined black-necked stilt hunting in the shallows.

Gazing back toward the shore, the Alviso Environmental Education Center building is on the left (though it's presently closed), a landfill (sigh) is on the right, and near the trees in the middle is a small pavilion where (as it turned out) we would be weeding.

Their plans had shifted, but one former colleague and a friend were able to join me. Our assignment was to uproot and remove wild mustard plants, which were in abundance. These invasive plants spread a prodigious amount of seed and develop thick taproots, difficult to pry out of the rock-hard soil even with proper tools. I went hunting for the smaller plants that others overlooked, especially in the cool shade under the trees. I spotted a couple of invasive thistle plants lurking in a tangle of plants next to the pavilion and yanked them out, too.

Working in the refuge after hours, we were privileged to enjoy the early evening light (though, too early for sunset on a summer's evening).

Postscript: We later learned that we removed more than 75 pounds of invasive plants (mostly mustard). Now I can't stop seeing this scourge wherever I ramble around the Bay Area. I find myself tugging them out, or at least breaking off the stems before the flowers set seed. We won't win this battle, but we should carry on the fight.

Calero and Conversation

A friend reached out for an easy hike today, and was game to visit Calero County Park when I proposed that. My regular hiking buddies would be there, too, but on a different (more challenging) loop.

What I had in mind was the first section of the hike I'd extended in April; I noted the distance from a couple of turn-back points in case we opted to cut it even shorter.

There was plenty of wildlife to enjoy, from butterflies and birds to a curious pair of deer. Just above us on the slope next to the trail, they were more interested in munching (on poison oak!) than running away.

We followed the Cottle Trail from the Rancho San Vicente entrance, and made it to the farthest point I'd mapped out (the last views of the reservoir before the trail would turn away). Retracing our route, we covered about 6 miles.

It was a glorious day for a hike, and I learned that my hiking companion has a keen eye for spotting tiny creatures—and is patiently willing to indulge this amateur naturalist's curiosity!

Tree Cover

After a mini-hike a few days ago, a friend was eager for something longer. He suggested eight miles; we compromised on a route just short of seven.

I might have done a short hike in Sanborn County Park years ago; he had never visited. Our destination was “The Peak;” quite a bit of elevation gain to reach Skyline from the valley, but the drive to the park gives a good head start.

We had to re-route almost immediately; the trail I'd intended was closed. Navigating through the fallen trees that we met along the way, I can't imagine what's come down in the closed section. The winter rains and winds had been brutal.

We didn't make it to The Peak; my hiking companion ran low on water, so we turned downhill onto the Sanborn Trail from the San Andreas Trail—completing a loop of 4+ miles.

Hiking in the forest was the right choice for a warm day.

More than a Walk in the Woods

Having not exhausted myself on yesterday's ride, I agreed to join a friend for a modest hike today.

I was content to meander slowly along the trail; I was surprised at how many wildflowers were blooming here, but I'm not certain I've hiked this trail before—much less at this time of year.

Having recently enjoyed a few sessions about our local geology, flora, and fauna (sponsored by our county parks system), my eyes are open to so much more on my forays through the forest.

Now well aware of California Buckeyes in bloom, I had been amused to recognize them dotting the hills of Almaden. So many trees here keep their leaves year-round that I'd sadly assumed they were blighted oaks and wondered why they hadn't been felled to reduce the risk of fire. [Ha.]

The air was much hazier than I expected on a relatively cool day.

Our destination was the intersection of the Woods Trail with the Barlow Road trail, but my hiking companion ran out of steam; we covered a little over 4 miles (out and back).

Ever tantalizing, the cube atop Mt. Umunhum beckoned; we drove to the top and found that the marine layer obscured the Pacific. I couldn't help noticing, however, how the landscape changed as we climbed—from chaparral to conifers. So much more for the curious to appreciate in the world around us!

Wild Flowers

I had been meaning to catch up with a former colleague for the past few months; today was the day!

We settled on a hike, and I suggested Santa Teresa County Park for the likelihood of wildflowers. With an eye on the ominous sky, she had wisely donned a rain jacket. (Fortunately for me, it barely drizzled on us.)

On a weekday, I've become accustomed to having a park to myself. This was the first time I've shared a trail here with horseback riders!

We also passed some artists in the brush. [Pun intended.]

Some kindred spirit had left a sticky-note on the park map near the trailhead, designating where the blooms would be found (and, the intel was spot-on).

We had fun trying to match the flowers we saw to the park's brochure. Without clues to size or foliage, that was often quite challenging. Serpentine leptosiphon struck us as the most peculiar name.

Here's looking at you, Liz(ard)! I would have missed you, were it not for the keen eye of my hiking buddy. A California Alligator Lizard, methinks.

We found patches of Checkerbloom,

Owl's Clover,

and Tomcat Clover.

My hiking companion and I were well-matched today, because ... if you aren't into wildflowers, you will likely be frustrated hiking with me when the bloom is on!

We covered about 4 miles and something under 800 feet of elevation gain, with lots of good conversation, flower appreciation, and one more Pix in the Parks along the way!

Lisa's Lookout

What a difference a weekend makes.

The last time I started a hike from Calero's San Vicente entrance, I had the place to myself. Today? The (large) parking lot was nearly filled ... with mountain bikers.

A friend was co-leading a short group hike, which I realized I could extend to develop a better perspective on the area. My last (short) hike was ... uninspiring.

She and I quickly fell behind, stopping frequently to admire the views and snap photos of wildflowers. We have biked past this area countless times and were amazed at the how beautiful it is from the other side (the park's interior). Especially now, while the hills are still green.

Shortly after the group turned back, an approaching mountain biker slowed to let me know there was a snake ahead, on the trail.

First things first: Is a rattlesnake? (No—it was a harmless Pacific gopher snake.) It was in no hurry to cross the trail, busily flicking its tongue and inching along. Another mountain biker thanked me when I signaled that he should stop, and we waited together for the critter to finish crossing.

Water was cascading into Calero Reservoir; having studied some maps, the source might have been the Almaden-Calero Canal.

The trail turned away from the water, and I soon found myself in grassland studded with trees and wildflowers.

One rocky slope boasted an array of California poppies and buttercup, along with Chia sage.

I paused to watch an Acorn woodpecker, high above me, tapping on a long-dead branch.

And of course I stopped to check out Lisa's Lookout. I imagine that an interpretive sign was once mounted on an adjacent (empty) post, likely to educate us about the trail's namesake (Lisa Killough, whose obituary mentions her role in acquiring this land for the park).

I knew this would be a long hike, and as the trail zigged and zagged I wondered if I'd somehow gone astray. How was it that I had a view of Mt. Umunhum? I shouldn't be headed in that direction. I was reassured, though, to see mountain bikers continuing to stream toward me; I knew they were following the same trail, but in the counter-clockwise direction.

Cattle grazed in a meadow carpeted with yellow blossoms ... surely I would see signs of civilization (i.e., the parking lot) soon?

At last! I took an unintentional shortcut at the end, squeezing through tight gaps next to locked gates. [Evidently not the only one to do so.] I'm pretty sure a trail marker pointed me in that direction. Beautiful birdsong rang out from a treetop: a Western Meadowlark (thanks, Merlin!).

I covered about 9 miles, with maybe 1,400 feet of climbing along the way. More than I expected, in so many ways.

Wake Up, Walk Up

On last Monday's hike there was some appetite for tackling the Kennedy Trail today, and I offered to lead. A favorite grueling climb for mountain bikers, on a weekday we'd have the terrain to ourselves.

Then one by one, people recalled prior commitments and declined the the incline. [And we do know the incline: the trail heads prettty much straight up.]

I didn't expect much in the way of wildflowers, but evidently I haven't visited this trail in the spring—until now. A robust cluster of Paintbrush was one of the first sightings.

There were several shrubs with blue flowers along the trail, which I think were some form of “California lilac” (Ceanothus).

These isolated pink blossoms, going to seed, made me think of snapdragons; perhaps spread from a local garden?

And of course, some lovely bush lupine.

Distracted at the start, I didn't start recording my effort until our group of five had started up the hill. The hike is basically about 8 miles and 1,800 feet of climbing, give or take, from the trailhead to the junction with the Priest Rock Trail (and back).

Well acquainted with the steeepness of this trail, and having watched my companions steady themselves with two poles on prior hikes, I decided to invest in a pair. Helpful? Definitely. Upper-body workout? Hello, sore muscles ...

Don't Look Back

So close, but yet so far. Getting to the El Sereno Preserve can be a challenge—access to the Aquinas Trail, for example, is at the end of a private road. We carpooled to a small clearing at the base of the road and walked up. Call it part of the hike.

It was easy to imagine that we were far from civilization as we climbed toward the sky. One glance over your shoulder confirmed otherwise, however.

But we had left the hustle and haze of Silicon Valley well below us. We made it not quite to the end of the trail before turning back; high enough to take in a view of the Lexington Reservoir, replenished by our rainy winter.

In all, we covered something short of 8 miles. It was a good day for this hike (before the heat of summer). A day to embrace new horizons.