Price Tag: One Favorite Hat

Last Friday, December 9, I set off into Black Star Canyon after running some morning errands. Even with the late start, the weather was still nice and cold -- low 50s F, just how I like it. Perfect hiking weather. Coming to an end of a much needed extended fast, I decided to hike up to my favorite secret spot of late, to break my fast. The hike was more strenuous than usual being in in this state. This is exactly what I intended -- I mean, what better way to end a fast then by really pushing myself to get to a serene spot. And then to take the first bite of a cracker, the most wonderful tasting cracker in the world, while looking over the canyon. I can’t beat that. How much would I pay for such an experience? Lots. But I have no money. That’s okay, it only cost me my favorite hat. ;)

At the base of the canyon, I realized that I dropped my favorite hat. I had an idea where it probably happened. There was no way I was willing to make the trek back. I was bummed for a bit until I asked myself this: If you were offered today’s experience in the mountains and were told that it would cost you that hat, would you do it? Yes. Yes, I would.

10 miles lovely miles.

Out of Hibernation

December 3rd, my youngest son’s 18th birthday, I took a nice ten mile hike up Black Star Canyon, to one of my favorite easy to get to, out in the open, secret places. What’s the occasion? Nice cold weather was the occasion. It was time for me to come out of hibernation. I am awake! What a great hike to celebrate awakening. After a day like that I wondered (out loud) why I’m not out there every single day! I get that much peace from the trip. I felt so full of joy at one point that I burst into a spontaneous run. I stopped myself from that silliness pretty quickly though since it’s been a while. I’m not practiced – last thing I need is a face plant. My arms only recently recovered from the last fall in December 2021. (Excuses, excuses).

I love Black Star Canyon. Yes, the base is well travelled and in places vandalized with spray paint. That’s sad. And yes, it’s mainly all truck trail (with a few single track turn offs available here and there). Once you make that turn 2.5 miles in and start the climb, there’s so much to see up there, even close to the road. Black Star Canyon is a beautiful place with a huge local history (which explains the legends of its haunting). On that note, I do find Black Star Canyon haunting, but not by ghosts. 

Another Race Against the Clock

November 11, I went for a long awaited hike in my local canyons (Aliso and Wood). This time I set out only a few hours before sunset. So, it was another race against the clock, which meant no dillydallying, no stopping, no exploring, just constant moving to avoid being caught out in the dark. I Marched right past The Rock that sheds tears without even noticing and arrived back at my truck after 9.5 miles about 20 minutes after sunset -- just as the sky turned black. Good times! When I arrived home, I did a control fall out of the truck and stumbled into the house so warn out and trashed I was.These are the days!

Santa Catalina Island ~ 42 miles across the seaLooking back at Old Saddleback

Meadows Trail

Toyon berriesCrossing Wood Creek

I turned suddenly around to find Wiley Coyote sneaking upLooking healthy

Happy Thanksgiving!

Proof of Autumn

A fortnight ago (October 28), I took my first autumn hike of the year. The joy set in less than 1.5 miles up the trail. Joy almost always sets in. And a mile and a half is about normal. I always wonder at that point why I’m not out there every day!

Anyway, I’ve been telling myself, “Wait for fall, then you can go out and enjoy the trails. When you see the crawdads, you will know the time is right!” Of course, I headed off to Wood Canyon (Aliso Viejo, CA) to see for myself. It’s become sort of a ritual over the years. And so, I was not surprised to witness crawdads fighting at the bottom of the creek. The chilly mornings kind of assured me that I’d find them there.

Proof of Autumn!

I hiked the big loop – that is the outside trails forming a loop (West Ridge on the way out, Wood Canyon on the way back, Cholla and Meadows Trail connecting them). The big loop was a totally irresponsible thing to do in my shape. But I did it anyway, knowing full well it would trash me. Turns out, I fared the 9.5 miles surprisingly well. And on top of spotting my crawdads, I saw several dear, including a three point buck. Then on my hike out of the canyon, I passed The Rock. It came out of nowhere, as I often walk by it with little consequence. Today, I stopped, climbed up and sat. And the tears instantly fell like a waterfall. I felt like I sat among ghosts up there on that boulder, me and my three young children, so long ago. I don’t even remember if I relished the moment back then as it occurred. I hope I enjoyed it as much as I miss it.

So, my first hike of autumn – that’s it in a nutshell. I can still hike 9.5 hilly miles and for that I am grateful!

The Benefits of Painting (& how it’s kinda like trails)

Most people who have read Mark Twain’s Adventures of Tom Sawyer (or who have seen a movie adaptation) might think that Tom gets the better end of the deal when he charges a fee for the privilege of whitewashing Aunt Polly’s fence. Tom ends up with a  a pocketful of riches – some marbles, a few tadpoles and a dead rat to name a few, as well as, a painted fence. But at what cost?

I’m not about to go into a spiel about how we can all probably benefit from hard work or about how accepting one’s punishment (painting the fence was Tom’s) builds character. I’m referring to the cost of what Tom lost: all that tranquil time, solitude, just he, himself and his maker, for hours on end – that very thing I yearn for when I set out toward the sunrise, when I hike for five hours only to turn around and hike back down. A subtle similarity exists between my aimless wandering in the wild and the mundane task of painting, so subtle, I’m not sure I can even explain it.

Maybe I’m just weird that way, always searching for a secret place. If I can’t get out and make the trek, I’ll find it around me, even in the mundane. So, I’ve been painting my house over the past month: scraping, patching, priming, caulking, painting. I’ve been climbing up and down ladders, sitting, standing, stretching with a paint brush in hand all at a snail’s pace, little by little, covering our little beach cottage. I do this for hours at a time, silent, without listening to music or anything else for that matter, except for the wind, distant neighborhood noises and  my thoughts. But it’s not like I’m consciously thinking. No, I’m observing thoughts, as they somethings fly and sometimes, meander in. I don’t usually follow the thoughts anywhere (as that would be altering this state). Instead, I merely observe my thoughts, as I dip my brush into the paint. These are not not deep thoughts, more like fleeting thoughts as they drift in and out. And hence come the tiny revelations, or brilliant insights, or some kind of connectiveness and understanding somehow emerges. Like I mentioned, I can’t really explain it. But I can say, that painting has done this for me, and perhaps Tom Sawyer missed out. Yes, he got a pocketful of treasures (just imagine what he could do with that dead rat!) but whilst he counted his treasures, he missed out on tiny, wonderous, fleeting revelations that comes with painting.

And then I clean up, and go for a walkabout – got to keep my legs moving so I’m ready for the mountains when the weather cools down! By then I should be finished painting (or not).

Walk About