We’re still in the midst of packing and whatnot, but yesterday we took off across the bay to spend the afternoon with Erik’s brother Elbert. We visited the San Rafael farmers’ market (the same one we went to for my birthday) and then hiked at Mt Tamalpais. The weather was perfect and my backpack full of treats from the market (a half-dozen satsumas, a smoked salmon crêpe, and two pretzel croissants… yes, pretzel croissants) — I like to bring rewards along on my hikes. 😉
We started near Stinson Beach and hiked up, quickly reaching a point where we could see the Pacific on one side and the mountains on the other. People were hang gliding far above; Elbert said you can glide in tandem with an instructor who takes you from the top of Mt Tam down to the beach below. I kind of want to try it… I want to know if it’s anything like my flying dreams.
In the bright sun, it felt almost like spring, but the plants knew it wasn’t yet. We saw few flowers. Also no mushrooms and just a few banana slugs — not like last time.
After we’d climbed to a certain elevation, the trail began to dip. I was pleased because I’d been getting too warm in the sun! (Yes, it’s a California January… not hot like in LA, but I soon stripped off my wool sweater. Erik did the whole hike in a t-shirt, and we saw plenty of hikers in shorts.)
We ended up along the Steep Ravine trail, which runs through the redwoods and beside and over a little creek. There is something so magical about forests, even when one is out of breath and sticky and trying very hard not to slip on the damp path. It’s all that moss and lichen, the shelf fungi and the slugs, the tiny flames of color when the flowers show their faces… those innumerable shades and textures of green and brown, the trees arching and reaching, the primeval-looking ferns, and of course the way the sunlight changes each spot, each second, each step.
Partway along the trail we saw a sign that said “advisory: 10-foot ladder, 0.8 mile.” We’d seen the same notation, “ladder,” on the map, and I was very curious to know what that meant. I was expecting something dramatic and scary and narrow and vertical, but no. The ladder looked exactly like steeply angled steps, complete with handrail, only the tops of the steps weren’t quite flat. Erik and Elbert took them standing upright, but my soles were slippy so I used my hands as well.
After the anticlimactic ladder we hiked for about a mile more, mostly uphill, with one stop so we could sit on fallen logs and eat and drink. Soon we were back at the parking lot. Erik and Elbert got their lunches out of Elbert’s car (I’d brought mine in the backpack), and we finished our food, then drove to where we’d left the other car at the trailhead. Before we parted we sat in Elbert’s car for a while and talked about the places we’ll miss when we move — Elbert is actually moving the same day we are, February 15, and also down to San Jose (so until Erik and I leave for Toronto, we’ll all be in the same city).
I’m so excited about our trip that I can’t feel too much regret for what we’re leaving behind, but I admit it is hard to imagine that anyplace else can ever feel as much home to me as California. Especially Northern California, especially the Bay Area. I grew up with these trees and these mountains and this ocean, these hawks and scrub jays and banana slugs, the chaparral and the tidepools. Even when I can’t identify the components, the total effect feels right. I’ve known the Bay Area outdoors since I was a kid, and more recently I’ve been getting to know California’s highways and urban areas.
Well, but who knows? I may fall in love with someplace else. And just as likely, I may return to the Bay Area even more committed to it than before, buy a house in North Berkeley, and live here the rest of my life. I’m so excited to see what else is out there… and I am so glad and grateful I’ve had 30 years to live in a place like this.
Oh, and by the way: the Harkenbacks, who were playing at the farmers’ market yesterday morning, are worth your time. Give them a listen, ‘specially if you’re a folk/bluegrass/blues fan like me.
You make me want to hike through a forest with your photos and descriptions 🙂 I agree, there’s something magical about shady canopies and dense undergrowth…
I can understand how weird and difficult it must feel to uproot yourself from ‘home’…..I myself have lived in Karachi all my life and can’t imagine ever moving away somehow, even though I love the idea of new places, much like you.
Well, it’s not — so far — too difficult to uproot myself, since the thought of traveling is exciting enough to distract me. 🙂 But I’m a little afraid I might get homesick while we’re out. We shall see!
Karachi all your life! Same city? Or is it like when I say I’ve lived in California my whole life, it’s been San Jose (the south San Francisco Bay Area), Berkeley (East Bay Area), Los Angeles (southern California)… ?
You were in my childhood stomping ground. Love that hike.
When I was driving back from living in Boston and I got close enough to see Mt. Tam, I had a resonating sense of homecoming.
Writing this, I realize I have not come by– things out of control right now, both girls home sick. You are pretty in pink.
I like that idea of homecoming — of having a home to come back to. Not everyone has that, and for me it’s a comforting thought that I have a place like that.
I like pink. 🙂 Had my teenage rebellion against it, but now it’s one of my favorite colors, especially bold pinks, not so much the pale ballet-class hues.
No worries; I thought you might be too busy reading Philip K Dick. 😉 I’ve made my way through most of Kenyon’s books and have set aside some things I thought you or your girls might like. Let me know if you find a time when you might want to come by; otherwise I will invite myself over before we leave, to at least return the books! 🙂
I’ve had forests on my mind lately. Your lovely photos will have to do.
I love the one of you in shades. Why does it make me think of you playing guitar and reciting poems in a dark café? 🙂
If only I could translate smells and sounds across to you too. Even the loveliest forest photos don’t capture that three-dimensionality of standing surrounded in a space.
Heh. I love the image of myself playing guitar and reciting poems in a dark café. 😉 Alas, far more likely is me writing or reading and guzzling pastry in a well-lit café… 😉