Lunch on the Beach

Some of us were eager to break from the usual and explore territory farther afield; we settled on a coastal hike at Wilder Ranch State Park. Knowing this would fill the better part of a day, only five of us were up for it.

There was interest in going the distance to Four Mile Beach; I had a grasp of the best way to map that out, having hiked some of the trails along the bluff just a few months ago.

As if the views aren't spectacular enough, I am always filled with awe to be hiking along the very edge of a continent.

With the beach in sight, our challenge was how to reach it. That trail snaking near the center of the photo looks like the obvious route ... until you discover that it descends rather too steeply. We found a less-treacherous (albeit rocky) alternative, through some brush—but we were comfortable scampering up the steep bit to the main path later.

We'd passed a surfer with her gear (and dog) on the way to the beach; returning, we found her furry friend perched high above the waves, focused on the tiny humans in the water far below.

Two of my hiking buddies braved the trek down to Strawberry Beach, climbing over debris from the winter storms. In the process, my phone slipped out of my pocket; I discovered that almost immediately, due to my photo-snapping habit, and luckily found it. [Important lesson learned.]

As before, there were shorebirds (long-billed curlews, as well as a lone snowy egret).

We were pretty well spent after completing more than eight miles, opting for a direct route back rather than extending our trek through the fern grotto area.

If you were wondering why our lunch spot was called “Four Mile Beach” ... well, do the math.

Springtime Fun with Friends

Intent on framing the landscape just so, I didn't notice the sun's halo (ice crystals) until I looked at the photo, later.

With an experienced trail-running, rock-climbing colleague in town, many of my former teammates turned out for a moderate uphill hike. When they'd chosen St. Joseph's Hill, I'd reassured them that the trails would be reasonably mud-free. Having hiked there not long ago, the route was fresh in my memory.

I started out with a little tip that that the first part of the route would have us going up a pretty steep section, after which any climbs would be gentler. (I didn't want anyone to bail out, imagining that the rest of the hike would be that daunting!)

Eager for a bit more, we finished with a short stretch along the Los Gatos Creek Trail. Consensus was “enough!” when we reached the short (but steep) downhill section—which, of course, we'd have to climb back up. The long ramp across the back of the dam at Lexington Reservoir was a sufficient challenge.

Eleven humans and one charming canine hiked 4.6 miles, all smiles. Bonus discovery: tadpoles in the roadside puddles! A mom and her son were “rescuing” some for their home pond, claiming that the puddles would soon dry out. I don't know about that, but now I know that springtime puddles are worth a closer look!

And Then There Were None

As I was putting breakfast together one morning, I noticed a bird flying back and forth to the little patio table outside my window. The tabletop is packed with plants, and she (a female Dark-eyed Junco) was darting among the pots—carrying bits of grass or leaves.

Peering through the window, I spotted the nest she was constructing. Her male partner was observing from atop the nearby fence.

I backed away, wondering if they'd see me and be spooked.

After she laid her first egg, I had my answer.

I was thrilled to have a front-row seat, and also worried about the neighborhood cats.

The next day a second egg appeared, and one more the day after. I was impressed with the size of the eggs, relative to the size of the bird.

When I returned home later that day, the nest (visibly lined with strands of my hair!) was empty.

I found one of the eggshells under a bush; ants were finishing off whatever the hungry thief had left behind.

Was the culprit a crow? A scrub jay? The nest remained empty, the sad mystery unsolved.

Mostly Mud-Free

Following more rain, where might we hike?

Up a hill!

Word was that the Kennedy Trail would be a suitable choice (and it was).

The sky was gloomy, but our spirits were not: Getting outside is a reliable mood-booster.

Along the way we found a splash of color, including the largest mushroom I'd ever seen (nearly the size of a dinner plate!) and some early spring blooms. I was puzzled: it seemed too early for paintbrushes to bloom, and these were an unexpected hue. Today we learned about something new: Warrior's Plume.

We turned back at the base of the last steep climb; 6.8 miles and more than 1,400 feet of climbing were enough. [For now.]

While the Sun Shines

Make the most of a break in the weather.

A friend suggested an impromptu ride, and off we went!

The roadwork leading to Almaden Reservoir has finally been completed, no more one-lane traffic signal! [Guess I haven't been out there in a while.]

Along the way we merged with two other friends, ventured up alongside Herbert Creek until the pavement petered out, and rounded out the day with a lunch stop. Thirty-three miles, maybe 1,000 feet of climbing, a sandwich and a treat. Bike to eat ...

Triple Play

Normally I wouldn't plan to hike three days in a row ... it just worked out that way.

I wasn't sure I'd be up for a third day, and there was rain in the forecast. But ... why not? [Pack a rain jacket, just in case.]

What might I miss (besides the camaraderie)? Even in a familiar place, there is always something new to see. Especially in the rainy season.

The sky was brooding, but we stayed dry. Boots needed another hosing down at home, nonetheless.

We were motivated, as always, to enjoy another day on the trails—and completed our 5-mile loop well before the raindrops would begin to fall.

So glad I didn't stay home!

Hot Water?

With a trail named Agua Caliente, I was left wondering if there are hot springs somewhere in Ed Levin County Park. [Found no references.] Figuratively speaking, we were in hot water when we reached a very mucky stretch of the trail soon after starting out.

One person veered right, into the brush; another veered left, and slipped. I opted for the middle, more or less, and just muddied my boots before pausing to photograph the morass before moving on.

Waiting for the rest of our group to arrive, I had abundant avian company skittering about in the parking lot: noisy Red-winged Blackbirds, Great-tailed Grackles, and Brown-headed Cowbirds. What were they after?

I certainly didn't expect to find a Great Egret hunting along the trail, with long-lens photographers and casual gawkers mere feet away.

Climbing higher, we were afforded a quintessentially Bay Area view: rolling green hills and farm buildings in the foreground, stately homes transitioning to office/industrial sprawl and then marshland along San Francisco Bay, the Santa Cruz Mountains in the distance.

Cattle can be unpredictable, but this animal was more interested in grazing than messing with passing hikers.

I covered 3.6 miles with a few hundred feet of elevation gain, acquiring a new perspective on the region and a park I've biked past dozens of times.